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Buddhist Healing in Medieval China and Japan
 2019058783, 9780824881214

Table of contents :
Contents
Abbreviations
Introduction
1. “A Flock of Ghosts Bursting Forth and Scattering”: Healing Narratives in a Sixth-Century Chinese Buddhist Hagiography
2. Teaching from the Sickbed: Ideas of Illness and Healing in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra and Their Reception in Medieval Chinese Literature
3. Lighting Lamps to Prolong Life: Ritual Healing and the Bhaiṣajyaguru Cult in Fifth- and Sixth-Century China
4. Buddhist Healing Practices at Dunhuang in the Medieval Period
5. Empowering the Pregnancy Sash in Medieval Japan
6. Ritualizing Moxibustion in the Early Medieval Tendai-Jimon Lineage
List of Contributors
Index
Color plates

Citation preview

Buddhist Healing in Medieval China and Japan

Buddhist Healing in Medieval China and Japan

Edited by

C. Pierce Salguero and

Andrew Macomber

University of Hawai‘i Press Honolulu

© 2020 University of Hawai‘i Press All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America 25 24 23 22 21 20   6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019058783 ISBN 978-0-8248-8121-4

University of Hawai‘i Press books are printed on acid-free paper and meet the guidelines for permanence and durability of the Council on Library Resources. Cover image: Vimalakīrti debating. Painting from the Dunhuang Caves, Tang Dynasty. Source: Wikipedia (public domain)

Contents

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Abbreviations

1

Introduction C. Pierce Salguero and Andrew Macomber 1.  “A Flock of Ghosts Bursting Forth and Scattering”: Healing Narratives in a Sixth-Century Chinese Buddhist Hagiography

23

C. Pierce Salguero 2.  Teaching from the Sickbed: Ideas of Illness and Healing in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra and Their Reception in Medieval Chinese Literature

57

Antje Richter 3.  Lighting Lamps to Prolong Life: Ritual Healing and the Bhaiṣajyaguru Cult in Fifth- and Sixth-Century China

91

Shi Zhiru 釋智如 4.  Buddhist Healing Practices at Dunhuang in the Medieval Period

118

Catherine Despeux 5.  Empowering the Pregnancy Sash in Medieval Japan

160

Anna Andreeva 6.  Ritualizing Moxibustion in the Early Medieval Tendai-Jimon Lineage

194

Andrew Macomber List of Contributors

243

Index

245

Color plates follow page

257

v

Abbreviations

DZ Zhengtong daozang 正統道藏; text numbers from Kristofer Schipper and Franciscus Verellen, eds. 2004. The Taoist Canon: A Historical Companion to the Daozang. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. GR Hanawa Hokinoichi 塙保己一, ed. 1928–1934. Gunsho ruijū 群書類從. Tokyo: Zoku gunsho ruijū kanseikai. Jinyi Dunhuang manuscripts, Tianjin Art Museum. P. Dunhuang manuscripts, Pelliot Chinese Collection. Bibliothèque Nationale de France. S. Dunhuang manuscripts, Stein Collection. British Library, London. T. Takakusu Junjirō 高楠順次朗 and Watanabe Kaigyoku 渡邊海旭, eds. 1924–1932. Taishō shinshū daizōkyo 大正新修大藏經. 100 vols. Tokyo: Taishō issaikyō kankōkai. X. Wan xu zangjing 卍續藏經. 1975. 150 vols. Taipei: Xinwenfeng chubanshe. Reprint of Dainippon zokuzōkyō 大日本續藏經. 1905–1912. Kyoto: Zōkyō shoin.

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Introduction C. Pierce Salguero and Andrew Macomber

O

ne of the most common ways that Buddhists the world over have tended to speak of their tradition is as a means of eliminating suffering.1 As one of the inescapable forms of suffering all sentient beings must encounter in our lives, illness has normally been explicitly included within this purview.2 Therefore, from its very inception in northeastern India in the last centuries BCE, the Buddhist tradition has advocated a range of ideas and a repertoire of practices that have been aimed at ensuring health and well-being.3 Early Buddhism provided devotees with certain types of rituals to comfort the sick and dying, advocated ascetic contemplations on the structure and function of the body, and promulgated monastic regulations on the administration and storage of medicines. Early Buddhist texts frequently used metaphors and narrative tropes concerning disease, healing, and physicians in discourses explaining the most basic doctrinal positions of the Dharma. As Buddhism developed in subsequent centuries, its connections with healing became more pronounced.4 A  number of healing deities were added to the pantheon, monastic institutions became centers of medical learning, and healer-monks became famed for their mastery of ritual and medicinal therapeutics. As Buddhism spread from India to other parts of Asia over the course of the first millennium CE, its texts and practices became important vehicles for the cross-cultural dissemination of Indian ideas about health and healing far and wide. In some parts of Southeast and ­Central Asia (such as Thailand, Sri Lanka, and Tibet), this ­Buddhist transmission laid the foundation for systems of traditional medicine that are 1

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still widely in practice today.5 In contrast, Indian influence in medieval China—though significant for several centuries—was tempered by a sophisticated system of indigenous medicine that in the long run retained its dominant position among the cultural and political elite.6 Elsewhere in East Asia, both Chinese Buddhism and Chinese medicine were introduced simultaneously and were often practiced by the same individuals, who did not necessarily see them as being incompatible. At the same time that Buddhism became a vehicle for the expansion of Indian medical ideas across much of the Asian continent in the premodern period, it was always also a site for intercultural negotiation and tension. In each recipient culture, imported ideas about disease and health were refracted through local cultural and social lenses. Buddhist clerics thus came to practice locally specific blends of Indian and indigenous therapies and came to occupy locally defined social positions as religious and medical specialists.7 Though B ­uddhism ­consequently developed in a variety of ways, Buddhist healing has since its introduction remained a highly relevant part of the healthcare landscape in the region. This volume focuses on the nexus of Buddhism and healing in medieval China and Japan.8 It highlights the transnationally transmitted aspects of Buddhist healing traditions, ideas, and practices as they moved across geographic, cultural, and linguistic boundaries. Simultaneously, it also investigates the local instantiations of these elements, as they were reinvented, transformed, and re-embedded in specific social and institutional contexts. Investigating the interplay between the macro and the micro, the global and the local, these chapters demonstrate the richness of Buddhist healing as a site for exploring the history of cross-cultural exchange. Buddhism and Healing in Medieval China Before discussing the contents of the present volume, it may be useful to provide the historical background for the present studies in the form of separate capsule histories focusing on medieval China, Japan, and Korea. From its introduction to China in the late Han dynasty (206 BCE– 220 CE), Buddhism was closely associated with healing. Many of the earliest known Buddhist missionaries to travel to China were famed for their expertise in various healing specialties.9 As Buddhism became increasingly influential in Chinese social and political life over the



Introduction

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course of the early medieval period, Buddhist therapeutics became increasingly important ingredients in the marketplace of medical ideas. Claims of mysterious and efficacious healing powers helped to position Buddhist clerics and institutions favorably against practitioners of ­Daoism, spirit mediumship, and secular Chinese medicine.10 Numerous Buddhist texts promised lay and monastic followers karmic rewards of health and well-being for participating in merit making.11 Many translated sūtras focused on ritual methods for invoking or calling upon the powers of a range of major and minor deities associated with healing—the most significant of which were the Master of Medicines Buddha (Skt. Bhaiṣajyaguru; Ch. Yaoshifo 藥師佛) and Avalokiteśvara (Ch. Guanshiyin 觀世音).12 Other texts focused on the sick body as a location for perfecting Buddhist meditation practices.13 Chinese B ­ uddhist authors made a point of anthologizing and presenting Indian medical concepts and other key aspects of Buddhist healing in ways that were appealing and meaningful to Chinese audiences.14 Still others focused on interpreting the monastic rules concerning health and h ­ ygiene for the East Asian context.15 These efforts to promote Buddhist healing in Chinese society were by and large successful, and by the Sui (581–618) and Tang (618–907) dynasties, Buddhist therapeutics were valued by wide swaths of the medieval Chinese population. Over the course of the medieval period, a great quantity of Indian medicinals and formulas were introduced to China via the Silk Roads and maritime routes.16 While this influx inspired the expansion of the native Chinese pharmacological tradition, pharmacological acumen and wondrously powerful medicinal substances were often specifically associated with Buddhist healers and rituals. Even more often, however, the services provided by monastic healers in medieval China consisted of ritual interventions such as the recitation of dhāraṇī (incantations with magical potency) and the invocation of healing deities.17 The popularity of the whole range of Buddhist therapies was not limited to the margins of society. Scholars have catalogued many examples where Buddhist ideas and practices exerted an impact on the writings associated with the imperial medical bureaus.18 In particular fields, such as ophthalmology, Buddhism’s influence was formative.19 The famous Chinese physician Sun Simiao (581–682) has garnered particular attention from scholars, as his medical writings show he was profoundly influenced by a range of Indian therapies, medicinals, and ethical principles.20

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In addition to received texts, our understanding of Buddhist healing in China has been significantly impacted by several caches of manuscripts recovered from Dunhuang, Turfan, and other Silk Road sites. Among these finds are numerous writings on pharmacology, diet, sexology, spells and charms, and other healing techniques dating from the fifth to early eleventh centuries that exhibit a liberal mixture of Buddhist, Daoist, and classical medical elements.21 These demonstrate the importance of Buddhist healing in the syncretic medical world of the medieval period. Only a handful of publications in Western languages have focused on any facet of Buddhist healing in China after the first millennium CE. By all accounts, it appears that Buddhist ritual healing ­continued to be enormously popular throughout the Song dynasty (960–1279).22 In later periods, among women in particular, ­Buddhist medical services appear to have served as an important counter­ balance to the male-dominated classical tradition in the Ming (1368–1644),23 and Buddhist monasteries and clerics continued to play an important role in the medical marketplace for women’s remedies in the Qing (1644–1912) as well.24 Despite these facts, serious engagement with Indian medical doctrine among Chinese Buddhist authors seems to have fallen by the wayside by the Song.25 Buddhist writings about medicine from the later periods tend to prioritize Chinese medical models over Indic ones, or to mention Indian medical ­concepts in passing within primarily Chinese literary and diagnostic frameworks. Buddhism and Healing in Early and Medieval Japan Healing was historically an even more important part of the practice of Buddhism in Japan than it was in China. The doyen of twentiethcentury Sino-Japanese Buddhology, Paul Demiéville, once opined that “the religion was accepted in Japan essentially because of its therapeutic elements.”26 Many of the earliest representations of Buddhist monks in Japanese official chronicles and narrative literature depict them as skillful curers or protectors against disease.27 Buddhist medical charities were operational at Nara by the eighth century, if not before, and were supported by members of the imperial family.28 By the twelfth century, “monk-doctors” (sōi 僧医) were routinely treating patients across the social spectrum—many with significant elite and official patronage.29



Introduction

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As in China, the healing activities of Japanese monks centered predominantly on ritual practice, which was sometimes supplemented with therapeutic procedures or pharmaceutical preparations ­connected with Indian or Chinese medical doctrines. A particularly influential type of healing rite, kaji 加持 (Skt. adhiṣṭhāna; Ch. jiachi), which might be translated into English as “mutual empowerment,” was introduced in the early ninth century by Kūkai (774–835), the founder of the Shingon school of esoteric Buddhism. These rituals became a common means of preventing and curing disease both at court and among the general populace, and also served as frameworks to bridge medical traditions.30 For example, Eisai (1141–1215), long ­considered the founder of the Rinzai (Ch. Linji) school of Zen in Japan, used esoteric Buddhist ritual discourse as a platform to promote tea as medicine.31 Rituals specifically for the purpose of healing typically called upon the compassion of either Avalokiteśvara or the Master of Medicines Buddha. Though a number of temples, pilgrimage sites, and ritual institutions dedicated to the latter were established as early as the Nara period (710–784), this buddha’s popularity increased dramatically in the Heian (794–1185).32 In no small part, the growth of interest in the Master of Medicines—and in the curative power of deities more generally—was related to a series of devastating epidemics that washed over Japan during this period.33 However, the particular forms the Master of Medicines cult took were shaped in large part by the precedents set by Saichō (767–822) and the promotional activities of his Tendai school.34 Healing deities were also associated with the founding of therapeutic hot springs and baths around Japan.35 The construction or reconstruction of these sites began as early as the Nara and continued into the modern period. Various Buddhist organizations were involved in establishing these institutions, most particularly the ­Shingon school. Many such projects capitalized on popular Buddhist legends and hagiographies—as well as on pervasive popular associations between Buddhism, healing, and purification—in order to promote hot springs as locations for pilgrimage and recreation. The history of the relationship between Buddhist therapies and other forms of medicine in Japan is complex. In the early and medieval eras, a range of therapeutic techniques associated with classical Chinese medicine were introduced to Japan simultaneously alongside Buddhism. Monks and other practitioners frequently combined these strands of

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knowledge, both with each other and with indigenous Japanese notions about health and disease.36 Japanese medical texts that we often associate principally with secular physicians, such as the tenth-century Essentials of Medical Treatment (Ishinpō 醫心方), are in fact replete with quotations from Buddhist sources.37 Further complicating matters, from the thirteenth century onward, Japan was ­connected via China to what scholars have called a “Medical Silk Road” that linked East, Central, and South Asia as well as the Islamic world.38 Medieval Japanese monks and physicians thus both engaged with the global intercultural currents of medical ideas and pharmaceuticals and sought to integrate and reconcile these streams with local knowledge. A growing body of research highlights evidence of the continuation of such trends into the early modern period as medicine, longevity, self-cultivation, and the body continued to be sites for inter­cultural negotiation that were informed by Buddhist currents of the early modern period.39 Zen institutions in particular competed in the arenas of ritual healing, purification, and pilgrimage sites in the Edo period (1600–1867). One of the most successful avenues for promoting and funding the growth of the Sōtō school was through marketing a patent medicine known as the “poison-dispelling pill” (Gedokuen 解毒円).40 Legends were promulgated to legitimize the medicine, and temples used both direct marketing and imperial connections to sell it far and wide. Another Zen initiative in the Edo period was the promotion of a cult dedicated to the healing powers of Earth-Treasury Bodhisattva (J. Jizō; Ch. Dizang 地藏). Inspired by miracle tales about this bodhisattva’s beneficent interventions, devotees were encouraged to print multiple copies of paper talismans in order to be healed of a variety of diseases, including smallpox.41 History of Buddhism and Healing in Korea The history of Buddhist healing in Korea has not been a significant research area for Western scholars and unfortunately will not be treated in any detail in this volume. While lamentable, this state of affairs is not especially surprising, as Korean Buddhism itself remains only a minor subfield of Buddhist studies, and the historiography of Korean medicine is virtually nonexistent in Western-language scholarship. Nevertheless, it is hoped that a brief capsule history of Buddhism and medicine in Korea may provide a fruitful comparison with China and Japan.



Introduction

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The small amount of scholarship on the subject that has been published gives the impression that the significance of Buddhist healing varied considerably over the course of Korean history.42 Although there are hints of Korean medical exchanges with Han dynasty China, the historical record provides scant evidence about healing in the Three Kingdoms period (57 BCE–668 CE) and before. The first reliable historical annals, the History of the Three Kingdoms (Samguk sagi), were not compiled until the twelfth century. This account tells us that, when the first medical bureau was established by Unified Silla (668–936) in the year 692, mainstream Chinese medical texts such as the Inner Canon of the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi neijing 黃帝內經), the Canon of Difficulties (Nanjing 難經), and the Canon of Materia Medica (Bencao jing 本草經) were officially selected as the basis for medical practice. While classical Chinese medicine was important at the Silla court, an account compiled by a Buddhist monk in the thirteenth century called the Historical Records of the Three Kingdoms (Samguk yusa) suggests that one of the primary groups active in the health care of that period was Buddhist monks. The compiler of the text included wondrous tales of the healing powers of renowned early Korean monks such as Wongwang, Milbon, and Hyetong, who were celebrated for having healed members of the royal family and other elites.43 Buddhist healing was not only a subject for miracle tales, however. Though they are now lost, several compilations of Buddhist remedies were also produced during the Silla period. These included works titled Prescriptions of Silla Buddhist Priests (Silla pŏpsa pang), Secret Prescriptions of Silla Buddhist Priests (Silla pŏpsa pimilbag), and Secret Essential Prescriptions Transmitted by Silla Buddhist Priests (Silla pŏpsayugwan pimilyosulbang).44 Quotations of some of this material have survived by virtue of being preserved in the 984 Japanese medical compilation Essentials of Medical Treatment, and those indicate that Korean Buddhists were advocating a blend of Buddhist and classical Chinese remedies. Early Korea also saw a marked enthusiasm across the social spectrum for the worship of the Master of Medicines Buddha. Dozens of statues of this renowned healer, controller of evil spirits, and bestower of this-worldly benefits are extant from the Silla period. In a sign of official support for the Master of Medicines cult, a colossal statue was even erected in a royal temple in the capital in 755.45 The principal text dedicated to this deity, the Sutra of the Master of

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Medicines, was available in multiple editions and was apparently quite influential.46 In addition to this particular sūtra, Korean Buddhists in the Silla and Koryŏ (935–1392) periods had access to virtually the entire corpus of Chinese scriptural translations. The Korean Tripiṭaka, first carved into woodblocks for printing in the eleventh century and revised and recarved in the thirteenth, is today the oldest surviving complete Buddhist canon in East Asia.47 The compiling and printing of the Tripiṭaka notwithstanding, official support for Buddhism began to decline in the post-Silla era, as Korean political elites shifted away from Buddhism in favor of neoConfucian orthodoxy. While medical writings from the Koryŏ and Chosŏn (1392–1910) periods continued to include occasional references to Indian physiological models and specific Indian therapies, references to Buddhist knowledge tapered off markedly in favor of classical Chinese models. By the Chosŏn period, Buddhist institutions seem no longer to have played a major role in the health-care system. The one area of Buddhist healing that seems to have survived— and even to have thrived—in these later periods is the ritual reverence of the Master of Medicines Buddha. The construction of statues, erection of ritual halls, and performances of rites and pilgrimages associated with this deity are well documented in later periods of Korean history—and, indeed, continue even today.48 There has over the centuries been some cross-pollination between Buddhist and popular shamanic healing practices as well, notably including the adoption of Buddhist deities into the shamanic pantheon of healing spirits that remain a part of popular religion in Korea.49 Nonetheless, from all indications, such facets of Buddhist healing have been largely limited to private activities without official sanction, and the influence of Indian medical thought on the Korean healing landscape appears on the whole to have been quite minimal after the first millennium. Contents of the Present Volume Taken in the aggregate, the chapters that make up this book endeavor not only to introduce the reader to a range of global and local perspectives on Buddhism and healing, but also to introduce a range of scholarly approaches to this subject matter. The authors, a diverse group of international contributors, approach the topic at hand from different disciplinary and methodological perspectives, including



Introduction

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Buddhist studies, history of medicine, Silk Road studies, material ­culture studies, literary studies, and gender studies. The book thus is intended to provide a window not only onto the diversity of East Asian Buddhist engagements with medicine in the medieval period but also onto the diversity of scholarly approaches through which such engagements are studied today. In the opening chapter, “ ‘A Flock of Ghosts Bursting Forth and Scattering’: Healing Narratives in a Sixth-Century Chinese Buddhist Hagiography,” Pierce Salguero explores Huijiao’s (497–554) widely influential hagiographic collection, Lives of Eminent Monks (Gaoseng zhuan 高僧傳). Among the diverse thaumaturgical feats described in the collection’s idealized depictions of esteemed monks, healing surely ranked as one of the most captivating for medieval readers. Salguero draws special attention to the strategic uses of exoticism in these accounts, as monks known for therapeutic prowess were associated with India, Sogdiana, Parthia, and other distant lands and were depicted wielding unfamiliar magical objects. Through Salguero’s close reading, the collection’s twofold agenda becomes evident: First, the collection acts as a cultural translation of foreign medicine, whereby efficacy is reinscribed in indigenous cosmo­logical language. Second, as Salguero shows in accounts staging the healing of local elites and rulers, the collection asserts the superiority of Buddhist healing against that of Daoists, physicians, and other popular healers with whom Buddhists were competing for patronage. By depicting awe-inspiring therapeutic feats in a narrative form conducive to proselytism, Salguero argues, the collection’s focus on the healing powers of the Buddhist tradition served to facilitate its spread throughout medieval China. Foundational Mahāyāna sūtras could also function to disseminate Buddhist medical ideas, if in different and sometimes surprising ways. This is the topic Antje Richter considers in chapter 2, “Teaching from the Sickbed: Ideas of Illness and Healing in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra and Their Reception in Medieval Chinese Literature.” Although the Vimalakīrti Sūtra ranks among the most important Mahāyāna texts in East Asia, few scholars have closely attended to the setting in which the sūtra’s teaching unfolds: the sickbed of the wise householder Vimalakīrti. Richter shows that far from a passive stage for the ­expounding of doctrine, this frame, along with the sūtra’s abundant metaphors on the nature of the body, were profoundly consequential. Richter argues that the sūtra’s central motif authorized literati to

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write from their own sickbeds—even if that space was imagined— and to make private infirmity the centerpiece of their poetry. New in the medieval period, this focus on sickness eventually emerged in the Tang period as a familiar subgenre. Linking Mahāyāna scripture to shifts in poetic focus through close readings of both, Richter opens up a broader discussion about the ways Buddhist medical discourse came to be embodied and expressed in literary genres often considered secular. In chapter 3, “Lighting Lamps to Prolong Life: Ritual Healing and the Bhaiṣajyaguru Cult in Fifth- and Sixth-Century China,” Shi Zhiru examines the Chinese reception of the core rite of the quintessential healing buddha. Calling attention to the materiality of the ritual, Zhiru highlights a lesser detail in the Indian scriptural source that in China became the rite’s defining feature: the use of lamps to extend life or revive the unconscious. In the rite’s performance, lamps served as beacons for souls caught in the liminal stage between this life and the next. While this usage drew upon the Buddhist imagination of transmigration, Zhiru argues that the paramount role lamps came to hold in the rite points to wider significance across the Chinese religious landscape. Surveying a wide array of textual and archeological evidence, Zhiru traces lamps and lighting as both metaphor and material through Buddhist discourse, philosophical speculation by ­literati, and Daoist astrological rites—all of which were spurred by the emergence of artificial lighting in the Six Dynasties period (220– 589). Zhiru thus shows how the Master of Medicines Buddha rite participated in larger intellectual, religious, and technological ­currents in which luminosity was intricately tied to life span. In chapter 4, “Buddhist Healing Practices at Dunhuang in the Medieval Period,” Catherine Despeux shifts our focus to the periphery of the empire, to manuscripts preserved at the site of Dunhuang on the western frontier of China. As an important node on the Silk Roads and a cosmopolitan society whose rule shifted several times between Chinese and Tibetans over the Tang period, Dunhuang was characterized by an astonishingly diverse healing culture. In comparing manuscripts of most immediate relevance for Buddhist healing with better-known received sources, Despeux highlights considerable overlap as well as divergences with Buddhist scriptures, Indian Āyurvedic medicine, and classical Chinese medicine. The majority of the therapeutically oriented texts she discusses, however, are esoteric Buddhist in focus. These texts feature a large pantheon of gods,



Introduction

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commonly frame disease in terms of demons, and prescribe ritual forms of therapy, especially incantations and talismanic seals. The comprehensive picture that emerges from Despeux’s analysis, reflecting both cosmopolitan and local traditions, allows us to better imagine what healing looked like on the ground for a larger swath of Dunhuang society. Parallels to Buddhist healing recorded in Dunhuang manuscripts can be found in sources for medieval Japan as well, where esoteric Buddhist institutions held considerable political ­authority and ­ritual constituted the dominant therapeutic ­paradigm. In ­chapter  5, “Empowering the Pregnancy Sash in Medieval Japan,” Anna Andreeva examines a rite of esoteric empowerment for ensuring safe childbirth and the health of the newborn. In the basic form of the practice, the ritualist invokes deities to ritually fortify a fabric sash to be wrapped around the expectant mother in the fifth month, an act that inscribes the official beginning of the pregnancy with Buddhist connotations. Centering her discussion on a critical manuscript preserved at the Kanazawa Bunko library, Andreeva’s study traces memoranda surrounding the rite to temples such as Daigoji, a monastery with longstanding connections to imperial consorts. Turning to the historical record, Andreeva demonstrates that in actual instances of its performance, the rite was a complex orchestration of a network of religious and medical specialists and material procedures and was frequently staged for elite women in both the Heian and Kamakura capitals. Andreeva’s chapter thus provides a wealth of insights into the ways esoteric rites were shaped by multiple epistemological paradigms operating between distant regions as well as sociopolitical stakes that intensified around securing an heir and protecting the body of the expectant mother. Just as they were performed to impart sacred power to objects like the pregnancy sash, practices of empowerment in medieval Japan were also frequently used to assimilate therapeutic technologies and concepts from non-Buddhist medical traditions. In ­chapter 6, “Ritualizing Moxibustion in the Early Medieval ­Tendai-Jimon Lineage,” Andrew Macomber examines the adoption of moxibustion, a healing modality more commonly associated with classical Chinese medicine, in a fire ritual for the treatment of “corpse-vector disease” (denshibyō 傳屍病). Although scholars previously thought this rite was of continental origin, Macomber situates its late-twelfth-century creation in the Jimon branch of the Tendai school, a community based at the temple

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Onjōji. As his examination of the liturgy and oral transmission texts reveals, the moxibustion rite partakes of structures and images characteristic of the kinds of empowerment practices Jimon monks used throughout the Heian period to cure the illnesses of aristocrats and emperors. At the same time, in exploring the moxibustion points prescribed in the healing program, Macomber demonstrates that, beyond esoteric sources, the Jimon compilers of the rite also found inspiration in a wide range of Buddhist and medical sources, most prominently the writings of Tendai (Ch. Tiantai) patriarch Zhiyi (538–597) and acumoxa texts. Among the many shared themes emerging from these chapters, three are perhaps most salient for the field of Buddhist studies as well as for scholars working on the intersections of religion and medicine in non-­ Buddhist contexts. First, many of the contributions underscore the pervasiveness of normativity across multiple genres of Buddhist writings. Pierce Salguero’s study of a key subset of monastic exemplars allows us to better understand how healing played a central role in the ways Buddhist authors crafted images of the ideal monk. Antje Richter’s chapter follows normativity in a different direction, showing that Buddhist writings offered not only models for healing but also templates for ailing: in the figure of Vimalakīrti, Buddhist sūtras effectively taught readers how to be sick. Between these two chapters, readers will discern a more general pattern that characterized the spread of Buddhism throughout East Asia: Even as Buddhist writings presented the means for eliminating sickness and suffering, they also shaped the language through which that suffering was articulated and experienced. Many contributors focus on prescriptive sources for therapeutic practices, most notably ritual, a second prominent theme throughout this volume. In recent years, scholars of Buddhism in medieval China and Japan have increasingly drawn attention to the dynamic bridgework of ritual.50 In various ways, rituals functioned as malleable frameworks for integrating Buddhist concepts and practices with those of other religious communities and specific social contexts. In a similar way, several chapters in this volume demonstrate that Buddhists used ritual programs to reconcile competing and often incongruent medical models, practices, and notions of efficacy. The ritual manuscripts described by Catherine Despeux, for example, display a staggering hybridity of influences, reflecting exchanges among diverse therapeutic cultures active at Dunhuang. In the medieval Japanese sources described



Introduction

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by Andrew Macomber, on the other hand, esoteric Buddhist rites served as the matrix for assimilating healing technologies and disease concepts from continental Chinese medicine. Finally, a third theme recurring throughout this volume is an emphasis on material culture. The talismans, willow branches, lamps, pharmaceuticals, and manifold other objects that populate these chapters strikingly demonstrate that Buddhist healing in medieval East Asia was in practice never narrowly focused on the mind. The persistent materiality of Buddhist healing is addressed most explicitly in Shi Zhiru’s chapter. Zhiru shows that lighting technologies figured prominently in practices for elongating life in China, but she also treats these objects in ways that will be familiar to other scholars working on religion and materiality, that is, as indexes of multiple meanings, mutual influence among traditions, and larger sociotechnical shifts. Anna Andreeva’s chapter develops along similar lines in a compelling case study of the pregnancy sash. She reveals how, by ritually empowering the sash, esoteric Buddhist monks redefined the social life of this important ceremonial object. The analysis provided in this book is meant primarily to shed light on the specific details of the local processes of reception and adaptation of Buddhist healing in medieval China and Japan: a sash, a motif, a narrative. However, it is also hoped that this volume’s engagement with themes of normativity, ritual, and material culture­— as well as numerous other themes encountered and explored throughout these pages—will offer potential points of connection for scholars working on the nexus between Buddhism and medicine in other times and places. We additionally hope that the discussion here is generalizable enough to be found relevant by scholars working on other crossings of religion and healing within diverse disciplinary, temporal, and geographic contexts.51 We thus hope to simultaneously make a ­contribution to the scholarly understanding of Buddhist healing in medieval East Asia, while also placing these specific local ideas and practices in dialogue with larger currents in the global history of religion and medicine. Notes 1. Portions of this introduction were previously published in Salguero 2014a. 2. See discussion in Skorupski 1999.

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3. See discussion of early Buddhist connections with medicine in, e.g., Haldar 1977; Zysk 1998; Naqvi 2011; Granoff 2011; Anālayo 2016; selections from Salguero 2017. 4. Salguero 2018. 5. Salguero 2015a. For developments in Southeast Asia, see Liyanaratne 1999; selections from Salguero 2017. On Tibet, see esp. Wallace 2001; Schaeffer 2003; Garrett 2006; Gyatso 2015; selections from Salguero 2017. 6. Buddhist healing in medieval China is discussed in, e.g., Strickmann 2002; Despeux 2010; Chen Ming 2013. The term “medieval” is used in this volume not to draw parallels to European historiography, from which the term is derived, but rather to follow conventional use in scholarship on East Asian Buddhism to roughly delineate a historical period. For China, “medieval” will refer to the period from the fall of the Han dynasty in the early third century to the establishment of the Song dynasty in the late tenth century. For Japan, the medieval period will cover the period from the appearance of rule by retired e­ mperors in the late eleventh century to approximately the fifteenth century. ­Despite the different periodization schemes for China and Japan, it is significant that ­Buddhists in medieval-era Japan continued to draw on medieval Chinese sources. 7. See discussion in Salguero 2014b. 8. The vast majority of recent publications on East Asian Buddhist medicine have concerned China and Japan. In contrast, very little attention has been paid to Korea or Vietnam (but see Baker 1994; Do 2001; selections from Salguero 2017). It is hoped that the field will continue to expand and that scholars will broaden their analysis in order to fill some of this lacuna. 9. See Salguero 2014b, 133–139. A compilation of biographical details and legends of numerous missionaries is available in Fu and Ni 1996. 10. See also Davis 2001; Strickmann 2002; Salguero 2009; Campany 2012. 11. See also Salguero 2013; Salguero 2017, 84–91. 12. See Birnbaum 1989a, 1989b; Yü 2001; selections from Salguero 2017. 13. See, e.g., Capitanio 2013. 14. See Salguero 2015b; selections from Salguero 2017. 15. See Salguero 2014b, 112–116; selections from Salguero 2017. 16. Chen Ming 2007, 2013. 17. See Birnbaum 1989a; Davis 2001; Strickmann 2002; McBride 2011. 18. Deshpande 2003–2004, 2008. 19. See Deshpande 1999, 2000; Deshpande and Fan 2012. On Indian influence on Chinese embryology, see Chen Ming 2005c. 20. See Sakade 1998; Zhu 1999; Deshpande 2003–2004, 2008; Chen Ming 2013, 224–277; Salguero 2017, 533–542. 21. See Kalinowski 2003; Lo and Cullen 2005; Chen Ming 2005a, 2005b; Despeux 2010. 22. Davis 2001; Liu 2008. 23. See, e.g., Chen Yunü 2008.



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24. Wu 2000. 25. Salguero 2014b, 141–148. 26. Demiéville 1985, 52, emphasis added. For a recent overview of the history of Buddhist medicine in Japan covering topics mentioned in this introduction and later chapters, see Shinmura 2013. 27. Kleine 2012, 19–23; Shinmura 1985, 260–268. 28. Demiéville 1985, 60–63; Shinmura 1985, 1–5. 29. See Hattori 1964, 54–64; Shinmura 1985, 344–358; Goble 2011; Triplett 2012, 77–86; Kleine 2012. 30. Nihonyanagi 1997; Winfield 2005; Triplett 2010; Josephson 2010. 31. One edition of Eisai’s Record of Nourishing Life by Drinking Tea (Kissayōjōki 喫茶養生記) has recently been translated and examined in Benn 2016, 145–171; see also Drott 2010; Yoneda 2015. 32. Nishio 2000; Okuda et al. 2005. 33. Yiengpruksawan 1996. 34. Suzuki 2012. 35. Williams 2004b; Miyazaki and Williams 2001; Moerman 2015; ­Salguero 2017, 219–221. 36. Triplett 2010; Drott 2010; Goble 2011; Salguero 2017, 514–530. 37. Triplett 2012; Salguero 2017, 533–552. 38. Goble 2009, 2011. 39. Juhn Ahn 2008, 2012; Groner 2012; Drott 2015. 40. Williams 2003; 2005, 86–116. 41. Williams 2004a; 2005, 104–116. 42. Much of the information in the next few paragraphs is drawn from Baker 1994, 2003. 43. Translated in Ha and Mintz 1972; Mohan 2007. 44. Ahn Kye-hyŏn 1991, 24. 45. Lim 2013. 46. Skt. Bhaiṣajya-guru sūtra; Ch. Yaoshi jing; Kor. Yaksa kyŏng. See discussion in Jeong 2013. 47. Now housed at the Haeinsa Temple, which has since 1995 been recognized as a United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) World Heritage Site. Almost all the texts making up the Korean Tripiṭaka were ­incorporated by the compilers of the Taishō Tripiṭaka in the early twentieth century. They are today widely available both as part of that collection and online in digitalized format from the Tripitaka Koreana Knowledgebase, http://kabc.dongguk .edu/Home/Contents. 48. Uhlmann 2007; Kim Jongmyung 2013. 49. Baker 1994. 50. Mollier 2008; Copp 2014; Lomi 2014; Stone 2016. 51. For an excellent volume engaging with similar themes of religion, the body, and medicine, see Andreeva and Steavu 2016.

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References Ahn, Juhn. 2008. “Zen and the Art of Nourishing Life: Labor, Exhaustion, and the Malady of Meditation.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 35, no. 2:177–229. ———. 2012. “Worms, Germs, and Technologies of the Self—Religion, Sword Fighting, and Medicine in Early Modern Japan.” Japanese Religions 37, nos. 1–2:93–114. Ahn Kye-hyŏn. 1991. “Buddhism in the Unified Silla Period.” In Assimilation of Buddhism in Korea: Religious Maturity and Innovation in the Silla D ­ ynasty, edited by Lewis Lancaster and C. S. Yu, 1–46. Freemont, CA: Asian ­Humanities Press. Anālayo. 2016. Mindfully Facing Disease and Death: Compassionate Advice from Early Buddhist Texts. Cambridge: Windhorse. Andreeva, Anna, and Dominic Steavu, eds. 2016. Transforming the Void: Embryological Discourse and Reproductive Imagery in East Asian Religions. Leiden: Brill. Baker, Donald. 1994. “Monks, Medicine, and Miracles: Health and Healing in the History of Korean Buddhism.” Korean Studies 18:50–75. ———. 2003. “Oriental Medicine in Korea.” In Medicine Across Cultures: History and Practice of Medicine in Non-Western Cultures, edited by Helaine Selin and Hugh Shapiro, 133–153. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers. Benn, James A. 2016. Tea in China: A Religious and Cultural History. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Birnbaum, Raoul. 1989a. The Healing Buddha. Boulder, CO: Shambhala. ———. 1989b. “Chinese Buddhist Traditions of Healing and the Life Cycle.” In Healing and Restoring: Health and Medicine in the World’s Religious Traditions, edited by Lawrence E. Sullivan, 33–58. New York: Macmillan. Campany, Robert. 2012. Signs from the Unseen Realm: Buddhist Miracle Tales from Early Medieval China. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Capitanio, Josh. 2013. “Health, Illness, and the Body in Buddhist and Daoist Self-Cultivation.” In Brahman and Dao: Comparative Studies of Indian and Chinese Philosophy and Religion, edited by Ithamar Theodor and Yao Zhihua, 181–194. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Chen Ming 陈明. 2005a. “Zhuan nü wei nan: Turning Female to Male, an Indian Influence on Chinese Gynaecology?” Asian Medicine 1, no. 2:315–334. ———. 2005b. Dunhuang chutu huyu yidian “Qipo shu” yanjiu 敦煌出土胡語 醫典《耆婆書》研究. Hong Kong: Xinwenfeng chuban 新文豊出版. ———. 2005c. Shufang yiyao: chutu wenshu yu xiyu yixue 殊方異藥:出土文書 與西域醫學. Beijing: Peking University Press. ———. 2007. “The Transmission of Foreign Medicine via the Silk Roads in ­Medieval China: A Case Study of the Haiyao bencao.” Asian Medicine 3, no. 2:241–264.



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———. 2013. Zhonggu yiliao yu wailai wenhua 中古醫療與外來文化. Beijing: Peking University Press. Chen Yunü. 2008. “Buddhism and the Medical Treatment of Women in the Ming Dynasty: A Research Note.” Nan Nü 10:279–303. Copp, Paul. 2014. The Body Incantory: Spells and the Ritual Imagination in Medieval Chinese Buddhism. New York: Columbia University Press. Davis, Edward L. 2001. Society and the Supernatural in Song China. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Demiéville, Paul. 1985. Buddhism and Healing: Demiéville’s Article ‘Byō’ from Hōbōgirin, translated by Mark Tatz. Lanham, MD: University Press of America. Deshpande, Vijaya. 1999. “Indian Influences on Early Chinese Ophthalmology: Glaucoma as a Case Study.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 62, no. 2:306–322. ———. 2000. “Ophthalmic Surgery: A Chapter in the History of Sino-Indian Medical Contacts.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 63, no. 3:370–388. ———. 2003–2004. “Nāgārjuna and Chinese Medicine.” Studia Asiatica 4–5:241–257. ———. 2008. “Glimpses of Āyurveda in Medieval Chinese Medicine.” Indian Journal of History of Science 43, no. 2:137–161. Deshpande, Vijaya, and Fan Ka-wai. 2012. Restoring the Dragon’s Vision: Nagarjuna and Medieval Chinese Ophthalmology. Hong Kong: City University of Hong Kong. Despeux, Catherine, ed. 2010. Médecine, religion, et société dans la Chine médiévale: Étude de manuscrits chinois de Dunhuang et de Turfan. Paris: Collège de France, Institut des Hautes Études Chinoises. Do, M. Thien. 2001. “Charity and Charisma, The Dual Path of a Popular ­Buddhist Group in Southern Vietnam: The Tinh Do Cu Si.” In Vietnamese Society in Transition: The Daily Politics of Reform and Change, edited by John Kleinen, 159–182. Amsterdam: Het Spinhuis. Drott, Edward R. 2010. “Gods, Buddhas, and Organs: Buddhist Physicians and Theories of Longevity in Early Medieval Japan.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 37, no. 2:247–273. ———. 2015. Bukkyō igaku to jukyō igaku no kiro de: Manase Dōsan no Rōjinmon 「仏教医学」と「儒教医学」の 岐路でー曲直瀬道三の『老人 門』. In Manase Dōsan to kindai Nihon iryō shakai 曲直瀬道三と近世日本 医療社会, 272–293. Osaka: Takeda Kagaku Shinkō Zaidan. Fu Fang 傅芳 and Ni Qing 倪靑, eds. 1996. Zhongguo foyi renwu xiaozhuan 中囯佛医人物小传 [Short biographies of Chinese Buddhist medical personages]. Xiamen: Lujiang chubanshe. Garrett, Frances. 2006. “Buddhism and the Historicising of Medicine in Thirteenth-­Century Tibet.” Asian Medicine 2, no. 2:204–224.

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Goble, Andrew E. 2009. “Kajiwara Shōzen (1265–1337) and the Medical Silk Road: Chinese and Arabic Influences on Early Medieval Japanese Medicine.” In Tools of Culture: Japan’s Cultural, Intellectual, Medical, and Technological Contacts in East Asia, 1000–1500s, edited by A. E. Goble, K. R. Robinson, and H. N. Wakabayashi, 231–257. Ann Arbor, MI: Association for Asian Studies. Goble, Andrew Edmund. 2011. Confluences of Medicine in Medieval Japan: Buddhist Healing, Chinese Knowledge, Islamic Formulas, and Wounds of War. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Granoff, Phyllis. 2011. “The Buddha as the Greatest Healer: The Complexities of a Comparison.” Journal Asiatique 299, no. 1:5–22. Groner, Paul. 2012. “Extreme Asceticism, Medicine, and Pure Land Faith in the Life of Shuichi Munō (1683–1719).” Japanese Religions 37, nos. 1–2:39–62. Gyatso, Janet. 2015. Being Human in a Buddhist World: An Intellectual History of Medicine in Early Modern Tibet. New York: Columbia University Press. Ha Tae-Hung and Grafton K. Mintz, trans. 1972. Samguk yusa: Legends and History of the Three Kingdoms of Ancient Korea. Seoul: Yonsei University Press. Haldar, J. R. 1977. Medical Science in Pali Literature. Calcutta: Indian Museum. Hattori Toshirō 服部敏良. 1964. Kamakura jidai igakushi no kenkyū 鎌倉時代 医学史の研究. Tokyo: Yoshikawa kōbunkan 吉川弘文館. Jeong Byeong-sam. 2013. “The Characteristics of the Cult of Bhaisajyaguru in Silla: On Its Doctrinal Interpretations and Cultic Practices.” In The Cult of the Healing Buddha in East Asia: Donghwasa Temple and Columbia Center for Buddhism, East Asian Religions (C-BEAR) International Conference (May 29–30, 2013). Daegu: Donghwasa Temple. Josephson, Jason Ā. 2010. “An Empowered World: Buddhist Medicine and the Potency of Prayer in Meiji Japan.” In Deus in Machina: Religion, Technology, and the Things in Between, edited by Jeremy Stolow, 117–141. New York: Fordham University Press. Kalinowski, Marc, ed. 2003. Divination et société dans la Chine médiévale: Étude des manuscrits de Dunhuang de la Bibliothèque Nationale de France et de la British Library. Paris: Bibliothèque Nationale de France. Kim Jongmyung. 2013. “Belief in the ‘Healing Buddha’ Katpawi in Contemporary Korea.” In The Cult of the Healing Buddha in East Asia: Donghwasa Temple and Columbia Center for Buddhism, East Asian Religions (­C-BEAR) International Conference (May 29–30). Daegu: Dong­hwasa Temple. Kleine, Christoph. 2012. “Buddhist Monks as Healers in Early and Medieval Japan.” Japanese Religions 37, nos. 1–2:13–38.



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Lim Nam-su. 2013. “The Iconography and the Tradition of the Bhaisajyaguru Image in the Ancient Period Korea.” In The Cult of the Healing Buddha in East Asia: Donghwasa Temple and Columbia Center for Buddhism, East Asian Religions (C-BEAR) International Conference (May 29–30, 2013). Daegu: Donghwasa Temple. Liu Shufen 劉淑芬. 2008. “Tangsong shiqi sengren, guojia he yiliao de guanxi: cong yaofang dong dao huimin ju” 唐、宋時期僧人、國家和醫療的關係: 從藥方洞到惠民局 [Connections between the sangha, state, and medicine in the Tang-Song era: From the Medical Prescriptions Cave to the Office of Public Welfare]. In Cong yiliao kan zhongguo shi 從醫療看中國史 [Chinese history from the perspective of medicine], edited by Li Jianmin 李建民, 145–202. Taipei: Lianjing chuban gongsi. Liyanaratne, Jindasa. 1999. Buddhism and Traditional Medicine in Sri Lanka. Kelaniya, Sri Lanka: University of Kelaniya. Lo, Vivienne, and Christopher Cullen, eds. 2005. Medieval Chinese Medicine: The Dunhuang Medical Manuscripts. London: RoutledgeCurzon. Lomi, Benedetta. 2014. “Dharanis, Talismans, and Straw-Dolls: Ritual Choreographies and Healing Strategies of the Rokujikyōhō in Medieval Japan.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 41, no. 2:255–304. McBride, Richard D. 2011. “Esoteric Buddhism and Its Relation to Healing and Demonology.” In Esoteric Buddhism and the Tantras in East Asia, edited by Charles D. Orzech, Henrik H. Sørensen, and Richard K. Payne, 208–214. Leiden: Brill. Miyazaki Fumiko and Duncan R. Williams. 2001. “The Intersection of the Local and the Translocal at a Sacred Site: The Case of Osorezan in Tokugawa Japan.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 28, nos. 3–4:399–440. Moerman, Max D. 2015. “The Buddha and the Bathwater: Defilement and Enlightenment in the Onsenji engi.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 42, no. 1:71–87. Mohan, Pankaj N. 2007. “Won’gwang and Chajang in the Formation of Early Silla Buddhism.” In Religions of Korea in Practice, edited by Robert E. Buwell, 51–64. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Mollier, Christine. 2008. Buddhism and Taoism Face to Face: Scripture, Ritual, and Iconographic Exchange in Medieval China. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Naqvi, Nasim H. 2011. A Study of Buddhist Medicine and Surgery in Gandhara. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. Nihonyanagi Kenji 二本柳賢司. 1997. “Nihon mikkyō igaku to yakubutsugaku” 日本密教医学と薬物学 [Japanese esoteric Buddhist medicine and pharmacology]. In Rekishi no naka no yamai to igaku 歴史の中の病と医学 [Disease and medicine in history], edited by Yamada Keiji 山田慶兒 and Kuriyama Shigehisa 栗山茂久, 545–566. Kyoto: Shibundō.

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Nishio Masahito 西尾正仁. 2000. Yakushi shinkō: gokoku no hotoke kara onsen no hotoke e 薬師信仰─護国の仏から温泉の仏へ [The cult of Yakushi: From a buddha of state-protection to a buddha of hot springs]. Tokyo: Iwata shoin. Okuda Jun, Noro Yukio, and Ito Shiro. 2005. “Les pots de médicament de Yakushi Bouddha (Bouddha de la guérison) au Japon.” Revue d’histoire de la pharmacie 93, no. 345:7–32. Sakade Yoshinobu. 1998. “Sun Simiao et le Bouddhisme.” Kansai daigaku bunka ronshū 関西大学文化論集 42, no. 1:81–98. Salguero, C. Pierce. 2009. “The Buddhist Medicine King in Literary Context: Reconsidering an Early Example of Indian Influence on Chinese Medicine and Surgery.” History of Religions 48, no. 3:183–210. ———. 2013. “Fields of Merit, Harvests of Health: Some Notes on the Role of Medical Karma in the Popularization of Buddhism in Early Medieval China.” Asian Philosophy 23, no. 4:341–349. ———. 2014a. “Buddhism and Medicine in East Asian History.” Religion Compass 8, no. 8:239–250. ———. 2014b. Translating Buddhist Medicine in Medieval China. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. ———. 2015a. “Toward a Global History of Buddhism and Medicine.” ­Buddhist Studies Review 32, no. 1:35–61. ———. 2015b. “Reexamining the Categories and Canons of Chinese Buddhist Healing.” Journal of Chinese Buddhist Studies 28:35–66. ———. 2017. Buddhism and Medicine: An Anthology of Premodern Sources. New York: Columbia University Press. ———. 2018. “Healing and/or Salvation? The Relationship Between Religion and Medicine in Medieval Chinese Buddhism.” Working Paper Series of the HCAS: Multiple Secularities—Beyond the West, Beyond Modernities 4. Schaeffer, Kurtis R. 2003. “Textual Scholarship, Medical Tradition, and Mahāyāna Buddhist Ideals in Tibet.” Journal of Indian Philosophy 31, nos. 5–6:621–641. Shinmura Taku 新村拓. 1985. Nihon iryō shakaishi no kenkyū: kodai chūsei no minshū seikatsu to iryō 日本医療社会史の研究─古代中世の民衆生活と 医療. Tokyo: Hōsei Daigaku shuppankyoku 法政大学出版局. ———. 2013. Nihon bukkyō no iryōshi 日本仏教の医療史. Tokyo: Hōsei Daigaku shuppankyoku 法政大学出版局. Skorupski, Tadeusz. 1999. “Health and Suffering in Buddhism: Doctrinal and ­Existential Considerations.” In Religion, Health and Suffering, edited by John R. Hinnells and Roy Porter, 139–165. London: Kegan Paul International. Stone, Jacqueline I. 2016. Right Thoughts at the Last Moment: Buddhism and Deathbed Practices in Early Medieval Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press.



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Strickmann, Michel. 2002. Chinese Magical Medicine, edited by Bernard Faure. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Suzuki, Yui. 2012. Medicine Master Buddha: The Iconic Worship of Yakushi in Heian Japan. Leiden: Brill. Triplett, Katja. 2010. “Esoteric Buddhist Eye-Healing Rituals in Japan and the Promotion of Benefits.” In Ritual Dynamics and the Science of Ritual, vol. 1, Grammars and Morphologies of Ritual Practices in Asia, edited by A. Michaels, 485–500. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. ———. 2012. “Magical Medicine?—Japanese Buddhist Medical Knowledge and Ritual Instruction for Healing the Physical Body.” Japanese Religions 37, nos. 1–2:63–92. Uhlmann, Patrick R. 2007. “A Buddhist Rite of Exorcism.” In Religions of Korea in Practice, edited by Robert E. Buwell, 112–129. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Wallace, Vesna. 2001. The Inner Kālacakratantra: A Buddhist Tantric View of the Individual. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Williams, Duncan R. 2003. “How Dōshō’s Medicine Saved Dōgen: Medicine, Dōshōan and Edo-Period Dōgen Biographies.” In Chan Buddhism in Ritual Context, edited by B. Faure, 266–287. London: RoutledgeCurzon. ———. 2004a. “Edo-Period Tales of the Healing Jizō Bodhisattva: A Translation  of ‘Enmei Jizōson Inkō Riyakuki.’ ” Monumenta Nipponica 59, no. 4:493–524. ———. 2004b. “Esoteric Waters: Meritorious Bathing, Kōbō Daishi, and Legends of Hot Spring Foundings.” Special issue, Bulletin of the Research Institute of Esoteric Buddhist Culture 2:195–216. ———. 2005. The Other Side of Zen: A Social History of Sōtō Zen Buddhism in Tokugawa Japan. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Winfield, Pamela D. 2005. “Curing with Kaji: Healing and Esoteric Empowerment in Japan.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 32:107–130. Wu, Yi-li. 2000. “The Bamboo Grove Monastery and Popular Gynecology in Qing China.” Late Imperial China 21, no. 1:41–76. Yiengpruksawan, Mimi. 1996. “The Visual Ideology of Buddhist Sculpture in the Late Heian Period as Configured by Epidemic and Disease.” In Ico­ nography and Style: On Buddhist Art Historical Studies, edited by Kokusai kōryū bijutsishi kenkyūkai, 69–79. Kyoto: Kokusai kōryū bijutsishi kenkyūkai. Yoneda Mariko 米田真理子. 2015. “ ‘Kissayōjōki’ saidoku: Yōsai ni yoru shuchō no dokusōsei to sono keishō” 『喫茶養生記』再読─栄西による主張の独 創性とその継承─. In Hikaku shisō kara mita Nihon bukkyō 比較思想か ら見た日本仏教, edited by Sueki Fumihiko 末木文美士, 55–71. Tokyo: Sankibō Busshorinkan 山喜房佛書林. Yü, Chün-fang. 2001. Kuan-yin: The Chinese Transformation of Avalokitesvara. New York: Columbia University Press.

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Zhu Jianping 朱建平. 1999. “Sun Simiao Qianjin Fang zhong de Fojiao ying­ xiang” 孙思邈《千金方》中的佛教影响 [Buddhist influences on Sun Simiao’s Precious Prescriptions for Emergency]. Zhonghua yishi zazhi 中华医史杂志 4:220–22. Zysk, Kenneth G. 1998. Asceticism and Healing in Ancient India: Medicine in the Buddhist Monastery. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.

1

“A Flock of Ghosts Bursting Forth and Scattering” Healing Narratives in a Sixth-Century Chinese Buddhist Hagiography C. Pierce Salguero

A

s Buddhism was transmitted to China in the first half of the first millennium CE, texts, doctrines, and narratives concerning Indian models of healing that were embedded in the Tripiṭaka were repackaged, reconceptualized, and re-created for Chinese audiences through a sustained project of literary and cultural translation.1 Like all translators, the Chinese interpreters of Buddhism defined and ­explained foreign ideas by placing them into relationship with familiar ideas from the indigenous context. They did not adhere to a single approach in this undertaking, however. As for all authors writing at the interface between cultures, their translation decisions were inseparable from their cultural contexts, social strategies, and individual historical idiosyncrasies. This chapter focuses on one small slice of the medieval Chinese Buddhist literary world, the Lives of Eminent Monks (Gaoseng zhuan 高僧傳, T. 2059; hereafter Lives), compiled around 530.2 While it is an indigenous composition and not a translation from a foreign language, this hagiographic collection played an important role in the cultural translation of Buddhist healing. Lives is among the most significant indigenous Buddhist compositions of the early medieval period. It was both a collection of previously available material and a model for subsequent collections. Owned by emperors, read by the sangha, and used as a proselytizing and didactic tool, the text circulated widely. Though healing is by no means their primary subject matter, the biographies in Lives present in narrative form a panoply of Buddhist ritual healing practices. Precisely because it was meant as a tool of proselytism, the collection 23

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sheds light on how Buddhist ideas about the body, disease, and cure were presented to a wide audience in and outside the sangha. Lives is by no means the only early Chinese Buddhist source of healing narratives. The healing of the sick also features prominently in the Chinese writing and rewriting of texts concerning Guanyin, the Medicine Buddha, Amitābha Buddha, Nāgārjuna, and a number of other deities and heroes from across Buddhist literature.3 Such ­ compositions characteristically create connections between Buddhist figures and familiar Chinese archetypes in order to appeal to Chinese sensibilities.4 Lives can also be read as an example of cultural translation with a larger strategic aim of demonstrating Buddhism’s ­healing efficacy to wider audiences. Within the hagiography, the sangha’s ability to access divine and magical healing powers is a ubiquitous theme. Equating these Buddhist heroes with Chinese wonder-­working healers was part of the text’s strategy to demonstrate the sangha’s relevance to and conformity with the Chinese expectations of ­religious clerics. But at the same time that it employs language and narrative tropes to make Buddhist healing fit with indigenous repertoires, Lives also employs clear strategies of differentiation, capitalizing upon Buddhism’s foreign origin in order to demonstrate its uniqueness and superiority over other contemporary traditions. The protagonists of these hagiographic tales wield a therapeutic armamentarium stocked with foreign rituals and spells and the invocation of foreign deities. The text is careful to continually remind us that such wondrous feats of mastery are held in secretive, foreign hands that only patrons of Buddhism can open. Thus, Lives is exemplary of both the process of assimilation by which Indian ritual technologies were fitted into the Chinese context, and also of how exoticizing language and tropes could be deployed as tools of legitimization and persuasion. Authorship and Historical Context of the Hagiography Several previous studies have discussed the authorship, genre, and social milieu of Lives in fuller detail than can be given here—­ including, most notably, studies of Buddhist biographical collections by John Kieschnick and studies of the social context of early medieval hagiography more generally by Robert Campany—upon which I have drawn heavily in this essay.5 Among the earliest indigenous



“A Flock of Ghosts Bursting Forth and Scattering”

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hagiographies of Chinese Buddhism, the text was composed around 530 by the monk Huijiao 慧皎 (497–554) of the Jiaxiangsi 嘉祥寺 temple in the Kuaiji 會稽 district of the Liang. It consists of fourteen fascicles, which include biographies of 257 monks who lived in China from the mid-first century to the author’s time. Subsumed within these are another 259 subordinate biographies of less-well-known individuals, which often amount to no more than a few lines each. While they have little precedent in Indian Buddhism, scholars have noted that the narratives in Lives lie at the intersection of different traditions of Chinese biography. The text was in many respects derivative of previous Chinese Buddhist hagiographic works, although Huijiao intended his collection to rectify what he saw as some of the shortcomings of his predecessors.6 Lives also drew upon the conventions of classical Chinese historiography, though bending and often circumventing those conventions in both the range and tenor of the contents.7 While biographies in the dynastic histories tended to list the family lineages, titles, honors, and government posts of their subjects, Huijiao tended not to dwell on such worldly ­concerns. Nor did he follow the Buddhist hagiographic convention of focusing on the most famous members of the sangha. Instead, a different ideal emerges from his work, typically involving a poor or despised individual who is discovered to have surprising abilities of memorization, clair­ voyance, and/or wisdom, and who after ordination goes on to great achievements in asceticism, religious scholarship, and/or thaumaturgy.8 Exemplars of the latter, which comprise about a third of the biographies in Lives, are particularly interesting for our present purposes. Monks in such narratives exert control over a wide range of phenomena by rainmaking, predicting the future, disappearing and reappearing, or causing objects to manifest. Spontaneous healing is also frequently depicted, although Huijiao does not explicitly separate this from other forms of magical power. Historians of Chinese literature have considered many of the thaumaturgical episodes in Lives to be representative of the medieval genre of “anomaly accounts” (zhiguai 志怪), tales of the wondrous and strange that center on ghosts, the occult arts, and magical objects.9 Huijiao indeed seems to have consciously positioned Lives within this literary context: His preface cites eighteen sources for his compilation, including not only Buddhist texts but also secular ­compositions like ­local histories and geographies, “separate bio­graphies” (biezhuan 別傳) of individuals, letters, oral interviews, and other miscellany that were

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also frequently mined for anomaly accounts.10 Nowhere is the connection between Lives and this genre clearer than in the healing narratives. The themes central to Huijiao’s uplifting and entertaining stories— humble people with surprising powers over the natural world, redemption from sin and misfortune, the intervention of divine beings into human affairs, and sudden bodily transformation—are common plot elements in tales of the anomalous as well.11 If Huijiao’s accounts of the victories of magic-wielding monks over demons and disease fit well with other literature circulating in the medieval period, these stories were also crafted with the explicit purpose of persuading contemporaries about the superiority of Buddhism in that milieu. Huijiao himself says of the text that it was intended as a tool of proselytism. In his words, it was necessary to tell the eminent monks’ stories because “for spreading the Way and ­explaining the Teaching, nothing surpasses eminent monks.”12 He was no doubt also keenly aware of the need to compete with narratives circulating in other religious and medical circles at the time. Competition, emulation, and direct borrowing are indicated by the many similarities between Huijiao’s collection and Daoist hagi­ ographies such as the Lives of Divine Immortals (Shenxian zhuan 神 仙傳; attributed to Ge Hong [283–343]), as well as early medieval lore about popular healers (wu 巫), mantic technicians (fangshi 方 士), and numinous physicians.13 At the same time, Lives also represents an appeal to the sensibilities of social and political elites.14 The text, for example, reveals a concern to ally eminent monks with the interests of the state. In several stories, eminent monks are said to have enjoyed close relationships to secular power. Zhu Fakuang 竺法曠, Yu Fakai 于法開, and Zhu Fotucheng (alt. Fotudeng) 竺佛圖澄—all monks that figure in healing narratives—are said to have served emperors, princes, and military rulers as personal fortune-tellers, ritual specialists, military consultants, and healers. Huijiao evidently was successful in his efforts at entertainment, proselytism, and currying official favor. Lives found wide distribution in medieval China, was incorporated into and distributed as part of the official Buddhist canon, was widely quoted and/or plagiarized, and was used as didactic reading for young monks.15 While they sometimes criticized Huijiao’s opus for various errors of inclusion or omission, later Buddhist writers often cited it, and subsequent hagiographers emulated it in tone, structure, and content.16 It is not



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known whether the emperors of the Liang dynasty financially supported Huijiao’s compilation of hagiographies, but Emperor Yuan (508–554) is known to have owned a personal copy.17 The text is also likely to have served as a template for the telling and retelling of stories to illiterate lay audiences, and thus achieved a wider circulation than was possible for many contemporary written texts. For centuries, Buddhist exegetes and historians alike have used Huijiao’s biographical sketches to reconstruct the lives, careers, and doctrinal teachings of influential monks. Despite its potential value for this endeavor, in this chapter I do not attempt to determine the historicity either of the monks mentioned or the healing practices depicted. Instead, I treat this text strictly as a literary production and interpret its cast of characters not as historical actors but as examples and exemplars of religiomedical ideals.18 Furthermore, although it is in fact in many parts a collection of preexisting sources, I read Lives as a product of Huijiao’s brush and ink, a composite text rewritten in a specific time and place to forward a specific author’s social agenda.19 From this perspective, I argue that a close analysis of the narratives in this text can demonstrate how talking about healing was a way to talk to both monastic and lay audiences about what Buddhism had to offer to contemporary society in the Liang dynasty. The Extraordinary Body of the Eminent Monk Before discussing the healing practices appearing in Lives, I should briefly examine the wondrous bodies possessed by many of the monks introduced in the text. Such tales emphasize the powers of bodily transformation available to the enlightened. In many hagiographies, the corpse of an eminent monk is found to be incorruptible. For example, when burned on the pyre for a succession of days, the body of He Luojie 訶羅竭 was not consumed by the fire—a common attribute of transcendents in Chinese tradition and a sure sign of his superior attainments.20 In other narratives, the eminent monk’s transcendence of the physical world is demonstrated by his comportment at the moment of death. For example, the biography of Shi Huiyong 釋慧永 tells of a time when the monk became severely ill: However, he was focused and cautious about following the precepts and monastic discipline, and held to them all the more. Although he

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was bedridden with his malady and harbored suffering, his countenance was harmonious and pleasant. A short time had gone by when, suddenly, he arranged his clothes and, joining together his hands, asked for his slippers because he wanted to rise. It was as if he had seen something. Everyone was alarmed and asked him [what it was]. He answered saying, “The Buddha has come.” As he finished speaking, he died. 而專謹戒律執志愈勤。雖枕痾懷苦顏色怡悅。未盡少時。忽斂衣合掌 求屣欲起。如有所見。眾咸驚問。答云。佛來。言終而卒。21

For Huijiao, then, illness and death are not tragic events, but opportunities for the eminent monks’ virtues and personal connections with the Buddhist deities to become visible, confirming their special status and abilities.22 In many narratives, the monks’ spiritual attainments are made clear not at the moment of death, but by the appearance of light, fragrances, spontaneous combustion, disappearance and reappearance, or other corporeal wonders while they are still alive. To give only one example, the biography of Fotucheng includes the following passage in which he emits light from his abdomen: On the left side of Fotucheng’s breast in front there was a hole four or five inches round. It connected with the inside of his abdomen. Sometimes his intestines came out from inside, and sometimes he stopped up the hole with silk waste. If in the night he wanted to read a book, he always removed the silk waste, and then the whole room was thoroughly lighted. Moreover on fast days he always went to the bank of a stream, took out his intestines and washed them and put them back inside.23

This passage suggests that, by the wondrous way in which he washed out his intestines, Fotucheng’s body became so pure that even his ­excretory organs—site of the body’s most foul and loathsome substances—were able to emanate light.24 Monks as Healers Eminent monks are not always in possession of such extraordinary bodies, however. Many of the instances in which the Chinese characters for “illness” or “disease” (bing 病 or ji 疾) appear in Lives are



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cases where the subject of the biography himself falls sick.25 Often, the protagonist dies from his afflictions, indicating that not all monks were thought to have the power to heal themselves. There are also cases in Lives in which monks are said to have studied or to possess knowledge of healing, but in which no further detail appears. For ­example, the text states that An Shigao 安世高 was knowledgeable in the practice of medicine (yifang 醫方)26 and that Shan Daokai 單道開 treated diseases and pain of the eyes.27 Likewise, in the biography of Zhu Fotiao 竺佛調, two brothers hasten one hundred miles into town to the temple in order to beseech the monk to perform a healing.28 Though the source materials Huijiao consulted for at least one of these biographies contained more detailed information about the specific kinds of healing knowledge the monks possessed, such details are not his main concern in these instances.29 Medicine appears here only to add to an already impressive list of skills and powers at the fingertips of the eminent monk. Such references to healing knowledge are not necessarily claims about specific abilities or occurrences, but more generally part of the construction of an aura of all-encompassing proficiency that contributed to the sangha’s relevance, their importance in society, and their ability to intercede on behalf of the laity. More revealing than these passing references are those episodes of at least several lines in length that present encounters between healers and patients within a narrative context. In these stories, eminent monks are seen interacting with patients (either sick monastics or members of the laity) or else dealing with their own illnesses. As we might expect in a collection focused primarily on the hagiographic, in no case do these stories provide detailed descriptions of theoretical knowledge, medical training, or therapeutic practice. Instead, they are short narratives never more than ten lines long that tersely describe the patient’s condition, the monk’s therapeutic intervention, and the wondrous results. Appropriating Classical Chinese Medicine Two healing narratives appearing in Lives involve conventional therapies from the classical Chinese medical repertoire. The first appears in the entry for Shi Sengjin 釋僧瑾, in which it is briefly stated that the emperor called for the application of acupuncture and moxi­ bustion for his wind illness (fengbing 風 疾), but as this did not alleviate his condition, he was read Buddhist scriptures instead.30

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More significantly, the second narrative illustrates the use of classical Chinese therapeutics by a Buddhist healer. In the biography of Yu Fakai, the monk employs acupuncture in conjunction with a dose of sheep’s broth (despite Buddhist vegetarian mores) to relieve a difficult birth: He came upon a married woman who was giving birth [lit. “on the grass”] and in imminent danger. No treatment had been successful, causing her family consternation and worry. Yu Fakai simply said, “This is easy to cure.” The woman’s husband just then had killed a sheep desiring to make a heterodox sacrifice.31 Yu Fakai ordered him first to fetch a small amount of meat to be made into soup. When she had taken it, he applied acupuncture according to her qi. Shortly thereafter, the child inside her womb32 emerged. 值婦人在草危急[。] 眾治不驗舉家遑擾。開曰。此易治耳。主人正 宰羊欲為淫祀。開令先取少肉為羹[。] 進竟因氣針之。須臾羊膜裏 兒而出。33

In a second episode that immediately follows these events, Yu Fakai “inspects the channels” (shimai 視脈) of an emperor who has fallen ill—a reference to classical Chinese pulse diagnosis. Since he knows the case is hopeless, Yu Fakai refuses to treat the emperor. As the Empress Dowager berates the monk, the emperor suddenly collapses. Fleeing for his life, Yu Fakai escapes back to the safety of the monastery. These cases indicate that Huijiao included knowledge of learned medical techniques from the classical Chinese tradition in his ideal of the exemplary monk. The narratives are also arguing that it is laudable for a monk to relieve a laywoman of an obstetric crisis, and that the sangha is available to perform such services for the laity. Huijiao also is making or perpetuating the claims that monastics possess the power to predict life and death (which was also an important skill in both classical Chinese and Indian medical diagnostics), and that the sangha could be called upon by emperors to find out the truth of their medical conditions. Moreover, some of the narrative details of the story explicitly position Yu Fakai in direct competition with the famous physicians Bian Que 扁鵲 and Hua Tuo 華陀, who were said to have ­performed similar healings for pregnant women and ailing rulers.34 While they may portray classical therapeutics and mobilize native Chinese literary tropes, however, these episodes also situate Yu Fakai’s



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practice of medicine squarely within Buddhist frameworks of legitimacy. As I have argued elsewhere, this biography asserts a Buddhist basis for the monks’ medical authority: Yu Fakai’s knowledge is attributed not to the medical classics or the Yellow Emperor, but to the “wondrous medical methods” (miaotong yifa 妙通醫法) of Jīvaka, the Buddhist “King of Physicians.”35 By claiming this pedigree for Yu Fakai, Lives joins a number of other texts in the construction of a Buddhist medical lineage to rival the text-based lineages of classical Chinese physicians. Furthermore, the hagiography also legitimates the appropriation of classical medicine by the sangha with a patently Buddhist doctrinal justification. When asked why he practices medicine, the monk responds, “I cultivate the Six Perfections to eliminate the illnesses of the Four Māras, and read the Nine Indicators to treat illnesses of wind and cold” (明六度以除四魔之病。調九候以療風寒之疾。).36 In other words, he cultivates the six Buddhist virtues (generosity, morality, forbearance, effort, meditative absorption, and wisdom) in order to defeat four types of mental delusion, and employs the classical Chinese diagnostic tool of the Nine Indicators to deal with illnesses of the physical body. This synthesis of Buddhist and classical therapies for mind and body, continues Yu Fakai, is a means of simultaneously benefiting other beings while advancing on his own bodhisattva path. Invoking Divine Assistance The examples described here of appropriation of classical Chinese medical terms and practices notwithstanding, the vast majority of the medical narratives in Lives do not draw on classical medical doctrines or therapeutic repertoires. Instead, these hagiographies emphasize the fortuitous intercession of monks wielding Buddhist healing rituals. At the eleventh hour, they bring succor from sickness, drive out demons, conquer imminent death, and prevent other calamities from afflicting the devout through the invocation of deities, spell casting, and a range of other magical interventions. Even while discussing Buddhist healing practices originating in India, however, Huijiao most frequently frames the eminent healers he introduces as powerful intermediaries in the indigenous Chinese cosmology of spirits (shen 神), retribution (bao 報), magical transformation (hua 化 or bianhua 變化), and sympathetic resonance (ganying 感應; lit. “stimulus-response”). His stories also liberally borrow elements from preexisting Daoist hagiography, stories about

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wondrous healers, and other popular tales. Nevertheless, the narratives invariably maintain focus on the patently Buddhist aspects of the episodes and are concerned to demonstrate Buddhism’s superiority over these other traditions. In Huijiao’s time, many contemporary healing narratives featured the intervention of spirits, ghosts, and other superhuman beings as super­ natural assistants in the human quest to vanquish disease. Similarly, in Lives, eminent monks are able to transform demons into allies. For example, the text tells that as Zhu Fakuang wandered the “Eastern Lands” in a time of great pestilence, he “always had dozens of ghosts and spirits protecting him, both before and behind” (常有鬼神數十衛其前 後。).37 The monk, like so many heroes from a wide variety of Chinese literature, harnessed the dangerous forces of the spirit world and converted demonic beings into powerful helpers and protectors.38 In this collection, however, divine assistance is most often attained by the invocation of important Buddhist deities through Buddhist practices of asceticism and devotion. In the biography of Zhu Sengxian 竺僧顯, to cite an example, the monk’s illness is eradicated when Amitābha Buddha descends in a flash of light in response to his meditation on the Pure Land: [Zhu Sengxian] met with a disease both persistent and serious. So, he fixed upon thinking of the West [i.e., meditated on Amitābha’s paradise]. The deep suffering in his heart was extreme. He saw Amitābha Buddha descend, and [the Buddha’s] radiance illuminated his body. Thereupon his pain was completely healed, and that night he easily rose and bathed. 後遇疾綿篤。乃屬想西方心甚苦至。見無量壽佛降以真容光照其身。 所苦都愈[。] 是夕便起澡浴。39

At the conclusion of this narrative, Huijiao tells us that a fragrance remained in the room for more than ten days, evocative of the wondrous aromas said to permeate the Western Pure Land. The biography of Zhu Fayi 竺法義 likewise includes a passage wherein the sick monk is visited by the bodhisattva Guanyin, who performs abdominal surgery in a dream in direct response to the monk’s practice of chanting: Suddenly, [Zhu Fayi] felt his heart’s qi to be diseased. He consistently abided in chanting [the name of] Guanyin. Then, in a dream, he saw a



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person split open his abdomen and wash out his intestines. When he awoke, his disease was cured. 忽感心氣疾病。常存念觀音。乃夢見一人破腹洗腸。覺便病愈。40

Such narratives as these, of course, underscore the beneficence and accessibility of Buddhist deities willing to intervene in the affairs of humankind. However, they speak primarily to the monks’ close relation­ ship to these divine beings. Regardless of the specific deity or the details of the occasion, the eminent monks’ power to easily access such divine blessings through Buddhist practices remains at center stage. In addition to causing deities to appear in person, many other narratives in Lives depict eminent monks tapping into another type of divine assistance: magical boons. The biography of He Luojie, for example, tells of the time when the monk went into the mountains to sit in meditation within a cave:41 Then he picked himself up and used his left foot to kick the cave’s western wall, which was made of stone. The wall collapsed, covering his toes. As he pulled away his foot, water came from within. Clear, fragrant, and sublime, for four seasons it was never used up. For all who came to drink from it, thirst and hunger ceased, and their diseases were eradicated. 乃自起以左腳蹍室西石壁。壁陷沒指。既拔足水從中出。清香軟美四 時不絕。來飲者皆止飢渴除疾病。42

The healing water mentioned in this story brings to mind both the consecrated water (shenshui 神水) used in Buddhist rituals across Asia and the charmed water (fushui 符水) used by Daoists for healing and other ritual magic specifically in China. A frequent trope in medieval Chinese anomaly tales and hagiographies, its appearance in Lives amid other types of magical healing is not surprising. What is worth noting is that, here, the appearance of such beneficial water is causally related to the monks’ practice of seclusion and meditation. In a similar vein, in the biography of An Huize 安慧則, the gods or devas (tianshen 天神) send down curative water in response to the monk’s prayers: During the Yongjia reign-period [307–312] of the Jin all under heaven were sick from an epidemic. An Huize prayed day and night, beseech-

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ing the gods to send down a medicine to cure humankind. One day, while exiting the temple gates, he saw two stones shaped like urns. [He] suspected these were miraculous objects, and went to go see them. It turned out that there was consecrated water inside. When patients drank a dose, there were none who were not completely healed. 晉永嘉中天下疫病。則晝夜祈誠。願天神降藥以愈萬民。一日出寺門 見兩石形如甕。則疑是異物。取看之。果有神水在內。病者飲服莫不 皆愈。43

In this case, it is not clear what types of prayers were made, or to whom. However, those are not the important details: As in the previous examples, the focus of the passage is on the ability of the monk to communicate with the unseen world, and the responsiveness of the divine realm to the pleas of eminent Buddhists. Incanting Healing Spells In addition to accessing divine assistance, monks in Huijiao’s narratives frequently wield spells (Skt. dhāraṇī; Ch. zhou 咒 or shenzhou 神 咒) to heal their patients. In fact, eminent monks in Lives utilize spells for a variety of ends, including rainmaking, the summoning of dragons, the manifestation of lotuses, and other feats.44 Spell casting also played a major role in the medieval Daoist ritual repertoire and is one of the most notable areas of cross-pollination between Buddhism and indigenous Chinese traditions.45 In the Buddhist ­context, spells can be understood as a kind of indirect divine intervention, as the power of a Buddhist incantation is typically derived from its having been taught or sanctioned by a supernatural being from the Buddhist pantheon. When used therapeutically in Lives, spells are said to have rapid and efficacious results. Sometimes the narratives provide only terse statements about the spell caster’s victory over disease, stressing his superiority over other healers. Bei Du 杯度, for example, instantly heals with a single incantation a sick woman who had had “many treatments but no cure” (眾治不愈).46 He Luojie and Zhu Fakuang, mentioned earlier, both are credited with saving many lives with their healing spells during epidemics. In other cases, the focus is on what is driven out of the patient—a ghost perhaps, or a fox spirit, or some type of pestilential poison.47 However, the narratives in Lives often add additional elements to underscore the foreignness of the healing



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rituals and to more explicitly situate the monks’ actions within the indigenous cultural context. In one hagiography that is especially rich in material on healing, a monk named Qiyu 耆域48 cures a patient who is debilitated by illness with a spell and ritual gestures with a willow branch dipped in consecrated water: [The governor of Nanyang, Teng Yongwen,] contracted an illness that continued many years without letting up. Both his feet were twisted and bent, and he was unable to rise and walk. Qiyu looked at him and said, “Do you wish to be cured of the illness?” Then he fetched a cup of clean water and his willow branch. He used the willow branch to whisk the water. He lifted up his hand toward Yongwen and said a spell. He did this three times. Then he rubbed Yongwen’s two knees with his hands and told him to rise. Immediately, he rose and took steps as before. 得病經年不差。兩腳攣屈不能起行。域往看之曰。君欲得病疾差不。 因取淨水一杯楊柳一枝。便以楊柳拂水。舉手向永文而咒。如此者 三。因以手搦永文兩膝令起。即起行步如故。49

Used by monastics in India as a toothbrush, the willow branch in this story is both an example of Buddhism’s use of foreign material ­culture for magical purposes and also an obvious symbol of cleansing and purification. The appearance of the willow branch and a receptacle of water together may also be intended to associate Qiyu’s ritual actions with the healing powers of Guanyin, who is often associated with these implements. However, in the Chinese context, the stick also would have been understood as being imbued with unusually strong magical powers by its frequent and intimate contact with the interior of the monk’s body. In another of his exploits, Qiyu uses spells and ritual actions to relieve a patient’s body of a putrid substance that was about to cause his death: There was a man who had been sick with an obstruction of his bowels (zheng 癥) and was about to die. Qiyu laid his alms bowl upon the patient’s belly. With a white cloth, he fully covered him. He chanted a spell a thousand times. Thereupon, offensive-smelling fumes filled the room. The patient simply said, “I am alive!” Qiyu had the man lift the cloth. Within the alms bowl there was a quantity of something like

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sediment or mud that had been lifted [out of the patient’s body]. One could not get near it for the stench. The patient survived. 有一人病癥將死。域以應器著病者腹上。白布通覆之。呪願數千言。 即有臭氣薰徹一屋。病者曰。我活矣。域令人舉布。應器中有若垽淤 泥者數升。臭不可近。病者遂活。50

The characters used in this passage to translate the Sanskrit pātra, or alms bowl, are yingqi 應器, literally meaning “response-implement.” The bowl, of course, is another foreign object imbued with magical powers because of its association with Buddhist ritual practice. However, the appearance of the character ying 應 in this translation also evokes the indigenous Chinese doctrine of sympathetic resonance, thereby asserting that the alms bowl is a ritual tool able to manifest transformation in the indigenous Chinese model of the cosmos.51 Qiyu’s spells are not limited to curing illnesses but extend to control over life and death itself. After curing Yongwen’s legs, he demonstrates that he can revive dead trees: Within this temple there were several dozen bodhi trees that had withered and died. Qiyu asked Yongwen how long the trees had been dead. Yong­ wen said, “Many years already.” Qiyu then faced the trees and chanted a spell similar to the type of spell he had used for Yongwen. The trees shot forth sprouts, and their branches became glorious and luxuriant. 此寺中有思惟樹數十株枯死。域問永文此樹死來幾時。永文曰。積年 矣。域即向樹咒如咒永文法。樹尋荑發扶疏榮茂。52

Not to be outdone, the light-emitting Fotucheng uses spells to overcome death as well, this time for a human victim. In this episode, the foster son of the ruler Shi Le 石 勒 (r. 319–333) of the Later Zhao dynasty (319–351) unexpectedly becomes ill and dies, but this proves to be no impediment for the healing magic of the eminent monk: When two days had passed, Shi Le said, “We have heard that when the heir apparent of the state of Guo 虢 died, Bian Que was able to bring him to life. [Fotucheng] is the most extraordinary (shen 神, i.e., magically potent) man in this state. You should go quickly and inform him. He will surely be able to bring about a happy issue.” [Fotucheng, upon being informed], then took his [tooth-cleaning stick] and said a spell



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over it. In a moment [the son] was able to get up and in a little while had fully recovered. 已涉二日。勒曰。朕聞虢太子死扁鵲能生。大和上國之神人。可急往 告必能致福。澄迺取楊枝咒之。須臾能起。有頃平復。53

The main point of this story, of course, is that death is not to be feared by the devout. Even if the patient has lain lifeless for several days, this condition can easily be overcome by an eminent monk wielding Buddhist ritual technologies. This story of resurrection also models the ideal relationship between the sangha and the ruler’s family: As a direct result of Fotucheng’s revival of Shi Le’s foster son from death, we read, the ruler made offerings, bathed the Buddha in a temple, and henceforth raised most of his sons as Buddhists.54 Also important for our purposes, the reference to Bian Que in the narrative is another example of the Buddhist appropriation of a figure of authority from classical Chinese medicine. In his own bio­ graphy in the second- to first-century BC Records of the Grand Historian (Shiji 史記), Bian Que revives the Prince of Guo, who is on the verge of death, by needling a single acupuncture point. By the time of the compilation of Lives, Bian Que’s name would have been synonymous with the healing powers of acupuncture, and this story would have been universally known. Invoking his name in a narrative where an eminent monk revives a patient who actually has died makes a none-too-subtle claim of superiority over the archetypal medical hero and announces that the most effective healing skills are to be found in the hands of Buddhist clerics, not physicians. Employing Other Forms of Magical Healing Other forms of magical healing in Lives also serve to situate Buddhism within the indigenous Chinese cosmology while drawing attention to the superiority and effectiveness of eminent monks as healers. An ­example linking the appearance of healing deities to the performance of repentance rituals, for example, is found in the biography of Zhu Fakuang: [Zhu Fakuang’s teacher] Yin became deathly ill. Zhu Fakuang then for seven days and seven nights prayed and performed rituals of repentance. On the arrival of the seventh day, suddenly he saw five colors

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brightly shining at the door of Yin’s residence. Yin felt as if there was a person’s hand pressing on him. Thereupon, his suffering was healed. 印嘗疾病危篤。曠乃七日七夜祈誠禮懺。至第七日忽見五色光明照印 房戶。印如覺有人以手按之。所苦遂愈。55

In another story of repentance, it is not the deity himself but a statue that plays a pivotal role in the healing. The ruler Sun Hao 孫 皓 (r. 264– 280) of the Wu dynasty (222–280) had heard the Dharma, but, as he was “ignorant and cruel,” he had a golden statue of a Buddha or bodhi­ sattva set up in a urinal and relieved himself on it in order to amuse his ministers. His body suffered immediate retribution for this affront: Suddenly his whole body became greatly swollen, and his privates caused him intense pain. His cries mounted up to Heaven. The Grand Astrologer, having made a divination, said that this was caused by a great god who had been offended. He immediately had them offer prayers and sacrifices in all the [non-Buddhist] temples, but this never made him feel the least bit better. 舉身大腫。陰處尤痛。叫呼徹天。太史占言。犯大神所為。即祈祀諸 廟永不差愈。56

In conformity to Chinese principles of divine retribution and sympathetic resonance, Sun Hao’s discomforts—retention of liquid and pain in his privates—mirrored the nature of his own offensive act. Furthermore, Sun Hao’s body remained afflicted until he had redressed the situation by confessing his sins and bowing before the very statue he had desecrated: Among the ladies of the palace there previously was one who reverenced the Dharma; she therefore questioned [the emperor]. “Has Your Majesty gone into a Buddhist monastery to seek for blessings?” Sun Hao, lifting his head, asked, “Is the god Buddha great?” The palace lady replied, “The Buddha is a great god.” Sun Hao’s heart thence awakened, and he related all that had passed. The palace lady immediately went to welcome the image and set it up in the palace hall. She bathed it many times with perfumed water, burned incense, and made confessions and repentance. Sun kowtowed on a pillow and accused himself of his crime. In a little while his pain stopped.



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婇女先有奉法者。因問訊云。陛下就佛寺中求福不。皓舉頭問曰。佛 神大耶。婇女云。佛為大神。皓心遂悟具語意故。婇女即迎像置殿 上。香湯洗數十過。燒香懺悔。皓叩頭于枕自陳罪狀。有頃痛間。57

While in these cases the performance of rituals of repentance occasion the healing, in other episodes, merely hearing the sūtras is enough. In the biography of Shi Zhiyan 釋智嚴, for example, the Liu family invited him to heal a clanswoman who had become ill due to affliction by ghosts: [The sick woman] habitually saw ghosts approaching and their sighs were startling and frightful. At that time, [the family] invited Shi ­Zhiyan to preach the Dharma. When [he] first arrived at the outer hall, the Liu clan could plainly see a flock of ghosts bursting forth and scattering. Shi Zhiyan then entered and lectured on the sūtras for the lady. This cured the illness. 恒見鬼來吁可駭畏。時迎嚴說法。嚴始到外堂。劉氏便見群鬼迸散。 嚴既進為夫人說經。疾以之瘳。58

This passage emphasizes the talismanic powers of an eminent monk wielding sacred Buddhist texts. As soon as he walks into the hall, the ghosts that plague the lady scatter. The additional exorcistic power of his preaching the sūtras then ensures her recovery. Moreover, the narrative states that upon being cured, the Liu clanswoman took the Five Precepts (Skt. pañcaśīla; Ch. wujie 五戒) of the Buddhist lay devotee, again underscoring the link between healing and proselytism that appears throughout the collection. Constructing the Superiority of Buddhist Healers It is apparent from these excerpts that the hagiographies in Lives are concerned with situating foreign healing rites, implements, and clerics within the indigenous cosmology, literary conventions, and repertoires of religiomedical practice. But at the same time that Huijiao framed his material in ways that asserted Buddhism’s compatibility with autochthonous Chinese knowledge, it is equally clear that he was at pains to set Buddhist healing off as superior to contemporary alternatives. Huijiao pursued this second strategy of differentiation by emphasizing Buddhist healing’s exoticism, esotericism, authenticity, and accessibility.

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As already mentioned, the magical objects wielded by Huijiao’s eminent monks—such as tooth sticks and alms bowls—are often part of Buddhism’s foreign material culture, a fact that lent them an aura of exoticism and mysteriousness. However, Lives is also concerned with showcasing the foreignness of the healing monks themselves. This decision stands in marked contrast to the tone of the composition as a whole. Generally speaking, Lives exhibits a bias in favor of the author’s homeland. Huijiao lived in the economic and political heart of the Liang, in the Yangzi basin in central coastal China. Of the 151 monks whose personal geographies are mentioned in the text, 121 originate from that general area.59 In contrast, the monks whose medical encounters are discussed in this chapter typically are said to have come from foreign homelands (such as India, Sogdiana, Kucha, and the “Western Regions”); to be of northern or northwestern Chinese origin (territory that was in the sixth century controlled by foreign nomadic tribes from the steppes); or to be of unknown extraction (which in the Chinese context equally sets them off as other). Likewise, when geography is mentioned in the narrative, the healing episodes typically are said to have taken place far from Huijiao’s homeland as well.60 In addition, the names of these healers would have stood out as conspicuously foreign. Buddhist personal names typically consisted of characters transliterating or translating Sanskrit words and thus often had an unmistakably non-Chinese ring. Following the lead of Dao’an 道安 in the fourth century, many monks took the surname of the Buddha, Shi 釋 (an abbreviation of Shijia 釋迦; Skt. Śākya), indicating their rejection of traditional patrilineal clan affiliation in favor of a direct association with the lineage of the Indian progenitor of Buddhism. This surname appears, for example, in the cases of Shi Huiyong, Shi Sengjin, and Shi Zhiyan, mentioned earlier. When they do not incorporate this surname, the names of healing monks are often preceded by ethnicons, characters signifying their foreign origin or allegiance to foreign Dharma masters. The initial Zhu 竺 in many of the healing monks’ names means “Indian,” while the An 安 in An Shigao and An Huize translates as “Parthian.”61 If they emphasize the exotic origins and lineages of healing monks, the medical narratives in Lives also construct an aura of esotericism and secrecy around their abilities. As Robert Campany has written, secrecy is always socially constructed, representing not the absence of social discourse but a specific set of socially agreed upon



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gestures and a specific stance vis-à-vis society.62 While the methods of esoteric arts must by definition remain hidden from the uninitiated, paradoxically, the wondrous effects of such knowledge must be proclaimed to the world.63 Lives is emblematic of this balancing act between revealing and concealing. Even as the results of Buddhist thauma­turgy are proclaimed in dramatic narrative form, the ritual knowledge required to harness such capacities remains hidden from the reader. Huijiao portrays monks at work meditating, casting spells, chanting scriptures, or using ritual implements, but he does not cite their words, name their texts, detail their actions, or explain how to tap into the source of their powers. It is probable that those who read or heard Huijiao’s stories, particularly monastics, would have been familiar with the many Buddhist texts available at the time that did detail the performance of such ritual healing.64 However, the hagiographies do not demand that the audience have access to the scriptures, and the stories can just as easily be read or retold in isolation from any technical knowledge or expertise. Like most Buddhist stories of the extraordinary, these episodes were meant not to teach or explain how such feats are achieved, but to provoke awe, inspiration, and faith in the transformative power of the Dharma. Thus, it is fair to say that healing in Lives is administered in mysterious ways by foreign men with extraordinary bodies and secret powers. But, while suggesting that healing was a wondrous or even miraculous occurrence beyond the expectations of quotidian life, Huijiao was also concerned with emphasizing the authenticity and historicity of the accounts he recounted in Lives.65 Although historians of Chinese literature have shown an important role for anomaly tales in the origins of Chinese fiction, we should not consequently draw the conclusion that the authors of anomaly tales saw them as fictional in the modern sense of the word.66 On the contrary, tales of anomalous happenings were in medieval China often considered to be historical accounts of factual events (shi 史).67 Some Buddhist miracle stories, in fact, refer to themselves as “proofs” (yan 驗), to be taken as prima facie evidence of the efficacy of Buddhist magical healing and other forms of thaumaturgy. Huijiao understood himself to be writing reliable historical accounts and to be contributing to the Chinese tradition of formal historiography.68 Lives, like other Buddhist hagiographies, employs specific strategies to bolster the perceived reliability of the author’s stories. The association of healing

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narratives with named patients—particularly those with official titles—lent credibility to the accounts. Huijiao also includes references to eyewitnesses. In the biography of Zhu Sengxian, for example, when Amitābha descends to the monk’s bedchamber and spontaneously heals him, the author adds that those who lived with the monk and attended him in his illness witnessed and attested to the events he is recounting. Finally, Huijiao also emphasizes that the healing powers featured in the hagiographies are readily accessible by the devout. In his extensive analysis of anomaly accounts, Campany has argued that their writing is a cosmographic exercise in which the boundaries between the human and spirit worlds and humanity’s place within these boundaries are continually renegotiated.69 In outlining several different narrative modes within the genre, he argues that the Buddhist anomaly accounts differ from those of other contemporary groups in that they tend to domesticate—rather than distance—the miraculous.70 Whereas narratives of mantic technicians and Daoist adepts emphasize the hero’s mastery over the dangers of the periphery of the knowable, Campany tells us, Buddhist stories stress the availability of the extraordinary.71 Lives is a case in point illustrating this strategy. To be sure, the wielding of powerful transformative magic remains the privileged domain of the monks in the narratives, but in keeping with Buddhism’s promise of salvation for all sentient beings, the rewards of their ministrations extend to all. In these episodes, eminent monks heal a wide range of people—not only elites, rulers, and other members of the sangha, but also a range of less illustrious individuals and more general groups like “all under Heaven” or “the people.” Moreover, Huijiao stresses the humble origins of the monks whose exploits he depicts, and he is adamant about basing his criteria for inclusion in the collection on “eminence” (gao 高) rather than “fame” (ming 名).72 In suggesting that not all monks with efficacious powers are necessarily well known or of elite backgrounds, Huijiao hints that one of the unsung monks in the reader’s local temple may indeed have reached such a level of attainment. Such transformative powers, announces Lives, are not confined to the faraway places and long-ago times when Śākyamuni Buddha first tamed the demons and converted the deities, nor to the far-flung Pure Lands of the afterlife. Here and now, anyone can be healed, transformed, and saved—­ provided, that is, they patronize the sangha.



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Healing Narratives and Proselytism It is a commonplace that healing was central to Buddhist proselytism in medieval China. Indeed, the ability to stop epidemics and cure individual patients was expected of religious clerics and ritual specialists of all persuasions, and Buddhism necessarily competed in the battle against disease as much as it did in other arenas. However, attention to the strategies of cultural translation I have been discussing here makes more readily apparent exactly how historical authors made connections between foreign and local healing knowledge and mobilized both in arguing for Buddhism’s relevance and superiority. Huijiao’s collection of tales is one particularly successful example of an author weaving together Indian and indigenous elements in order to appeal to and convince his Chinese audience. Lives was successful in no small part because it bore a welcome message of victory and hope. In Huijiao’s time, the world was experienced as a dangerous and unpredictable place. By 530, China had seen more than three hundred years of a rapid succession of governments ranging from military rule to foreign domination to complete anarchy. Except for a brief reunification of most of China during the late third century, the realm had remained divided in a continuous state of war since the fall of the Han dynasty in 220. At the time of the compilation of Lives, the Liang dynasty was clinging to power in the Yangzi basin. While Emperor Wu (r. 502–549), a generous patron of Buddhist institutions and translators, was lionized in subsequent Buddhist literature for being a model ruler and a lavish patron of the Dharma, his dynasty’s survival was far from guaranteed.73 Court intrigue and uncertain succession plagued the dynastic family. Aristocratic clans with private armies vied for power and leveraged their influence to extract special privileges from the state. Foreign “barbarians”—often equated with demons by the Han Chinese—ruled the North and made continual incursions into Chinese-held territory in the South. Though he could not have known it at the time, Huijiao’s homeland of Kuaiji would be overrun by rebel forces in 550. Mirroring the sociopolitical landscape, danger and unpredictability also marked the spiritual realm. A “seething mass,” as one scholar has put it, of malicious beings seemed to be intervening unpredictably and catastrophically in human affairs, causing epidemics, social disharmony, and other varieties of misfortune.74 Messianic

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literature, Buddhist and otherwise, whipped up fear that the plagues, floods, and other disasters unleashed upon early medieval China heralded the end of the world.75 It was the age of the “decline of the Dharma” (mofa 末法): The forces of good were increasingly inaccessible and evil was inexorably on the rise. The world seemed to be crying out for divine assistance. Huijiao presents eminent monks as beacons of light in this darkness, the bearers of effective knowledge and practices that could bring solutions to all sorts of contemporary problems. Since state, cosmos, and body were homologous in Chinese thought, the monks’ abilities to bring order to the political, spiritual, and medical realms amounted to the same thing.76 In these narratives, eminent monks advise kings and officials, converting them and teaching them to rule benevolently, assisting them to preserve their lineages and their grip on power, and helping them to uphold their mandate to rule. They transform their bodies, read the future, tame demons and malevolent spirits, and invoke the presence of all-powerful deities at will. They also perform wondrous feats of healing for rulers as well as the powerless and suffering populace who call upon their aid. Though miraculous transformative powers remained hidden from the uninitiated, they were available in the here and now. For those who knew how to access them, any and all disharmonies in the three realms could be immediately and effortlessly set right in a blaze of light, or in a dream, or with the wave of a tooth-cleaning stick, or with other means of magical intervention. Such mastery over the universe, Lives promised, was held in compassionate Buddhist hands and was readily available to devotees who called upon the sangha for assistance. The most fearsome of calamities—including epidemic disease and even death itself—is territory that was well mapped and easily negotiated. The success of Huijiao’s cultural translation strategy, the broad popular appeal of this type of narrative, and the central importance of healing in Buddhist proselytism are all confirmed by the prolific amount of hagiographic literature that took up and repeated the stories and themes popularized by Lives. As such narratives were written and rewritten again and again, the power of Buddhist practice to heal and the compassionate assistance of monks and deities in curing the illnesses of humankind were to remain among the most pervasive and persuasive aspects of Chinese Buddhism’s social positioning throughout the premodern period.



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Notes This chapter was previously published in 2010 in East Asian Science, Medicine, and Technology 32 and has been edited and updated for the current publication. I would like to reiterate the acknowledgments from the original article, thanking the participants in the Colloquium Series of the Johns Hopkins Program in the History of Science, Medicine, and Technology, where it was first presented in 2007, as well as Marta Hanson, James Benn, John Kieschnick, ­Stephen Teiser, Venerable Jianrong, Michael Stanley-Baker, Jonathan Pettit, and East Asian Science, Technology, and Medicine’s editors and reviewers for reading and commenting on various incarnations of this paper. Additional contributions to the new draft came from Antje Richter, Alex Hsu, and this volume’s peer reviewers. 1. See detailed discussion of the literary and cultural translation of Indian medicine in medieval Chinese texts in Salguero 2014. The translation and adaptation of narratives is discussed on pp. 121–140, and hagiographies specifically on pp. 133–139. 2. The work is traditionally dated 519, but see arguments for a later date in Wright 1954, 399–400. I have used the corrected digital Tripiṭaka made available online by the Chinese Buddhist Electronic Text Association (CBETA). All page and line number citations and all quotations come from that source. All translations are mine unless otherwise indicated, although since the original publication of this paper, some of the narratives excerpted here have been translated in full in Campany 2012b and Salguero 2017, 205–218. 3. See, e.g., selected translations in Campany 2012a, 2012b; Salguero 2017. 4. Salguero 2014, 121–140. See also my study of Jīvaka, the Buddhist “King of Physicians” (yiwang 醫王) in Salguero 2009, which demonstrated that the translation into Chinese of the narrative of his life and healing exploits involved the mobilization of Chinese medical terminology, narrative tropes, and frames of legitimacy in order to re-create the Buddhist hero as a Chinese “numinous physician” (shenyi 神醫). 5. Kieschnick 1997, 2011; Campany 1991a, 1991b, 1993, 2002, 2009, 2010, 2012a, 2012b. While no complete translation has been published in  En­ glish, the entire collection is available in annotated Japanese translation in ­Funayama 2009–2010. The first three fascicles are available in French in Shih 1968. For additional complete and partial translations, see Wright 1948; Zürcher 2007; and sources listed in Wright 1954, 429–432. Additionally, individual bio­ graphies translated into English by Arthur Link have appeared in a series of arti­ cles along with Japanese translation and commentary in Hirai 1991, 1992, 1993, 1994. Lives was translated in its entirety by Link but exists only in manuscript format, held at Komazawa University. I have been unable to consult the full translation in preparing this chapter.

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6. See discussion of predecessors to, sources for, and authorship of Hui­ jiao’s hagiography in Kieschnick 2011, 536–549. The authorship of Lives is also discussed in detail in Wright 1954. Among the most significant precursors was Accounts of Lives of Famous Monks (Mingseng zhuan chao 名僧傳抄, X. 1523), compiled between 510 and 519 by the monk Shi Baochang 释寶唱. This literature also extended across the gender divide to include Lives of the Nuns (Biqiuni zhuan 比丘尼傳, T. 2063), a collection also said to have been compiled by Shi Baochang fourteen years before Huijiao’s Lives, but which may in fact be a later composition (De Rauw 2005). Less than a third of the length of Lives of Eminent Monks, Lives of the Nuns does not include a wealth of healing episodes. While nuns are paragons of piety, chastity, and Buddhist learning, the nuns’ hagiographer does not present them as powerful miracle-healers. Nuns do indeed medicate others (Tsai 1994, 48–49), ascend to paradise accompanied by omens and signs (38–39, 91), and possess deathless bodies (71), but they do not manifest the range of thaumaturgical and transformational abilities the monks exhibit in healing others. The reason for this difference is not immediately apparent. It perhaps may indicate a bias against female healing, a gendered conception of the ability to wield magical powers, or simply a difference in the interests of the compilers. See discussion of the genre of nuns’ hagiographies more generally in Georgieva 1996. 7. Wright 1954, 387–392. Beginning with the second- to first-century Records of the Grand Historian (Shiji 史記), imperial historians created conventions that determined in large part both the range of materials that could be used as sources and the requisite format for the presentation of biographical narratives. Buddhist hagiographers largely emulated these conventions both in the structure of the text as a whole and in the presentation of information within each biographical sketch. Huijiao, for example, groups his biographical subjects according to their activities, adds subordinate biographies to the major one, and appends a general discussion of the biographies in a commentary at the end of each section. On historical conventions of Chinese biographical writing, see Nivison 1962; Twitchett 1969. 8. Zürcher 2007, 6–7. 9. See, e.g., Shinohara 1994. See the definitive study of medieval Chinese anomaly accounts more generally in Campany 1996. For a selection of translations of such stories, see Gjertson 1978, 1989, and for a Buddhist compilation, Campany 2012a. 10. Wright 1954, 408–429. 11. On the entertainment value of Lives, see Poo 2000; Kieschnick 1997, 68–69. 12. Kieschnick 1997, 7. 13. For a comparison with Lives of Divine Immortals, see Poo 1995; see translation of that text in Campany 2002. For a different Daoist collection, see  Bumbacher 2000. For narratives about popular healers, see Lin 1994. For



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hagiographies of numinous physicians, see DeWoskin 1983; Cullen 2001; Berkowitz 2005. 14. Wright 1954, 386, quips that “the index to laymen mentioned in [Lives] reads like a Who’s Who of the period it covers.” 15. Kieschnick 1997, 8, 12. Many of its stories were also included in the most influential Buddhist encyclopedia of the premodern period, A Grove of Pearls in the Garden of Dharma (Fayuan zhulin 法苑珠林, T. 2122), on which see Alexander O. Hsu 2018. 16. See Kieschnick 2011, 550–551. Later texts in the genre include the seventh-century Continued Lives of Eminent Monks (Xu gaoseng zhuan 續高僧傳, T. 2060) by Daoxuan 道宣 as well as collections from the Song and Ming (T. 2061, 2062). The Song text is currently being translated by John Kieschnick; some excerpts are available in Salguero 2017, 211–213. 17. Kieschnick 1997, 7. 18. This approach to hagiography has been fruitful in recent scholarship on religion and medicine. Read as an example of the construction of religious selfimage, Lives has given us a sense of the contemporary religious values and the function of the sacred in medieval China (Shinohara 1994). Read as texts for entertainment and proselytism, this and other contemporary collections of miracle stories have provided information about the culturally diffused “religious mentality” and the popularity of stories of ghosts, exorcism, and thaumaturgy with Chinese audiences (Poo 1995, 2000). Read as evidence of contestation, such sources have revealed the strategies of appropriation and differentiation among different groups as they jockeyed for position in medieval society (Campany 2009, 2010, 2012b). Likewise, when read by historians of medicine, hagiog­ raphies from other traditions have made visible the tensions between religious and medical bodies of knowledge and granted access to conflicts otherwise unavailable in the historical record (Magoulias 1964; Flint 1989; Skinner 1998; Pilsworth 2000). 19. On compiling as “rewriting,” see Lefevere 1992. While it is not my focus here, collectanea such as Lives also give us a window into contemporary ­consumption of texts and reading practices. Even when copying verbatim from previous hagiographies, by choosing which specific passages to copy and transmit, a compiler like Huijiao tells us that these passages were interesting, important, and relevant to him. See discussion of anthologizing practices, especially with respect to medieval Chinese Buddhist encyclopedias, in Alexander O. Hsu 2018. 20. T. 2059: 389a13. See discussion of incorruptible bodies, spontaneous combustion, and other signs of sanctity at death in Benn 2006, 2007a, 2007b, 2007c. For comparison, bodily signs of sanctity in the medieval European ­context are discussed in Park 2006. Imperviousness to fire is also a sign of the magical powers of scriptures (see, e.g., a miracle story in the biography of An Huize 安慧則 in T. 2059: 389b). On bodily transformation as a feature of ­Chinese ­Buddhism more generally, see Radich 2007.

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21. T. 2059: 362b06–09. 22. On the significance of the moment of death in Chinese Buddhist thought, see Shinohara 2005; Granoff and Shinohara 2007. 23. T. 2059: 386c–387a (translated in Wright 1948, 366; edited to match my usage). 24. Intestinal washing is mentioned later in this paper in the context of dream-surgery. The trope is found in other places in the Chinese Tripiṭaka, as well as in the biography of the numinous physician Bian Que 扁鵲. See discussion in Yü 2001, 172–173; Salguero 2014, 131–133. 25. Although Lives is not a medical treatise and the fine-grained distinctions one would find in such a source do not apply, see Elisabeth Hsu 2001, ­63–66, for a discussion of the semantic range of these two terms in early Chinese medical literature. 26. T. 2059: 323a26. 27. T. 2059: 387b22–23. 28. T. 2059: 387c18–20. 29. Huijiao’s source for the biography of An Shigao was the Compilation of Notices on the Translation of the Tripiṭaka (Chu sanzang jiji 出三藏記集), which explicitly mentions the monk’s knowledge of acupuncture, pulse reading, and facial diagnosis (T. 2145: 43b19–20; translated in Forte 1995, 68). 30. T. 2059: 373c28. On wind as a constituent part of the body and a source of disease in Indian and Chinese traditions, see Zysk 1993, 2007; Kuriyama 1994; Elisabeth Hsu 2007. 31. The text literally reads “perverse sacrifice” (yinsi 淫祀). This was a common slur for cultic practices that were considered beyond the pale by a given religious group.  In official writing, the term refers to treacherous or seditious rituals threatening imperial interests. In Buddhist materials, it is often used to denigrate sacrifices that involved the killing of animals. The rite in this episode may be a sacrificial healing ritual such as described in Lin 1994, 200. 32. Literally “amniotic sac” (yangmo 羊膜), a term that contains the character for “sheep” (yang 羊) and that may point to a logic of sympathetic magic of sorts behind this particular cure. 33. T. 2059: 350a15–18. In my translations, rather than follow Huijiao’s convention of referring to people by the last character in their names, for clarity, I have written out their full names each time they are mentioned. 34. The biography of Bian Que is found in the Records of the Grand Historian, one of the templates for the formal structure of the biographical sketches in Lives. For discussion of the Bian Que biography, see Cullen 2001; Lu and Needham (1980) 2002, 79–87; Ma 2007, 204–206. For translation, see Berkowitz 2005. 35. T. 2059: 350a15. See Salguero 2009, 209. 36. T. 2059: 350b09–10; cf. Zürcher (1959) 2007, 141, 368n307. 37. T. 2059: 357a02–03.



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38. On ghosts as spirit helpers, servants, and friends, see Campany 1991a, 28–29; Kieschnick 1997, 107. Gernet ([1956] 1995, 256) notes that after death, monks themselves often became protector spirits for villages. 39. T. 2059: 395b28–c01. 40. T. 2059: 350c23–24. See discussion of this story and additional versions in Campany 1991b, 61n32; Salguero 2014, 131–133; see also fuller translations of this narrative in Gjertson 1989, 18–19; Campany 2012b, 132. Guanyin is one of the chief deities with whom healing magic is associated in medieval China, and the primary deity called upon in Lives (Kieschnick 1997, 97). See further discussion of therapeutic rites associated with Guanyin in Strickmann 1996, 146–159. For discussion of the invocation of Guanyin more generally, see Campany 1993. 41. On caves as symbols of the sacred in Chinese Buddhism, see Birnbaum 1989–1990. 42. T. 2059: 389a09–11. 43. T. 2059: 389b10–13. 44. Kieschnick 1997, 101. 45. Strickmann 2002, 89–122; Bumbacher 2012. For general discussion of Buddhist spells in the medieval Chinese context, see McBride 2005; Copp 2014. 46. T. 2059: 392a08. 47. A case of the exorcism of a woman possessed by a fox spirit is translated in Kieschnick 1997, 84. Fox spirits were common antagonists in anomaly tales and ghost lore from the medieval period (de Groot [1910] 1972, 5:576– 600; Strickmann 2002, 259–264; Huntington 2003). An example of a fox as a cause of illness can be seen as early as the second-century BCE Mawangdui manuscripts (Harper 1990, 221). For discussion of demonic animals in early China more generally, see Sterckx 2002. 48. This is one of the various Chinese transliterations of the name Jīvaka, here referring to a foreign monk said to have arrived in China in 296. I have left his name in Chinese for clarity in differentiating him from the abovementioned Jīvaka, King of Physicians. 49. T. 2059: 388b05–09. 50. T. 2059: 388b12–16. 51. On the alms bowl as an object of magical power and sacred significance, see Shinohara 2002; Kieschnick 2003, 107–112. 52. T. 2059: 388b09–12. 53. T. 2059: 384b22–24. Translation by Wright 1948, 345–346, edited and brackets added. 54. Fotucheng is also said to have been given the title “Great Jewel of the State” by his patron (Zürcher 2007, 182). 55. T. 2059: 356c12–15. 56. T. 2059: 326a03–05, translated by Arthur Link in Hirai 1993; brackets are mine. Note that in this episode an eminent monk is not directly involved in

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the patient’s cure. Though the immediate cause of healing is repentance, the proximal cause is the advice of a laywoman. 57. T. 2059: 326a05–10; translation in Hirai 1993. 58. T. 2059: 339b29–c03. Medieval texts frequently mention visitation by ghosts as an explanation not only for what we today might characterize as psycho­logical distress or mental illness, but also for a wide range of decidedly physical diseases and complaints. 59. Yamazaki 1942, 246, cited in Wright 1954, 394. 60. It is not only healing thaumaturgy that is marked by its association with the foreign. Storch (1993, 9) notes that in Lives and other early hagiographies, the use of any kind of dhāraṇī is generally the domain of foreign monks. “If the Chinese use them, which happens very rarely,” she writes, “it always occurs in the West and not in China proper.” See also Kieschnick 1997, 87. 61. See discussion of ethnicons in Nattier 2008, 27–28. On the importance of Chinese surnames in marking ethnic identity, see Ebrey 2003, 165–176. 62. Campany 2006. 63. Ibid., 317. 64. See translations of a selection of texts with instructions for dhāraṇī rituals in Salguero 2017, 292–303. 65. Scholars have debated the applicability of the word “miracle” in the Buddhist context (see, e.g., Brown 1998). I follow other scholars in using the English term to underscore the unusual and faith-confirming nature of the healing (e.g., Kieschnick 1997, 96ff). 66. DeWoskin 1997. 67. Chen Yuzhen 1993. See also Wright 1954, 388–389; Verellen 1992; Campany 1993; 1996, 322–323. An analysis of various positions on the historical belief in miracles is presented in Justice 2008. 68. Kieschnick 2011, 540, 546. 69. Campany 1996, 266–270. 70. Ibid., 323. 71. Ibid., 331. 72. Kieschnick 1997, 4. 73. On the emperor’s treatment in Buddhist literature, see Shinohara 1998, 152. For a historical chronicle of the period, see Bielenstein 1996. 74. Strickmann 2002, 68. 75. Zürcher 1982; Strickmann 2002, 50–62. On Buddhist millenarian literature more generally, see Nattier 1991; Ownby 1999. 76. On state-body-cosmos homology in classical Chinese thought, see Sivin 1995.



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References Benn, James A. 2006. “Written in Flames: Self-Immolation in Sixth-Century ­Sichuan.” T’oung Pao 92, nos. 4–5:117–172. ———. 2007a. Burning for the Buddha: Self-Immolation in Chinese Buddhism. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. ———. 2007b. “Fire and the Sword: Some Connections between Self-Immolation and Religious Persecution in the History of Chinese Buddhism.” In The ­Buddhist Dead: Practices, Discourses and Representations, edited by Jacqueline Stone and Bryan Cuevas, 234–265. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. ———. 2007c. “Spontaneous Human Combustion: Some Remarks on a Pheno­ menon in Chinese Buddhism.” In Heroes and Saints: The Moment of Death in Cross-Cultural Perspectives, edited by Phyllis Granoff and Koichi Shinohara, 101–133. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Press. Berkowitz, Alan. 2005. “Sima Qian, ‘Accounts of the Legendary Physician Bian Que.’ ” In Hawai‘i Reader in Traditional Chinese Culture, edited by ­Victor H. Mair, Nancy Shatzman Steinhardt, and Paul Rakita Goldin, 174–178. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Bielenstein, Hans. 1996. “The Six Dynasties, Vol. I.” Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities (Östasiatiska Museet) 68:5–324. Birnbaum, Raoul. 1989–1990. “Secret Halls of the Mountain Lords: The Caves of Wu-T’ai Shan.” Cahiers d’Extreme-Asie 5:115–140. Brown, Robert L. 1998. “Expected Miracles: The Unsurprisingly Miraculous Nature of Buddhist Images and Relics.” In Images, Miracles, and Authority in Asian Religious Traditions, edited by Shinohara Koichi, 22–35. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Bumbacher, Stephan Peter. 2000. The Fragments of the Daoxue zhuan: Critical Edition, Translation and Analysis of a Medieval Collection of Daoist Bio­ graphies. Frankfurt: Peter Lang. ———. 2012. Empowered Writing: Exorcistic and Apotropaic Rituals in Medieval China. St. Petersburg, FL: Three Pines. Campany, Robert F. 1991a. “Ghosts Matter: The Culture of Ghosts in Six Dynasties Zhiguai.” Chinese Literature: Essays, Articles, Reviews 13:15–34. ———. 1991b. “Notes on the Devotional Uses and Symbolic Functions of Sūtra Texts as Depicted in Early Chinese Buddhist Miracle Tales and Hagiog­ raphies.” Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 14, no. 1:28–72. ———. 1993. “The Real Presence.” History of Religions 32, no. 3:233–272. ———. 1996. Strange Writing: Anomaly Accounts in Early Medieval China. ­Albany: State University of New York Press. ———. 2002. To Live as Long as Heaven and Earth: A Translation and Study of Ge Hong’s Traditions of Divine Transcendents. Berkeley: University of ­California Press.

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Campany, Robert F. 2006. “Secrecy and Display in the Quest for Transcendence in China, ca. 220 B.C.E.–350 C.E.” History of Religions 45, no. 4:291–336. ———. 2009. Making Transcendents: Ascetics and Social Memory in Early Medieval China. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. ———. 2010. “Narrative in the Self-Presentation of Transcendence-Seekers.” In Interpretation and Literature in Early Medieval China, edited by Alan K. L. Chan and Yuet-Keung Lo, 133–164. Albany: State University of New York Press. ———. 2012a. “Religious Repertoires and Contestation: A Case Study Based on Buddhist Miracle Tales.” History of Religions 52, no. 2:99–141. ———. 2012b. Signs from the Unseen Realm: Buddhist Miracle Tales from Early Medieval China. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Chen Yuzhen 陳昱珍. 1993. “Fayuan zhulin suo yin waidian zhi yanjiu” “法苑珠 林” 所引外典之研究 [Quoted material from non-Buddhist sources in the “Fayuan Zhulin”]. Zhonghua foxue xuebao 中華佛學學報 [Chung-Hwa Buddhist journal] 7:303–328. Copp, Paul. 2014. The Body Incantatory: Spells and the Ritual Imagination in Medieval Chinese Buddhism. New York: Columbia University Press. Cullen, Christopher. 2001. “Yi’an (Case Statements): The Origins of a Genre of Chinese Medical Literature.” In Innovation in Chinese Medicine, edited by Elisabeth Hsu, 297–323. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. de Groot, J. J. M. (1910) 1972. The Religious System of China. Vols. 1–6. Taipei: Ch’eng Wen New Publishing Company. De Rauw, Tom. 2005. “Baochang: Sixth-Century Biographer of Buddhist Monks. And Nuns?” Journal of the American Oriental Society 125, no. 2:203–218. DeWoskin, Kenneth J. 1983. Doctors, Diviners and Magicians of Ancient China: Biographies of Fang-Shih. New York: Columbia University Press. ———. 1997. “The Six Dynasties Chih-Kuai and the Birth of Fiction.” In Chinese Narrative: Critical and Theoretical Essays, edited by Andrew H. Plaks, 21–52. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Ebrey, Patricia Buckley. 2003. Women and the Family in Chinese History. London: Routledge. Flint, Valerie J. 1989. “The Early Medieval ‘Medicus,’ the Saint—and the Enchanter.” Society for the Social History of Medicine 2:127–145. Forte, Antonino. 1995. The Hostage An Shigao and His Offspring: An Iranian Family in China. Kyoto: Istituto Italiano di Cultura, Scuola di Studi sull’Asia Orientale. Funayama Tōru 船山徹. 2009–2010. Kōsō den 高僧伝 [Lives of eminent monks]. Vols. 1–3. Tokyo: Iwanami shoten. Georgieva, Valentina. 1996. “Representation of Buddhist Nuns in Chinese Edifying Miracle Tales during the Six Dynasties and the Tang.” Journal of ­Chinese Religions 24:47–76. Gernet, Jacques. (1956) 1995. Buddhism in Chinese Society: An Economic History from the Fifth to the Tenth Centuries. Translated by Franciscus Verellen. New York: Columbia University Press.



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Gjertson, Donald E. 1978. Ghosts, Gods, and Retribution: Nine Buddhist Miracle Tales from Six Dynasties and Early T’ang China. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press. ———. 1989. Miraculous Retribution: A Study and Translation of T’ang Lin’s Ming-Pao Chi. Berkeley: University of California Press. Granoff, Phyllis, and Shinohara Koichi. 2007. Heroes and Saints: The Moment of Death in Cross-Cultural Perspectives. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Press. Harper, Donald. 1990. “The Conception of Illness in Early Chinese Medicine, as Documented in Newly Discovered 3rd and 2nd Century B.C. Manuscripts (Part I).” Sudhoffs Archiv 74, no. 2:201–235. Hirai Shun’ei. 1991. “An Explanatory Study of the Kaoseng Chuan (I).” Ko­ mazawa daigaku bukkyō gakubu ronshū 駒澤大学佛教学部論集 [Journal of Buddhist studies (Komazawa University)] 49:1–15. ———. 1992. “An Explanatory Study of the Kaoseng Chuan (II).” Komazawa daigaku bukkyō gakubu ronshū 駒澤大学佛教学部論集 [Journal of ­Buddhist studies (Komazawa University)] 23:1–14. ———. 1993. “An Explanatory Study of the Kaoseng Chuan (III).” Komazawa daigaku bukkyō gakubu ronshū 駒澤大学佛教学部論集 [Journal of Buddhist studies (Komazawa University)] 24:1–35. ———. 1994. “An Explanatory Study of the Kaoseng Chuan (IV).” Komazawa daigaku bukkyō gakubu ronshū 駒澤大学佛教学部論集 [Journal of Buddhist studies (Komazawa University)] 25:11–25. Hsu, Alexander O. 2018. “Practices of Scriptural Economy: Compiling and Copying a Seventh-Century Chinese Buddhist Anthology.” PhD diss., University of Chicago. Hsu, Elisabeth. 2001. “Pulse Diagnostics in the Western Han: How Mai and Qi Determine Bing.” In Innovation in Chinese Medicine, edited by Elisabeth Hsu, 51–91. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ———. 2007. “The Experience of Wind in Early and Medieval Chinese Medicine.” Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 13 (supplement 1): 117–134. Huntington, Rania. 2003. Alien Kind: Foxes and Late Imperial Chinese Narrative. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center. Justice, Steven. 2008. “Did the Middle Ages Believe in Their Miracles?” Representations 103:1–29. Kieschnick, John. 1997. The Eminent Monk: Buddhist Ideals in Medieval Chinese Hagiography. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. ———. 2003. The Impact of Buddhism on Chinese Material Culture. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. ———. 2011. “Buddhism: Biographies of Eminent Monks.” In Oxford History of Historical Writing, edited by Grant Hardy, 535–552. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Kuriyama Shigehisa. 1994. “The Imagination of Winds and the Development of the Chinese Conception of the Body.” In Body, Subject and Power in China, edited by Angela Zito and Tani E. Barlow, 23–41. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lefevere, André. 1992. Translation, Rewriting, and the Manipulation of Literary Frame. London: Routledge. Lin Fu-shih. 1994. “Chinese Shamans and Shamanism in the Chiang-Nan Area during the Six Dynasties Period (3rd–6th Century A.D.).” PhD diss., Princeton University. Lu Gwei-Djen and Joseph Needham. (1980) 2002. Celestial Lancets: A History and Rationale of Acupuncture and Moxa. London: RoutledgeCurzon. Ma Kanwen. 2007. “Bian Que.” In Dictionary of Medical Biography, edited by W. F. Bynum and Helen Bynum, 204–206. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Magoulias, H. J. 1964. “The Lives of the Saints as Sources of Data for the History of Byzantine Medicine in the Sixth and Seventh Centuries.” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 57:127–150. McBride, Richard D. 2005. “Dhāraṇī and Spells in Medieval Sinitic Buddhism.” Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 28, no. 1:85–114. Nattier, Jan. 1991. Once Upon a Future Time: Studies in a Buddhist Prophecy of Decline. Berkeley, CA: Asian Humanities Press. ———. 2008. A Guide to the Earliest Chinese Buddhist Translations: Texts from the Eastern Han [Dong Han] and Three Kingdoms [San Guo] Periods. Tokyo: International Research Institute for Advanced Buddhology, Soka University. Nivison, David S. 1962. “Aspects of Traditional Chinese Biography.” Journal of Asian Studies 21, no. 4:457–463. Ownby, David. 1999. “Chinese Millenarian Traditions: The Formative Years.” American Historical Review 104, no. 5:1513–1530. Park, Katharine. 2006. Secrets of Women: Gender, Generation, and the Origins of Human Dissection. New York: Zone Books. Pilsworth, Clare. 2000. “Medicine and Hagiography in Italy c. 800–c. 1000.” Social History of Medicine 13, no. 2:253–264. Poo Mu-chou. 1995. “The Images of Immortals and Eminent Monks: Religious Mentality in Early Medieval China (4–6 C. A.D.).” Numen 42, no. 2:172–196. ———. 2000. “Ghost Literature: Exorcistic Ritual Texts or Daily Entertainment?” Asia Major (Third Series) 13, no. 1:43–64. Radich, Michael. 2007. “The Somatics of Liberation: Ideas about Embodiment in Buddhism from Its Origins to the Fifth Century C.E.” PhD diss., Harvard University. Salguero, C. Pierce. 2009. “The Buddhist Medicine King in Literary Context: Reconsidering an Early Example of Indian Influence on Chinese Medicine and Surgery.” History of Religions 48, no. 3:183–210.



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———. 2014. Translating Buddhism Medicine in Medieval China. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. ———, ed. 2017. Buddhism and Medicine: An Anthology of Premodern Sources. New York: Columbia University Press. Shih, Robert. 1968. Biographies des Moines Éminents (Kao Seng Tchouan) de Houei-Kiao. Louvain: Institut Orientaliste and Instituut voor Orientalistiek. Shinohara Koichi. 1994. “Biographies of Eminent Monks in a Comparative Perspective: The Function of the Holy in Medieval Chinese Buddhism.” Zhong­ hua foxue xuebao 中華佛學學報 [Chung-Hwa Buddhist journal] 5:477–500. ———. 1998. “Changing Roles for Miraculous Images in Medieval Chinese Buddhism: A Study of the Miracle Image Section in Daoxuan’s ‘Collected Records.’ ” In Images, Miracles, and Authority in Asian Religious Traditions, edited by Richard H. Davis, 141–188. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. ———. 2002. “The Story of the Buddha’s Begging Bowl: Imagining a Biography and Sacred Places.” In Pilgrims, Patrons and Place: Localizing Sanctity in Asian Religions, edited by Phyllis Granoff and Koichi Shinohara, 68–107. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press. ———. 2005. “The Moment of Death in Daoxuan’s Vinaya Commentary.” In Going Forth: Visions of Buddhist Vinaya: Essays Presented in Honor of Professor Stanley Weinstein, edited by Stanley Weinstein and William M. Bodiford, 105–133. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Sivin, Nathan. 1995. “State, Cosmos and Body in the Last Three Centuries B.C.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 55, no. 1:5–37. Skinner, Patricia. 1998. “A Cure for a Sinner: Sickness and Healthcare in Medieval Southern Italy.” In The Community, Family and the Saint: Pattern of Power in Early Medieval Europe, edited by Joyce Hill and Mary Swan, 279–309. Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols. Sterckx, Roel. 2002. The Animal and the Daemon in Early China. Albany: State University of New York Press. Storch, Tanya. 1993. “Chinese Buddhist Historiography and Orality.” Sino-­ Platonic Papers 37:1–16. Strickmann, Michel. 1996. Mantras et mandarins: Le Bouddhisme tantrique en Chine. Paris: Gallimard. ———. 2002. Chinese Magical Medicine. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Tsai, Kathryn Ann. 1994. Lives of the Nuns: Biographies of Chinese Buddhist Nuns from the Fourth to Sixth Centuries, a Translation of the Pi-Ch’iu-Ni Chuan, Compiled by Shih Pao-Ch’ang. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Twitchett, D. C. 1969. “Chinese Biographical Writing.” In Historians of China and Japan, edited by W. B. Beasley and E. G. Pulleyblank, 95–114. London: Oxford University Press.

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Verellen, Franciscus. 1992. “ ‘Evidential Miracles in Support of Taoism’: The Inversion of a Buddhist Apologetic Tradition in Late Tang China.” T’oung Pao 78:217–263. Wright, Arthur F. 1948. “Fo-Tu-Têng: A Biography.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 11, nos. 3–4:312–371. ———. 1954. “Biography and Hagiography: Hui-Chiao’s Lives of Eminent Monks.” In Silver Jubilee Volume of the Zinbun-Kagaku-Kenkyusyo, 383– 432. Kyoto: Kyoto University. Yamazaki Hiroshi 山崎宏. 1942. Shina chūsei bukkyō no tenkai 支那中世佛教の 展開 [The development of Chinese medieval Buddhism]. Tokyo: Shimizu shoten. Yü Chün-Fang. 2001. Kuan-Yin: The Chinese Transformation of Avalokitesvara. New York: Columbia University Press. Zürcher, Erik. 1982. “ ‘Prince Moonlight’: Messianism and Eschatology in Early Medieval Chinese Buddhism.” T’oung Pao 86, nos. 1–3:1–75. ———. (1959) 2007. The Buddhist Conquest of China. Leiden: Brill. Zysk, Kenneth G. 1993. “The Science of Respiration and the Doctrine of the Bodily Winds in Ancient India.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 113, no. 2:198–213. ———. 2007. “The Bodily Winds in Ancient India Revisited.” Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 13 (supplement 1): 105–115.

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Teaching from the Sickbed Ideas of Illness and Healing in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra and Their Reception in Medieval Chinese Literature Antje Richter

At that time Mañjuśrī asked Vimalakīrti: “How should bodhisattvas comfort bodhisattvas who are ill?” Vimalakīrti said, “Explain that the body is impermanent, but do not teach that one should despise or abandon one’s body.” 爾時文殊師利問維摩詰言:「菩薩應云何慰喻有疾菩薩?」 維摩詰言:「說身無常, 不說厭離於身。」

T

he Vimalakīrti Sūtra, the “scripture of the teaching of Vimalakīrti,” was one of the most popular and influential Buddhist sūtras in medieval China, inspiring generations of literati and artists since it first came to China in the second century CE. Scholars have pointed out different reasons for the Chinese fascination with this text and its main protagonist, the Buddhist layman Vimalakīrti, who famously manifested sickness in order to create an opportunity to engage those who would flock to his sickbed in a discussion of Mahāyāna Buddhist teachings and, ultimately, to help them on their way toward enlightenment. Erik Zürcher, in the late 1950s, emphasized the sūtra’s “highly philosophical contents,”1 most importantly the discussions of emptiness (Skt. śūnyatā; Ch. kong 空) and nonduality (Skt. advaita; Ch. bu’er 不 二).2 He also praised the “remarkable literary qualities” of this text, especially “a certain dramatic tension,”3 which attracted early medieval Chinese literati steeped in “pure conversation” (qingtan 清談) and “dark learning” (xuanxue 玄學). Paul Demiéville, a few years later, was the first Western scholar to give a more detailed overview of the sūtra’s wide reception in Chinese thought, literature, and visual art.4 57

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Continuing this inquiry, Richard Mather, in the late 1960s, elaborated on a point made by Zürcher and Demiéville earlier: the sūtra’s appeal to the Chinese gentry, who may have found it easier to identify with a wealthy lay believer, well respected in his community, than with a more conventional bodhisattva figure.5 Following in the footsteps of Zürcher and others who drew attention to the literary features of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra, Jonathan Silk has recently suggested that the existence of a plot may have been an essential aspect of the text’s allure.6 Silk also problematizes the prevalent idea that the Vimalakīrti Sūtra primarily targeted laypersons. He rather assumes that, in its original cultural context, the sūtra was meant to address an Indian monastic audience: They would have understood the depiction of a wondrous layman who is outsmarting bodhisattvas as another paradox in a text full of paradoxes, and thus have recognized Vimalakīrti as “a dramatic embodiment of the teaching of paradoxical non-duality.”7 While we have little information about the origins of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra—it may have emerged in India in the first or early second century CE8—the history of its Chinese translations and ­commentaries is better known. The first translation we know of, Zhi Qian’s 支謙 Weimojie jing 維摩詰經 (ca. 222–229), was followed by others, and by the fourth century several translations circulated, among them a synoptic version, that is, something of a critical edition.9 These earlier renditions were all superseded at the beginning of the fifth century, when the translation by Kumārajīva 鳩摩羅什 and his team of eminent collaborators came out.10 Their rendering remains the most popular and influential version of the sūtra in Chinese; Demiéville has called it one of the most brilliant texts in the Chinese Buddhist canon.11 In modern times, Kumārajīva’s translation into Chinese and the only surviving complete translation into Tibetan have been translated into English, French, and other Western languages.12 Research on the Vimalakīrti Sūtra has been thriving, too. The topics that have been explored most extensively are the sūtra’s translations and commentaries, questions of Mahāyāna doctrine discussed in these texts, and the sūtra’s influence on Chinese Buddhism, literature, and visual art. Dunhuang studies is a field of particular interest with regard to the Vimalakīrti Sūtra, since the historical period covered by Dunhuang manuscripts and paintings is just the time when the sūtra was most prominent in China.13 In this study, I focus on an aspect that has not yet received the attention it deserves: the notions of illness and healing expressed in



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the Vimalakīrti Sūtra and how Chinese literati responded to these aspects of the text. My main finding is not only that the sūtra enriched Chinese literature through various translations and its powerful poetic descriptions of illness and healing, but also that the Vimalakīrti Sūtra’s principal narrative conceit, the sickbed setting, was instrumental in making illness and, more generally, physicality acceptable as poetic topics in China. Early medieval poets who were familiar with the sūtra clearly realized the poetical and intellectual potential of the sickbed setting and started to experiment with the form. After they had established writing from the sickbed as an accepted poetic space, its potential for writing about personal illness was developed, with increasing boldness, by Tang dynasty poets, who ensured that sickbed poetry would remain a thriving subgenre for the rest of the imperial period. Facilitating the articulation of ideas and anxieties concerning illness as an essential part of the human condition and of each individual life thus emerges as one of the strongest influences of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra on Chinese literature. Content and Narrative Features of the V imalakīrti S ūtra The opening frame is set outside of the gates of the city of Vaiśālī, where the Buddha preaches to a great assembly of disciples, bodhisatt­ vas, and devas in the garden that a female devotee, Āmrapālī, donated to the Buddha and his monks. Setting the tone for the whole sūtra, the Buddha performs miracles to support his teaching, such as the creation of an immensely large canopy out of many small ones or the manifestation of the intrinsic beauty and purity of the buddha land. The skillful means (Skt. upāya; Ch. fangbian 方便) employed by the Buddha in the opening also dominate the second chapter, which brings us into the city of Vaiśālī and the residence of the householder Vimalakīrti. Vimalakīrti decides to manifest illness, since this would grant him an opportunity to teach about the fragility of the human body and the perfection of the Tathāgata’s body to all those who would flock to his sickbed. The following two chapters are again set in Āmrapālī’s garden, where the Buddha, sensing Vimalakīrti’s somewhat guileful wish that the luminary in the suburbs might acknowledge his illness, now looks for someone in his entourage to visit the sick householder on his behalf. However, disciples and bodhisattvas alike demur, with everyone having a tale to tell about a previous

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meeting with Vimalakīrti, who outsmarted them all in doctrinal under­standing and debate. When, at the beginning of chapter 5, Mañjuśrī agrees to call on Vimalakīrti, he is joined by thousands who are curious about the ensuing debate between the bodhisattva of wisdom and the sagacious householder. When they arrive, they all miraculously fit into a room, which Vimalakīrti, in expectation of this host of visitors, had emptied of servants and furniture with the exception of a single bed. Mañjuśrī and Vimalakīrti discuss doctrinal questions, particularly emptiness—on the occasion of the empty room—but also illness. In chapter 6 a miracle takes center stage again: Vimalakīrti has thousands of huge lion-thrones flown in from a distant universe to seat his audience, who are then treated to Vimalakīrti’s teaching about “inconceivable liberation” (Skt. acintya-mukta; Ch. bu ke siyi jietuo 不 可思議解脫). The most famous episode of the next chapter is the ­contest in discursive and magical powers between a goddess living in Vimalakīrti’s house and Śāriputra, one of the Buddha’s most distinguished disciples. Śāriputra represents dualistic ideas throughout the Vimalakīrti Sūtra, only to be proven wrong each time—this time by being temporarily transformed into a woman. Ways to achieve buddhahood and nonduality are discussed in chapters 8 and 9, which culminate in Vimalakīrti’s famous “thundering silence” when asked by Mañjuśrī to explain his understanding of nonduality. The following chapter once more opens up the assembly to another universe: to feed his numerous guests, Vimalakīrti creates a bodhisattva who travels to the distant world Sarvagandhasugandhā (Host of Fragrances) and returns with ­fragrant rice—and millions of curious bodhisattvas who join the ­congregation in Vimalakīrti’s sickroom. In chapter 11, Vimalakīrti ­magically takes the whole assembly back to the Buddha in Āmrapālī’s ­garden, thus closing the narrative frame where it started. A discussion about buddha lands and indestructible liberation ensues. In chapter 12, the Buddha reveals that Vimalakīrti spent his previous life in the ­buddha land of Abhirati (Wondrous Joy). When he asks Vimalakīrti to manifest it to the audience, the householder conjures up Abhirati in his right hand. The last two chapters are dedicated to the exaltation of the sūtra itself, elaborating on the superiority of the Dharma offering (Skt. dharma-pūjā; Ch. fa gongyang 法供養) in chapter 13 and ­presenting the formal bestowal of the sūtra text in the final chapter. As this brief summary shows, there is indeed a rudimentary plot running through the Vimalakīrti Sūtra: one main character



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creates an occasion for a showdown, albeit benign; the second main character responds to the provocation by sending a deputy; the ensuing, imaginatively designed encounter allows both the agent provocateur and the deputy to shine, if now and then at the expense of supporting characters (the closest we get to antagonists); the grand finale brings everyone together, absolving the apparent troublemaker and confirming his apotheosis. The huge and colorful cast of dramatis personae includes humans, buddhas, gods, and extraterrestrial beings, who at times respond as a group to the action and words, as a Greek chorus would do. The narrative is enlivened by sparkling, often funny ­conversations (occasionally presented in the form of flashbacks), by dramatic changes of setting (from a small, empty room to another universe and back again), by spectacular miracles,14 and, not the least, by grandiose imagery sure to boggle the most unimaginative mind. Repetitiveness and formulaity on the level of themes, phrases, and embedded subplots are among the rhetorical means that keep the narrative together and lend it a pleasing rhythmic quality. All narrative elements, redundant and tangential as they may seem, are in the service of the text’s main purpose, that is, the exposition and propagation of Mahāyāna Buddhist ideas. The staggering hyperboles used throughout the sūtra, the frequent narrative digressions from its supposed main business, and other seemingly gratuitous or even detrimental rhetorical practices all make sense if understood in the context of the specifically Buddhist concept of skillful means, that is, as expedient devices employed to facilitate the engagement of a broad range of audiences in the teaching of rather complicated doctrinal ideas and, finally, to lead them to enlightenment.15 It would be simplistic, however, to dismiss the sūtra’s storytelling elements as nothing but means to ensnare the uneducated. The artful composition of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra must, on another level, also have appealed to a learned audience, who would have had no problem grasping a purely discursive text about the doctrinal matters ­explained in the sūtra. On this other level, the Vimalakīrti Sūtra truly does as it tells—not an easy thing to do, as the writers among the sūtra’s readers must have recognized—by perfectly merging religious doctrine on the one hand and storytelling on the other. Dissolving any hypothetical dualism between these two aspects, the Vimalakīrti Sūtra is also a demonstration of how to enter the gate of nonduality in narrative.

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Illness and Healing in the V imalakīrti S ūtra The Vimalakīrti Sūtra deals with illness in an exemplary way, both by taking a sickbed visit as its main setting and by offering throughout the text explicit observations about the human body’s propensity for illness and decay. One reason why this aspect has nevertheless remained marginal in the otherwise rich field of scholarship on the Vimalakīrti Sūtra16 could be that talk of illness and healing is so abundant in Buddhist texts that it is easy to dismiss as background noise. As early as the 1930s, Paul Demiéville pointed out that Buddhist and medical thought are both rooted in the deliverance from suffering: “Diagnosis, etiology, recovery, therapeutics—these four principles that summarize all of medicine can be substituted for the Buddhist Four Truths in a natural and straightforward transposition.”17 It is this closeness, the pervasiveness of the “physician’s point of view,” that makes medical imagery so much more dominant in Buddhism as compared with other religious, philosophical, or literary texts, where medical tropes, although they occur as well, play a less pronounced role.18 The Vimalakīrti Sūtra uses medical tropes in the same way many other Buddhist writings do. Metaphors of illness describe the lack of enlightenment (眾生病); the process of achieving enlightenment is compared to healing (療眾病); bodhisattvas appear as medicinal plants (現作諸藥草), are encouraged to be “medicine kings” who heal all illnesses (醫王療治眾病), and so on.19 It is not its use of medical analogies and metaphors, however, that makes the Vimalakīrti Sūtra special, but, as mentioned before, the crucial, constitutive role that illness plays for this sūtra’s narrative and doctrinal message. This is all the more remarkable since Vimalakīrti’s illness does not provide a convenient arch of illness and healing, in which a sick man emerges either healed or diseased at the end of the narrative. Nor does any of the narrative action connote the suffering, somberness, and urgency usually associated with illness. All further discussion must proceed from an analysis of the nature of Vimalakīrti’s illness. Is he really ill or just pretending to be so? And, of course, how could he be ill, advanced as he is on the path to buddhahood? Three approaches to this issue are possible. The first and doctrinally most sophisticated one would be to point out that the Vimalakīrti Sūtra sets out to shatter a dualistic view of its protagonist’s health or nonhealth along with other dualities, such as: Is he a



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layman or not? Is he alone at home or not? Is his house big enough for his many visitors or not? These and similar questions all fade in the light of nonduality. Two further approaches are suggested in chapter 2 of the sūtra text itself, which states briefly but quite explicitly: “Using skillful means he manifested being ill himself” 其以方便, 現身有疾.20 The verb, xian 現, that Kumārajīva chose (just as Zhi Qian before and Xuanzang after him) means “to show, appear, pre­ sent,” and can be interpreted in two ways, depending on the underlying notion of the householder’s body. If we assume that his is the body of a mortal human, xian suggests that this illness need not be created, pretended, or feigned, but rather that it was already present when Vimalakīrti decided to “show” it. Illness would thus be revealed as an essential part of the human condition, just as it is in the “Four Encounters” episode in the biography of the historical Śākyamuni Buddha, where a sick man is one of the sights that move the young prince Siddhārtha Gautama to leave home, the others being those of an old man, a dead body, and an ascetic. If we assume, though, as becomes increasingly clear toward the end of the sūtra, that Vimalakīrti is enlightened, that is, fully a buddha, we could, in a third approach, interpret the body present on the sickbed as his ­corporeal, transient transformation body (Skt. nirmāṇa-kāya; Ch. huashen 化身).21 This approach would allow us to regard the householder’s illness as manifested in response to those in need of liberation, as a skillful means. Describing “the one basic theme of the whole sūtra: the loving and saving power of the Bodhisattva,” Erik Zürcher pointed out that Vimalakīrti “voluntarily undergoes the ‘disease of existence’ for the sake of all beings.”22 As with all important ideas in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra, this idea recurs later in the text. In chapter 8, when the householder describes the path to buddhahood—and thus also his own path—he emphasizes the manifestation of decrepitude and illness as skillful means by mentioning it twice, first in prose (“he manifests becoming old and sick, yet always eradicates the roots of illness” 示入 老病, 而永斷病根) and later in verse (“he may manifest old age, illness, and death / to accomplish [the liberation of] the hosts of sentient beings” 或示老病死, 成就諸群生).23 The concise characterization of Vimalakīrti’s illness in chapter 2 is followed by the passage that seems to have fascinated medieval Chinese writers most, the veritable cascade of similes of the body in Vimalakīrti’s first speech to those who came visiting him on his sickbed:24

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Sirs, this body is impermanent, without strength, without power, without solidity. Given the way it rapidly disintegrates, it cannot be trusted. Suffering and vexatious, it accumulates a host of illnesses. Sirs, the wise do not rely on such a body. This body is like a bit of foam that cannot be grasped. This body is like bubbles that do not last very long. This body is like a mirage, generated from thirst. This body is like a banana tree, with nothing solid within. This body is like a phantasm arising from confused [views]. This body is like a dream, an illusory view. This body is like a shadow, manifested through karmic conditions. This body is like an echo, dependent on causes and conditions. This body is like a floating cloud, changing and disappearing in an instant. This body is like lightning, unstable from one moment to another. 諸仁者!是身無常、無強、無力、無堅、速朽之法, 不可信也!為苦、 為惱, 眾病所集。諸仁者!如此身, 明智者所不怙;是身如聚沫, 不可撮 摩;是身如泡, 不得久立;是身如炎, 從渴愛生;是身如芭蕉, 中無有 堅;是身如幻, 從顛倒起;是身如夢, 為虛妄見;是身如影, 從業緣現; 是身如響, 屬諸因緣;是身如浮雲, 須臾變滅;是身如電, 念念不住。

After the first, most famous “Ten Similes,” several more are enumerated in a different, less parallel pattern. Retaining the ­striking anaphora (“this body” 是身) fourteen times, this repetition builds to a crescendo: This body is without master, like the earth. This body is without self, like fire. This body is without lifespan, like the wind. This body is without person, like water. This body is insubstantial, being housed in the four elements. This body is empty, leaving self and the qualities of self behind. This body is ignorant, like plants and rubble. This body is inactive, being turned by the power of the wind. This body is impure, replete with defilements. This body is deceptive, since even though one washes, clothes, and feeds it, it will necessarily disintegrate. This body is a disaster, vexed by a hundred and one illnesses. This body is like a well on a hill, pressed by age. This body is unreliable, dying in spite of being needed. This body is like a poisonous snake, a vengeful bandit, an empty aggregation. It is the composite of the skandhas, sensory realms, and sensory capacities.25 Sirs, this [ordinary body] being so calamitous and repugnant, you should wish for the body of the Buddha. Why? The body of the Buddha is the body of the Dharma.



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是身無主, 為如地;是身無我, 為如火;是身無壽, 為如風;是身無人, 為如水;是身不實, 四大為家;是身為空, 離我我所;是身無知, 如草木 瓦礫;是身無作, 風力所轉;是身不淨, 穢惡充滿;是身為虛偽, 雖假以 澡浴衣食, 必歸磨滅;是身為災, 百一病惱;是身如丘井, 為老所逼;是 身無定, 為要當死;是身如毒蛇、如怨賊、如空聚, 陰界諸入所共合 成。諸仁者!此可患厭, 當樂佛身。所以者何?佛身者即法身也。26

Étienne Lamotte, the French translator of the Tibetan Vimalakīrti Sūtra, who studied the origin of these similes (Skt. upamāna; Ch. piyu 譬喻) in Buddhist literature, counted thirty-five of them throughout the sūtra.27 They compare the body to very diverse phenomena, ranging from objects or circumstances in the natural world—among them the elements (most prominently water), the weather, fauna, and flora— to mental phenomena such as illusions and dreams, to illness and even emptiness. The most common tertium comparationis is impermanence, which emphasizes the dependent origination of the body (as well as every other phenomenon), closely followed by insubstantiality and intangibility. Notably, impurity plays only a marginal role.28 The teaching about the body is resumed and complemented in chapter 3, where the Buddha’s disciples one after another relate why they would rather not go themselves to call on the sick Vimalakīrti. Embedded in the tale that Ānanda tells about his encounter with the householder, the teaching about the body now focuses on the superiority of the Tathāgata’s body. When Vimalakīrti learns that Ānanda is begging for milk to cure an illness of the Buddha, he instructs the young disciple about the nature of his master’s body in no uncertain words:29 Stop, stop, Ānanda! Do not speak thus. The Tathāgata’s body is the embodiment of vajra. [In it] the evils are already eradicated and the host of good qualities are universally assembled. What illness could it have, what vexation could there be? Go silently, Ānanda—do not revile the Tathāgata, and do not let anyone else hear such coarse talk. . . . If brahmans in the heterodox paths hear this, they will think, “Who is this teacher, who is unable to save himself from illness but would save others of their ills?” Sir, go quietly and quickly, and do not let anyone hear this. 止, 止!阿難!莫作是語!如來身者, 金剛之體, 諸惡已斷, 眾善普會, 當 有何疾?當有何惱?默往, 阿難!勿謗如來, 莫使異人聞此麤言。 . . .

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外道、梵志, 若聞此語, 當作是念:「何名為師?自疾不能救, 而能救諸 疾?」仁可密速去, 勿使人聞。

Ānanda reports that he “then heard a voice from space” 即聞空中聲 that confirmed Vimalakīrti’s words, but softened their rebuke by casting the Buddha’s illness as a skillful means befitting this corrupted age: Ānanda, it is as the householder has said. It is just that the Buddha has appeared in this evil age of the five corruptions and manifests his Dharma to emancipate sentient beings. Go, Ānanda. Take the milk without shame. 阿難!如居士言。但為佛出五濁惡世, 現行斯法, 度脫眾生。行矣, 阿 難!取乳勿慚。30

The longest and most explicit discussion of the doctrinal implication of illness takes place in chapter 5, entitled “Visiting the Sick” (Wenji pin 問疾品), on the occasion of Mañjuśrī’s visit to Vimalakīrti’s house.31 After Mañjuśrī has politely inquired after his health and conveyed the Buddha’s regards, Vimalakīrti elaborates on the origination and characteristics of his illness and on the questions of how b ­ odhisattvas should comfort ill bodhisattvas (菩薩應云何慰喻有疾菩薩) and how ill bodhisattvas should control their minds (有疾菩薩云何調伏其心).32 All his teachings are embedded in references to fundamental Buddhist or Mahāyāna Buddhist doctrines, such as compassion (Skt. karuṇā; Ch. bei 悲), impermanence (Skt. anitya; Ch. wuchang 無常), nonself (Skt. anātman; Ch. wu/fei wo 無/非我), suffering (Skt. duḥkha; Ch.  ku  苦), and emptiness. Asked for the cause of his illness, for instance, Vimalakīrti responds that it arose from “great compassion” 大悲, that he is ill “since all sentient beings are ill” 以一切眾生病, 是故 我病, and “because there is samsara, there is illness” 有生死則有病.33 Asked how bodhisattvas should comfort ill bodhisattvas, Vimalakīrti advises that one should “teach that the body is impermanent, but not that one should despise or abandon one’s body” 說身無常, 不說厭離 於身.34 This equitable attitude to the body is in tune with the lack of emphasis on the body’s impurity we have seen in the similes discussed earlier, and as such is distinct from the emphasis on the loathsomeness or impurity of corporeal embodiment that we see in other Buddhist writings.35 The relative affirmation of the body in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra brings another episode from the biography of the historical Śākyamuni Buddha to mind: his decision to abandon the severe asceticism he had



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practiced for many years, a decision that turned out to be decisive for his enlightenment. The crucial role of illness in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra is addressed most distinctly in a unique Japanese institution, the Assembly on the Vimalakīrti Sūtra (Yuima-e 維摩會), where the sūtra in recited form “is ingested aurally as medicinal and curative, a substance able to transform and heal the human body.”36 It was first held, either in 656 or 657, as a healing ritual for Fujiwara no Kamatari (614–669), and thereafter repeated annually until Kamatari’s death. In 706, following an illness of Kamatari’s son Fuhito (659–720), the annual assembly, revolving around a weeklong reading of the sūtra, was resumed, now held on the anniversary of Kamatari’s death and, since 712, in the Fujiwara clan temple Kōfukuji in Nara.37 The Rise of Sickbed Poetry in Early Medieval China It is well known that the fascination with the Vimalakīrti Sūtra has left traces throughout medieval Chinese literature and visual art (Plate 1). Richard Mather spoke of “hundreds of traceable allusions . . . in the writings of fourth- and fifth-century gentlemen and gentlemen-monks of the lower Yangtze area” alone, and it is unlikely that even the recent thousand-page tome Studies in the Belief in Vimalakīrti in Medieval China 中國中古維摩詰信仰研究 by the modern scholar He Jianping 何劍平 covers them all.38 Among the most prominent Chinese readers and admirers of the sūtra was Xie Lingyun 謝靈運 (385–433). Xie, a member of an eminent aristocratic family, was not only a brilliant poet, master of prose, painter, and calligrapher, but also, as Mather remarked, “one of the most vocal lay protagonists of Buddhism in his generation,”39 who may have been among the very few Chinese in early medieval China who had a certain command of Sanskrit. Although much of his ­writing has been lost, we know that Xie Lingyun was engaged with Buddhism throughout his adult life. He composed Buddhist inscriptions, such as on the image of the Buddha at Mount Lu in 413,40 epitaphs for Buddhist monks, for instance, for the great Huiyuan 慧遠 (334–416),41 and the Discussion on Distinguishing What Is Essential (Bianzong lun 辨/辯宗論) in 422, a treatise in question-andanswer form about sudden versus gradual enlightenment, an issue of great doctrinal import at the time.42 He also wrote a commentary on the Diamond Sūtra (Skt. Vajracchedikā-prajñāpāramitā; Ch. Jingang

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banre jing zhu 金剛般若經注) and collaborated with Buddhist monks to revise the stylistically poor translation of the Nirvāṇa Sūtra (Skt. Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra; Ch. Da banniepan jing 大般涅槃經) by Dharmakṣema (Tanwuchen 曇無讖 / Tanmochen 曇摩讖, 385–433), probably between 430 and 432.43 While Xie Lingyun alluded to the Vimalakīrti Sūtra in several of his writings, among them the monumental, self-annotated Rhapsody on Living in the Mountains (Shan ju fu 山居賦), his best-known reference to the sūtra, is a group of eight encomia or eulogies (zan 贊) about the first ten similes of the body from chapter 2 of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra. Xie wrote these poems in 424, during his first period of retirement from office on his family estate in Shining.44 The seventh encomium, dedicated to “floating clouds” 浮雲, is a good illustration of Xie’s poetic approach to the sūtra’s terse similes. (Quotation marks in my translations indicate either allusions or Buddhist terms.): Floating and drifting, they conceal the bright moon, “Billowing and swelling,” they drench “South Hill.”45 While we can enjoy their alterations,46 The self ultimately cannot grasp them. Soon they are already flown away and dispersed, How could one gather them together again? When all dharmas are without “self,”47 From where could “the qualities of self” arise?

泛濫明月陰 薈蔚南山雨 juB 能為變動用 在我竟無取 tshjuB 俄已就飛散 豈復得攢聚 dzjuB/C 諸法既無我 何由有我所 ṣjwoB48

Xie Lingyun amplifies the sūtra’s brief text—“this body is like a floating cloud, changing and disappearing in an instant” 是身如浮雲, 須臾變 滅—both poetically and Buddhologically. He adds allusive images and notions that emphasize the clouds’ impermanence and ­explicitly interprets the simile in the light of the doctrine of nonself. Surprisingly, none of the eight encomia mentions illness, the fallibility of the human body, or indeed the body as such. Apart from their potential to illuminate certain Buddhist doctrines, Xie appears to have been primarily attracted by the poetic potential of these images, perhaps because transience and beauty are so closely connected in the Chinese poetic tradition.



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Xie Lingyun, the poet who was deeply engaged with the Vimalakīrti Sūtra, may also have been the first Chinese poet to write a poem while “lying sick” (wo ji/bing 臥疾/病), or to make such a characterization a part of his poetical message. Xie’s “Reading in My Study” (Zhai zhong du shu 齋中讀書), written during his first banishment from the capital to Yongjia in the winter of 422, is the first transmitted Chinese poem to use the phrase “lying sick.” The speaker does not dwell on his illness at all, however, but rather assumes a jubilant mode, as the following excerpt from the sixteen-line poem shows:

8 10

Lying sick with much happy leisure, I often take up brush and ink. Intent on reading [books] old and new, In bed and during meals I spread them out, where they make me “quip and joke.”49

臥疾豐暇豫 翰墨時間作 tsâk 懷抱觀古今 寢食展戲謔 xjak

Here, illness only appears as a gift of leisure time: time to follow one’s personal interests and express moods or aspects of one’s personality that would otherwise—that is, in health—have to be put aside for the sake of one’s official duties. In Xie’s poem “Commanding Scholars to Discuss Books [with Me]” (Ming xueshi jiang shu 命學士 講書), written about a year later, in the fall of 423, details of the speaker’s indisposition remain obscure, too, and illness as a time of socially accepted idleness emerges as nothing but a chance to pursue intellectual endeavors together with friends.50 The formal similarities with Vimalakīrti’s employment of illness are obvious. Both exploit the exceptional character of illness: the householder by relying on the rules of etiquette, which in the case of illness demand to visit the sick; the speakers of the poems by relying on the dispensation of most duties in illness. Another significant commonality is that Vimalakīrti and the speakers in the poems alike do not reap the “benefits” of their illnesses for themselves but share them with an audience. Illness thus appears less as a personal matter than as an occasion to connect with others, albeit for different purposes. There is one decisive interpretative difference, too: unlike Vimalakīrti’s illness, which as illness for the sake of teaching remains more of an abstract idea in the sūtra, Xie’s poems are commonly read as autobiographically authentic and used to reconstruct the poet’s medical history. “Reading in My Study,” for instance, is interpreted as evidence of Xie’s prolonged illness during the winter of 422, just as

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“Climbing the Tower by the Pond” (Deng chishang lou 登池上樓), Xie Lingyun’s most famous poem, written in early spring of 423, is read as evidence of his recovery.51 While we have no reason to doubt the autobiographic dimension of these poems, it is important to keep the long Chinese tradition of writing in certain personas in mind: once a subgenre or style was established, it could be employed freely by anyone. Assuming the persona of a sick man or woman would not have been too difficult for most writers, not the least because everyone is familiar with illness in one way or another. This leads to a further caution concerning the autobiographical interpretation of poems written “while lying sick”: an illness might have been pretended not only for the sake of writing a certain kind of poem, but also because illness was one of the very few legitimate excuses that allowed one to escape one’s official duties, almost on a par with taking care of or mourning for one’s parents.52 The social dimension that emerges in Xie Lingyun’s poems is shared by many of the later poems written “while lying sick.” They are often addressed to friends or colleagues, as in Xie Tiao’s 謝脁 (464–499) “Poem Presented to Shen Yue While I Am Lying Sick in My Commandery” (Zai jun wo bing cheng Shen shangshu shi 在郡臥病呈 沈尚書詩), written in 496.53 As his clansman Xie Lingyun did in “Commanding Scholars to Discuss Books [with Me],” Xie Tiao starts with a reference to the Han dynasty official Ji An 汲黯 (d. 112 BCE), known for his poor health and excellent government while lying sick.54 The speaker of Xie Tiao’s poem presents himself as cheerfully negligent of his illness and reduces it to a delightful treat of time and leisure. He describes the fine bream, summer plums, and green-ant wine he enjoyed, and ends on a note of longing for his old friend Shen Yue 沈約 (441–513). As if to confirm Xie Tiao’s indifference to the illness that prompted the poem, Shen’s poetic response does not mention it either, not even in the form of a veiled get-well wish, but rather focuses on the young friend’s official career.55 The two Xies’ nonchalance about health may have something to do with the relative youth of the poets: both were in their thirties when they wrote these poems, and probably not too worried about a momentary failing of their health. There are also early medieval sickbed poems, in which the celebration of extra leisure time thanks to a minor ailment gives way to the expression of distress and apprehension, possibly on account of more serious ailments. Wang Xiuzhi 王秀之 (442–494) may well have been fifty when he wrote “Expressing My Intent while Lying Sick”



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(Wo ji xu yi 臥疾敍意, before 493), the first transmitted poem that uses the phrase “lying sick” in the title. Although Wang does not specify his complaints either, he does voice worry about his advancing age and physical decline.56 The somber, autumnal mood of Jiang Yan’s 江淹 (444–504) “Lying Sick I Lament Parting from Head Scribe Liu” (Wo ji yuan bie Liu changshi 臥疾怨別劉長史)—perhaps written after the sickbed visit of a friend—also bespeaks the poet’s awareness of his mortality, although he does not impart details about his condition.57 The idea that illness, apart from trouble, also provides opportunities, such as leisure time, has inspired poems such as Liu Xiaochuo’s 劉孝綽 (481–539) fragmentarily received “[Observing] the Autumn Rain while I Was Lying Sick” (Qiu yu wo ji shi 秋雨臥疾).58 In this poem, the ailing speaker not only has all the time in the world to watch a torrential downpour; his acute observations also suggest that the enforced idleness of lying sick may have augmented his perceptiveness.59 This particular pattern of portraying illness as an opportunity was also taken up by the monk Huijing 釋慧淨 (578–ca. 645) in his “Poem Sent to My Old Companions from a Winter’s Day in Puguang Temple Where It Was Snowing while I Was Lying Sick” (Yu dong ri Puguang si wo ji zhi xue jian zhu jiuyou shi 於冬日普光寺臥疾值雪簡 諸舊遊詩). Singing the wonders of the falling snow, the poem also paints a fascinating tableau, supported by allusions, of a Buddhist monk’s catholic taste in music and reading: Lying sick,60 my suffering brought me to a hold. Opening the door, I look up into the vast sky. Cold clouds are stretching out and then furling again, Falling flakes are sheering off and then connecting once more.61 Frozen flowers light up my book chamber,62 Flying fluff caresses the strings of my zither. Fluttering about the Rhapsody on the Luo River Goddess, And shimmering on the chapters about Qi silk,63 Whirling over the steps [into the courtyard] as cranes in dance,

臥痾苦留滯 闢戶望遙天 thien 寒雲舒復卷 落雪斷還連 ljän 凝華照書閣 飛素婉琴弦 ɣien 廻飄洛神賦 皎映齊紈篇 phjiän 縈階如鶴舞

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And clinging to the trees like flowers in fresh bloom.64 I praise this omen of a bounteous year, Deeply saddened by my [approaching] end and “nursing my sorrow.”

拂樹似花鮮 sjän 徒賞豐年瑞 沈憂終自憐 lien65

In this poem, written at a prominent Buddhist temple in Chang’an, probably toward the end of Huijing’s life, references to illness provide an apparently slim frame for a meditation on the beauty of the falling snow. While we can be sure that Huijing knew it, the Vimalakīrti Sūtra is never mentioned. Nonetheless, the revelation of perfect beauty during what appears to be mortal illness evokes a miracle of the Buddha in the sūtra’s first chapter. In order to disprove the doubts that the Buddha himself had planted in Śāriputra’s mind about the purity of this land, “the Buddha touched the earth with his toe, and instantly the great chiliocosm was as if gloriously ornamented with a hundred thousand jewels” 於是佛以足指按地, 即時三 千大千世界, 若干百千珍寶嚴飾.66 The revelation of the innate beauty and perfection of this buddha land—that is, the world we live in, as blemished and defiled as it may appear—is the sūtra’s first strong statement about nonduality. Read in this light, Huijing’s praise of the apparently insignificant beauty of a snowy day can be read as a powerful affirmation of life in the face of death and suffering. The first transmitted sickbed poem that mentions the Vimalakīrti Sūtra explicitly was written by Wang Zhou 王冑 (558–613, courtesy name Chengji 承基). Wang, a member of the Langye Wang clan, may have written the poem in 603 or 604 while on a military expedition against Linyi 林邑 in what is now Vietnam.67 The poem falls into two parts, although the rhyme continues: the first part (lines 1–10) describes the miseries of lying ill in more detail than we have seen so far in pre-Tang poetry, while the second part (lines 11–24) praises the teachings of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra: Describing the Meaning of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra while Lying Sick in Min-Yue, with a Preface 臥疾閩越述淨名意并序68 When I was lying sick at the coast of Min and close to death for a fortnight, my good friend, Dharma Teacher Yong, urged me to control my body and mind with the Vimalakīrti Sūtra, this marvelous [Mahāyāna] scripture. I made an effort, in my illness, to roughly lay out its meaning, and respectfully send Dharma Teacher [Yong] the following words.



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余臥疾閩海。彌留旬朔。善友顒法師。勸余以淨名妙典調伏身心。 力疾粗陳其意。敬簡法師云爾。 This stranger has traveled a thousand and more miles,

客行萬餘里

Afar on the blue-green sea.

眇然滄海上 źjaŋC

The Southern Five Ranges are forever sweltering,

五嶺常炎鬱

The Hundred Yue states abound in mountain miasma.

百越多山瘴 tśjaŋ(C)

All this has worn out my body and spirit,

兼以勞形神

So that I met with this sickness from exhaustion.

遂此嬰疲恙 jiaŋC

[The legendary doctors] Tong and Lei are men of the distant past,69

桐雷邈已遠

[The fabled] acupuncture stones [of old] are difficult to find indeed.

砭石良難訪 phjwaŋC

“Hugging my shadow,” and “nursing a private sorrow,”

抱影私自憐

“My tear-stained lapels” bespeak lonely “despair.”70

霑襟獨惆悵 ṭhjaŋC

“In the city of Vaiśālī lived an elder,”71

毗城有長者

Whom I have revered all my life.

生平夙所尚 źjaŋC

Devoting myself anew to the great [law of] “causes and conditions,”72

復藉大因緣

I strive for the profound “transference of merit.”73

勉以深迴向 xjaŋC

My “mind-road” [of discursive thought] directed at “self-control,”74

心路資調伏

I contemplate the “true characteristics.”75

於焉念實相 sjaŋC

Foam on water is by nature difficult to seize,76

水沫本難摩

The heavenly musicians’ mirage city is “empty of existence.”77

乾城空有狀 dẓjaŋC

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This life is not the ultimate truth,

是生非至理

This self is all “hollow deception.”

是我皆虛妄 mjwaŋC

Seeking [the ultimate truth] in these, it cannot be obtained,

求之不可得

Everyone suffering from the “hindrance of karma.”

誰其受業障 tśjaŋ(C)

Indeed, great is the “Medicine King,”78

信矣大醫王

His merciful power is truly hard to fathom.

茲力誠難量 ljaŋC

The first five couplets of this poem are dedicated to the speaker’s sickness. We learn how he contracted it—due to arduous traveling and the climatic conditions in the insalubrious south—a self-­ diagnosis that is wholly in keeping with medical ideas of the time. We also learn that he is at a loss for treatment and full of distress. The evocation of despair and loneliness far from home is couched in phrases that are familiar from the Songs of the South, which has a curiously ambiguous effect: On the one hand, Wang Zhou’s references to the expressive, unrestrained Songs of the South heighten the urgency of the suffering he describes, but on the other hand they also temper and domesticate it, because they present the speaker’s despair as channeled into conventional, culturally approved ways of expression. After this surprisingly detailed account of ill health, the poem abruptly changes its topic to now focus, in the remaining seven couplets, on the speaker’s long-standing reverence for the Vimalakīrti Sūtra.79 Only this second part’s opening line, “in the city of Vaiśālī lived an elder,” however, is specific to the sūtra. Even if the doctrines that are summoned in the rest of the poem—the law of dependent origination, the transference of merit, and so on—can all be located in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra (as my annotations show), these doctrines are also essential Mahāyāna Buddhist teachings as they are found in numerous other scriptures, reminding us of Erik Zürcher’s astute characterization of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra as “a real compendium of Mahāyāna doctrine.”80 We cannot be sure from the text of this poem which translation of the sūtra Wang Zhou knew. As far as transmitted translations go, his terminology points to Kumārajīva rather than Zhi Qian, but the



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fact that he used a translation of the name Vimalakīrti—as Jingming 淨名, “clean name” or “impeccable reputation”—rather than the transliteration Weimojie 維摩詰 could indicate that he knew the sūtra in another translation, perhaps one of the four that have not survived. While Xuanzang’s mid-seventh-century translation of the name as Wugoucheng 無垢稱, “unsoiled name,” never became really popular, “Jingming” is found widely in Tang literature. The name can be traced back to early medieval sources, starting from the early fifth century, but it did not gain traction before the Liang dynasty.81 Wang Zhou may also have known the Treatise on the Profundity of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra (Jingming xuan lun 淨名玄論) by his contemporary Jizang 吉藏 (549–623).82 Looking Ahead: The Flourishing of Sickbed Poetry in the Tang While little more than a dozen early medieval sickbed poems are extant, a much larger number survives from the Tang dynasty and later. A very superficial search of The Complete Tang Poems yields more than three hundred poems with titles containing phrases such as “lying sick” (臥疾/病) or “in sickness” (病中), not to mention the many more poems that deal with illness without expressing this in the title. The greatest poets of that age wrote about being sick—from Chen Zi’ang 陳子昂 (661–702) to Wang Wei 王維 (699–761), Du Fu 杜甫 (712–770), Meng Jiao 孟郊 (751–814), and Li He 李賀 (790– 816).83 Many of these poems are moving in their openness about physical suffering and decline, forming a great contrast with the restraint we see in early medieval China. Since even the briefest account of sickbed poetry in the Tang in the light of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra would go beyond the scope of this chapter, a few remarks on a small number of poems by one particular author, Bai Juyi 白居易 (772–846), will have to suffice to give an impression of the Tang flourishing of this genre. That this author is exceptional in many ways, not least in the number of poems written in illness that he left us, does not skew the picture but rather emphasizes how much had changed in the poetic depiction of illness since the sixth century. The first example, “Sitting Quietly in My Sickness” (Bingzhong yanzuo 病中宴坐),84 here presented in Arthur Waley’s poetical rendering,85 makes this change quite clear:

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I have got wine, but am not well enough to drink. I have got poems, but am too weak to chant them. My head is giddy, I have had to give up fishing; My hand is stiff, I have stopped playing my lute. All day the silence is never broken; No worries reach me in my place of quiet retreat. My body is reconciled to its crippled state; My heart finds refuge in its own mysteries.86 My windows let in the autumn scenery, Bamboo and trees limpid in the setting sun. Sitting quietly on the edge of the small pond, A gentle wind is stirring the lapels of my dress.

有酒病不飲 ʔjəmB 有詩慵不吟 ŋjəm 頭眩罷垂鉤 手痹休援琴 ɡjəm 竟日悄無事 所居閑且深 śjəmA 外安支離體 中養希夷心 śjəm 窗戶納秋景 竹木澄夕陰 ʔjəm 宴坐小池畔 清風時動襟 kjəm87

None of the early medieval poems resembles this piece, neither in its autobiographical candor nor in its physical explicitness: from head and hand and body and heart to the swaying lapels. It also surprises by the absence of any outside agenda: illness is no longer just an opportunity or indeed excuse to write about something else entirely. Bai Juyi’s poem can confidently be read as “a privileged document of inner life, a presentation of self that potentially carried strong auto­ biographical dimensions,” as Stephen Owen has suggested in an early article on poetry as autobiography.88 Bai Juyi not only wrote dozens of poems about his illnesses throughout his life and then in old age about his physical decline;89 he also frequently evoked the Vimalakīrti Sūtra in a variety of ­contexts, from illness to the study of Buddhist texts and even drinking. A common poetical conceit in several of these poems is the author’s identification with the famous householder. This identification can be expressed directly, for instance, when he calls himself “Minister Bai, the elder from Vaiśālī” 毗耶長者白尚書 or when he refers to the dwelling where he is recuperating as a “ten-foot-square small pavilion” 小亭方丈.90 The “ten-foot-square” dwelling as an epithet of Vimalakīrti also appears in one of the “Fifteen Poems Written in Sickness” (Bing zhong shi shiwu shou 病中詩十五首), composed in 839, after Bai Juyi appears to have suffered a mild stroke that paralyzed his left leg. In this poem, addressed to a friend who had come to call on him, Bai Juyi identifies this very sickbed



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visit with that in the sūtra, likening himself to Vimalakīrti and his visitor, a monk, to Mañjuśrī.91 However, illness is not the only point of comparison for Bai Juyi: He also likens himself to Vimalakīrti in times of joyful drinking—­according to the portrayal given at the beginning of the sutra’s second chapter, Vimalakīrti was not affected by his engagement with the various spheres of secular life, but benefited everyone he met, also in wine shops and brothels.92 In my second example, “Giving up Moxibustion” (Ba jiu 罷灸), another one of the “Fifteen Poems Written in Sickness,” Bai Juyi takes yet another approach when he imagines the householder almost like a close friend: aware of this friend’s words of warning (that is, Vimalakīrti’s speech about the similes of the body) and imagining the sharp-witted householder’s censure (as described in chapters 3 and 4 of the sūtra) if Bai showed himself too attached to a particular form of medical treatment. In Waley’s free but brilliant translation, the poem reads: In Buddhist teachings what parable should guide me now that I am ill? Have I not heard that the body in a trice changes and disappears? Lest Vimalakīrti should look and laugh, I have given up my treatment; What use to take fiery mugwort and cauterize a cloud?

病身佛說將何喻 jiuC 變滅須臾豈不聞 mjwən 莫遣淨名知我笑 sjäuC 休將火艾灸浮雲 jwən93

Alluding to the sūtra’s phrase “this body is like a floating cloud, changing and disappearing in an instant” 是身如浮雲, 須臾變滅 the second line of the poem ­already anticipates the simile that will be spelled out at the end of line four. Here we find the poet not identifying with an enlightened being, Vimalakīrti, but comparing himself to a floating cloud.94 Although this choice cannot really be called humble either, it acknowledges the vulnerability and impermanence of the poet’s body and demonstrates the flexibility of Bai Juyi’s self-images. Simultaneously presenting such diverse ideas of his own body and illnesses, he appears to be doing or even embodying what the Vimalakīrti Sūtra does: shattering any dualistic views his readers might hold about himself.

Four hundred years before Bai Juyi, Xie Lingyun, admirer of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra, first used the words “lying sick” in a poem and

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may thus have helped to create a poetic space for illness, even if this space was still explored rather hesitantly in the following century and a half. Much of this hesitancy fell away in the course of the Tang dynasty, when we increasingly find illness employed as a poetic topic and thus brought into the open as an inevitable part of life. Pondering the flourishing of sickbed poetry in the Tang dynasty and later, we might ask why it would matter that a new type of poem came into existence. Although it might at first sight appear as a minor phenomenon in the history of Chinese literature, the creation of an accepted literary form to express one’s thoughts, feelings, and anxieties concerning illness and other aspects of one’s physicality is a major step in the continuing human search for self-expression and dialogue. The early medieval writers who originated the form used it in a somewhat limited way, mostly focusing on the gift of leisure time that illness can bring and the opportunity to do things that holding office would not allow. Their Tang successors fully realized the potential of the sickbed setting as an opportunity to bring the body and its weaknesses and ailments to the fore, leaving us poems that allow us to connect with their writers’ physicality in an unprecedented way. The early medieval encounter with Buddhist practices, ideas, and texts has left a profusion of enduring traces in China.95 Some of these are prominent and well studied, such as the establishment of a Chinese monastic culture (also beyond Buddhism) or the rise of new concepts about rebirth and the afterlife, along with their ethical implications for this life. Momentous developments such as these affected the full range of social, cultural, and intellectual spheres, from devotional practices and welfare politics to architecture and painting. Significant as these broad strokes are, however, they do not constitute the whole historical picture, which for depth and intricacy additionally depends on an abundance of finer, if no less enduring lines. One of those details is the literary phenomenon we have introduced in this chapter: the Chinese invention of a poetic subgenre prompted by a particular Indian Buddhist sūtra. The encounter with the Vimalakīrti Sūtra helped to move the personal experience of illness onto the agenda of Chinese poetry by sparking a literary tradition—sickbed poetry—that is not primarily dedicated to religious matters or discourses. Remarkably, this process was not so much driven by the most important doctrinal matters expounded in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra, such as emptiness and nonduality, but rather by a



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literary feature of this text, the sickbed setting of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra inner chapters, and by a recurring theme, illness, which in the sūtra itself plays an ancillary role for the exposition of fundamental doctrinal ideas. The case of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra’s effect on Chinese sickbed poetry thus illustrates how subtly and unobtrusively cultural influences can operate and how deeply embedded in Chinese culture Buddhism has managed to become. Notes I had the opportunity to introduce part of the material presented here at  several conferences: the meeting of the American Oriental Society, Western Branch, in Victoria, British Columbia, in October 2013, the Fifth Annual Tung Lin Kok Yuen Canada Foundation Conference “Buddhism and Wellbeing” at the University of British Columbia in May 2015, the Annual Meeting of the Association for Asian Studies in Seattle in April 2016, and the West Coast Premodern Chinese Literature and Culture Workshop at Berkeley, also in April 2016. Each time I benefited greatly from helpful comments and constructive questions from the audience. I am also deeply grateful to the two anonymous reviewers of the press and to Jan Nattier for reading a draft of this chapter and helping me to improve it. Epigraph. T. 475: 544c17–19. 1. Zürcher 1959, 50. 2. Ibid., 131. 3. Ibid., 132. 4. Demiéville 2004. 5. Mather also emphasized, however, that “both the intention and actual influence of the sutra were . . . strongly supportive of the Saṅgha” and that “no statement in the sutra, however radical, was ever felt to pose a threat to the institution of monasticism” (Mather 1968, 73, 69). 6. Silk 2014, 161–163, 171–172. See also Hamlin 1988; Lo 2002; Cui 2008; Xiao 2015, 301–302. The best recent treatment of Buddhist texts as literature is by François Martin 2010. 7. Silk 2014, 177. William R. LaFleur pointed out that Kamo no Chōmei’s 鴨長明 (1155–1216) attraction to the Vimalakīrti Sūtra as expressed in his Hōjōki 方丈記 (Account of my ten-foot-square hut) was also not based on the appeal of the layman and householder as opposed to the monk, but rather on that of the recluse who “moves deliberately and emphatically out of society and into isolation and solitude” (LaFleur 1983, 111). 8. Lamotte 1976, lxxxix–xcviii. Apart from a few fragments, the Sanskrit original had long been assumed to be lost, when a complete manuscript (ca. eleventh to thirteenth century) was discovered in the Potala Palace in Lhasa in 2001.

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See Bonbun Yuimagyō 2006; Wan 2010; Huang 2011. An English translation of this text by Paul Harrison and the late Luis O. Gómez is forthcoming with Dharma Publishing in Berkeley, CA. 9. For a basic introduction to translations and commentaries of the sūtra, see Lamotte 1976, xxvi–xxxvii; Zhou 1991, 975–980. On Zhi Mindu’s 支愍度 He Weimojie jing 合維摩詰經 (ca. 290–307) see Lamotte 1976, xxx– xxxi; Zürcher 1959, 99–100, 352n80. Knowledge about the supposed first translation, Gu Weimojie jing 古維摩詰經 by Yan Fotiao 嚴佛調 (188), is solely based on an entry in Fei Changfan’s 費長房 catalogue Lidai sanbao ji 歷代三寶記 (597), which has been shown to be a highly suspect source. See Radich 2019. 10. Unless stated otherwise, references to the Vimalakīrti Sūtra in this essay are to Kumārajīva’s translation, Weimojie suo shuo jing 維摩詰所說經 (T. 475), completed in 406. The two other surviving translations are Zhi Qian’s Weimojie jing (T. 474) and Xuanzang’s 玄奘 Shuo wugoucheng jing 說無垢稱經 (ca. 649–650, T. 476). Variants of the sūtra’s titles are discussed in Lamotte 1976, lxv–lx. 11. Demiéville 2004, 186. The Vimalakīrti Sūtra was also translated into Tibetan and Mongolian, and in modern times versions have appeared in other East Asian languages. 12. See Nattier 2000 for an excellent comparative study of four translations of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra into Western languages. My own translations in this chapter are based on the translation of the Kumārajīva version into English by John R. McRae (2004), with occasional minor modifications. Other major translations include Lamotte 1976 and Thurman 1976 (both from the Tibetan) and Watson 1997 (from the Chinese). 13. Important studies in these disciplines, in addition to those already mentioned, include Bunker 1968; Whitehead 1976; He Shizhe 1983; Heyrman 1994; Zeng 2008; and He Jianping 2009. See also the recent “integrative literature review” covering publications in English and Chinese from 1900 to 2011 by Cheng and Tse 2014. 14. On the role of thaumaturgy in Buddhist narratives, see also C. Pierce Salguero’s contribution in this volume. 15. On the concept of skillful means, which is most closely associated with the Lotus Sūtra, see Pye 1978; on skillful means in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra, see esp. 83–100. Pye does not discuss textual features as skillful means. 16. Scholars who offer brief discussions of this aspect include Pye 1978, 88–91 (in the context of skillful means); Cole 2005, 250–253 (in the context of Vimalakīrti’s authority to teach); and Ahn 2007, 22–28 (in the context of the “malady of emptiness”). 17. Demiéville 1985, 1. See also elsewhere in Demiéville’s foundational entry on illness (病, J. byō) in the encyclopedia Hōbōgirin 法寶義林, esp. 26–30. On Buddhist medical metaphors, see also Salguero 2014, 67–70, 78–83.



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18. Compare the Lord as the healer in the Jewish tradition (as in Exodus 15:26, Psalm 30:2, etc.), which inspired the idea of Jesus as the healer (“Christus Medicus”) in Christianity (Matthew 8:5–17 etc.); see Arbesmann 1954. In Islam, God as well as the Quran itself are regarded as a source of healing (at-Tawba 9:14; al-Fussilat 41:44). In Chinese intellectual history, medical tropes play a certain role in political thought, as seen in early texts such as Mozi 墨子 (e.g., “聖人 以治天下為事者也,” Mozi jiangu 14.62, chap. Jian’ai shang 兼愛上), and continued in political persuasion throughout much of Chinese history. 19. For these phrases, see, e.g., T. 475: 544c16, 537a27, 550a19, 544c25. 20. T. 475: 539b10; McRae 2004, 83. 21. In the Mahāyāna doctrine of the Buddha’s coexisting “Three Bodies” (Skt. trikāya; Ch. san shen 三身), the other two being the eternal Dharma body, which lacks form (Skt. dharma-kāya; Ch. fashen 法身), and the after-­enlightenment body of recompense (Skt. saṃbhoga-kāya; Ch. baoshen 報身). See the entries shen 身 and san shen 三身 in Charles Muller, ed., Digital Dictionary of Buddhism, http://buddhism-dict.net/ddb. Most studies of the buddha-body doctrine include bodhisattvas, especially when it comes to their ability to manifest in multiple forms. See, e.g., Sharf 2002, 100–111. 22. Zürcher 1959, 131. 23. T. 475: 549a21; McRae 2004, 138. 24. See also the “Poems about the Ten Similes” (Shi yu shi 十喻詩) by Kumārajīva and Xiao Yan 蕭衍 (464–549, Emperor Wu of the Liang dynasty 梁 武帝, r. 502–549); see Lu Qinli 1983, 1084, 1532. 25. The phrase yin jie (zhu)ru 陰界(諸)入 refers to the five aggregates (Skt.  skandha; i.e., form, feeling, perception, impulse, and consciousness), the eighteen sensory realms (Skt. dhātu) or elements of cognition, and the twelve sense fields or bases (Skt. āyatana). 26. T. 475: 539b–c; McRae 2004, 83. Vimalakīrti repeats a similar list at the beginning of chap. 7, in response to Mañjuśrī’s question about how a ­bodhisattva should view sentient beings. 27. Lamotte 1976, 34n23. See also Salguero 2014, 70–73. 28. Cf. Sue Hamilton’s remarks on Theravāda Buddhism (1995, 58–61), in particular the views of the fifth-century scholar Buddhaghosa. 29. On the illnesses of the Buddha and their doctrinal interpretations, see Lamotte 1976, 294–298; Demiéville 1985, 22–26; Strong 2012. See also Salguero 2018, 97, on a chapter in the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra (Da banniepan jing 大般涅槃經) in which the Buddha “purposefully ‘manifested’ ” illness “for the benefit of teaching others the Mahāyāna doctrine.” 30. T. 475: 542a07–22; McRae 2004, 95–96. On this part of the sūtra see also Mather 1968, 63–64; Pye 1978, 89–90. 31. Scholars studying the Vimalakīrti Sūtra usually discuss the sūtra’s central setting as a reflection of Buddhist practice, which emphasized that sickbed visits are rooted in Buddhist ideas of compassion and charity. See, e.g., Lamotte,

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1976, 131n20. Although this is certainly true, sickbed visits had long been an important part of the indigenous Chinese tradition as well, and there is a long history of depicting them in literary form. See Richter (forthcoming). 32. T. 475: 544b18–545b24; McRae 2004, 108–113. 33. T. 475: 544b21–28; McRae 2004, 108. 34. T. 475: 544c17–19; McRae 2004, 110. 35. Sue Hamilton proposed that “the Buddha’s attitude to the body . . . is neither positive nor negative” and that one was expected “to have a purely analytical attitude towards one’s body” (1995, 52; see also 54–55), but the contemplation of the inherent impurity of the body, whether one’s own body or that of another, was an established meditation practice (Skt. aśubha-bhāvanā; Ch. ­bujing guan/xiang 不淨觀/想). See Wilson 1996; Mrozik 2007, 87–92; Greene 2012, 144n23, 174–193. 36. Eubanks 2011, 82. 37. See Groner 2002, 129–139. On the sūtra’s reception in Japan, see also LaFleur 1983, 107–115; Bauer 2011. To mention just two works from the sūtra’s long history in Japan: the great advocate of Buddhism Shōtoku Taishi 聖 德太子 (574–622) composed a commentary on Kumārajīva’s translation of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra (Yuimagyō gisho 維摩經義疏) (see Hubbard 2012). The translation Kan Zō taishō kokuyaku Yuimagyō 漢藏對照國譯維摩經, published in 1928 by the modern scholar Kawaguchi Ekai 河口慧海 (1866–1945), takes various Chinese and Tibetan translations into account. 38. Mather 1968, 72; He Jianping 2009. 39. Mather 1958, 67. See also Zürcher 1959, 412n125, for a summary of Xie Lingyun’s Buddhist associations. 40. “Inscription on the Buddha-Shadow” (Fo ying ming 佛影銘, written in 413), Quan Song wen 33.5a–6a; Guang Hongming ji 廣弘明集, T. 2103: 15; Mather 1958, 77–78; Frodsham 1967a, 1:179–181. 41. “Epitaph on Dharma Teacher Huiyuan of Mount Lu” (Lushan Huiyuan fashi lei 廬山慧遠法師誄, written in 417), Quan Song wen 33.7b–8a, Guang Hongming ji, T. 52, 2103: 23. 42. Quan Song wen 32.5a–11a, Guang Hongming ji, T. 52, 2103: 18, trans. Derk Bodde in Fung 1952–1953, 274–284. 43. See Frodsham 1967a, 1:71–73. The Nirvāṇa Sūtra proposed the presence of Buddha nature (Skt. buddhatā; Ch. fo xing 佛性) in everyone. This means that everyone has the capacity for enlightenment, including those described as icchāntika (Ch. chanti 闡提, someone assumed to be unable to attain enlightenment)—an idea Xie Lingyun had advocated in his “Inscription on the Buddha-Shadow” of 413. 44. “Encomia on the Ten Similes of the Vimalakīrti-sūtra” (Weimojing shi pi zan 維摩經十譬贊), Quan Song wen 33.4a–5a. Two of the encomia—the first on foam and bubbles and the sixth on shadow and echo—treat two similes at the same time. On the Japanese Kamo no Chōmei’s interpretation of these similes in his Hōjōki, see LaFleur 1983, 112.



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45. This line alludes to a couplet in the Book of Odes that describes the  rising mist at South Hill (薈兮蔚兮, 南山朝隮, Mao shi 151, Mao shi zhushu 14.385). 46. My tentative translation of this line leaves open whether the alterations refer to the changing shape of clouds or to the rain they may eventually produce, which in turn would determine how we “use” (yong 用) them: enjoying the spectacle of clouds or the benefits of precipitation. 47. According to Digital Dictionary of Buddhism, edited by Charles Muller, http://buddhism-dict.net/ddb, 諸法 are “all the factors that comprise an individual,” while the phrase 諸法無我 describes that “nothing has a self, or is independent of the law of causation.” 48. The emendation from 己 to 已 in line 5 follows most editions of Xie Lingyun’s works. See, e.g., Gu Shaobo 2004, 445. Historical pronunciations throughout this chapter are based on Schuessler 2009. 49. Lu Qinli 1983, 1168. See also Frodsham 1967a, 1:170. The allusion to the Book of Odes lends the “quipping and joking” a respectable air (善戲謔兮, 不為虐兮, Mao shi 55, Mao shi zhushu 5.321). 50. Lu Qinli 1983, 1169; Frodsham 1967a, 1:132. 51. See, e.g., Gu Shaobo 2004, 91–99, 580. Other poems that mention the speaker’s sickness and are usually interpreted as autobiographical are “Stopping by My Villa in Shining” (Guo Shining shu 過始寧墅, 422), “Visiting South Pavilion” (You nan ting 遊南亭, 423), “On Returning to My Old Gardens, for the Perusal of the Imperial Secretaries Yan Yanzhi and Fan Tai” (Huan jiu yuan, zuo jian Yan Fan er zhongshu 還舊園作見顏范二中書, 426/428), and “When I First Arrived in the Capital” (Chu zhi du 初至都). 52. Pleading illness to leave office or reject a position is a considerable topic in ancient Chinese literature. See Richter (forthcoming). 53. Lu Qinli 1983, 1427; Frodsham 1967b, 162–163; Mather 2003, 2:252– 253. The poem was written in 495 or 496 when Xie served as governor of Xuancheng in present-day Anhui. Mather (1990, 604) suspects the illness might have been “a recurrence of the malaria he picked up in Chiang-ling.” 54. See Mather 2003, 2:253n2; Gu Shaobo 2004, 137–139nn2, 5. 55. “Responding to Xie Tiao’s Poem Written While Lying Sick” (Chou Xie Xuancheng Tiao wo ji 酬謝宣城眺臥疾); Lu Qinli 1983, 1634; Mather 2003, 1:222–224. 56. Lu Qinli 1983, 1477; Mather 2003, 2:81n1. 57. Lu Qinli 1983, 1563. A much earlier poem, the second of Liu Zhen’s 劉楨 (d. 217) four poems “Presented to the Central Commander of the Five Guards” (Zeng wuguan zhonglangjiang shi si shou 贈五官中郎將詩四首), can also be read as a poem written after a sickbed visit and addressed to the visitor, in this case Cao Pi 曹丕 (187–226). 58. Lu Qinli 1983, 1842.

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59. Sickness has often been depicted as reducing one’s sphere of interaction with the outside world, which in turn has been credited with an increase in one’s sensitivity. A poem that supports this view would be Xie Lingyun’s abovementioned “Climbing the Tower by the Pond.” Following his resurrection after a long illness, the speaker of this poem seems to see the world as new. 60. Wo ke 臥痾, synonymous to wo ji, is also used in Xie Lingyun’s “Climbing the Tower by the Pond.” 61. The pattern and wording of the second couplet seem to be inspired by Shen Yue’s poem “Accompanying Emperor Wu of the Qi for a Military Review at Langye Fortress, Written upon Imperial Command” (Cong Qi Wudi Langyecheng jiangwu yingzhao shi 從齊武帝瑯琊城講武應詔詩), whose sixth couplet reads, in Mather’s translation, “The windblown pennants are unfurled and furl again;  / The clouds and roseate mists have cleared and seem to swirl” 風斾舒復卷, 雲霞清 似轉. Lu Qinli 1983, 1631; Mather 2003, 1:89. 62. The “frozen flowers” may also be a reference to a poem by Shen Yue, his “Climbing the Terrace to Gaze at the Autumn Moon” (Deng tai wang qiu yue 登臺望秋月). Lu Qinli 1983, 1663; Mather 2003, 1:89. 63. Both Cao Pi’s Rhapsody on the Luo River Goddess (Luo shen fu 洛神 賦), and the “Song of Resentment” (Yuange xing 怨歌行) attributed to Ban Jieyu 班婕妤 (d. ca. 6 BCE), mention snow. The phrase “silk from Qi” is used in two thank-you notes by Liang dynasty emperors: one by Xiao Gang 蕭綱 (503–551, r. Jianwendi 簡文帝, 549–551) expressing thanks for the gift of a kāṣāya, a type of Buddhist robe (Xie lai jiasha qi 謝賚納袈裟啟 no. 2, Quan Liang wen 10.9b), and a second one by Xiao Yi 蕭繹 (508–555, r. Yuandi 元帝, 552–554) offering thanks for a brocade robe with an apotropaic pattern (Xie Gonggong lai bixiezi jin bai bian deng 謝東宮賚辟邪子錦白褊等, Quan Liang wen 16.13a). 64. This seems to be an allusion to the almost verbatim line “拂樹若花生” in Xiao Gang’s “Poem on a Firefly” (Yong ying shi 詠螢詩); see Lu Qinli 1983, 1961. 65. Lu Qinli 1983, 2772. The final line alludes to the Songs from Chu (Chu ci 楚辭, “Jiu bian” 九辯); see Chu ci buzhu 楚辭補注 8.183. 66. T. 475: 538c06–539a06; McRae 2004, 78–79. 67. See Knechtges and Chang 2014, 1283. 68. Lu Qinli 1983, 2701; Guang Hongming ji, T. 52, 2103: 360b. See the alternative title in the “Preface to Poem Sent to Dharma Teacher Yong while I Am Lying Sick at the Coast of Min” (Wo ji Min hai jian Yong fashi shi xu 臥疾 閩海簡顒法師詩序) in Quan Sui wen 14.7b. 69. Lord Tong 桐君 and Duke Lei 雷公 are said to have been contemporaries of the Yellow Emperor. See Tao Hongjing 陶弘景 (452–536), “Bencao xu” 本草序, Quan Liang wen 47.2b. 70. Each line of this couplet employs two allusions to the Songs from Chu: “hugging one’s shadow” (Ai shi ming 哀時命, with strong connotations of home sickness) and “nursing a private sorrow” (Jiu bian 九辯), “tear-stained lapels” 霑襟



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(Jiu tan 九歎), and “despair” 惆悵 (Jiu bian), referring back to “nursing a private sorrow” in the line before. Chu ci buzhu 17.319, 8.183, 16.306, 8.183. “Nurse a private sorrow” is David Hawkes’s translation (1985, 209). 71. A reference to the Vimalakīrti Sūtra’s introduction of its main protagonist; see T. 475: 539a08. 72. I.e., the law of dependent origination (yuanqi 緣起), mentioned frequently in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra; see, e.g., T. 475: 537a20, 537c15, 539b19, 548a24. 73. The idea of transferring one’s merit to benefit the salvation of others is discussed in the sūtra too; see, e.g., T. 475: 538b19 and 551b02–06. 74. While the term “mind-road” does not occur in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra, the idea of “self-control” or “discipline” plays an important role. See, e.g., T. 475: 538a23, 538b28, 543c22, 544c27, 545a16–22, 545b24–27. 75. The “true characteristics” or “reality”—as contrasted with “hollow deception” (i.e., “delusion”) in line 20—are also discussed frequently in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra; see, e.g., T. 475: 541a17, 544a28, 551b15. 76. Kumārajīva’s translation of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra has “a clump of foam” (jumo 聚沫). T. 475: 539b17, 547b04. 77. The term qian cheng 乾城 (an abbreviated form of qiantapo cheng 乾闥 婆城, “gandharva city”) does not occur in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra, although the mirage itself (huan 幻) figures in the list of similes (see T. 475: 539b18) and elsewhere. 78. As mentioned earlier, this term is used several times in the sūtra; see, e.g., T. 475: 537a26, 537c22. 79. T. 1780. 80. Zürcher 1959, 364n258. 81. The first transmitted record of “Jingming” seems to be a commentary on the sūtra edited by Sengzhao 僧肇 (373 or 384–414) and containing annotations by himself, Kumārajīva, and Zhu Daosheng 竺道生 (ca. 360–434), where Kumārajīva remarks on the meaning of the householder’s name (維摩詰 秦言淨名). See Commentary on the Vimalakīrti-nirdeśa-sūtra (Zhu Weimojie jing 注維摩詰經), T. 1775: 327b19. 82. T. 1780. 83. See, e.g., Florence Hu-Sterk’s exploration of illness in Tang poetry (HuSterk 1995), which focuses on Du Fu, Bai Juyi, and Li He, arguing that the topic became more prominent in connection with a turn to private life after the An Lushan Rebellion. For an overview of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra’s literary reception during the Tang dynasty, see Sun 1996, 157–193 and 261–316. See also the ­excellent study of women’s poetry on illness in the Ming and Qing dynasties by Grace S. Fong (2010). 84. Yanzuo could also refer to meditation, as it also appears in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra (see, e.g., T. 475: 539c19–25). Waley’s (1949) choice of “sitting quietly” is as open in reference as the Chinese term.

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85. Waley’s translation (1949, 200) skips the fifth couplet, which I thus give in my own translation. Since this couplet clarifies that the speaker is sitting inside a building rather than outside, as suggested by Waley’s rendering of the last couplet, the translation of the last couplet is also my own. 86.  Two allusions enliven this couplet, the first to one of the famous cripples in the Zhuangzi 莊子, “Departed-Limb Shu” 支離疏 (in chap. 4, “Renjian shi” 人間世, Zhuangzi jijie 4.29), and the second to a characterization of the mysterious in chap. 14 of the Daodejing 道德經, “looking at it and not seeing it, this is called invisible; listening for it but not hearing it, this is called inaudible” 視之不見, 名曰夷; 聽之不聞, 名曰希 (Laozi Daodejing 14.7). 87. Quan Tang shi 459.16. 88. Owen 1986, 72. 89. See, e.g., Fan Jiawei (2010, 200–222), who analyzes representations of Bai Juyi as a sick man from a medical perspective. 90. See “On My Retirement as Minister of Justice” (Xingbu shangshu zhiren 刑部尚書致仕, 842), Quan Tang shi 460.4, and “On Sick Leave, Leisurely Gazing from the Southern Pavilion” (Bingjia zhong nanting xianwang 病假中南 亭閒望), Quan Tang shi 428.10. The association of Vimalakīrti with his “tenfoot [dwelling]” (fang zhang zhi shi 方丈之室) becomes common in the sixth century; see Xiao Gang’s Confession on the Six Faculties (Liugen chanwen 六根 懺文) or Zhiyi’s 智顗 (538–597) Commentary on the Text of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra (Weimojing wen shu 維摩經文疏). 91. “Responding to Monk Xian [?] Who Came to Inquire Why I Suffer from a Wind Disorder” (Da Xian shangren lai wen yinhe fengji 答閑上人來問因 何風疾), Quan Tang shi 458.3. 92. T. 475: 539a19–539b09. 93. Quan Tang shi 458.6. See also Waley 1949, 195. 94. Bai uses the image of the floating clouds several times in his poems. In “Losing My Teeth” (Chi luo ci 齒落辭), e.g., he repeats the phrase “是身如浮雲, 須臾變滅” verbatim. Quan Tang shi 461.10. 95. See Tian 2007, esp. 211–259.

References Primary Sources Chu ci buzhu 楚辭補注. 1983. Commentary by Wang Yi 王逸 (2nd c. CE) and Hong Xingzu 洪興祖 (1090–1155). Beijing: Zhonghua shuju. Gu Shaobo 顧紹柏, ed. 2004. Xie Lingyun ji jiaozhu 謝靈運集校注. Taipei: Liren. Laozi Daodejing 老子道德經. 1991. Commentary by Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249). In Zhuzi jicheng 諸子集成. Shanghai: Shanghai shudian.



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Lu Qinli 逯欽立, ed. 1983. Xian Qin Han Wei Jin Nanbeichao shi 先秦漢魏晉南 北朝詩. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju. Mao shi zhushu 毛詩注疏. 1980. In Shisanjing zhushu 十三經注疏 (1816), ­compiled by Ruan Yuan 阮元 (1764–1849). Beijing: Zhonghua shuju. Mozi jiangu 墨子閒詁. 1991. Commentary by Sun Yirang 孫詒讓 (1848–1908). In Zhuzi jicheng. Quan Liang wen 全梁文. 1958. In Quan shanggu Sandai Qin Han Sanguo ­Liuchao wen 全上古三代秦漢三國六朝文, compiled by Yan Kejun 嚴可均 (1762–1843). Beijing: Zhonghua shuju. Quan Song wen 全宋文. 1958. In Quan shanggu Sandai Qin Han Sanguo ­Liuchao wen. Quan Sui wen 全隋文. 1958. In Quan shanggu Sandai Qin Han Sanguo Liuchao wen. Quan Tang shi 全唐詩. 1960. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju. Zhuangzi jijie 莊子集解. 1991. Commentary by Wang Xianqian 王先謙 (1842– 1918). In Zhuzi jicheng.

Secondary Sources Ahn, Juhn Young. 2007. “Malady of Meditation: A Prolegomenon to the Study of Illness and Zen.” PhD diss., University of California, Berkeley. Arbesmann, Rudolph. 1954. “The Concept of ‘Christus Medicus’ in St. Augustine.” Traditio 10:1–28. Bauer, Mikaël. 2011. “The Yuima-e as Theater of the State.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 38:161–179. Bonbun Yuimagyō: Potara-kyū shozō shahon ni moto zuku kōtei 梵文維摩經: ポタラ宮所蔵写本に基づく校訂. 2006. Edited by Taishō Daigaku Sōgō Bukkyō Kenkyūjo Bongo Butten Kenkyūkai 大正大学綜合佛敎硏究所梵語 佛典硏究会. Tokyo: Taishō Daigaku shuppankai. Bunker, Emma C. 1968. “Early Chinese Representations of Vimalakīrti.” Artibus Asiae 30:28–52. Cheng, Fung Kei, and Samson Tse. 2014. “Thematic Research on the Vimalakīrti Nirdeśa Sūtra: An Integrative Review.” Buddhist Studies Review 31:3–51. Cole, Alan. 2005. Text as Father: Paternal Seductions in Early Mahāyāna Buddhist Literature. Berkeley: University of California Press. Cui Zhongtai 崔鍾太. 2008. Weimojie jing de xiju ticai 維摩詰經的戲劇體裁. Wenhua yishu yanjiu 文化藝術研究 3:78–79, 220. Demiéville, Paul. 1985. Buddhism and Healing: Demiéville’s Article “Byō” from Hōbōgirin, translated by Mark Tatz. Lanham, MD: University Press of America. Original work published 1937. ———. 2004. “Vimalakīrti in China,” translated by Sara Boin-Webb. Buddhist Studies Review 21, no. 2:179–196. Original work published 1962.

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Eubanks, Charlotte. 2011. Miracles of Book and Body: Buddhist Textual ­Culture and Medieval Japan. Berkeley: University of California Press. Fan Jiawei 范家偉 [Fan Ka-Wai]. 2010. Zhonggu shiqi de yizhe yu bingzhe 中古 時期的醫者與病者. Shanghai: Fudan daxue chubanshe. Fong, Grace S. 2010. “Writing and Illness: A Feminine Condition in Women’s Poetry of the Ming and Qing.” In The Inner Quarters and Beyond: Women Writers from Ming through Qing, edited by Grace S. Fong and Ellen Widmer, 19–47. Leiden: Brill. Fung, Yu-Lan. 1952–1953. A History of Chinese Philosophy. 2 vols. Translated by Derk Bodde. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Frodsham, John David. 1967a. The Murmuring Stream: The Life and Works of the Chinese Nature Poet Hsieh Ling-yün (385–433), Duke of K’ang-lo. 2 vols. Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya Press. ———. 1967b. An Anthology of Chinese Verse: Han Wei Chin and the Northern and Southern Dynasties. Oxford: Clarendon. Greene, Eric Matthew. 2012. “Meditation, Repentance, and Visionary Experience in Early Medieval Chinese Buddhism. PhD diss., University of California, Berkeley. Groner, Paul. 2002. Ryōgen and Mount Hiei: Japanese Tendai in the Tenth Century. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Hamilton, Sue. 1995. “From the Buddha to Buddhaghosa: Changing Attitudes toward the Human Body in Theravāda Buddhism.” In Religious Reflections on the Human Body, edited by Jane M. Law, 46–63. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Hamlin, Edward. 1988. “Magical Upāya in the Vimalakīrtinirdeśa-sūtra.” Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 11:89–121. Hawkes, David, trans. 1985. The Songs of the South: An Ancient Chinese Antho­ logy of Poems. Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin. He Jianping 何劍平. 2009. Zhongguo zhonggu Weimojie xinyang yanjiu 中國中 古維摩詰信仰研究. Chengdu: Ba Shu shushe. He Shizhe 賀世哲. 1983. “Dunhuang Mogaoku bihuazhong de Weimojie jingbian” 敦煌莫高窟壁畫中的維摩詰經變. Dunhuang yanjiu 2:62–83. Heyrman, Laura Gardner. 1994. The Meeting of Vimalakirti and Manjusri: ­Chinese Innovation in Buddhist Iconography. PhD diss., University of Minnesota, Minneapolis and St. Paul. Hu-Sterk, Florence. 1995. “Maladie et poésie sous les Tang.” Études chinoises 24:55–94. Huang 黃寶生. 2011. Fan Han duikan Weimojie suo shuo jing 梵漢對勘維摩詰 所說經. Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexue chubanshe. Hubbard, J., trans. 2012. Expository Commentary on the Vimalakīrti Sutra, Taishō vol. 56, no. 2186. Berkeley, CA: Bukkyō Dendō Kyōkai America. Knechtges, David R., and Taiping Chang, eds. 2014. Ancient and Early Medieval Chinese Literature: A Reference Guide. Vol. 2. Leiden: Brill.



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LaFleur, William R. 1983. The Karma of Words: Buddhism and the Literary Arts in Medieval Japan. Berkeley: University of California Press. Lamotte, Etienne. 1976. The Teaching of Vimalakīrti (Vimalakīrtinirdeśa): From the French Translation with Introduction and Notes (L’Enseignement de Vimalakīrti). Translated by Sara Boin. London: Pali Text Society. Original work published 1962. Lo Yuet-keung 勞悅強. 2002. “Persuasion and Entertainment at Once: Kumāra­ jiva’s Buddhist Storytelling in His Commentary on the Vimalakīrti-sūtra.” Bulletin of the Institute of Chinese Literature and Philosophy, Academia Sinica 21:89–116. Martin, François. 2010. “Buddhism and Literature.” In Early Chinese Religion Part Two: The Period of Division (220–589 AD), edited by John Lagerwey and Pengzhi Lü, 891–952. Leiden: Brill. Mather, Richard B. 1958. “The Landscape Buddhism of the Fifth-Century Poet Hsieh Ling-yün.” Journal of Asian Studies 18:67–79. ———. 1968. “Vimalakīrti and Gentry Buddhism.” History of Religions 8:60–73. ———. 1990. “Hsieh T’iao’s ‘Poetic Essay Requiting a Kindness.’ ” (Ch’ou-te fu). Journal of the American Oriental Society 110. ———, trans. 2003. The Age of Eternal Brilliance: Three Poets of the Yungming-Era. 2 vols. Leiden: Brill. McRae, John R., trans. 2004. “The Vimalakīrti Sutra.” In The Sutra of Queen Śrīmālā of the Lion’s Roar; The Vimalakīrti Sutra, translated by Diana Y. Paul and John R. McRae, 55–181. Berkeley, CA: Numata Center for Buddhist Translation and Research. Mrozik, Suzanne. 2007. Virtuous Bodies: The Physical Dimension of Morality in Buddhist Ethics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Nattier, Jan. 2000. “The Teaching of Vimalakīrti (Vimalakīrtinirdésa): A Review of Four English Translations.” Buddhist Literature 2:234–258. Owen, Stephen. 1986. “The Self’s Perfect Mirror: Poetry as Autobiography.” In The Vitality of the Lyric Voice: Shih Poetry from the Late Han to the T’ang, edited by Shuen-fu Lin and Stephen Owen, 71–85. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Pye, Michael. 1978. Skilful Means: A Concept in Mahayana Buddhism. London: Duckworth. Radich, Michael. 2019. “Fei Changfang’s Treatment of Sengyou’s Anonymous Texts.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 139:819–841. Richter, Antje. Forthcoming. Visiting the Sick: Textual Evidence from Early and Early Medieval China. Salguero, C. Pierce. 2014. Translating Buddhist Medicine in Medieval China. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. ———. 2018. “A Missing Link in the History of Chinese Medicine: Research Note on the Medical Contents of the Taishō Tripiṭaka.” East Asian Science, Technology, and Medicine 32:93–119.

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Schuessler, Axel. 2009. Minimal Old Chinese and Later Han Chinese: A Companion to Grammata Serica Recensa. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Sharf, Robert H. 2002. Coming to Terms with Chinese Buddhism: A Reading of the Treasure Store Treatise. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Silk, Jonathan A. 2014. “Taking the Vimalakīrtinirdeśa Seriously.” Annual Report of the International Research Institute for Advanced Buddhology (ARIRIAB) at Soka University for the Academic Year 2013 17:157–188. Sun Changwu 孫昌武. 1996. Zhongguo wenxue zhong de Weimo yu Guanyin 中 國文學中的維摩與觀音. Beijing: Gaodeng jiaoyu chubanshe. Strong, John S. 2012. “Explicating the Buddha’s Final Illness in the Context of His Other Ailments: The Making and Unmaking of some Jātaka Tales.” Buddhist Studies Review 29, no. 1:17–33. Thurman, Robert A. F., trans. 1976. The Holy Teaching of Vimalakīrti: A Mahāyāna Scripture. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. Tian, Xiaofei. 2007. Beacon Fire and Shooting Star: The Literati Culture of the Liang (502–557). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Waley, Arthur. 1949. The Life and Times of Po Chü-i. London: Allen and Unwin. Wan Jinchuan 萬金川. 2010. Xinchu Fanbein Weimojie jing yu Han yi zhuben de wenxianxue duikan 新出梵本維摩詰經與漢譯諸本的文獻學對勘 (I–III). Guoli zhongyang daxue jigou dianzang 國立中央大學機構典藏 (NCUIR). Watson, Burton, trans. 1997. The Vimalakirti Sūtra. New York: Columbia University Press. Whitehead, James Douglas. 1976. “The Sinicization of Buddhism: A Study of the Vimalakirtinirdesa Sutra and Its Interpretations in China from the Third through the Sixth Century.” PhD diss., Harvard University. Wilson, Liz. 1996. Charming Cadavers: Horrific Figurations of the Feminine in Indian Buddhist Hagiographic Literature. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Xiao Lihua 蕭麗華. 2015. “Hanyi Weimojie jing wenxian huigu ji qi yu Zhongguo wenxue de guanxi” 漢譯〈維摩詰經〉文獻回顧及其與中國文學的關 係. Fo guang xuebao 7:263–304. Zeng Xiaohong 曾曉紅. 2008. “Dunhuang ben Weimojing zhushu xulu” 敦煌本 維摩經注疏敘錄. Master’s thesis, Shanghai Normal University, Shanghai. Zhou Shujia 周叔迦. 1991. Zhou Shujia Foxue lunzhu ji 周叔迦佛學論著集. 2 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju. Zürcher, Erik. 1959. The Buddhist Conquest of China: The Spread and Adaptation of Buddhism in Early Medieval China. 2 vols. Leiden: Brill.

Plate 1. The conversation between Vimalakīrti and Mañjuśrī. Detail of the so-called Trübner Stele (533–543, northern China). Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Plate 2. Modern light pagoda, Foguang Shan temple, Gaoxiong, Taiwan. Photo by C. Pierce Salguero, 2008.

Plate 3. Painting of Bhaiṣaijyaguru Sūtra, north wall of Mogao Cave 220, Dunhuang, 642 CE. Reproduced from Ning 2004, Plate 3.

Plate 4. (left) Lamp wheels, detail of north wall of Mogao Cave 220, Dunhuang, 642 CE. Reproduced from Ning 2004, Plate 16.

Plate 5. (below) Lamp tower, detail of north wall of Mogao Cave 220, Dunhuang, 642 CE. Reproduced from Ning 2004, cover.

Plate 6. Dunhuang banner representing Amoghapāśa. Courtesy of the Musée Guimet (MG23079).

Plate 7. Vaiśravana (Pishamen 毗沙門). Courtesy of the Musée Guimet (MG17670).

Plate 8. Six demons that protect children. Courtesy of the British Library (Ch. 217; previous symbol: SP-76r).

Plate 9. Not be mortally wounded by toxic remedies (Bu wei duyao suo zhongsi 不為毒藥所中死). Courtesy of the Dunhuang Research Academy.

3

Lighting Lamps to Prolong Life Ritual Healing and the Bhaiṣajyaguru Cult in Fifth- and Sixth-Century China Shi Zhiru 釋智如

I

n the liturgical calendar of Chinese temples today, the eighth lunar month is consecrated to the rites of Bhaiṣajyaguru Buddha (Yaoshifo 藥師佛, lit. “Master of Medicines Buddha”). These are unequivocally understood to include the lighting of lamps (deng 燈), the setting up of five-color banners (fan 幡), and the reciting of the key scripture popularly known as Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra (Yaoshi jing 藥師經). Within this panoply of practices, lighting lamps is particularly regarded as the signature rite. Quite frequently, temples will construct an altar of forty-nine lamps. Traditionally, oil lamps are employed, although in modern times electric lighting is often used (see Plate 2).1 Following ritual instruction, effort is made to ensure that the forty-nine lamps stay lit and not expire during the entire ritual period. Donors sponsor the lighting of lamps and recitation of the sūtra for the continuing health and prosperity of individuals or their families. At a family’s request, monks will also perform this ritual on an ad hoc basis for the sick or dying outside of its allotted slot in the liturgical calendric cycle. Hence, in popular parlance, the lamps have come to be referred to using the neologism “long-life lamps” (changming deng 長命燈).2 However, scrutiny of the Indian version of the sūtra shows that lamp rites are hardly the core ritual in the original context, occurring only at the close of the text as part of the ritual prescription for the families of loved ones who are on the brink of death. In the Indian manuscripts of this sūtra, banners were not even part of the ritual paraphernalia for prolonging life, but were instead set up only if and when the lamps were still burning on the forty-ninth day, which was 91

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considered evidence that the rite had been successful.3 The foregrounding of lighting lamps in the Chinese cult of Bhaiṣajyaguru thus traces not to India but to Chinese developments in the fifth and sixth centuries. As this cult evolved in China, it incorporated popular ritual technologies of the times such as magical healing, longevity techniques, liturgical repentance, and dietary fasting. Using a range of Buddhist and Daoist sources, this chapter maps out the Chinese reception of the Bhaiṣajyaguru cult in light of contemporary indigenous ritual conceptions of health, illness, and prolonging the life span. In so doing, it examines how the lamps acquired the function of healing and prolonging life for which they are known today. The Indian Background Indian Buddhist literature contains five Gilgit manuscripts of the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra.4 Although these manuscripts are most likely of a later date than the earliest extant Chinese version of the sūtra, they nonetheless offer glimpses of the text that circulated in India and Central Asia. Gregory Schopen translates the relevant passage on lamp offerings as follows: Trāṇamukta, the aspirant to awakening, said: “Reverend Ananda, those who wish to effect the release of one who is sick from the great illnesses, they, for the sake of the sick, must for seven nights and days take on the restraints of the period of an eight-limb fast. Worship and service must be done to the Sangha with food and drink, with all means of subsistence according to one’s abilities. Three times a night, three times a day homage must be done toward the Blessed One Bhaiṣajyaguru, the Tathāgata. This sūtra must be called to mind forty-nine times. Forty-nine lamps must be lighted. Seven images must be made. For each image, seven lamps must be set up. Each lamp must be made the size of the wheel of a cart. If on the forty-ninth day the light is not diminished, it is to be known ‘All has succeeded.’ And more than fortynine five-colored banners must be made.”5

The passage includes a number of healing practices for the sick, all of which are relatively conventional Buddhist observances, with the ­exception of the forty-nine lamps. Lighting lamps was a popular observance in Indian religion that Buddhists adopted early in their history, and lamp offerings were integrally connected to karma and



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merit making in Indian Buddhist literature.6 What is distinctive about the Bhaṣajyaguru Sūtra is thus not the presence of a lamp rite per se, but specifically its numerical configuration of forty-nine. The number forty-nine strongly connotes the liminal passage from death to the next birth. In order to provide a conceptual bridge between a person’s precedent and antecedent lives, Indian Buddhist thought introduced the concept of antarābhava or “intermediate e­xistence” (Ch. zhongyou 中有), defined as a phase that begins at death and lasts until one’s rebirth in another form.7 Scholastic Buddhist sources describe how beings in this intermediate phase possess only a frail physical form and are vexed by unknown shapes, sounds, and smells as well as a lack of nourishment as they struggle for rebirth in a more settled form. The chance to exit this liminal stage takes place only once every seven days, up to seven times, over a total of forty-nine days. Schopen questions if the forty-nine lamps were ever intended as a healing ritual, since their numerology links them to death or intermediate existence.8 In other words, the lamp rite in India most likely did not pertain to sickness and healing, but instead is referencing the processes of death, karmic maturation, and subsequent rebirth. In Indian Buddhism, performing good karmic actions to reap auspicious merits is the universal solution to a host of life predicaments, including illness or impending death. The lamp rite is thus not so much a healing therapy, but rather one of several Buddhist observances intended to accrue merit for and redirect the karmic path of the seriously sick and dying. From Merit Offerings to Life-Prolonging Techniques It was the earliest extant Chinese version of the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra that enlarged the role of lamps, designating them as life-prolonging ritual objects.9 The earliest Chinese version of the text, extant now as the twelfth and final chapter of the Consecration Sūtra (Guanding jing 灌頂經), should be attributed to the monk Huijian 惠簡, who was said to have copied it in 457.10 Sengyou 僧祐 (445–518), in a catalogue entry on this chapter, notes that it also circulated under the alternate title Bhaisajyaguru Sūtra.11 Sengyou listed this text under the category of “apocryphal and fabricated” (yijing weixuan 疑經偽選) works, indicating that he believed that Huijian had added aspects of indigenous culture in order to help it to gain broader circulation during his time. Indeed, throughout the text interpolated

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elements can be seen that established connections with indigenous Chinese genres of literature, ghost lore, fasting traditions, and longevity practices. In Huijian’s rendition of the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra, the relevant passage on the lamp rite reads: The bodhisattva Saving Deliverance then said to the Buddha: “In a clan, if there is a man or a woman who is physically fragile and bedridden with various incurable pains and afflictions, I now exhort you to invite the monastic community, and for seven days and seven nights, to single-mindedly observe fasting and the precepts [with them]. You should observe the eight restraints and during the six times of the day, practice the ritual aspiration to buddhahood. You should recite fortynine times this sūtra, light seven tiers of lamps, and hang up life-­ prolonging magical banners of five colors. 救脫菩薩又白佛言。若族姓男女其有尫羸。著床痛惱無救護者。我今 當勸請眾僧。七日七夜齋戒一心。受持八禁六時行道。四十九遍讀是 經典。勸然七層之燈。亦勸懸五色續命神幡。12

Compared to the Gilgit text, Huijian’s rendition offers two interesting contrasts in its treatment of the banners: (1) they were labeled as “life-prolonging magical banners,” and (2) they were to be hung at the same time as kindling the lamps, instead of after the ritual was successful. These differences facilitated the amalgamation of the banners and lamps into a unified ritual method with a common goal. Huijian’s sūtra refers to these rites as the “ritual method of lifeprolonging banners and lamps” (xuming fandeng fa 續命幡燈法).13 This appellation cast the ritual objects in the language of “Recipes and Methods” (fangji 方技), a classical textual taxonomy that originated around the turn of the Common Era. “Recipes and Methods” typically included works on medicine and longevity such as medical classics, recipes, sexual arts, and immortality practices mostly associated with the “recipe masters” (fangshi 方士) of the Han dynasty (206 BCE–220 CE) court.14 By invoking the subgenre of “Recipes and Methods,” Huijian employed a heuristic strategy to shift the lamps and banners from their Indian origins as merit offerings for the dying to their new expressions as techniques for prolonging life. Huijian further describes the life-prolonging ritual implements as follows:



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The magical banners are five-colored and forty-nine feet long.15 The lamps are also similar: seven tiers of lamps, each tier comprising seven lamps, each lamp like a cartwheel. 神幡五色四十九尺。燈亦復爾。七層之燈一層七燈。燈如車輪。16

Configured as seven tiers of seven, the forty-nine lamps are arranged as a laddered altar of lights. Calling for forty-nine lights decked with forty-nine-foot-long banners, the instructions deliberately accentuate the numerical symbolism of forty-nine. This structure also visually ­concretized the antarābhava or intermediate existence in the ritual space. The sūtra elaborated an array of critical exigencies that might threaten the health, life span, and general welfare of the individual or the state, which could be helped by performing the rite. These “disruptions” to life were explained as attacks by various kinds of perverse ghosts.17 Such an explanation is not unknown in Indian Buddhist literature, which often envisions malevolent spirits imbibing one’s vital breath, thus causing serious ailments or even death—­indeed the Gilgit version of the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra makes two such references.18 However, Huijian probably also had in mind the perennial Chinese anxiety about the restless dead, who might haunt the living or whose misdeeds would burden the family.19 In the Chinese context, ritual therapy was typically intended to help ghosts to be freed from being entrapped in the realm of the dead and to obtain “life” as humans again.20 By aligning his translation of the sūtra with this conception of death, Huijian connected it with indigenous beliefs, particularly with pre-Buddhist popular religious or Daoist notions of rebirth. In addition to the rites of lighting lamps and hanging banners, Huijian’s text further added a third type of ritual therapy: saving the lives of forty-nine living species.21 Freeing captive animals was in medieval China associated with abstinence from meat during the observance of zhai 齋. Originally, zhai was the term for the preparatory purification rites that the ruler and court shamans were to undertake before conducting the court ritual sacrifice. The purification rites typically included bathing, fasting, sexual abstinence, and avoidance of death, blood, and other pollutants. With the coming of Buddhism in early medieval China, zhai was incorporated into Chinese Buddhist literature to translate the Indian upoṣadha, or the eight-limb fast, but it quickly evolved to denote an extended period

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of earnest religious application that included the ritual prohibitions and confessional rites as well as dietary abstinence from meat.22 As a result of the ­contact with Indian cultural practices, zhai also changed from a preparatory rite to become the main ritual component highlighting the Indian meritorious practice of food offering (pūjā or gongyang 供養) to deities, members of religious orders, and the local community of householders. In that context, zhai quickly became a “vegetarian feast” offered to gods and buddhas, or shared among the religious community, bringing together the religious specialists and the lay donors. At one point in the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra, Huijian promoted the observance of six short monthly zhai and triennial long zhai.23 The six monthly zhai days appeared in fifth-century apocryphal scriptures like the Sūtra on Trapuṣa and Bhallika (Tiwei Boli Jing 提謂波利經), where they were correlated with seasonal transformations of yinyang 陰陽 and five phases (wuxing 五行).24 Another Chinese apocryphon, Sūtra on the Four Heavenly Kings (Si tianwang jing 四天王經), correlated the six monthly zhai days with divine scrutiny of human morals, so that on each appointed day, a designated deity would descend to the world to observe and record the karmic actions of humans.25 Dunhuang manuscripts document that Buddhist associations in the tenth century held six monthly zhai on the first, eighth, fifteenth, eighteenth, twenty-fourth, and twenty-eighth days of each month, and three major zhai in the first, fifth, and ninth months each year. This tradition reflects Buddhist adoption of the Chinese ritual calendar, especially the monthly ordinances outlined in Chinese classics that evidently flourished in fifth-century China with indigenous Buddhist scriptural compositions.26 In other words, while drawing from Chinese fasting and dietary observances, Huijian and other Chinese translators could make material the affirmative expression of Indian prohibition against killing, which is to protect all lives. In Huijian’s addition of saving life to the sūtra’s practices, we find an implicit ethics of “nurturing life” for lay Buddhists that invokes a logic of reciprocity whereby cherishing and protecting living creatures could prolong one’s life. This ethical framework was founded on the law of karma and the practice of merit making, which are so fundamental to Indian Buddhist rituals. Like lamp and banner offerings, protecting the lives of different creatures engendered merits that would in turn prolong one’s life span. A little later in the sūtra, Huijian illustrates the efficacy of the



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practice by alluding to a story of a novice monk who protected the lives of ants.27 This scriptural anecdote tells of a novice whose teacher was an elderly monk skilled in divination skills. When the monk saw that his young disciple was nearing the end of his allotted life span, he sent him home for a visit with his family. On his journey, the novice helped a nest of drowning ants to cross the waters, and due to this spontaneous act of kindness, his life span was prolonged. While staying true to the Buddhist law of karma, the story clearly highlights Chinese ­conceptions of allotted life span and the perennial quest for longevity beyond that point. It implicitly argues that Buddhist principles of karmic retribution, merit making, and protecting life are effective methods for procuring the seemingly elusive goal of longevity. These methods of prolonging life were collectively referred to in Huijian’s sūtra as techniques to ward off the “nine untimely deaths” (jiuhengshi 九橫死).28 Huijian evidently understood the significance of the untimely deaths in connection with Chinese pursuit of longevity and techniques to avert early deaths that cut off one’s allotted life span in the present existence. From Prolonging Life to Healing Illness Of course, one of the disruptions to life that could be eliminated using the lamp rite of life extension was illness of all kinds. This particular aspect of the Bhaiṣajyaguru cult became a major focus in East Asia. The foregrounding of healing—which, according to Schopen, is such a strong departure from Indian precedent—evidently did not seem contradictory to an early medieval Chinese reader like Huijian. Illness in early medieval China was understood not only in bodily terms, but also through the metaphysics of the self. The components of the self were commonly understood as fluid. Han dynasty medical texts state that separation of the spiritual (hun 魂) and material (po 魄) components of the self could be the primary cause of distress and illness, or the components could themselves be adversely affected by sickness. The seminal medical text Classic on the Numinous Pivot (Lingshu jing 靈樞經), for example, records that hun and po taking flight can bring about restless dreaming, while eye disorders cause the souls to scatter, leading to mental confusion.29 Because they were fluid, the components of the self were subject to ritual manipulation, meaning that the mortally ill, the dying, or even the newly dead could reverse death and prolong life in the same existence.

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Thus, the death symbolized in the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra by the number forty-nine was hardly absolute but could be reversed with efficacious ritual intervention. A passage toward the close of Huijian’s translation discusses the possibility of healing from an epidemic disease in the following terms: The intense suffering from the “wasting yellow sickness”30 among those in the world who agonize intensely but do not die—but now ­expire, now return to life—is because their crimes and merits have not yet been determined and recorded, and their vital spirits (jingshen 精神) stay at the court of King [Yama]. It may be in seven days, or in twice or thrice seven days, up to seven times seven days, that the registers are decided upon. Then, the vital spirit is released and returns to their body, awakening as if from a dream in which they witnessed their good and evil deeds. Should this person understand it, they will have faith in and confirmation of [karmic] punishment and merit. 世間痿黃之病困篤不死一絕一生由其罪福未得料簡。錄其精神在彼王 所。或七日二三七日乃至七七日名籍定者。放其精神還其身中。如從 夢中見其善惡。其人若明了者信驗罪福。31

This passage tries to explain why a person wasting away from a disease would hover between life and death, seemingly unconscious or in a coma for an extended period. King Yama, here a personification of karma, presides over the bureaucratic courthouse where the patient’s fate was to be determined according to the registers of life and death.32 However, we learn that when a wrongdoer’s sins and merits are yet to be assessed and recorded in the register, then their vital spirit remains stranded in this underworld court awaiting its verdict. In the meanwhile, in the living world, such a person will appear barely conscious while suffering from prolonged sickness. While the patient’s fate hangs in the balance, there is still a chance for them to return to their current life at the end of each cycle of seven days up to the forty-ninth day. How can such a happy outcome be ensured? The sūtra continues: Therefore, I now exhort all four assemblies to make life-prolonging banners, light forty-nine lamps, and free the lives of various creatures. Through the merits of the banners, lamps, and freed lives, those vital spirits will be extricated from and can obtain deliverance from their



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sufferings. They will not encounter dangers and difficulties in this life or future lives. 是故我今勸諸四輩。造續命神旛然四十九燈放諸生命。以此旛燈放生 功德。拔彼精神令得度苦。今世後世不遭厄難。33

While the dying patient’s fate is amenable to ritual interventions, the sūtra promises that lamp offerings and other efficacious rites could heal the ailment, causing the seemingly dead to regain consciousness as if awakening from a dream. These rites are meritorious deeds intended to modify the karmic destiny of the person at the eleventh hour. Like the hun and po souls reuniting to revive life, in Huijian’s version of the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra, Yama “will release the vital spirit to return to their body.”34 Chinese and Buddhist cosmological ­cultures of death and dying were thus integrated to produce a Chinese Buddhist ritual of healing and prolonging life that relies on performing good karma and making merits through the enactment of the Bhaiṣajyaguru rites. Lamps and Flames as Metaphors in Chinese Discourses If the sūtra as a whole was reworked to become focused on prolonging life, then lamps became particularly symbolic ritual implements in that context. As Schopen has noted, the lamp rite was closely associated with death in Indian Buddhism.35 That being the case, why would lamps have seemed particularly conducive to serve the purpose of healing and life extension in the Chinese translation of the rite? What indigenous discourses facilitated the transition in the ritual paradigm from merit making to prolonging life? When the lamp rite in the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra was transmitted into early medieval Chinese society, it encountered indigenous sources for reimagining lamps that had long histories stretching back to early China. Examining these discourses helps to explain why these connections would have made intuitive sense to Chinese readers. When the Bhaiṣajyaguru lamp rite appeared in China, there already existed an established analogy in literary and philosophical discourses involving lamps and flames. This analogy, which can be traced back to early Chinese writings such as the Zhuangzi 莊子 and the Huainanzi 淮南子, was deeply steeped in the metaphysics of the self and in the processes of life and death.36 The lamp and flame

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analogy is an important trope in early medieval literati debates ­concerning the possible existence of an enduring spirit beyond the destruction of the body at death. In this analogy, the lamp or candle represents the body (shen 身 or xing 刑) and the flame or light the spirit (shen 神). The lamp and flame were thus thoroughly imbued with metaphysical symbolism grounded in Chinese theories of selfhood.37 These theories posit the individual as a composite of material and spiritual components whose changing permutations determine illness and health, life and death, for the individual. At the heart of this discourse was the question whether there was some kind of lasting spiritual entity that would survive physical death and exist eternally. In the fourth century, the renowned literati Buddhist monk Huiyuan 慧遠 (334–416) joined this intellectual debate with his essay “Spirit Does Not Perish When the Body Dies” (Xing jin shen bumei lun 形盡神不滅論), factoring the Buddhist doctrines of karma and rebirth into the Chinese metaphysics of the self as eternal spirit.38 Drawing from an ancient scriptural source, Huiyuan discussed the analogy of the wooden torch (huomu 火木).39 Here, Huiyuan ­compared karmic continuity across multiple lives to ashes from an extinguished torch kindling another nearby pile of wood. For Huiyuan, the flame concurrently represented the continuing consciousness from life to life in Buddhist karma and rebirth, as well as the Chinese enduring spirit that continues beyond bodily death. In conflating the two cultural conceptions, Huiyuan basically inverted Indian Buddhist doctrines of no-self (anātman) and impermanence (anitya). Huiyuan’s exegesis was concerned with the continuity of life across past, present, and future existences, but it did not address the prolonging of life in the present existence. For the prolongation of this-worldly life, we need to look outside of Buddhist writings to the Han literati thinker and politician Huan Tan’s 桓譚 (ca. 43 BCE– 28  CE) use of the lamp analogy. Huan wrote “New Discourse on Body and Spirit” (Xinlun xingshen 新論形神), which was later collected with Huiyuan’s discourse in a Buddhist anthology compiled in the fifth century.40 Huan argued for the spirit’s perishability and dependency on the mortal body, comparing the spirit (shen 神) to the light of the flame that could illuminate only for as long as the tallow was burning. Even so, Huan hastened to point out, one could save the tallow bits that fell to the sides of the candle in order to feed the flame and make it last longer.41 In other words, Huan held out the



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possibility of prolonging life and averting death through extending the bodily form that housed the spirit. Huan’s arguments echoed the philosophical and physiological traditions of “nurturing life” (yangsheng 養生), which were included under the abovementioned rubric of “Recipes and Methods” and which were in his day closely associated with longevity and healing cults.42 The tradition of nurturing life aimed to preserve the individual’s allotted life span, even elongating it beyond its optimal potential. Bodily preservation, implied in Huan’s metaphor of collecting the tallow bits to feed the flame, was considered an important method to prolong one’s longevity and health within this tradition. Given this intellectual environment, Chinese literati readers might have been enthralled with the ritual and symbolic possibilities latent in the forty-nine-lamp rite in the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra, which would have seemed to possess remarkable continuity with existing Chinese ideas. With the lamp and flame as well-known literary metaphors for the bodily and spiritual components of the self, Chinese literati would have apprehended the lighting of forty-nine lamps as an apt ritual counterpart to the literary analogy with which they were already familiar. On the one hand, Huiyuan offered an exegetical interpretation of the lamp and its light that conflated Buddhist and Chinese theories of self-composition in order to reiterate the Buddhist notion of the continuity of consciousness across different lives as some kind of eternal spirit that transcends mortality. On the other hand, Huan’s explication also connected the lamp to physiological and ritual pursuits of longevity and nurturing life that flourished in the broader popular culture, all of which were preoccupied with prolonging life in this existence. As previously shown, Huijian cast the forty-nine-lamp rite as a ritual method of prolonging life. In doing so, he opted to reiterate healing and prolonging life over the symbolism of death that the numero­logy of the lamps denoted. Rather than emphasizing the intermediate existence, Huijian linked the lamp rite with life-prolonging banners, cherishing and protecting the lives of animals, and dietary fasting, all practices intended to accrue merit not for rebirth in the afterlife but for healing and prolonging life here and now. The possibility of an untimely death being circumvented was strongly symbolized by the lamps themselves, as well as by the requirement that they stay lit throughout the rites. The visual and material aspects of the lamp also must have aided in the expansion of its ritual role from

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being simply a conduit of karmic merits to becoming an emblematic token of life itself. This meant that watching over the flame became literally a vigil over life. Daoist Lamp Rites and Astral Worship As previously noted, the reframing of the Bhaiṣajyaguru lamp rite expeditiously subsumed it under the Han dynasty taxonomical category of “Recipes and Methods,” which included techniques of nurturing life, demonological therapies, and medical recipes, among other practices. In the early medieval period, these manuals and techniques were multiplying and were being rapidly integrated into Daoist healing and longevity practices, including lamp rites, which thus developed in parallel to the Bhaiṣajyaguru rites. Daoist lamp rites are traditionally traced to the fifth century, with the rise of Lingbao 靈寶 Daoism and its mass production of ritual writings.43 However, the sheer number of lamp altar descriptions recorded in Lingbao ritual manuals documents a burgeoning interest in lamp rites in Daoist circles that must have continued well into the Tang period. While the quantity of lamps varies from ritual to ritual, the fact that more than a thousand could be used for a single retreat indexes the growing significance of lamp rites in connection with Daoist ritual.44 It is well known that in these rituals, lamps often were said to have the ritual agency of shattering the desolate darkness in the land of ghosts and illuminating a path for the ghosts to escape and attain new births.45 Less studied but equally important is the lamps’ connection to Daoist astral worship as part of “life-prolonging” practice. While the bulk of the early lamp rituals in the fifth century are either lost or extant only in the tenth-century canonical recodification,46 descriptions of early lamp rites have survived in the instructions for Daoist zhai retreats in the oldest compendium of Daoist texts, titled The Essence of the Supreme Secrets (Wushang biyao 無上 祕要), dated between 577 and 588.47 Among these is the “Fast of the Great Perfected” (taizhen zhai 太真齋), which in addition to the description of the core rites of the zhai includes instructions on subsidiary lamp rites dedicated to stellar deities.48 In this ritual prescription, lamp offerings are made to two stellar deities responsible for governing the human life span: Grand Year (Taisui 太歲) and Original Destiny (Benming 本命).49 Referring to Jupiter, Grand Year is also the



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name of the counterpart star-lord who presides on earth as a corollary to the orb in the skies. Original Destiny, also known as Personal Destiny (Nianming 年命), refers to the time of one’s birth, as well as the star governing at the time of birth and its corollary star-lord.50 In Daoist cosmology, the year of birth determines which of the stars in the Northern Dipper will govern the person’s life. In short, one of the seven stars of the Dipper serves as the personal destiny star of the individual, and that star controls the individual’s fate, personality, and allotted life span. Rites to the deities of the Grand Year and Original Destiny are typically meant to procure “stellar protection,” overriding the Dipper in order to live out or even exceed the natural life span allotted to one at birth.51 The ritual instruction forewarns that lamps on the altars of these two stellar deities must always be kept burning through the day and night during the zhai, whereas other altar lamps could be snuffed out during the day. Given their deterministic roles over the individual’s life span, the two stars Grand Year and Personal Destiny were considered to be of paramount importance, and so their altar lights had to remain burning all day and night, or even when there was rain and wind, if one wanted to ensure ritual efficacy.52 In the logic and symbolism of this Daoist ritual, the flame of the lamp functions as the ritual and material correlate to the life span of the practitioner, so that the liturgical observance of burning the altar lamp through the night was a ritual enactment of keeping vigil over life. It is perhaps telling that, while Buddhist lamps were assumed to be oil lamps, as discussed later in this chapter, medieval Daoist rituals continued to use candles as well.53 Recall that Huan Tan’s analogy invokes a lamp made of tallow block to convey the solid form of the human body, on which the light of the wick or the intangible spirit must rely in order to provide illumination. Given that the physical body is pivotal to attaining immortality in Daoist soteriology, it is perhaps not surprising that Daoists would use the form of lighting that most strongly connoted the physical form of the human body.54 That Daoist lamps became associated with astral worship as part of life-prolonging or healing practices is perhaps not surprising, given the role of stars in ancient Chinese divination. Lamp rites for life-span stars were a ritual method of prolonging life that formed a Daoist parallel to the Bhaiṣajyaguru lamp rites in Huijian’s sūtra. These parallelisms also set the stage for the esoteric Buddho-Daoist aligning of the seven-star deities with seven Bhaiṣajyaguru buddhas,

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a synthesis that took place in the Tang and thus lies outside the purview of the present chapter.55 Bhaiṣajyaguru Rites and the Spread of Artificial Lighting in Medieval China The Bhaiṣajyaguru lamp rite was introduced into a Chinese culture and society that already had a long history of artificial lighting. The form of a mass or block of tallow or other ignitable material with a wick was present already in early China. Tomb excavations from the Warring States (475–221 BCE) have shown that there were already prototypes of “lamp trees” (dengshu 燈樹)––multiple lights branching out from a common base—in that period, and by the Han, these had lavishly ornate designs.56 However, Six Dynasties (202–589) archaeological findings indicate that there were important technological changes in artificial lighting taking place in the early medieval period. Given that the rise of the Bhaiṣajyaguru lamp ritual occurred in the latter part of the Six Dynasties, it is worth probing how broader changes in lighting technology might have been impacted by the Bhaiṣajyaguru cult. Historian Albert Dien has shown that the Six Dynasties period saw the markedly increased use of oil fuel. Indeed, although vegetable oils might have been introduced as early as the late Eastern Han (25– 220), concrete evidence of their use only appears in the Six Dynasties.57 In this period, the previous bulky tallow was first complemented, and then steadily replaced, by liquid vegetable oils with floating wicks.58 The increasing use of oil fuel might be the result of increased exposure to the description of lamps in Indian Buddhist literature, which are almost invariably oil lamps. For example, the Lotus Sūtra (Fahua jing 法華經), when speaking of lamp offerings, mentions oils of various kinds that were used as the illuminant: lamps of butter oil, oil lamps, lamps with various fragrant oils, lamps of campaka [champac tree] oil, lamps of sumanā [large-flowered jasmine] oil, lamps of pāṭala [trumpet flower] oil, lamps of vārṣika oil, and lamps of navamālikā [Arabian jasmine] oil. 酥燈、油燈、諸香油燈、瞻蔔油燈、須曼那油燈、波羅羅油燈、婆利 師迦油燈、那婆摩利油燈59

Given how critical lamp offerings were in the daily ritual life of Buddhist monasteries, the spread of Buddhism throughout China



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in the Six Dynasties must have contributed to the spread of oil lamps. The introduction of Buddhist lamp rites was most likely also instrumental in catalyzing the widespread use of artificial lighting more generally in China. Dien shows that it was really only in the Six Dynasties period that lamps came to be more broadly integrated into Chinese life and society, as is indexed in the escalating number of lamps in tomb and literary records of the period.60 In pre-Han and Han China, lamps were largely used for social and utilitarian functions. They were affordable mostly by wealthy aristocrats, as indicated by the elaborate designs of unearthed lamps. Against this backdrop, Buddhism introduced a ritual model that integrally connected lamp offerings with the doctrines and cosmology of karma, rebirth, merit making, and longevity, as mentioned earlier in this essay. These ritual uses of lamp offerings would have been a major impetus for the broader incorporation of lamps into Chinese religion beyond mere utilitarian purposes. The rapid increase in Daoist lamp rites from the fifth century onward, as mentioned earlier in the chapter, was also part of this trend. In Dunhuang in northwestern China, art from the Mogao Caves offers striking visual evidence for the copious use of lamp rites in ­connection with Bhaiṣajyaguru worship, as well as an indication of what such lamps looked like. According to art historian Ning Qiang, the earliest cave paintings of the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra consistently made lamps the visual focus and defining attribute of the illustration of the sūtra. Figures 1 and 2 show paintings from Mogao Caves 417 and 433.61 Although these date to the Sui dynasty (581–618 CE), they represent a crystallization of trends in religious practices that were taking place before the execution of the paintings. Both of the paintings portray lamps arranged in round “cartwheels” that are strung on a pole in order to construct a lamp tree or lamp tower.62 The most outstanding Dunhuang painting of the lamp rite is from the northern wall of Mogao Cave 220, built in 642 (Plate 3).63 Given that there are seven images of the Bhaiṣajyaguru Buddha, it can be assumed that this cave painting is based on a seventh-century version of the sūtra, which prescribes the seven Buddha images, and thus belongs to a different canonical tradition than Huijian’s translation of the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra, which we have been discussing.64 Although the late date of its execution places this cave painting outside the confines of the present chapter, it is worth discussing its

Figure 1. Painting of Bhaiṣaijyaguru Sūtra, Mogao Cave 417, Dunhuang, Sui dynasty (581–618 CE). Reproduced from Ning 2004, 27.

Figure 2. Painting of Bhaiṣaijyaguru Sūtra, Mogao Cave 433, Dunhuang, Sui dynasty (581–618 CE). Reproduced from Ning 2004, 28.



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implications. This illustration depicts several tall lamp trees (Plate 4), while a rectangular lamp tower (Plate 5) stands at the center. These lamps simultaneously light up the Buddha images as well as the terrace, where dancers and musicians are performing. Ning believes that the vivid pictorial details must have been inspired by annual celebrations of the lantern festival in the city of Chang’an, which highlighted a public spectacle of lights featuring assorted lamp designs, including gigantic lamp trees lining the streets of the Tang capital.65 While it cannot be ascertained whether the Dunhuang paintings render devotional rites to Bhaiṣajyaguru exactly as they were practiced in medieval Chinese society, the consistency across the different cave paintings does suggest that such lamps were indeed pivotal to early cultic imagination of Bhaiṣajyaguru worship. It is also evident that the rite of lighting lamps was regarded––at least by the artists––as the signature mark of this Buddha’s cult. Dunhuang art suggests that the lamp rite dominated the beginnings of Bhaiṣajyaguru worship in the period between the appearance of Huijian’s sūtra in the fifth century and the Cave 220 painting in the mid-seventh century. After Cave 220, however, all later Dunhuang paintings of the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra omitted the lamp rite and instead made the Buddha’s Pure Land their primary visual imagery.66 Ning suggests that the disappearance of the lamp rite from Dunhuang paintings was due to the increasing integration of lamps into secular culture via the state-sponsored lantern festival.67 This meant that lamp rites were no longer an exclusive ritual marker of the Bhaiṣajyaguru cult but had become widespread in China beyond Buddhist circles.

Strictly speaking, there is only one literary record of a lamp rite to Bhaiṣajyaguru composed in the fifth or sixth century. An anecdote in the History of the North (Beishi 北史) tells of a sixteen-year-old boy, Zhang Yuan 張元, living in the Northern Zhou period (557–580), who was distraught that his grandfather lost his eyesight for three years.68 Reading about a promise to heal sight in the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra, Zhang promptly invited seven monks to light seven lamps and recite the sūtra for seven days and seven nights. When nothing happened after the first seven days, the boy then vowed to “donate lights to living beings of the ten directions” and pronounced himself willing to lose his own sight if only his grandfather could be healed.69 After

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another seven days of observing the rites passed, Zhang dreamed of an old man healing his grandfather with a golden comb. Three days later the grandfather’s sight was restored. The narrative logic of this particular tale indicates that the impetus for the healing of the grandfather’s eyesight was the boy’s selfless filial piety, rather than the ritual efficacy of the lamp rite itself.70 It is also significant that the rite is simplified, using seven instead of fortynine lamps, as this may indicate connections with the seven stars of the Dipper—although it could also merely reflect the simplification of the rite for use in the household. Nonetheless, Zhang’s story gives us a rare description of the worship of Bhaiṣajyaguru in early medieval China and suggests that lamps were a core part of this ritual.71 Moreover, it is significant that the lamps were used in this story not to help the dying transition to the next life, but specifically for the ritual healing of a nonlethal ailment. From its origins in India, where the rite’s symbolism and numerology were closely associated with death and the transition to a new reincarnation, this chapter has traced the development of the Bhaiṣajyaguru lamp rites as the paradigmatic Chinese Buddhist ritual for healing and life extension. Beginning with the apocryphal rewriting of the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra in the fifth century, the lamp was recast as a ritual method for prolonging life. This process involved linking Bhaiṣajyaguru’s lamp rite to a thriving panoply of longevity cults and techniques directed at self-cultivation, as well as to a broader milieu of Buddho-Daoist exchanges centered around the pursuit of longevity in early medieval China. It culminated with the lamp becoming a potent symbol of longevity and well-being and a widespread ritual implement. These associations continue to be highly relevant today in the Bhaiṣajyaguru cult across East Asia. Notes 1. Electric pagoda lights are generally permanent installations in a temple or monastery and often contain more than forty-nine lights. In other words, the ritual prescription is not always followed in practice. 2. Durt 1967, 360–365. 3. Schopen 1978, 360; 2017, 245. Schopen (1978, 362) notes that “there is nothing in any of the Skt. mss. or in the Tibetan translations to correspond to these ‘bannières qui prolongent la vie.’ ” 4. Dutt 1939; Schopen 1978, 2017.



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5. Schopen 2017, 244–245. 6. The locus classicus on lamp offering is a story about a beggar woman using up her only coin to buy an oil lamp as an offering to the Buddha, which generated so much merit that not only could the flame not be snuffed out, but she also received a prediction of buddhahood. In Chinese translation, this story appears in the Sūtra on the Wise and the Foolish (Xianyü jing 賢愚經; T. 202: 370c22–371c26). For an English translation of a Tibetan text of later dating, see Frye 1981, 196–199. 7. For one explication of the intermediate existence, see Mahāvibhāṣā (Apidamo dabiboshalun 阿毘達磨大比婆沙論), translated into Chinese by Xuanzang 玄奘 (602–664), T. 1545: 356c–358a. For the sevenfold-seven (forty-nine-day) rites in China, see Teiser 1994. 8. Schopen 1978, 230n1. 9. There exist several canonical and manuscript versions of the Chinese text of the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra. For a discussion in English of the textual history of the sūtra, see Birnbaum 1989, 55–61. Today the most popular is the translation attributed to the famous Chinese pilgrim-translator monk, Xuanzang 玄奘 (602– 664), completed in 650; see Yaoshi liuliguang rulai benyuan gongde jing 藥師琉 璃光如來本願功德經 (T. 450: 404c9–408b28). Since this chapter focuses on fifth- and sixth-century China, I rely mostly on the fifth-century version of the sūtra, which now exists as fascicle 12 of the Consecration Sūtra (Guanding jing 灌頂經). For modern scholarship on the Bhaiṣajyaguru cult, besides Birnbaum 1989, the most important studies in Western languages are Ning 2004; Schopen 1978; Suzuki 2012. 10. The twelfth chapter is titled “The Consecration Sūtra Spoken by the Buddha to Eliminate Faults of the Past and Confer Freedom from Birth and Death” (Foshuo guarding bachu guozui shengsi de du jing 佛說灌頂拔除過罪生 死得度經; T. 1331: 532b8–536b7). Studying the history of this text, Strickmann (1990, 90–93) disputes the traditional attribution of the Consecration Sūtra to the fourth-century Central Asian monk Śrīmitra and proposes instead that the work was compiled by Huijian himself. However, the evidence is not conclusive, and we can only definitively say that the Consecration Sūtra was circulating in the fifth century since it was mentioned in an early sixth-century catalogue (see next note). There also exists a Dunhuang manuscript of Huijian’s version of the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra, but since it is largely similar to the Taishō version, my analysis draws exclusively on the Taishō text. For further discussion of the minor differences between the Dunhuang and Taishō versions of the sūtra, see Ning 1998. 11. In his Compilation of Notices on the Translation of the Tripiṭaka (Chu sanzangji ji 出三藏記), Sengyou lists the Consecration Sūtra as comprising eleven chapters and then separately lists the twelfth chapter as an independent work attributed to “Huijian of the Deer Park Monastery” (Luye si 鹿野寺); see T. 2145: 39a22–24. On Buddhist apocrypha, see Buswell 1990, 3–8; Makita 1976, 5–12.

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12. Guanding jing, T. 1331: 535b6–10. 13. Guanding jing, T. 1331: 535b11. 14. “Recipes and Methods” is elaborated as part of the sixfold hermeneutical classification of classical texts in The Standard History of the Han Dynasty (Han Shu 漢書). The religious and technical expressions of the recipe masters are also deeply rooted in and cannot be separated from early Chinese philosophical concerns. See Harper 1998, 142–147; 1999, 813–884; Kalinowski 2004. Specifically, the Yangist concept––to keep one’s nature intact so as not to bring unnecessary harm to the body and cut off one’s allotted life span––was often at the heart of “nurturing life” (yangsheng 養生) and longevity (changsheng 長生) techniques (Graham 1981, 238–239; 1989, 56). For the physiological practices of yangsheng in Mawangdui medical manuscripts, see Harper 1998, 328–361. Also see the collection of early and medieval Chinese texts on yangsheng techniques in Kohn 2012. 15. The description of the banner is rather cryptic, and given the ambivalence of Chinese syntax, it is unclear whether the sūtra means to suggest using one or more banners. The massive length prescribed for the banner(s) could mean that several smaller banners were strung together to measure up to the entire length of forty-nine feet, or it could be that only one excessively long canopy was used. Sixth-century Dunhuang cave paintings, which are discussed later in the chapter, typically depict more than one banner. 16. Guanding jing, T. 1331: 535b14. 17. Guanding jing, T. 1331: 535b17. As Unschuld (1985, 37–45) shows, demonological therapy was already present in the Zhou period (1100–221 BCE); cf. Harper 1985. 18. Schopen 2017, 243, 245. 19. Bokenkamp 2007, 60–94. 20. Bokenkamp (2007, 164–170) calls this “specialized rebirth” as opposed to the later Lingbao Daoist concept of “generalized rebirth” that was based on the Buddhist five paths of rebirth. 21. Guanding jing, T. 1331: 535b13–16. 22. On the use and history of the terminology zhai and zhaihui 齋會 in medieval China, see Wang 2009, 3–9. For overviews of Chinese Buddhist vegetarianism, see Goossaert 2005; Kieschnick 2005; Liu Shufen 2002. 23. 修月六齋年三長齋 (Guanding jing, T. 1331: 533b29). Elsewhere in chapter 11 of the Consecration Sūtra (531c26), there is explicit reference to long fasting linked to a vegetarian diet. 24. Tokuno 1994, 119–120; Lai 1987, 23–25. 25. Sørensen 1995, 44–83. 26. Tokuno 1994, 119. 27. Guanding jing, T. 1331: 535b29–c2. This story is from A Miscellany of Precious Treasury (Zabaozang jing 雜寶藏經, T. 203: 468c25–469a05). 28. Guanding jing, T. 1331: 535b27–29; cf. Schopen 2018, 245. The nine untimely deaths are typically listed as: (1)  premature death; (2)  execution by



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royal decree; (3) demonic possession; (4) death by fire; (5) death by drowning; (6) devoured by wild beasts; (7) falling off a mountain or cliff; (8) death by poison, magic, curse, etc.; and (9) starvation and thirst. 29. Brashier 1996, 142. 30. Strickmann 2002, 118. 31. Guanding jing, T. 1331: 535c19–536a1. The cited passage is my modified translation of Strickmann 2002, 118. 32. Campany 1990, 1995. Resurrection from death has a long history in China tracing to tomb documents of the Warring States (475–221 BCE) that record a man who died on account of mistaken names in the register but was subsequently resurrected; Harper 1995. 33. Guanding jing, T. 1331: 536a4–6. 34. Guanding jing, T. 1331: 536a2. 35. There are certainly allusions in Huijian’s text to escaping the evil paths of rebirth or procuring rebirth in paradisiacal lands, to continue life in another rebirth in the sense that Schopen suggests. However, since these references are typically not linked directly to lamp rites, they fall outside the purview of this chapter. 36. In the Zhuangzi, the flame analogy conveys a paradoxical continuity of life in death: “Though the grease burns out of the torch, the fire passes on, and no one knows where it ends” (Watson 2013, 21). The Huainanzi compares the body and spirit to the candle and its light, admonishing that “the more the flame burns, the more the candle will be used up” (Liu Wendian 1974, 1:26b–27a). 37. Brashier 1996. 38. Huiyuan’s essays are collected in Collection on Propagating and Clarifying Buddhism (Hongming ji 弘明集; T. 2102: 31b10–32b11), compiled by Seng­ you, who included both Buddhist and non-Buddhist discourses on the debate of the mortality of the spirit. 39. For a study of Huiyuan’s use of the flame and lamp analogy, see Lo 1995. While we cannot ascertain the exact “ancient scriptural source” Huiyuan alluded to, an early Buddhist parable of fire spreading from house to house through the entire village was used to explain karma and rebirth in the Questions of King Milinda (Milindapañha), an early Indian sūtra dating to no later than the turn of the Common Era (Hinüber 1996, 83, 85). In the Pāli parable (Warren 1896, 236), a man was eating by the light of a lamp on the top story of his house when the flame of his lamp set alight the thatched roof, spreading a fire through the entire village. The fire moving to house after house is an analogy for karma and rebirth, rendering some continuity across lives even though name and form have changed. The first Chinese translation of Milindapañha, no longer extant, is said to date to the third century, while the second Chinese translation (Naxian biqiu 那先比丘; T. 1670A: 694a–703b) is dated to the fourth century. The extant Chinese translations are visibly shorter than the Pāli text. Huiyuan probably had access to some version of this classic Buddhist parable as well as other Chinese and Buddhist usages of the lamp and flame analogy.

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40. Huan’s essay is also collected in Sengyou’s Hongming ji (T. 2102: 29a17–c18). For a translation of the passage, see Pokora 1975, 76–79. 41. Hongming ji, T. 2102: 29c2. 42. For physiological practices of yangsheng in Mawangdui medical manuscripts, see Harper 1998, 328–361. For more examples of yangsheng literature, see selected translations in Kohn 2012. 43. In the opening passage to his Taishang huanglu zhaiyi (DZ 507: 56.1a), Du Guangting 杜光廷 (850–933) traced the earliest lamp ritual to a fifth-century work, Bamboo Slips on Golden Registers (Jinlu jianwen 金籙簡文), which is no longer extant. 44. For example, in the “Golden Register Fast” (Jinlu zhaifa 金錄齋法), lamps are lit in the four seasons, and the number of lamps could range from nine to as many as twelve hundred. 45. On Daoist lamp rituals in medieval China, see Xie 2010, 99–130. Du Guangting introduced a twofold classification of lamp rites that he traced to Lu in the fifth century, where lamps are categorized into those that save the souls of the dead and those that avert natural disasters, epidemics, and other worldly misfortunes (Dongxuan lingbao changye zhi fu jiuyou yugui mingzhen ke 洞玄靈 寶長夜之府九幽玉匱明真科, DZ 1411: 5a–6a). 46. A recodification of the Daoist canon was undertaken by Du Guangting. 47. Wushang biyao (DZ 1138) is traditionally ascribed to Lu Xiujing 陸修靜 (406–477). However, the Buddhist historian monk Daoxuan 道宣 (596–667) ­records that it was Emperor Wu (also known as Yu Wenyong 宇文邕; r. 561–578) of the Northern Zhou who requested that the work be compiled after his victory over the state of Qi in 577 (Xu gaoseng zhuan 續高僧傳, T. 2060: 4636c14). ­According to John Lagerway (2004, 119), the Wushang biyao contains quotations from about 120 texts, 69 of which are still extant in the Daozang. Also see Yoshi­ oka 1955, 361–375; Pregadio 2008, 2:1062–1065; Zhang 2013. 48. Star worship and propitiation was already practiced in ancient times, but its documentation as an established component of state cult can be traced only to Han times (Shafer 1977). More specifically Taiyi (Grand One), who was deified and worshipped as a cosmogenic god in the Warring States period, became an astral deity who presided at the heart of the universe in Han court religion and cosmology. See Harper 1999, 869–870; Li and Harper 1995, 1–39. 49. On the lamp arrangement, see Wushang biyao, 56.10a–b. For comparison, a different lamp rite, the “Fast of the Three Primes,” is outlined in Wushang biyao fascicles 55, 56, and 57. Lamps are offered also to the deities of the Three Primes (superior, middle, and inferior). For the ritual for the Superior Prime, the lamps should number no fewer than thirty and no more than ninety, but sixty lamps are acceptable. For the Middle Prime, one can use thirty-six lamps, or no more than sixty lamps, or no fewer than twelve. For the Inferior Prime, the number of lamps can range from thirty-six or twenty-four to nine. On the Fast of the Three Primes, see Lü 2011.



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50. Pregadio 2008, 1:228. 51. On “stellar protection,” see Mollier 2008, 134–173. 52. Komjathy 2012, 179–180. 53. Candles are explicitly mentioned in Daoist rituals , for example, in the title Dongxuan lingbao zhai shuo guangzhu jiefa deng zhuyuan yi 洞玄靈寶齋說 光燭戒罰燈祝愿儀 (DZ 524: 13b–14a). 54. Several scholars including Cedzich (2001), Seidel (1987), and Schipper (1994) have discussed the medieval Daoist pursuit of bodily immortality. 55. In her study of stellar protection, Mollier (2008, 134–173) shows how Buddhist and Daoist parallel practices of paying worship to the Dipper in the Tang period eventually led to the aligning of the seven stars with seven Bhaiṣajyagurus. She argues that this trend was the prototype for the so-called Great Dipper Sūtra, which flourished internationally across central China, Japan, Korea, Mongolia, and Tibet in the post-Tang period. See Sūtra Spoken by the Buddha That Prolongs Life through the Seven Stars of the Northern Dipper (Fo shuo bei dou qi xing yan ming jing 佛說北斗七星延命經; T. 1307: 425b6–426b15), discussed in Elverskog (2006) 2008. 56. On archaeological findings and literary evidence documenting the ­increasing circulation of lamp trees in medieval China as well as developments in the lamp tree’s design, see Ning 2004, 126–132. 57. Dien 2007b, 365–369. Following traditional chronology of the literary sources, Cha (1986, 165) places the use of oil as lamp fuel in the Han dynasty, but the descriptions of oil-pressing techniques used in the argument really date only from the Song period (960–1279). 58. Dien 2007a, 18–29. 59. Miaofa lianhua jing 妙法蓮華經, T. 262: 54b22–23; cf. Watson 1993, 287. 60. My discussion of lighting in early medieval China derives largely from findings in Dien 2007a, 2007b. For an overview of lamps in China, see also Handler 2001, 303–318. Using a statistical count of tomb objects and tomb-manuscript references, Dien concludes that an average of 9.3 percent of tombs from the Six Dynasties contain lamps. Dien (2007b, 368) briefly mentions the Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra, but his comments are restricted to the seventh-century wall painting of the sūtra in Dunhuang Mogao Cave 220. 61. Cave 436 has a similar painting, which is not reproduced here. Ning (2004, 26) also mentions a fourth fragmented painting on the eastern wall of Cave 395, but the fragmented state does not allow us to conclude whether the lamp rite was represented. 62. On the ceiling of Cave 417, a tower or tree of lamps is placed in front of the Buddha. On the ceiling of Cave 433, nine lamp wheels hanging on a pole are placed on both sides of the Buddha and bodhisattva images. The ceiling painting of Cave 436 is similar to that of Cave 433. See Ning 2004, 26, Figs. 1.13, 1.14. 63. See Ning 2004, 21–22, 32, Fig. 16, 126, 127.

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64. This version of the sūtra is titled Foshuo Yaoshi rulai benyuan jing 佛說 藥師如來本願經 [The Buddha speaks the sūtra on the past vows of the ­Master of Medicines Tathāgata; T. 449: 401a04–404c08]. This version of the sūtra is traditionally attributed to Dharmagupta (d. 619), but the preface records the translation as the work of twelve monastic translators including one Huiju 慧炬 (ca. 616). 65. Ning 2004, 130–133. 66. Ibid., 33. 67. Ibid., 130–132. 68. The story of Zhang Yuan is collected in chapter 84 of Beishi. It is also recounted by the Buddhist compiler Daoshi 道世 (ca. 668) in his Fayuan zhulin 法苑珠林, T. 2122: 761b1–11. 69. Fayuan zhulin, T. 2122: 761b. 70. On filial piety more generally, see Knapp 2005. 71. Another early documentation of veneration to Bhaiṣajyaguru is the Bhaiṣajyaguru Buddha Fast and Confession Text (Yaoshi zhai chan wen 藥師 齋懺文, T52n2103:334b13–c6). This liturgical text is ascribed to Emperor Wen (r. 559–565) of the Chen dynasty (522–589) and is collected in  Guang Hongming ji compiled by Daoxuan 道宣 (596–667). However, since Emperor Wen’s confession invokes only conventional Mahāyāna rites that are used for the worship of different Buddhist deities, strictly speaking, the anecdote on the filial grandson Zhang offers the earliest literary documentation of specific devotion to Bhaiṣajyaguru.

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———. 2017. “Help for the Sick, the Dying, and the Misbegotten: A Sanskrit Version of the Sūtra of Bhaiṣajyaguru.” In Buddhism and Medicine: An Anthology of Premodern Sources, edited by C. Pierce Salguero, 233–251. New York: Columbia University Press. Seidel, Anna. 1987. “Post-mortem Immortality or the Taoist Resurrection of the Body.” In Gilgul: Essays on Transformation, Revolution, and Permanence in the History of Religions, edited by S. Shaked, D. Shulman, and G. G. Stroumsa, 223–237. Leiden: E. J. Brill. Sørensen, Henrik H. 1995. “Divine Scrutiny of Human Morals in an Early ­Chinese Buddhist Sūtra: A Study of the Si tianwang jing (T590).” Studies in Central and East Asian Religions 8:44–83. Strickmann, Michel. 1990. “The Consecration Sūtra: A Buddhist Book of Spells.” In Chinese Buddhist Apocrypha, edited by Robert Buswell, 75–118. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. ———. 2002. Chinese Magical Medicine. Edited by Bernard Faure. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Suzuki, Yui. 2012. Medicine Master Buddha: The Iconic Worship of Yakushi in Heian Japan. Leiden: Brill Publishers. Teiser, Stephen F. 1994. The Scripture on the Ten Kings and the Making of Purgatory in Medieval Chinese Buddhism. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Tokuno Kyoko. 1994. “Byways in Chinese Buddhism: The ‘Book of Trapusa’ and Indigenous Scriptures.” PhD diss., University of California, Berkeley. Unschuld, Paul U. 1985. Medicine in China: A History of Ideas. Berkeley: University of California Press. Wang Sanqing 王三慶. 2009. Dunhuang fojiao zhai yuanwen ben yanjiu 敦煌佛 教齋願文本研. Taipei: Xinwenfeng. Warren, Henry Clarke. 1896. Buddhism in Translations. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Watson, Burton, trans. 1993. The Lotus Sutra. New York: Columbia University Press. ———. 2013. The Complete Works of Zhuangzi. New York: Columbia University Press. Xie Shiwei 謝世維. 2010. “Po’an zhuyou: Gu Lingbao jing zhong de randeng yishi” 破暗燭幽:古靈寶經的燃燈儀式. Guowen xuebao 國文學報 47:99–130. Yoshioka Yoshitoyo 吉岡義豊. 1955. Dōkyō kyōten shiron 道教経典史論. Tōkyō: Dōkyō kankōkai 道教刊行会. Zhang Jingxian 張景賢. 2013. “Weijin nanbei chao daojiao zhaijie sixiang zhi yanjiu––yi Wushang biyao wei zhongxin” 魏晉南北朝道教齋戒思想之研究 ─以《無上祕要》為中心. Master’s thesis, Nanhua University, Chiayi.

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Buddhist Healing Practices at Dunhuang in the Medieval Period Catherine Despeux

D

unhuang, an oasis on the Silk Road, was a cosmopolitan place where numerous Sogdian, Uighur, Tangut, Khotanese, and Kirghiz communities coexisted. A large local market, it was composed of families who were longtime local residents as well as populations that were established in waves at different times from a number of transients, whether merchant caravans, Buddhist pilgrims, or immigrants. During the Tang, Dunhuang was under Chinese rule (625–786), and then under Tibetan rule (786–848), before becoming, in the late Tang, an independent government named the Army Returning to Its Duty (Guiyi Jun 歸義軍) (848–920) that pledged allegiance to China. Dunhuang was marked by the importance of Buddhism as early as the third century, during the period of the early cave excavations. Buddhism took root in waves, but the traditions of most of the great sūtras were represented in the Tang. Esoteric Buddhism was important, especially during the period of Tibetan domination, but also under the Cao 曹 family, who reigned during the period of the Army Returning to Its Duty. At the beginning of the Tibetan occupation, Dunhuang had nine monasteries and four convents, with a total of some three hundred residents. Their number had almost doubled by the end of the occupation, with seventeen monasteries and a thousand monks, who represented a significant proportion of the population. Here we will focus on healing in the Buddhist context in Dunhuang by examining closely the manuscripts found in Mogao Cave 莫高窟 17 near the city of Dunhuang. Of course, the manuscripts 118



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that survive represent only a part of the literature that was available at that time in Dunhuang. There also remain some catalogues from Buddhist monasteries that provide lists of the Buddhist texts preserved in their libraries and show that the surviving documents are a good representation of the literature that was available in Dunhuang monasteries at that time. Buddhist medicine is present in the literature on the rules of discipline (the Vinaya) and in some sūtras, but it is found mainly in texts of the esoteric school (mijiao 密教) that make wide use of rituals and incantations, or dhāraṇī, in order to cure diseases or remedy any difficulty encountered by a patient. It also appears in short apocryphal sūtras. However, what is most valuable for us is that some colophons to Buddhist and non-Buddhist manuscripts testify to the use of some of these magical and religious therapies by people in Dunhuang. The situation surrounding the art of healing in Dunhuang was complex. Manuscripts confirm that there was a Chinese medical school that, during the Chinese suzerainty, spread learned medicine of the time according to the imperial policy of China.1 When Dunhuang was under Chinese rule, it was the Chinese medical school that was theoretically responsible for treating officials and scholars and annually distributing medicines to the population to avoid diseases. It is likely the common people there had little chance of accessing these treatments.2 We know that a text of first-aid recipes had been prepared to be engraved on the cliffs in order to make the possibility of healing available to all residents.3 But the influence of this medical school on the different strata of the population of Dunhuang remains difficult to assess. According to New Tang History (Xin Tangshu 新唐書), in the medical school all the doctors were educated by teachers with comprehensive knowledge, recruited by competition, and promoted by the same rules as those of the University of the Sons of the State. The master of medicine, medical directors, and physicians all cared for the sick and were judged on the number of successful cures. Every year, they distributed medicines to the public to prevent disease. 皆教以博士考試登用, 如國子監。醫師醫正醫工療病書其全之多少為考 課。歲給藥以防民疾。4

In any case, the number of physicians was not sufficient for the population. We have the names of some physicians, like Zhang Cun 張存,

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who practiced acupuncture,5 and Shi Zaiying 史再盈, who was originally from Sogdiana and is compared both to Jīvaka, a model for Indian physicians, and to Yufu 榆附, a semilegendary physician of high antiquity in China.6 Also practicing healing were monastics, as an eminent monk should theoretically master the five sciences, including medicine. The coexistence of the Chinese medical school and all the different healers allows us to imagine interactions between Chinese medicine and other Asian medicines in Dunhuang.7 A confluence of both scholarly and local medicines occurred in this rich and diverse place. Buddhism had a strong influence during the Tang, but more so during the Tibetan period and the period of independence. The numerous recipe manuscripts in Chinese found in the Dunhuang caves attest that people used Chinese medicine but also indicate an interaction with other medical traditions. Besides the well-known use of medical remedies, the people often had access to magical-religious therapies from the Daoist or Buddhist context as well. The fervent faithful were likely influenced by Buddhist conceptions of illness. A Vinaya text clearly specifies the Buddhist attitude concerning disease: If one is poor and without resources, we will recite healing formulas and all kinds of incantations. To those who ask for help by means of money, broth, or drugs, we give them the diagnosis with great care and ensure the curing of the disease. . . . We will explain to the patient that the pain from his ailments was [actually] contracted in previous lives, but that since now he is undergoing the painful retribution, it is time to repent. Upon hearing these words, the patient will get angry and utter coarse insults. We remain silent without answering, but we will not abandon him. 若窮無物​應 誦醫方種種呪術。求錢湯藥須者施之。​至 心瞻病將養療 治。。。為說病苦皆是往世​不善因緣獲是苦報今當懺悔。病者聞已或​ 生瞋恚惡口罵詈。默不報之亦不捨棄。8

We do not have any examples of monks who were also physicians during the Chinese suzerainty. But in the ninth century, four monks from two large families were also renowned physicians in Dunhuang. They belonged to the Zhai 翟9 and Suo 索 families, who had dug and decorated caves.10 The Suo family, one of the oldest and most powerful of Dunhuang, included three monks who practiced medicine:



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Suo Chong’en 索冲恩 (d. 856), whose fame reached the emperor and distinguished him as one of the five eminent monks of the region; Suo Falü 索法律 (813–889); and Suo Zhiyue 索智岳 (fl.  870). Suo Falü was attached to Jin Guangming Monastery 金光明寺, one of the largest monasteries in the region, which had a monastic school and a library (see P. 3721). He was an expert in rituals and divination and knew perfectly the Chinese Materia Medica of the Divine Husbandman (Shennong bencao jing 神農本草經) and the so-called eight arts of Āyurvedic medicine. The monk and physician of the Zhai family was Zhai Farong 翟法榮 (d. 869), who from 821 onward lived in the Longxing Monastery 龍興寺 and in 854 became the controller of the Buddhist clergy (dusengtong 都僧統).11 Texts The manuscript finds at Dunhuang include the great sūtras, such as the Lotus Sūtra and others especially related to deities like Amitābha or Amitāyus, Avalokiteśvara, Bhaiṣajyaguru, Samantabhadra, and so on, who are known for granting wishes, protecting, and curing persons who pray and make offerings or perform rituals to them. In this chapter, however, I focus on apocryphal sūtras and sūtras related to dhāraṇī. These mainly date from the sixth, seventh, and eighth centuries. Some of the dhāraṇī and other documents from the esoteric school are later, from the eighth century onward. The majority of this literature concerns the employment of methods founded on the idea that illness is essentially caused by bad karma or actions of the past, and that it is essential to improve this situation with confessions and the accumulation of merits, especially by copying sacred texts or making offerings. At Dunhuang, three such apocrypha are known. The first is named Sūtra on Protection of Living Beings Suffering from Pernicious Diseases (Jiuhu zhongsheng eji jing 救護眾生惡疾經) or Sūtra on Deliverance from Illness (Fo shuo jiuji jing 佛說救疾經), the same text carrying two different titles.12 It already existed in the sixth century, since a copy (P. 4563) is dated 595. This apocryphon advocated confession and performance of meritorious deeds as a therapeutic method. It also recommended the honoring of the deities in Buddhism with whom it was customary to intercede for healing diseases: Amitāyus, Vajrapāṇi, and the Seven Buddhas. The second apocryphon is the Sūtra on Incantations against Enchantments, Expounded by the Buddha (Fo shuo zhoumei jing 佛說呪魅經), which was held in the library of two monasteries: the Jin

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Guangming Monastery and the Longxing Monastery.13 The third is the New Sūtra of the Bodhisattvas (Xin pusa jing 新菩薩經) or Sūtra Urging Kindness (Quanshan jing 勸善經), also a similar text presented under two different titles, the oldest copy of which is dated 704.14 The great number of extant copies of these three sūtras, amounting to almost one hundred, suggests widespread use for accumulating merit and protecting oneself or other people from evils.15 Some copies include colophons that are dated or ­explain under what circumstances the copy was made. Among the recommended therapeutic methods, employment of dhāraṇī (tuoluoni 陀羅尼) occupies a special place.16 Buddhist spells appeared in China as early as the late second century. The incantations (zhou 呪) were mostly phonetic transcriptions of Sanskrit. Dhāraṇī were both used independently and incorporated as elements in larger rituals of invocation. A clear definition of the function of these formulas is given in the Treatise of the Great Virtue of Wisdom (Da zhidu lun 大智度論): Bringing together all kinds of good Dharma, the dhāraṇī holds them together so they are not scattered or lost. It is comparable to a good utensil filled with water, from which the water does not spill. Hating the roots of evil, the dhāraṇī prevents them from appearing. It prevents those who would commit evil from committing it. That’s what we call dhāraṇī. 能持者。集種種善法。能​持令不散不失。譬如完器盛水水不漏散​。能 遮者。惡不善根心生。能遮令不生。​若欲作惡罪。持令不作。是​名陀 羅尼。17

Another definition is given by the Forest of Pearls in the Garden of the Dharma (Fayuan zhulin 法苑珠林): The dhāraṇī uncover the spirit of faith of the ignorant and allow him to be in perfect union with the true luminous and correct wisdom, they break and dissipate the enormous obstacles, destroy the deep defects accumulated over cosmic periods. 夫神呪之為用也。拔曚昧之信心。啟​正真之明慧。裂重空之巨障。滅 積劫之深痾。18

There are many dhāraṇī among the Dunhuang manuscripts. Monastic catalogues or documents relating to the sale of texts, their



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loan, copy, or consultation, certainly offer partial but helpful information on the circulation and dissemination of these texts in the area. The number of dhāraṇī listed in such catalogues is greatly superior to the number of manuscripts that have survived. Those that occur most often are the dhāraṇī associated with Mahāmāyūrī, a deity with the power to protect devotees from poisoning, either physical or spiritual;19 those associated with Amoghapāśa, a tantric form  of  Ava­ lokiteśvara;20 a dhāraṇī for the protection of children; and several dhāraṇī included in one chapter of the Sūtra of the Seven Buddhas and Eight Bodhisattvas, which gives the names of demons causing illnesses and their corresponding incantations. The frequency of the therapeutic use of dhāraṇī in Dunhuang is obvious, according to the listed titles: the catalogue of a monastery lists twenty titles of texts21 used for therapeutic purposes, which were considered effective for epidemic disease, mental illness, eye pain, abscesses, or all diseases.22 Thus it is known that the surviving manuscripts represent a small portion of the complete libraries and that the therapeutic use of the dhāraṇī was widespread in Dunhuang. The remainder of this section introduces some of the major texts. Sūtra of the Divine Incantations, Which Are Great Dhāraṇī, Spoken by the Seven Buddhas and Eight Bodhisattvas (Qifo ba pusa suoshuo da tuoluoni shenzhou jing 七佛八菩薩所說大陀羅 尼神呪經)

The Taishō Tripiṭaka includes an edition of this sūtra in four parts (juan), in an anonymous translation of the Eastern Jin (317–420).23 What is remarkable in this text is that, although the title alludes to buddhas and bodhisattvas, the text includes dhāraṇī associated with minor deities of the Buddhist pantheon that have the distinction of being powerful and dangerous demons. The first part gathers dhāraṇī expounded by the Seven Buddhas and Eight Bodhisattvas with details about their specific effectiveness. These are mostly recited over a rope of different colors on which a specific number of knots are made, which must be carried by the disciple, usually around the neck. The Seven Buddhas are seven buddhas from the past who were, from very early on, allotted the role of protection. The names of these buddhas are Vipaśyin (Weiwei fo 唯衛佛), Śikhin (Shi fo 式佛), Viśvabhuj (Suiye fo 隨葉佛), Krakucchanda (Julouqin fo 拘樓秦佛), Kanakamuni (Junahan mouni fo 拘那含牟尼佛), Kāśyapa

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(Jiashe fo 迦葉佛), and Śākyamuni (Shijiawen fo 釋迦文佛).24 In Dunhuang, the Buddhas are also found in the previously mentioned apocryphon related to illness, the Sūtra of Deliverance from Illness. The eight bodhisattvas are Mañjuśrī, Akaśagarbha (Xukongzang 虛空 藏), Avalokiteśvara, Jiutuo 救脫, Batuohe 跋陀和, Mahāsthāma (Dashizhi 大勢至), Dedashi 得大勢, and Jianyong 堅勇. The second and third parts of the text include dhāraṇī assigned to other gods of the pantheon: Maheśvara, Mahābrahmā, other heavenly kings, and so on. Three incantations are related to Āṭavaka, who is one of the generals of the sixteen yakṣa25 and a powerful demon. The last two incantations protect against the king, brigands, water, fire, wind, stars, and demons and return evil spells against the beings that made them.26 The fourth part particularly interests us, as it mentions dhāraṇī for specific diseases. The chapter is entitled “Sūtra of the Great Divine Incantations Exposed by the Four Heavenly Kings and the Great Divine King of Hungry Ghosts” (Zhao beilüdou shi da guishen wang si Tianwang suo shuo da shenzhou jing 照卑律兜是大鬼神王四天王 所說大神呪經).27 These dhāraṇī are also included in the Collection of Miscellaneous Dhāraṇī (Tuoluoni zaji 陀羅尼雜集), under the shorter title of “Great Divine Incantations Exposed by the Four Heavenly Kings” (Si Tianwang suoshuo da shenzhou 四天王所說大神呪).28 The Collection of Miscellaneous Dhāraṇī, whose compiler is unknown but which dates back to at least the Liang (502–557),29 includes some incantations dating from the Eastern Jin (316–420),30 but the entire collection was formed in northern China under the Northern Wei (386–535). The two canonical versions of the chapter (Taishō nos. 1332 and 1336) comprise sixty-six stanzas for therapeutic methods consisting of reciting a mantra that bears the name of the demon that is at the origin of a disease or a specific nuisance. These demons cause all kinds of symptoms and diseases, including headache, leg and lumbar pain, malarial fevers, vomiting, epidemic diseases, snakebites, poisoning by venomous animals, edema, tumors, abscesses, eye pain, and so on. We will see later the importance of demonology and incantations, which are the preferred therapeutic methods for certain types of diseases in Āyurvedic and Buddhist medicine. Several very short passages from this fourth part are also found in other scriptures throughout the Buddhist canon, demonstrating that they circulated separately before being grouped together. Thus,



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the Forest of Pearls in the Garden of Dharma, compiled by Daoshi 道 世 (d. 683), includes some parts of our text, such as the incantation against the demon that produces underarm odor,31 the one against malarial fevers (nüe 瘧),32 or the one against indigestion.33 Similarly, the Dhāraṇī-sūtra of the Great Samantabhadra, Spoken by the Buddha (Fo shuo da Puxian tuoluoni jing 佛說大普賢陀羅尼經), an anonymous translation listed in the Liang catalogue, includes the names of six demons causing diseases that are found in T. 1332 and given in the same order: demons causing indigestion, pain in the lower back and legs, headache, stupidity, ear pain, and strangury.34 However, the staging around these incantations is different; here, the Buddha is in the Jetavana Park at Śrāvastī and announces that the mantra can thwart all weapons, hatred, and any fears one might have toward demons such as the yakṣa, rākṣasa, or bhuta.35 The Sūtra of the Divine Incantation Spoken by the Seven Buddhas and Eight Bodhisattvas

This text appears partially (sometimes with a slightly different title) in nine Dunhuang manuscripts;36 however, the fourth part is found in only four of them (P. 2665v, S. 943, B. 7455, and Jinyi. 301). As P. 2665v is a partial copy using the specific characters for the words “man” and “moon” invented during the reign of Wu Zetian (r. 685– 704), the copy must date from the reign of the empress, and not prior to the introduction of those characters in 689. It includes incantatory recipes to cure six kinds of disease (“milky eye” [i.e., glaucoma], cataracts, pain in the lower back and lower limbs, deafness, night blindness, stupidity), each caused by a particular demon, but they do not follow the order of the other versions. They do not seem to obey a particular classification and they do not match the six incantations of the Dhāraṇī-sūtra of the Great Samantabhadra, Spoken by the Buddha.37 As the copy is also sketchy, it is possible that it is a draft or notes taken by a monk. The title of this sūtra is attested in four partial catalogues of the Buddhist canon found in Dunhuang: in Dh. 179, which probably dates from the time of the Tibetan occupation or that of the Army Returning to Its Duty, that is, the second half of the ninth century to the tenth century. It is also listed under the title Qifo shenzhou jing,38 as well as in Dh. 2345.39 Bei Zhou 42 listed it under the title Si Tianwang suoshuo da shenzhou,40 which is also chapter 4 of this

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text in the Tuoluoni zaji.41 Dh. 221‑1, a manuscript held in the ­library of St. Petersburg entitled Catalog of the Mahāyāna Texts Entered in the Canon (Dasheng ruzang lu 大乘入藏錄), lists a Qifo suoshuo shenzhou jing in four parts.42 Sūtra of the Essence of the Divine Incantation of Amoghapāśa (Bukong juansuo shenzhou xinjing 不空羂索神呪心經)

The Taishō Tripiṭaka preserves two translations of this text: one by Jñānagupta (523–600) of the Sui dynasty (581–618)43 and the other by Xuanzang (602–664) of the Tang.44 There is evidence from the catalogues of Dunhuang monasteries of the existence of this text in at least three temples: the Lingtu Monastery 靈圖寺,45 the Longxing Monastery,46 and another monastery whose name is unknown, which owned both the old and the new versions.47 There still remain among the Dunhuang manuscripts four copies of unknown provenance: two in the version of Jñānagupta (P. 4534 and B. 7666v) and two in that of Xuanzang (P. 3835 and P. 3916). P. 3916, a tenth-century book (pothī),48 should be dated from the period of the Army Returning to Its Duty, but the dhāraṇī of Amoghapāśa is written with characters created during the reign of Wu Zetian; thus, the text was probably copied from a copy made before the tenth century but after these characters were introduced in 689. Amoghapāśa is one of six main forms of Avalokiteśvara and one of the characters from his court in the Garbhadhātu mandala. He is often represented with one head and six, eight, or twenty arms (Plate 6). His attributes are chiefly the arrow, the bell, the lotus, the noose, the prayer wheel, the rosary, and a tiger skin. He has surefire ways to resolve the difficulties of the ignorant and catch them with his lasso to lead them to enlightenment. This form of the bodhisattva of compassion appeared in China around 587. Several texts of the Buddhist canon match different versions of incantations or dhāraṇī of Amoghapāśa.49 In the text from the Dunhuang manuscripts, the Buddha is located on Mount Potalaka with an assembly when Avalokiteśvara, advancing toward him with a smile, announces that he has obtained during the ninety-first cosmic age (kalpa) the quintessence of a divine incantation with the power to extricate individuals from their difficulties and sufferings. There follows a list of various diseases: disease with alternating fever and chills; eye, ear, nose, teeth, lip, and tongue pains; pain in the heart region and in the thorax; pain



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in the abdomen or in the umbilicus; pain in the spine and lower back; pain in the sides, genitals, hips, and knees; pain in the joints, the four members, the head and the face, the neck, the shoulders, and the arms; diseases due to wind; seasonal epidemic diseases (qibing 氣病); growths and hemorrhoids; diarrhea; paresis; scabies and other skin diseases, such as abscesses, swellings, and boils; seizures; jaundice; spells and possessions; poisoning; and so on. While the mantra is the same for all occasions, the methods of its employment differ for each disease: usually, it is chanted over a knotted cord, but it is also possible to chant it over water or over medicinal remedies like pepper, honey, licorice, or oil.50 Dhāraṇī-sūtra to Protect Children, Spoken by the Buddha (Fo shuo hu zhu tongzi tuoluoni jing 佛說護諸童子陀羅尼經)

Four Dunhuang manuscripts (S. 988, S. 6986, B. 7679, and Dh.  2091) include the partial or almost complete text of the Dhāraṇī-sūtra to Protect Children in one part, translated by Bodhiruci 菩提流支 (d. 537) in the Northern Wei. This text presents a dhāraṇī able to protect children from fifteen devils or demons causing all sorts of nuisances and diseases. The names of these fifteen demons are given, as are their appearance and their misdeeds. The text describes the ritual that accompanies the use of dhāraṇī.51 Its translation is always attributed to Bodhiruci, a native of central India who came to Luoyang in 508, where he worked until about 537. This sūtra was therefore known in North China in the first half of the sixth century. Fei Changfang 費長房, a translator in the Da Xingshan Monastery 大興善寺, the largest monastery in the capital Chang’an during the Sui dynasty, presented this sūtra to the court in 597. Only half a century after its translation in China was it listed in catalogues under the title Hu zhu tongzi tuoluoni zhou jing 護諸 童子陀羅尼呪經,52 like manuscripts S. 988 and B. 7679 (the title of S. 6986 is abbreviated). The catalogue of the Kaiyuan era (713– 741), which lists 1,076 titles considered part of the Buddhist canon, gives another title for this text, Hu zhu tongzi qingqiu nannü tuo­ luoni jing 護諸童子請求男女陀羅尼經,53 which is also how it is named in the catalogue of the Zhenyuan era (785–805).54 However, only the short title is attested in the Dunhuang manuscripts, in which the text also presents minor variations from that of the two versions of the Taishō Tripiṭaka.55

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This scripture was well known in Dunhuang.56 It is a part of the scriptures that Zhai Fengda 翟奉達, a devout Buddhist layman, copied in the third month of the fifth year of the Xiande era (958) as an act of piety for the salvation of his recently deceased wife.57 Although it is not specified, it is likely that his wife died in childbirth, which would explain the presence of this title in the list of copied sūtras. At the end of his copy, Zhai included the following note: This twelfth day is Memorial Day for the sixth week [after death]; I copied this text for the salvation of my deceased wife. I wish that my wife named Ma can receive all the merit I have accumulated by copying this text and that she can be reborn in a place of goodness. I make you this gift with extreme sincerity. 四月十二日是六七齋, 追福寫此經。馬氏一一領受寫經功德, 願生於善 處。一心供養58

Quintessential Mantras of Vajrakumāra (Jingang tongzi xinzhou 金剛童子心呪)

This text appears in two Dunhuang manuscripts (P. 3914, S. 2498) dating from the tenth century. The manuscript P. 3914 is a pothī of twentynine sheets that includes a set of dhāraṇī for wrathful deities belonging to the Vajra family of esoteric Buddhism: Vajrakumāra, Vajramahābala, Vajra Destroyer of Obstacles, and so on. The form of the manuscript, a pothī, suggests it was written in the tenth century. Only the first part presents methods related to Vajrakumāra in case of illness. The text is partly similar to that of a more developed section of another Dunhuang manuscript, S. 2498, which bears the title Jingang tongzi xinzhou fa 金 剛童子心呪法. Two other manuscripts kept in the National Library of China in Beijing also include the dhāraṇī (Yun 99 and Jiang 25 according to the old cataloguing system). Vajrakumāra is mostly seen as a wrathful form of the Buddha Amitāyus of the Western Paradise and as one of the most powerful deities for fighting evil or eliminating enemies.59 He is known in the Taishō Tripiṭaka by only two texts, one translated by Amoghavajra, the other by an anonymous author.60 The text of manuscript S. 2498 is not known elsewhere. It presents similarities, however, with the two texts of the Taishō: both describe methods to eliminate obstacles, to treat certain diseases, and to produce love potions.



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Dhāraṇī Related to the Thousand-Eye, Thousand-Arm Form of Avalokiteśvara (P. 3437, P. 3920, S. 6151) and to the Form of Avalokiteśvara Called “Heart of the Buddha’s Uṣṇīṣa” (portions of P. 3916 and P. 3236r)

There remain at least three copies of dhāraṇī related to the esoteric form of Avalokiteśvara with a thousand eyes and a thousand arms. This text corresponds partially to Taishō 1059 and 1060.61 The ritual texts of this deity often ascribe his main function as healing illness.62 One of the main rituals is described in the Dhāraṇī Compilation (Tuoluoni jijing 陀羅尼集經) translated by Adikuta 阿地瞿多 in 653– 654, which includes incantations and rituals to be performed over medicinal remedies, or other supports such as water or rope that are involved in the healing process of particular disorders.63 The Dhāraṇīsūtra of the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara, in the Form of the “Heart of the Buddha’s Uṣṇīṣa” (Foding xin Guanshiyin pusa da tuoluoni jing 佛頂心觀世音菩薩大陀羅尼經) is an apocryphal sūtra not listed in the historical canons or catalogues. This text, which is available in different versions and languages, was a collection of stories used to spread the belief in this form of Avalokiteśvara in the middle of the Tang. Some stories refer to events prior to the early Tang, others to events contemporary with the sūtra. It was popular not only in the Dunhuang region during the Tibetan occupation and in Kharakhoto, but also in parts of the northwest among the Tanguts;64 in the dynasties of Liao, Jin, and Yuan; and even in Japan.65 A Specific Sūtra with Dhāranī for Curing Hemorrhoids and Growths

A short sūtra that deals with a particular illness, zhi 痔, was copied in Dunhuang with the title Sūtra on Zhi Illness, Spoken by the Buddha (Fo shuo zhibing jing 佛說痔病經; S. 5379). The title is followed by the words “translated on imperial order by Yijing, Master of Dharma and of the Tripitaka” (Sanzang fashi Yijing fengzhi yi 三藏法師義靜 奉制譯).66 A slightly different title, Sūtra on the Care of Fleshy Growths and Hemorrhoids (Liao zhibing jing 療痔病經), is indicated in the text of the manuscript, the same as that given in Essentials of Medicine (Ishinpō 醫心方) (984).67 It is also under this last title, with the addition at the beginning “expounded by the Buddha” (Fo shuo 佛說), that the sūtra is published in the Taishō: The text is the same as

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S. 5379, except for three variants.68 Incidentally, the translator, Yijing (635–713), a monk and well-known pilgrim under the Tang, is also the translator of a Vinaya text on remedies.69 Composed as a Buddhist sūtra, this scripture indicates the place where the Buddha preached it and the content of the teaching he gave: a therapeutic incantation intended to treat different kinds of growths and hemorrhoids. This text, one of the few treating a specific pathology among the manuscripts found in Dunhuang, may be related to other very short sūtras inserted in the Buddhist canon that also treat with incantation-specific diseases like toothache, eye disease, and so on.70 Spirits and Demons In the sources discussed previously, the cause of illness is often attributed to karma or to demons, whose names are often specified. The cure of demon-caused illness corresponds to one of the eight basic arts of Āyurvedic medicine: the “science of demons” (bhūtavidyā). Demons have powerful leaders who command them, to whom humans can pray for healing. Buddhist texts invert their supernatural powers: once converted by the Buddha, those who can create terrible illnesses and evils can also deliver people from them. Marcelle Lalou, who studied a text of this kind, says: The sometimes complex ceremonies described can be summarized as follows: the animal, magically attracted or created artificially, is forced to heal the man he has bitten by sucking the venom from the wound, or the nāga responsible for the sores of humans are propitiated according to the rites of the pūjā, and then invited to cure the diseases of men. The same belief—the damage is repaired by its author—attributed to the poisonous snake the power to heal the victim and to the nāga the ability to treat the diseases they caused.71

Buddhist demonology borrowed most of its demons from Indian traditions. As described in many Buddhist texts, they fall under several categories. They are either people who because of their evil past deeds reincarnated into demons (most often as hungry ghosts), or gods that behaved in an ungodlike manner. These dangerous beings were then tamed and converted by the Buddha. In Chinese translations, their names have often been transcribed phonetically, and when the original Sanskrit is lost, it is difficult to reconstruct them.



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In Buddhist texts, demons are often classified into a number of categories, usually numbering four or eight. The eight categories found in Buddhism are nāga, rākṣasa (or yakṣa), gandharva, asura, garuḍa, kim̩ nara, mahoraga, and preta. Four of these categories are identical in Āyurvedic and Buddhist contexts, and four (garuḍa, kim̩ nara, mahoraga, and preta) are different. Of the different classes of evil beings, the yakṣa form one of the larger groups. They are represented as ogres who are very harmful to humans, steeped in wickedness, and able to fly. One of their leaders is Vaiśravana, the North Guard. He is surrounded by six or eight head generals, each having under their orders a thousand smaller demon-soldiers. Another formidable demon-general, Āṭavaka, conveyed a very powerful dhāraṇī and seals able to drive out evil spirits,72 including those that cause all kinds of epidemics and diseases due to wind, cold, or dampness, or some combination of the three.73 A sūtra on the dhāraṇī of Āṭavaka was translated in the Liang. This text also ­contains seals to cure diseases and to escape the difficulty of parturition, and the ritual use of a sword that, when tapped on the location of the sickness, kills the demon causing it. A ritual associated with Āṭavaka and translated in the Tang by Śubhakarasiṃha (637–735) lists twenty-five gods. Each of these is invoked for a different type of disease; for example, for epidemics, one can call upon the nāga Black and White; for internal diseases, Kuṇḍali; for mental illness, the Heavenly King of the West; and when none of those works, one makes use of the Generalissimo Āṭavaka.74 The four heavenly kings Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Virūḍhaka, Virūpākṣa, and Vaiśravaṇa (Plate 7) are specifically related to diseases. They are Brahmā generals who live on Mount Sumeru, where each rules over the territory on one of four mountain peaks. Several examples of healing by nāga are attested at Dunhuang. One of these is given in an apocryphal sūtra of the fifth century, the Consecration Sūtra (Guanding jing 灌頂經), of which there is a copy at Dunhuang (B. 7469). The text details a propitiatory method with an incantation that consists of reciting the names of the nāga that caused the evils and epidemics. Another document, Sūtra of Divine Incantation Expounded by the Buddha (Fo suoshuo shenzhou jing 佛所說神呪經), provides a precise list of the names of sixty-six kinds of troubles caused by demons, of which most are diseases.75 These demons cause a wide

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range of everyday symptoms or discomfort, including loss of voice, verbal delirium, “milky eye,” irritability, vomiting, obstacle to the roots of goodness, dryness with strong thirst, “white veil on the eye” (i.e., cataracts), bad abscess, loss of appetite, aching lower back and lower limbs, headaches, stupidity, strangury, ear pain, anuria, sudden pain at the epigastrium or abdomen, malarial fevers, latent diseases, jaundice, dizziness, addiction to alcohol, aversion to food, anorexia, deafness, and somnolence. Other demons devour the liver, brain, heart, and marrow. The names of these demons, embedded in the incantation ad­dressed to them, are difficult to identify in most cases. However, some match the names of demons that were known in India or Central Asia, and some appear in other texts of the Buddhist canon. We can identify, for example, Pūtanā (Fudanna 富單那), the name of a “hungry ghost provoking strong stench and squalor.”76 It is presented in Buddhist and Indian texts sometimes as a ghost, sometimes as a class of the most ferocious demons. In this text, Pūtanā controls diseases caused by high heat (rebing 熱病).77 Fuliu 浮流 is also the name of a demon, although this term is attested in Buddhist scriptures as the name of a “karmic wind”78 that at the twenty-second week of gestation rotates the fetus in the womb, develops the fetus, and allows the generation of blood.79 In another context, it refers to an herb in the biography of Aśvaghosa.80 A third demon that we have identified is Xiuxiuluo 修修羅, who causes incontinence and whose name commonly means “pig.”81 (This term is rarely used in the Buddhist canon, but we have noted one case in the Mahāsāṃghika-vinaya, where xiuxiuluo is listed among five types of fat and clearly designates a different ­animal: “fish fat, bear fat, ba-bear grease, fat of xiuxiuluo, and pork fat.”)82 There are also demons that are specific to children’s diseases. The demons causing these diseases are the bālagraha, which means “kidnappers.” They can be male or female and have both a harmful action and a protective function: If they cause miscarriages and diseases in children, for example, then they also protect pregnant women and children. They are named in two manuscripts: the Dhāraṇī-sūtra to Protect All Children, discussed earlier, and three pothī leaves dating from the ninth century, painted on both sides, accompanied by inscriptions in Chinese and Khotanese, and representing six demons that protect children. The drawings are representations of female spirits in the form of the human body surmounted by an animal head: a buffalo, a leopard, a bird, a cat, a rooster, and a deer, respectively



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(Plate 8). A section inscribed in the upper part of the first sheet mentions “sixteen female protective spirits of little children,” which suggests that these three sheets are part of a package that originally ­comprised eight.83 The drawings for these child protectors are related to similar demons from India, where they were widely distributed and exhibited in both medical and nonmedical literature. The Suśruta-saṃhitā,84 the Mādhava-nidānam, the Aṣṭāṅgasaṃgraha,85 and the Kumāratantra attributed to Rāvaṇa86 give the names of twelve ogresses that take possession of children, but there are only two names in common with our list (Pūtanā and Mukhamaṇḍitikā). Indian literature refers mostly to lists of nine, twelve, or fifteen demons. According to the Suśrutasaṃhitā, it is only during the eighth month that a fetus can be prey to demons, as well as during childbirth or after the birth.87 Each of these demons causes defined symptoms by which they can be identified. According to the Kumāratantra, children under twelve, because of their weakness, are the prey of twelve demons (grahī-mātṛkā), and the text explicates the evils they cause and how to remedy them. Among the various demons harming children, Skandha (Kārttikeya), king of demons, plays an important role.88 At the end of the eighth century and during the ninth century, Dunhuang was occupied by Tibetans, whose dominion lasted from 786 to 848. At the end of the eighth century, the king of Tibet was Khri Srong lde btsan (r. 742/755–797), who had made the country a great political power and had adopted Buddhism as the state religion. The influence of Buddhism increased even further under the reign of King Khri lde gtsug btsan (r. 815–838). A Tibetan influence on these texts associated with children’s diseases is likely. In Tibetan medicine, the oldest known text, Rgyud-bzhi, compiled between the seventh and twelfth centuries, mentions “children’s demons,” twelve in number, five males and seven females.89 These are probably the same as those mentioned in the Aṣṭāṅgahṛdaya, which include Skandha, Viśākha, Mesa, Śvagraha, Piṭṛ, Śakuni, Pūtanā, Śītapūtanā, and Dṛṣṭiputanā.90 Diseases Although Buddhist therapies are often presented as universal panaceas to cure all diseases, one observes in practice different methods for specific diseases, some of which occur more often than others. It is

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obvious that the most commonly mentioned diseases are well known in Āyurvedic medicine and that, through this, conceptions and treatments of Indian disease penetrated into China. But since one of the means used by the translators consists of relying on already known vocabulary from Chinese medicine to translate information coming from another culture and another language, interpretation proves difficult because we do not know the context, the origin of the word, or whether it is a Chinese or a foreign term. Frequently, the foreign origin of the term remains hidden. Moreover, Buddhist texts dealing with disease show an influence of the Indian classification of pathological categories. There are several lists of the Eight Arts of Āyurvedic medicine given in Buddhist texts that do not correspond exactly to the lists given in the Āyurvedic texts we have.91 For our purpose, we will use the classification given in the Caraka-saṃhitā, an Indian text from the fourth to fifth centuries: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

External diseases (śalyāpahartṛka); Ear, nose, and throat (śālākya); Internal medicine (kāyacikitsā); Toxicology (viṣagaravairodhikapraśamana); Demonology (bhūtavidyā); Obstetrics and pediatrics (kaumārabhṛtya); Invigorating medicine and rejuvenation (rasāyana); Aphrodisiac medicine (vājīkaraṇa).

We have already discussed the fifth and sixth categories (on demonology and pediatrics), in the preceding section on children’s demons. The seventh and eighth categories, respectively, on rejuvenation and aphrodisiac medicine, are seldom mentioned in Buddhist texts; one recipe for attracting love is given in P. 3914.92 Here, we will focus on categories 1 through 4. External Diseases

The first category, “external diseases,” roughly corresponds to that found in Chinese medicine, as, for example, expounded in the Treatise on the Origins and Symptoms of Diseases (Zhubing yuanhou lun 諸病 源候論), the first synoptic treatise on nosology, compiled in 610. Here, the category of external diseases comprises skin diseases such as



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abscesses, but also growths, tumors, goiters, and hemorrhoids. We note that Buddhist texts deal specifically with skin diseases such as abscesses, wounds, ulcers, scabies, and “leprosy.” The term zhi 痔, usually designating hemorrhoids in Chinese, designates, in the Indian and Buddhist context, all kinds of growths according to the enumeration given in one text dealing specifically with this kind of disease.93 It corresponds to a specific pathology in Indian medicine, as shown by Chen Ming in his study of Siddhasāra,94 in which part of the thirteenth chapter is devoted to various categories of zhi (Sanskrit arśa) and to the descriptions of their characteristics and the way to heal them.95 Six types of arśa are distinguished: those due to disorders of one of the three humors according to Āyurvedic medicine, namely, wind (vāta), bile (pitta), and phlegm (kapha), those due to disorders of the three humors together, those due to blood disorders, and those that are hereditary. The Dunhuang manuscript S. 5379 lists (col. 9–12) fifteen types of growths, nine more than in the Siddhasāra: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.

fengzhi 風痔: growth due to wind (vāta) rezhi 熱痔: growth due to heat (bile, pitta) yinzhi 癮痔: growth due to phlegm (kapha) sanhe zhi 三合痔: growth due to the three [humors] together xuezhi 血痔: growth due to a blood disorder fuzhong zhi 腹中痔: outgrowth in the abdomen binei zhi 鼻內痔: protrusion inside the nose chizhi 齒痔: outgrowth on teeth shezhi 舌痔: outgrowth on tongue erzhi 耳痔: outgrowth on ear dingzhi 頂痔: outgrowth at top of the head shouzu zhi 手足痔: outgrowth on hand or foot jibei zhi 脊背痔: outgrowth on back fenzhi 糞痔: outgrowth on anus pianshen zhijie sheng suo zhuzhi 遍身肢節所生諸痔: outgrowths on body or joints.

The first five types correspond to the first five of the six types enumerated in the Siddhasāra. The sixth category in the Siddhasāra, hereditary arśa, is not quoted in the Dunhuang manuscript, and the similarities between the two texts end here. Categories 6 through 15 of the manuscript differentiate the growth by its location on the body (abdomen, nose, teeth, tongue, ears, top of the head, feet and hands,

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back, anus, and the whole body). They do not correspond to the analysis of this symptom in the Chinese context either, such as in the Treatise on the Origins and Symptoms of Diseases or in Tang medical literature.96 The Indian influence on this Buddhist text is obvious; it is likely that the fifteen categories of zhi in the Dunhuang manuscript come from an unknown Indian text other than the Siddhasāra. For example, the Caraka-saṃhitā, which devotes a detailed chapter to hemorrhoids and healing recipes, says, “Some authors claim that arśa appear on the penis, vagina, throat, palate, mouth, nose, ears, and on the eyelids and skin. In fact, this broad interpretation concerns all flesh growths.”97 This passage shows that some Indian authors classified different types of growths according to their anatomical location. For curing the arśa, two healing methods are provided by S. 5379: incantations and remedies. The therapies prescribed in the Siddhasāra do not mention incantations. Another term often seen in Buddhist writings is lai 癩, a category that includes leprosy.98 This disease has a long history in Chinese medicine, whether in the Essential Principles from the Golden Cabinet (Jingui yaolüe 金貴要略), where it is grouped with scabies and other diseases that cause itching,99 or in the Treatise on the Origins and Symptoms of Diseases, where it is classified as a “wind disease” (fengbing 風病).100 In his Supplement to the Recipes Worth a Thousand in Gold (Qianjin yi fang 千金異方), Sun Simiao reserves a chapter for “malignant diseases treated by Jīvaka” (Qipo zhi ebing 耆 婆治惡病), in which he mentions the lai pathology caused by wind, known as kāmalā by the “barbarians” (hu 胡), probably referring to Central Asian people.101 In fact, the Collection of Meanings and Terms in Translation (Fanyi mingyi ji 翻譯名義集, T. 2131) confirms that kāmalā (迦摩羅, 或迦末羅) designates illnesses due to bile (huangbing 黃病), malignant dirtiness (egou 惡垢), or the lai pathology.102 It is remarkable that the Caraka-saṃhitā includes a chapter on leprosy (kuṣṭha).103 From an early date the lai disease has been associated in China with the concept of guilt and punishment. It is reported in History of Northern Dynasties (Beishi 北史): “I heard that one who kills the Son of Heaven necessarily incurs lai” 吾聞殺天子者身當癩;104 or, “What mistakes have the people committed to suffer from such lai?” 何罪得如此癩兒.105 To treat this type of disease, confession, contrition, or  religious practices were often used. The Ancient Tang History tells the story of a woman who was following the five precepts and ­communicated with demons.



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She could heal all those who had c­ ontracted lai. Her fame spread around the world, and people came from near and far to consult with her.106 Recipes to treat this disease are transmitted in the Tang scholarly literature. In Buddhist texts, the main healing method used for this pathology is the mantra of Amoghapāśa or that of Vajrakūmara.107 Ear, Nose, and Throat

The second medical category of Āyurveda, treatment of disorders of the ear, nose, and throat, is also well represented in Buddhist texts.108 Several texts belonging (for the most part) to the current of esoteric Buddhism indicate remedies for the eyes, including dhāraṇī. These have been partially studied by Chen Ming, who has identified seven sūtras including such recipes.109 To these sources should also be added the manuscript S. 7451, which gives a magical-religious recipe with three ingredients and that relates to Amoghapāśa. Comparison of the recipes from Buddhist sūtras with those from Indian sources, including the Suśruta and Aṣṭāṅgahṛdaya,110 demonstrates the existence of common elements and suggests the Āyurvedic origin of these recipes. Internal Medicine

If the third category, namely, internal medicine, is not as well represented, it nevertheless has importance in Buddhist texts, particularly those on Vinaya. The main diseases in the dhāraṇī texts are digestive system diseases such as emesis, loss of appetite, or diarrhea, urinary diseases, jaundice, heart pains, throat disorders, and especially epidemic diseases or malarial fevers (nüe) that would be caused by demons;111 diseases by contamination (zhu 注); and karmic diseases linked to bad behavior. Toxicology

The fourth category, toxicology, is often mentioned in Āyurvedic literature, where there are numerous references to poison and its treatment, as well as in Buddhist literature (Plate 9), where one of the most used antidotes is mantra or dhāraṇī.112 A tantric text, the Mahāmāyūrī vidyārājñi (Fomu da Kongque mingwang jing 佛母大孔 雀明王經), translated into Chinese by a team led by Amoghavajra, begins with the poisoning of a monk bitten by a black snake named

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Satya. He gives a dhāraṇī able to cure poisoning and all kinds of diseases, which are listed as follows: I have the great dhāraṇī of Mahāmāyūrī who has great power and can destroy all the poisons, fears, and calamities, and can protect all sentient beings who find peace. If you focus on the dhāraṇī of this vidyārājñi mother of Buddha, you can save and protect the bhikṣu Svati. . . . And also a patient suffering of malarial fevers for one, two, three, four, or seven days, fifteen days, or a month—either the next day or in a moment; the four hundred and four diseases and malaria syndromes; epidemic diseases with fever; diseases with pathogens in one side of the body (pianxie bing 偏邪病); goiters; diseases caused by Phlegm, Bile, or Wind; fevers due to the gods and demons or diseases due to the three humors together; indigestion, headaches, migraines, eyes, ears or nose pain, pain in the mouth, lips or jaw, pain in the teeth or tongue, throat disorders, pain in the chest, back and sides, pain in the heart, abdomen, waist, hips, knees, pain in the four members or the secret place (genitals), or full body pain. All these problems can be eliminated. 我有摩訶摩瑜利佛母​明王大陀羅尼。有大威力。能滅一切諸毒怖畏​災 惱。攝受覆育一切有情。獲得安樂。汝持我​此佛母明王陀羅尼。為莎 底苾芻而作救護。。​。又復瘧病一日二日​三日四日。乃至七日半月一 月。或復頻日或復​須臾。一切瘧病四百四病。或常​熱病 偏邪​病癭病。 鬼神壯熱風黃痰癊或三集病飲食​不消。頭痛半痛眼耳鼻痛。脣口頰痛 牙齒​舌痛。及咽喉痛胸脅背痛。心痛肚痛腰痛​腹痛髀痛膝痛。或四肢 痛隱密處痛遍身疼痛。​如是過患悉皆除滅。113

Therapeutic Methods There are several therapeutic practices typical of Buddhism described in these manuscripts. Some involve the patient himself, as copying texts or expressing contrition, others use substances or symbolic elements like talismans or seals, and still others require the intervention of an officiant, especially in rituals. Dhāraṇī and Medication

Buddhist medicinal remedies are characterized by their method of preparation, which almost always involves a precise ritual and the reciting of incantations. These magical words and visualizations are



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necessary to maintain the effectiveness of the remedy, or even to enhance it. Without such methods, demons and deities might ­consume the essence of the remedies, which then lose their effectiveness. Instructions to prepare medications are accompanied by many precautions to preserve their purity. P. 3914 of the tenth century describes a “method of constructing a ritual area for making remedies” (heyao jiejie fa 合藥結界法): in a clean room, burning the bestquality incense, visualizing four glass walls delimiting the space protected by the diamond-beings (vajra), recite an incantation seven times over the water used to purify the dirt, over clothes, and over the water that is to be consumed.114 Then one prepares the remedies. Sometimes the ritual is accompanied by offerings and prostrations to a deity. Incantations related to deities, most often from tantric Buddhism, are used with a limited range of remedies or supports. The most ­common are consecrated water, salt, pepper, butter, honey, vinegar, Karavīra wood (Nerium indicum Mill.), costus (qingmu xiang 青木 香), bezoar, and aromatic substances. These substances are all considered by Buddhists to have magical-religious potency, as is also the case with a number of perfumes, oils, butters, and fats frequently used in Āyurvedic medicine. These products could often be used to cure any disease. Perfumes were specifically used to treat mental illness: we find, for example, the use of benzoin with incantations in the Dunhuang manuscripts. A dhāraṇī or mantra may also be recited over a braided cord, the color of which depended on the illness, and on which a number of knots were made, generally in multiples of seven (seven, fourteen, twenty-one). One also could recite the mantra over holy water, with which the patient would clean a defined part of the face, over remedies, over water mixed with egg yolk, or over salt. It could also be written on a support and worn or swallowed with water. These uses of incantations are well documented in Indian literature.115 Talismans and Seals

During the rituals, or outside of them, it was possible to use seals and talismans believed to possess therapeutic power.116 Sometimes these were used together with incantations. One of the most important sources for this type of healing method is the Dhāraṇī-sūtra Presented to the Buddha by Āṭavaka, Generalissimo of Demons (Azhapoju

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guishen dajiang shang Fo tuoluoni jing 阿吒婆拘鬼神大將上佛陀羅 尼經), dating from the first half of the sixth century.117 This text advocates the use of talismans and seals of formidable power against the demons of disease. They could be printed on paper or the ­patient’s body, or they could be swallowed. When they entered the ­patient’s body, they pierced the demon that caused the disease. The most common seals were those of Ucchuṣma (Wushusemo 烏樞瑟摩), master of impurities, whose worship was very popular in Sino-Tibetan areas.118 The principal writings on the cult of this “diamond-­being” (Jingang 金剛) were translated by Ajitasena (Azhidasan 阿質達霰, Wuneng shengjiang 無能勝將) of North India,119 who worked in the region of Turfan in Central Asia in the first half of the eighth century. The Sūtra on the Rites for Exorcising a Hundred Supernatural Phenomena, According to the Diamond-Being Ucchuṣma (Huiji Jingang jin baibian fa jing 穢跡金剛禁百變法經), which he translated, includes seals very similar to the Daoist seals used to treat all diseases. A note embedded in this text indicates that, at the court of Tang Taizong (r. 626–649), many who employed this rite considered it very efficacious.120 Six Dunhuang manuscripts contain such seals.121 The eleventh section of S. 943 recommends the use of the seal of Xiuxiuluo against urinary incontinence. This seal, which is not shown in the manuscript, is reproduced in a dhāraṇī-sūtra dedicated to Āṭavaka that is included in the Taishō Tripiṭaka.122 A part of S. 2498 entitled “The Divine Original Secret Seals of Thirty Thousand Buddhas United Together and the Buddhist Method of the Race of Honorable Dragon Kings” (Sanwan fo tong genben shenbi zhi yin bing falong zhongshang zunwang fofa 三萬佛同根本神秘之印并法龍種上尊王佛法) contains five seals.123 The first, the seal of Vajrakumāra granting all wishes (Jingang tongzi suixin yin 金剛童子隨心印), is also given in P. 2153, which presents many similarities with S. 2498 and also with P. 2602. This seal must be engraved on white sandalwood to a depth of three inches (col. 417–420). A second seal, that of Avalokiteśvara, is worn on the body; it eliminates all diseases (col. 445–450). The third seal is indicated for curing malarial fever (nüeyin 瘧印); it is also worn on the body for protection from demonic influences. There remains a seal used against eye pain and a seal of the jade maiden who serves the Buddha (yunü feng Fo yin 玉女奉佛印) against disease, also called “seal which fulfills the wishes” (ruyi yin 如意印).124 These seals are used in several ways: by wearing them on



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oneself, by printing them on the body (as was done for eye pain), or by pointing them at a specific location (such as for curing contamination, zhubing 疰病). Another manuscript, P. 3916, mentions some seals for a successful birth and against serious diseases or heart pain.125 These are used with the sevenfold recitation of the mantra of Vajrakumāra. The distinction between a seal and a talisman is not always clear in these texts, but generally speaking, seals are surrounded by a square shape, while talismans are not delimited. S. 2498 comprises a large number of talismans, and it is the only Buddhist manuscript that clearly presents such objects. In column 412 it indicates talismans against eye ailments that must be drawn in the middle of a bowl with water used for washing the eyes. The talisman is formed of the same sign, repeated four times. There follows a talisman for difficult childbirth, which includes the character “sun” (ri 日) twice. Then there are two talismans against diseases due to demons (col. 420–421); talismans against difficult deliveries; talismans against the inconvenience of a public service career (col. 423–425a); talismans protecting against fate (col. 423– 425b); talismans against all demonic influences, to be ingested or worn (col. 426–428b); talismans that, when taken in large quantities, allow one to subjugate all diseases (col. 434–436); talismans against excessive cold and excessive heat (col. 437–439); talismans against diarrhea; and talismans against respiratory disorders (col. 440–442). These are used with twenty-one recitations of the incantation of Vajrakumāra Granting Wishes, while burning frankincense. A seal of Avalokiteśvara (col. 445–446) is mentioned, which, when worn on the body, disperses all disease because the demonic influences are seized by the seal. Finally, later in the manuscript (col. 470) we find a seal of Avalokiteśvara that fulfills wishes (Guanshiyin suixin yin 觀世音隨心印) when written on the heart or on the back of the patient. Offering by Fire

The offering by fire, though less frequent, nevertheless appears in manuscripts. P. 3835 gives a recipe to protect a home or a country from various threats, dangers, and diseases. One recites an incantation over 108 lotus flowers and throws the flowers one by one into a fire in the sacred area as an offering to unnamed wise men. Or, to give birth to the spirit of benevolence, one takes 108 pieces of sandalwood, each two inches long, over which a mantra is recited, and then throws

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them in the fire as an offering to the wise man. P. 3914 recommends a similar recipe to attract someone’s love. Methods of Contrition and Wishes

Contrition and confession of sins was another traditional healing method that was also popular at Dunhuang.126 Votive texts testifying to this practice include, for example, the manuscripts S. 343 and P. 3259, which mention an individual who had been infected with a disease for several decades and who could not be cured despite taking remedies and minerals. As a last resort, he turns to the Buddha and the monks. He repents, confesses his past faults, and requests that the merits accumulated by the recitation of sacred texts be transferred to those who are suffering so that their illness may cease: May the wonderful remedies of Jīvaka flow into the body and mind, the divine broth of wisdom constantly moisten the four elements. May the Buddhas increase the account of the years, celestial nāga offer the talisman of immortality. 耆婆妙藥淮主身心, 般若神湯恆流四大, 諸佛益長年之數, 龍天贈不死之 符。127

The prayers and votive texts also attest to the effectiveness of human beings propitiating deities to ask for healing. We have the example of a prayer asking for the healing of the religious woman Dingxiang 定祥.128 Such votive texts often involve pregnant women.129 Recipes Given by the Gods

Dunhuang has preserved an example of recipes given by the gods in the manuscript S. 5598, indicating a recipe that became very famous in Chinese medicine: the Pill to Strengthen the Heart (buxin wan fang 補心丸方). In China, this recipe is available in the medical sources that have survived through scholarly literature only from the Yuan onward, where it is called Elixir of the Heavenly King to Strengthen the Heart (tianwang buxin dan 天王補心丹). It is preserved in the text Effective Recipes of Physicians of This World (Shiyi dexiao fang 世醫得效方), by Wei Yilin 危亦林 of the Yuan dynasty. The Dunhuang text claims that this pill was transmitted to Daoxuan 道宣 by the



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deity Vaiśravana. In Indian medicine, several therapeutic formulas are likewise attributed to divinities.130 Copying Texts

Copying texts allowed for merit to be acquired by the copyist himself, but the merit also could be transferred to others. This method is well attested in Dunhuang, including during the occupation by the Tibetans and at the time of the Army Returning to Its Duty. A postscript to the Sūtra on the Names of a Thousand Buddhas (Xianjie qianfo mingjing 賢劫千佛名經), dated to 920, states: Da foming jing has been copied reverently in two hundred eighty-eight copies in the sole hope that the walls and ditches (i.e., the city) remain peaceful, that the people remain calm and healthy, that the prefecture chief secretary of the Cao family enjoys an eternal life, and that our families enjoy a long prosperity. 敬寫大佛名經貳​佰捌拾捌卷, 惟願城隍安泰, 百姓​康寧, 府主尚書曹公己 躬永壽, 繼紹長季含宅枝羅常​然慶吉。131

Several other copies of Foming jing include, at the end of the text, a colophon with the same assertion. The same type of method was applied to cure disease, and the Sūtra of Golden Light (Jin guangming zuisheng wang jing 金光明最勝 王經) seems to have been well known for its effectiveness. We have a fine example of the use of this sūtra for this effect in Dunhuang.132 A votive text by the prince Li Geng 李暅, probably dating from 911, says: On the fourth day of the third month of the year xinwei (911), I, a disciple, was extremely overwhelmed by the dysentery that my son Hong 弘 suddenly contracted. For him I have expressed the wish to copy the Jin guangming zuisheng wang jing. I address myself to all Buddhas and Bo­ dhisattvas, Great Beings, the Lord of Taishan, the Great King of Equality, the Great God of the Five Paths, the Department of Heaven and the ­Office of the Earth, the Rector of Fate and the Rector of the Registers, the Officer of the Land and Water, the demon king that spreads diseases, the envoy of pestilences, the head of the room where the registers are kept, the guard officer of the gates, the emissary especially responsible for all classes, and all the clerics of the underworld. I humbly implore them

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to have compassion and grant their protection and help. May the suffering of Hong soon disappear and his life span increase. Through the merit thus created, I wish only that all victims of injustice and all those who are owed money and life in the many lives of past, present, and future might benefit from these merits and be reborn in heaven. 辛未年二月四日, 弟子皇太子暅, 為男弘忽染痢疾, 非常困重, 遂發願寫 此金光明最勝王經, 上告一切諸佛, 諸大菩薩摩訶薩及太山府君, 平等大 王, 五道大神, 天曹地府, 司命司錄, 土府水官, 行病鬼王, 疫使, 知文籍官 院長, 押門官, 專使可監官, 並一切幽冥官典等, 伏願慈悲救護。願弘疾 苦早得痊平, 增益壽命。所造前件功德, 唯願過去, 未來見在, 數生已來 所有冤家債主, 負財負命者, 各願領受功德, 速得生天。133

Another example is a text about monastic discipline, the Text of the Four Precepts (Sijie wen 四戒文). The colophon written after the title says: In the fifteenth day of the fourth month of the year yimao, the disciple Suo Qing’er 索清兒 vowed to copy Sijie wen to treat an illness caused by an excessive heat (rebing 熱病) that has reached him. 乙卯年四月十五日, 弟子索清兒為己身忽染热疾, 非常困重, 遂发願寫此 四戒文。134

As already mentioned, the Suo family was one of the oldest families in Dunhuang and three members were known as eminent therapists and donors of goods to monasteries. Recall the example of Zhai Fengda, who made a copy of a number of sūtras, including the Fo shuo hu zhu tongzi tuoluoni jing, for his wife, who probably died in childbirth.135 There are plenty of texts proclaiming the benefits of copying, including the healing of diseases, that often give examples of people who have benefited from these methods. Examples of recopying are more numerous for apocrypha discussed at the beginning of this chapter. The Sūtra on Deliverance from Illness advocates contrition and copying sūtras as a healing method, and the Sūtra Urging Kindness recommends copying the sūtra to escape various misfortunes.136 By imperial decree, Jia Dan 賈 耽 (730–805), minister of the Left Department of State Affairs, reportedly disseminated this text, urging the people to refrain from evil and to dedicate themselves to the good. It predicted that within one year there would occur many deaths from seven diseases:



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malarial fevers (­nuebing 瘧病), seasonal afflictions (tianxing bing 天 行病), bloody diarrhea (chibai li 赤白痢), eye inflammations (chiyan bing 赤眼病), childbirth difficulties (chansheng 產生), clear diarrhea (shuili bing 水利病), and illnesses due to wind (fengbing 風病). It recommends copying the sūtra to escape these misfortunes. Likewise, the New Bodhisattva Sūtra (Xin pusa jing) predicts numerous disasters, including fatal diseases, and recommends copying this sūtra to avoid misfortunes. A copy of a manuscript of Sūtra on Incantations against Enchantments, Expounded by the Buddha (S. 2517 and S. 6146) was made as an offering by Linghu Jinzi 令狐進子. The Linghu clan was established for many years in Dunhuang. According to the tradition, it was originally called Ji, then adopted the name of Linghu when, under the Warring States, a clan member received the territory of Linghu.137 Their descendants formed one of the great clans of the region of Hexi, which counted illustrious personages among its members and was powerful enough that New Tang History integrates its genealogy among those of great ministers.138 It is attested that one member, Linghu Sizhen 令狐思珎, was physician to the prefectural medical school in 751.139 Many copies of sūtras were the work of members of this family.140 Zhai Fengda is also found among the names of copiers of that apocryphal text; he copied this sermon on the occasion of the third period of fasting for seven days for his dead mother (or possibly his dead wife).

As Buddhism spread from India to other parts of Asia, the location of Dunhuang at the crossroads of the Silk Road made this area a special place for the transmission of both Buddhism and techniques conveyed alongside this religion, especially medicine. Dunhuang is a very interesting place for understanding the tensions between local and global expressions of medicine due to the Chinese presence in this territory in certain periods of the Tang. Documents found in Mogao Cave 17 near the city of Dunhuang give us abundant and specific evidence of the influence of Buddhist medicine on the local society. We do not know exactly to what extent these methods were applied and by whom precisely, except for the period of the Army Returning to Its Duty, when it is clear that the aristocracy in power made wide use of these practices, as did the inhabitants of the monasteries. In any event, Buddhist conceptions of illness seem to have deeply penetrated into the culture of the Dunhuang elite during the Tang.

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These conceptions also spread into other parts of China, as evidenced by the literature circulating in China as well as their influence on some Chinese medical literature and healing methods used by some emperors or scholars. The illnesses mentioned in the Dunhuang manuscripts suggest widespread fears of certain specific diseases, such as epidemics, diseases of the skin, birthing difficulties, and childhood diseases, for which magical and religious practices, especially Buddhist ones, were important. We have evidence that many texts were copied for the purpose of curing illness, and we know the circumstances in which large Dunhuang families copied texts as meritorious acts to bring fortune and protection from calamities, including diseases. Buddhism has been an essential vehicle—alongside the activities of merchants and embassies of the countries of Central Asia and India in China—for the introduction of ideas, knowledge, techniques, and remedies of Indian medicine. This much is quite clear from the Dunhuang manuscripts concerning the demonic causes of childhood diseases, nosological classifications, the use of foreign formulas, and remedies associated with ritual practices and dhāraṇīs. Because these texts were not principally written in a formal setting, the Indian influence is consequently more visible than in Buddhist texts written in the Chinese capitals or elsewhere in East Asia. As for the more specific Buddhist healing knowledge, aside from major sūtras like the Vimalakīrti Sūtra or the Medicine Buddha Sūtra, apocryphal and tantric texts are numerous at Dunhuang. These show that the use of minor deities devoted to therapy, often of Indian origin, was widespread. This is particularly true of the Seven Buddhas of the past, the Four Heavenly Kings, and the tantric forms of Ava­ lokiteśvara, as well as for devas and demons such as Mahāmāyūrī, Āṭavaka, nāga, rakṣasa, and bālagraha, which were all worshipped for the goal of healing. The interplay between local and Indian forms of healing was possible through the production of so-called apocryphal sūtras, which incorporated local and foreign elements into a more or less standardized system. Also important were the activities of people with backgrounds in dual cultures, such as Sogdian Shi Naiying or Suo Zhiyue, who were known for their knowledge of both Indian and Chinese medicine. As for the more technical aspects of Buddhist medicine, there remains much research to do. However, the Dunhuang manuscripts have already allowed us the opportunity to learn more about the origins of this tradition and the translation of it in new locales.



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Notes 1. Two Dunhuang manuscripts confirm the existence of a medical school in the eighth century at Dunhuang. P. 2005 describes the site of this school in the enclosure of the prefectural academy (zhouxue 州學) in Shazhou 沙州; P. 2657 mentions Linghu Sizhen 令狐思珎, a member of a local family, and states that he was a “scholar in medicine” (yixue boshi 醫學博士) in the Tianbao era (742–755). 2. See Xin Tangshu, 48, 1244. 3. See the Simple Proven Recipes for Emergencies (Beiji danyan yaofang juan 備急單驗藥方卷), S. 3347, S. 3395r, S. 9987A, and S. 9987Cv, whose preface indicates that the text should be engraved on cliffs. In 723, Xuanzong (b. 685; r. 712–756) himself wrote the Recipes for Healing Numerous People (Guangji fang 廣濟方), to be disseminated throughout the empire, and in 746, the order was given to write the text on plates that were to be placed on the main roads of villages and cities (Tang huiyao, 82.1524). See Despeux 2010a, 342–344. 4. Xin Tangshu, 48: 1244. 5. Taiping yulan, 830: 3704. 6. See Zheng 2005, 345. 7. On the various healers in Dunhuang, see Despeux 2010b, 43–63. 8. Youposai jiejing, T. 1488: 1060c; see Gernet 1956, 214–215. 9. According to Zheng Binglin (2005, 346–353), this name should be pronounced Di; he suggests a Sogdian origin to this family. 10. On this topic, see Zheng and Dang 1995. See also Ning 2004. 11. See P. 3947, Zhai jia bei, xiantong 3, xiantong 8. 12. This text, entitled Fo shuo jiuhu jibing jing 佛說救護疾病經, is inventoried in the catalogue of the manuscripts lent by the Longxing Monastery in Dunhuang (P. 3010r-v); see Fang Guangchang 1997, 875. 13. See P. 3869r-v, in Fang Guangchang 1997, 763. 14. This text was edited in T. 2916. 15. These sūtras have been studied and presented in detail by Ling Fang 2010, 1001–1093. 16. On dhāraṇī in Chinese Buddhism, see Strickmann 1996, 59–126; Kuo 2005, 2006, 2007; Copp 2014. 17. Lamotte 1966, 1:317; cf. Strickmann 1996, 66. 18. Fayuan zhulin, T. 2122: 734c. 19. On this divinity and the sūtra, see Desjardins 2011. There were no fewer than seven Chinese translations, which date from the fourth to eighth centuries, and a Tibetan one from the ninth century. The Sūtra of the Great Peahen, Protective Queen (Fomu da Kongque mingwang jing 佛母大孔雀明王经, T. 982) was translated into Chinese by Amoghavajra (705–774). 20. On Amoghapāśa and its dhāraṇī, see Shinohara 2014. 21. Bei Zhou 42.

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22. The titles listed in Bei Zhou 42 are: Mayou shu shenzhou jing 麻油述神 呪經; A yi [. . .] zhoubing jing 阿夷[. . .]呪病經; Axiuluo tianshen duanzhu bu tui zhubing ren zhou 阿修羅天神斷住不退著病人呪; Zhou yi bing wen 咒疫病文; Si tianwang shenzhou 四天王神呪; Chu yiqie diankuang bing 除一切癲狂病; Fo shuo zhou shiqi bing 佛說咒時氣病; Guanshiyin xian shen shi zhongzhong yuan chu yiqie bing 觀世音現身施種種願除一切病; Zhou yanshui yin futong wen 咒鹽 水飲腹痛文; Shanhu chu bing 善護除病; Song zhou shou mo yan chu yiqie tong 誦咒手摩眼除一切痛; Chu zu zhongdu bing yusi 除卒中毒病欲死; Zhou yong chuangzhong 咒癰瘡中. See Fang Guangchang 1997, 542–545. 23. Qifo ba pusa suo shuo da tuoluoni shenzhou jing, T. 1332. 24. These are determined by transcription of their Sanskrit names, which are usually found in translated sūtras before the sixth century. See Kuo 1994b, 122; Wang-Toutain 2007, 5. On their roles in protection, see Skilling 1992, 163. 25. This class of demons, living at the base of Mount Sumeru, is often depicted with armor and a fierce demeanor. Twelve yakṣa generals that fight disease are part of the entourage of the Master of Medicines Buddha. 26. On this divinity, his incantations, and his representations, see Duquenne 1983, 622. 27. T. 1332: 557c. 28. T. 1336: 619a–623a. 29. This title has indeed been included in the Catalogue of Liang (Lianglu 梁 錄); see Kaiyuan shijiao lu, T. 2154: 624b. 30. These include dhāraṇī from Qifo shenzhou jing 七佛神呪經 and Tuo­ luoni bo jing 陀羅尼鉢經. See Lü 1995, 141. 31. Fayuan zhulin, T. 2122: 743a15–21, also in S. 943, col. 352–356. 32. T. 2122: 743a22–28, also in Qifo ba pusa suoshuo da tuoluoni shenzhou jing, T. 1332: 559a. 33. T. 2122: 743a, also in T. 1332: 558b. 34. Da Puxian tuoluoni jing, T. 1367: 885a, also in T. 1332: 558b–c. 35. The rākṣasa are a kind of ogre. 36. P. 2665v, S. 943, S. 2929, B. 7453, B. 7454, B. 7455, Jinyi. 301, Dh. 520 and Dh. 995. 37. Da Puxian tuoluoni jing, T. 1367, anonymous sūtra attested to 502–557. 38. Dh. 179, col. 28, Qifo shenzhou jing. See Fang Guangchang 1997, 1:529. 39. Dh. 2345, col. 5, Qifo shenzhou jing. See Fang Guangchang 1997, 1:535. 40. Bei Zhou 42, col. 2. See Fang Guangchang 1997, 1:542. 41. T. 1336: 619a–623a. 42. It has seventy-three sheets; see Fang Guangchang 1997, 2:1147. 43. Bukong Juansuo zhoujing, T. 1093. 44. Bukong Juansuo shenzhou xinjing, T. 1094.



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45. As listed in the catalogue of the library, Bei Xin 887; see Fang Guangchang 1997, 1:501. 46. P. 3852r. See Fang Guangchang 1997, 2:561. 47. Dh. 179. See Fang Guangchang 1997, 1:529. 48. The pothī is the form taken by the Buddhist scriptures in Central Asian monasteries. It looks like a pile of long, narrow, separate sheets of paper bearing on each face a manuscript or printed text. The stacked sheets are placed on a rectangular table, their long side parallel to the body of the reader. 49. T. 1092–1099. 50. For more details on this text, see Despeux 2010c, 935–940. 51. See Chen 2010, 1094–1127. 52. Lidai sanbao ji, T. 2034: 86a. 53. Kaiyuan shijiao lu (669–740), T. 2154: 687c. 54. Zhenyuan xinding shiji mulu, by Yuanzhao, who worked in Ximing Monastery at the capital Chang’an in 778. See T. 2157: 839b. 55. That is, those of Hu zhu tongzi tuoluoni jing (T. 1028a) and part 4 of Tuoluoni zaji (T. 1336). The Fo Shuo Hu zhu tongzi jing is also included in part 60 of Fayuan Zhulin (T. 2122), compiled by Daoshi of the Ximing Monastery, who worked in Chang’an between ca. 656 and 668 and died in 683 (T. 2122: 740a–741b). It is followed by other dhāraṇī for various diseases that refer to the Seven Buddhas of the past or to Avalokiteśvara. 56. It is listed in Dunyan 349 (see Fang Guangchang 1997, 916). Bei xin 329 also lists it; this catalogue specifies that it was in the same box as a copy of Jiuhu zhongsheng eji jing (ibid., 927) and was one of the books Daozhen had found. On the same manuscript, it is listed a little further on, in the same box as thirteen other texts including two dhāraṇī (ibid., 929). 57. See Chen 2010, 1111. On the texts copied by Zhai Fengda, see Teiser 1994, 102–121. 58. Fo shuo wuchang jing deng Zhai Fengda tiji yuanwen 佛說無常經等翟 奉達題記愿文. See Huang and Wu 1995, 930–931. 59. See Mollier 2008, 86. 60. Shengjia ni fennu jingang tongzi pusa chengjiu yigui jing  (Vajra­ kumāratantra), T. 1222, translated by Amoghavajra; and Jingang tongzi chinian jing, T. 1224, anonymous. 61. Qianshou qianyan Guanshiyin pusa zhibing heyao jing 千手千眼觀世音 菩薩治病合藥經 (T. 1059) and Qianshou qianyan Guanshiyin pusa guangda yuanman wu’ai dabei xin tuoluoni jing 千手千眼觀世音菩薩廣大圓滿無礙大悲 心陀羅尼經 (T. 1060). 62. See Strickmann 1996, 146–159, noting Sen 1945. 63. T. 901: 825c–826c. 64. The Tanguts, identified with the state of Western Xia (Xi Xia), and speaking a Tibeto-Burman language, moved to the northwest of China sometime before the tenth century and established the Tangut Empire (1038–1227).

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65. See Zheng 2000, 138–139. 66. The character jing 靜 employed on the manuscript for the name of the translator is probably a clerical error for jing 淨. 67. Ishinpō, 7:174. 68. Liao zhi bing jing, T. 1325. 69. Genben shuo yiqie youbu pinaiye yaoshi, T. 1448. 70. Neng jing yiqie yan jibing tuoluoni jing, T. 1324; Liao zhi bing jing, T. 1325; Zhou shiqi bing jing, T. 1326; Zhou chi jing, T. 1327; Zhou mu jing, T. 1328; Zhou xiao’er jing, T. 1329; Luofunu shuo jiuliao xiao’er jibing jing, T. 1330. 71. Lalou 1938, 1. 72. See Strickmann 2002, 143–151. 73. See Azhapoju guishen dajiang shang Fo tuoluoni shenzhou jing, T. 1237: 178c; Azhapoju guishen dajiang shang Fo tuoluoni jing, T. 1238: 180a–b. 74. Azhaboju yuanshuai dajiang shang Fo tuoluoni jing xiuxing yigui, T. 1239: 196c. 75. P. 2665v; S. 943; B. 7455; Jinyi. 301 in Tianjin shi yishu bowuguan cang Dunhuang wenxian, 1996. See note 36. 76. See T. 2130: 1029c6. 77. See Fanyi mingyi, T. 2131: 1086a. 78. According to the Indian embryology largely assumed by Buddhism, every seven days in utero, a “karmic wind” (yefeng 業風) matures the fetus. Such texts precisely describe body parts that appear or are changing every week. 79. Genben shuo yiqie youbu pinaiyezashi, T. 1451: 255b; or Da baoji jing, T. 310: 354a. 80. Maming pusa zhuan, T. 2046: 184a. 81. Fan fanyu, T. 2130: 1053a. 82. Mohe sengzhi lü, T. 1425: 244c. 83. See Chen 2010, 1125–1127. It is the manuscript Ch. 217a-c. 84. The date of this text is uncertain; probably the first Suśruta-saṃhitā was composed by about the middle of the first millennium BCE. 85. The date of this text is also uncertain. Vāgbhata, who lived in the seventh century CE, is one of the three classic writers on Āyurvedic medicine, with Caraka and Suśruta. In particular he is credited with the Aṣt̩ āṅgasaṃgraha. 86. This text is included in chapter 64 of the Cikitsāsaṃgraha, a therapeutic text composed around 1050. 87. Filliozat 1937, 30; Suśruta-sam̩ hitā, 3:30; see the Bhishagratna edition, Bhishagratna 1999. 88. Strickmann 2002, 218–227. 89. See Rgyud-bzhi, chap. 3, 73, as cited in Meyer 1992. 90. This is not the only list. See Fernand Meyer et al. 1992. 91. See, for example, the commentary of Mahāparinirvānasūtra by Baoliang (509), which lists internal medicine, ophthalmology, abscesses, pediatrics,



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demonology, toxicology, obstetrics, and astrology (T. 1763: 469a). See also Jin guangming jing translated by Yijing: puncture, injury, internal medicine, demonology, toxicology, pediatrics, longevity, culture of the vital strength (T. 665: 448b). See Salguero 2010–2011; 2014, 97–102; 2017, 36, 39n13. 92. For these two categories, see the study of Despeux 2010b, 769–870, and Harper 2010, 871–898. 93. See Liao zhibing jing, T. 1325. 94. The date of the composition of the Sanskrit text of the Siddhasāra by Ravigupta must precede 800 CE. 95. Chen 2002, 310–311, and his translation of the Siddhasāra, 422–427. 96. Most commonly, they mention five kinds of zhi. In the Qianjin yi fang (part 71), these five kinds of zhi are “male zhi” (muzhi 牡痔), “female zhi” (pinzhi 牝痔), “channels zhi” (maizhi 脈痔), “zhi of the intestines” (changzhi 腸 痔), and “bloody zhi” (xuezhi 血痔). The fivefold classification of the Waitai biyao (part 26) is a little different. 97. See Caraka-saṃhitā, chap. 14; see the edition in Papin 2009, 275. 98. This term is often translated as “leprosy,” but this nosological category is much broader than leprosy. See Leung 1999, 399–443. 99. Jingui yaolüe yulu, 14:144. 100. Zhubing yuanhou lun, 2:78–80. 101. Qianjin yi fang, 21:251. See Ling Fang 2010, 1017. 102. Fanyi mingyi ji, 1165c. 103. See translation by Papin 2009, 2:165–185. 104. Beishi, 19:691. 105. Beishi, 87:2899. 106. Jiu Tangshu, 56:2279. 107. P. 3914, sec. 13, fol. 9, col. 5–6. 108. We know how Indian ophthalmology has influenced the development of this discipline in China, especially through the book entitled Yinhai jingwei, translated into French by Thomas (1981). 109. Chen 2006, 28–46. He notes the recipes found in the following texts: Da foding guangju tuoluoni jing (T. 946: 162c); Qianshou qianyan Guanshiyin pusa guangda yuanman wu’ai dabei xin tuoluoni jing (T. 1060: 110b or T. 1059: 104a); Guanshiyin pusa mimizang ruyi lun tuoluoni shenzhou jing (T. 1082: 199a–b); Guanshiyin pusa ruyi moni tuoluoni jing (T. 1083: 201b); Ruyi lun tuoluoni jing (T. 1080: 195a); Bukong Juansuo shenbian zhenyan jing (T. 1092: 368a, 376c); Suxidi jieluo jing (T. 893b: 655c). 110. The Aṣṭāṅgahṛdaya-saṃhitā by Vagbhata, seventh century. Suśruta (one of the earliest surgeons), Charaka (a medical genius), and Vagbhata are considered to be the “trinity” of Āyurvedic knowledge, with Vagbhata coming later than the other two. 111. Yiqie Rulai da mimiwang weiceng you zui shang weimiao da mannuluo jing, T. 889: 542b.

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112. The Sifen lü, translated into Chinese by Buddhasmṛti (Zhufonian) in the fourth century, already gives a mantra for protection from snake venom; see T. 1428: 871a. 113. Fomu da Kongque mingwang jing, T. 982: 416b. 114. Jingang tongzi xinzhou, P. 3914, sec. 7, col. 3–5. 115. See Roṣu 1986, 210. 116. Michel Strickmann studied seals employed for exorcism and therapeutic purposes, whether those that come from Daoism or proto-Tantra and are kept in the Buddhist canon or those of the Dunhuang manuscripts. See Strickmann 2002, 123–194. 117. T. 1238. 118. On these texts in Dunhuang, see Bischoff 1950 and Iyanaga 1985. 119. He translated, for example, Da weili Wushusemo mingwang jing 大威 力烏樞瑟摩明王經, T. 1227. 120. Huiji jingang jin baibian fa jing, T. 1229: 161b. 121. S. 2438 and P. 3874 were presented by Michel Strickmann in his study of the seals in tantric Buddhism (2002, 163–170); P. 2153 and P. 2602 by Paul Copp (2011, 193–226); and these four plus S. 943 and P. 3916 by Despeux (2010c, 920–975). 122. Azhaboju guishen dajiang shang fo tuoluoni jing, T. 1238: 184c. 123. This text was published in T. 2906. 124. Most of these seals are also in P. 2153. 125. See P. 3916, fol. 55r, 55v, 56r. 126. See Kuo 1994a. 127. Text of the huanwen 患文, S. 343, col. 256–258. 128. P. 3556v (reverse of fol. 17 and 16). 129. See Huang and Wu 1995. 130. See Grīndranāth 1923, quoted in Filliozat (1949) 1975, 12. 131. P. 2312, last page. See also S. 3691 and S. 4240. 132. See Mayo 2005, 5–46. 133. There are still three copies of this text: S. 980, P. 3668, and a manuscript in the library of the Ryūkoku University edited in Saiki bunka kenkyū, 235. See Huang and Wu 1995, 920–921. 134. P. 3135r, col. 3. 135. See note 57. 136. See Ling Fang 2010, 1006–1007. 137. See Xin Tangshu, 75:3397–3399. 138. Ibid. 139. See P. 2657r, col. 74. 140. See Rao 1994, 150.



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References Dunhuang Manuscripts National Library of China, Beijing, China: Bei Xin 329, Bei Xin 887, Bei Zhou 42, B. 7453, B. 7454, B. 7455, B.7469, B.7679 Tianjin Library, China: Jinyi. 301 Institut of Oriental Studies, St. Petersburg, Russia: Dh. 179, Dh. 520, Dh. 995, Dh. 2345 National Library of France, Paris: P. 2153, P. 2236r, P. 2312, P. 2602, P. 2665v, P. 3135r, P. 3259, P. 3437, P. 3556v, P. 3668, P. 3914, P. 3916, P.  3920, P. 3947 British Library, London, England: S. 343, S. 943, S. 980, S. 988, S. 2498, S. 2929, S. 3691, S. 4240, S. 5379, S. 6161, S. 6986, S. 7451

Chinese Primary Sources Azhapoju guishen dajiang shang Fo tuoluoni shenzhou jing 阿吒婆拘鬼神大將上 佛陀羅尼經, anonymous (502–557), T. 1237, vol. 21. Azhaboju yuanshuai dajiang shang Fo tuoluoni jing xiuxing yigui 阿吒薄俱元帥 大將上佛陀羅尼經修行儀軌, by Śubhakarasiṃha (Shanwuwei 善無為) (637–735), T. 1239, vol. 21. Azhapoju guishen dajiang shang Fo tuoluoni jing 阿吒婆拘鬼神大將上佛陀羅尼 經, anonymous (502–557), T. 1238, vol. 21. Beishi 北史 (659), by Li Yanshou 李延壽 (ca. 618–676). Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1977. Bukong Juansuo shenbian zhenyan jing 不空羂索神變真言經, by Bodhiruci (­Putiliuzhi 菩提流志) (572–727 [sic]), T. 1092, vol. 20. Bukong Juansuo shenzhou xinjing 不空羂索神呪心經, translated by Xuanzang 玄奘 (602–664), T. 1094, vol. 20. Bukong Juansuo zhoujing 不空羂索呪經, by Jñānagupta (Shenajueduo 闍那崛 多) (523–600), T. 1093, vol. 20. Da baoji jing 大寶積經 (Ratnakūṭasūtra), by Bodhiruci (Putiliuzhi 菩提流志) (572–727), T. 310, vol. 11. Da foding guangju tuoluoni jing 大佛頂光聚陀羅尼經, anonymous (618–805), T. 946, vol. 19. Da Puxian tuoluoni jing 大普賢陀羅尼經, anonymous (502–557), T. 1367, vol. 21. Da weili Wushusemo mingwang jing 大威力烏樞瑟摩明王經 (fl. 732), by Ajitasena (Azhidasan 阿質達散), T. 1227, vol. 21. Fan fanyu 翻梵語, anonymous, T. 2130, vol. 54. Fanyi mingyi ji 翻譯名義集, by Fayun 法雲 (1088–1158), T. 2131, vol. 54.

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Fayuan zhulin 法苑珠林, by Daoshi 道世 (d. 683), T. 2122, vol. 53. Fo shuo liaozhi bing jing 佛說療痔病經, translated by Yijing 義淨 (635–713), T. 1325, vol. 21. Fomu da Kongque mingwang jing 佛母大孔雀明王經 (Mahāmāyūrī vidyārājñi), translated by Amoghavajra (Bukong 不空) (705–774), T. 982, vol. 19. Genben shuo yiqie youbu pinaiye yaoshi 根本說一切有部毗奈耶藥事  ([Mūla­ sarvāstivāda] Vinayavastu), translated by Yijing 義淨 (635–713), T. 1448, vol. 24. Guanshiyin pusa mimizang ruyi lun tuoluoni shenzhou jing 觀世音菩薩秘密藏如 意輪陀羅尼神呪經, by Śikṣānānda (Shichanantuo 實察難陀) (652–710), T. 1082, vol. 20. Guanshiyin pusa ruyi moni tuoluoni jing 觀世音菩薩如意摩尼陀羅尼經, by Ratnacinta (Baosiwei 寶思惟) (d. 721), T. 1083, vol. 20. Huiji jingang jin baibian fa jing 穢跡金剛禁百變法經 (ca. 732), translated by Ajitasena (Azhidasan 阿質達散), T. 1229, vol. 21. Ishinpō 醫心方 (984), by Tanba Yasuyori 丹波康賴, edited by Gao Wenzhu 高文 鑄, Yixin fang jiaozhu 醫心方校注. Beijing: Huaxia chubanshe, 1996. Jingang tongzi chinian jing 金剛童子持念經, anonymous, T. 1224, vol. 21. Jingui yaolüe yulu 金櫃要略語錄, by Zhang Zhongjing 張仲景 (beginning of the third century). Modern edition by Zhongyi yanjiuyuan 中醫研究院 1974. Beijing: Renmin weisheng chubanshe. Jiu Tangshu 舊唐書 (945), by Liu Xu 劉昫 (887–946) et al. Modern edition 1975. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju. Kaiyuan shijiao lu 開元釋教錄, by Zhisheng 智昇 (669–740), T. 2154, vol. 55. Liao zhi bing jing 療痣病經, translated by Yijing 義淨 (635–713), T. 1325, vol. 21. Lidai sanbao ji 歷代三寶記 (597), by Fei Changfang 費長房, T. 2034, vol. 49. Luofunu shuo jiuliao xiao’er jibing jing 囉縛孥說救療小兒疾病經, translated by Faxian 法顯 (end of tenth century), T. 1330, vol. 21. Mohe sengzhi lü 摩訶僧祇律 (Mahāsāṃghikavinaya), by Buddhabhadra 佛陀跋 陀羅 (359–429), translated by Faxian 法顯 (d. 416), T. 1425, vol. 22. Maming pusa zhuan 馬明菩薩傳, translated by Kumarajīva, T. 2046, vol. 50. Neng jing yiqie yan jibing tuoluoni jing 能淨一切眼疾病陀羅尼經, translated by Amoghavajra 不空, T. 1324, vol. 21. Qianjin yi fang 千金異方, by Sun Simiao 孫思邈 (581–682?). Beijing: Renmin weisheng chubanshe, 1995. Qianshou qianyan Guanshiyin pusa guangda yuanman wu’ai dabei xin tuoluoni jing 千手千眼觀世音菩薩廣大圓滿無礙大悲心陀羅尼經, by Bhagavaddhar­ma (Jiafandama 伽梵達摩) (active ca. 650–660), T. 1060, vol. 20. Qifo ba pusa suo shuo tuoluoni shenzhou jing 七佛八菩薩所說陀羅尼神呪經, anonymous (317–420), T. 1332, vol. 21. Ruyi lun tuoluoni jing 如意輪陀羅尼經, by Bodhiruci (Putiliuzhi 菩提流志) (? 572–727), T. 1080, vol. 20.



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Sanwan fo tong genben shenbi zhi yin bing falong zhong shang zunwang fofa 三萬佛同根本神秘之印並法龍種上尊王佛法 (S. 2438), T. 2906, vol. 85. Shengjia ni fennu jingang tongzi pusa chengjiu yigui jing 聖迦柅忿怒金剛童子菩 薩成就議軌經 (Vajrakumāratantra), translated by Amoghavajra, T. 1222, vol. 21. Sifen lü 四分律 (Dharmaguptakavinaya), by Buddhayaśas (Fotuoteshe 佛陀耶 舍), translated by Zhufonian 竺佛念 (fourth century), T. 1428, vol. 22. Suxidi jieluo jing 蘇悉地羯羅經 (Susiddhikaramahātan), by Śubhakarasiṃha (Shanwuwei 善無為) (637–735), T. 893b, vol. 18. Taiping yulan 太平御覽, by Li Fang 李昉 (925–996) et al. Modern edition 1992. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju. Tang huiyao 唐會要, by Wang Pu 王溥 (922–982). Modern edition 1988. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju. Tianjin shi yishu bowuguan cang Dunhuang wenxian 天津市藝術博物館藏敦煌 文獻, vol. 1. Edited by Tianjin yishu bowuguan 天津藝術博物館 1996. Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe. Tuoluoni jijing 陀羅尼集經, by Atigupta (Adiquduo 阿地瞿多), T. 901, vol. 18. Tuoluoni zaji 陀羅尼雜集, anonymous, 502–557, T. 1336, vol. 21. Xin Tangshu 新唐書 (ca. 1043–1060), by Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修 (1007–1072), Song Qi 宋祁 (998–1061), et al. Modern edition 1977. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju. Yiqie Rulai da mimiwang weiceng you zui shang weimiao da mannuluo jing 一切如 來大祕密王未曾有最上微妙大曼拏羅經, by Tianxizai 天息災, T. 889, vol. 18. Youposai jiejing 優婆塞戒經 (Upāsakaśīla), translated by Tanwuchen 曇無讖 (385–433/436), T. 1488, vol. 24. Zhenyuan xinding shijiao mulu 貞元新定釋教目錄, by Yuanzhao 圓照 (eighth century), T. 2157, vol. 45. Zhou chi jing 呪齒經, translated by Zhu Yunwulan 竺雲無蘭 (end of fourth century), T. 1327, vol. 21. Zhou mu jing 呪目經, T. 1328, vol. 21. Zhou shiqi bing jing 呪時氣病經, T. 1326, vol. 21. Zhou xiao’er jing 呪小兒經, T. 1329, vol. 21. Zhubing yuanhou lun 諸病源候論 (610), by Chao Yuanfang 巢元方 et al. Modern edition Ding Guangdi 丁光迪 1992. Beijing: Renmin weisheng chubanshe.

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Wang-Toutain, Françoise. 2007. “Le ‘Sûtra qui sauve des maladies.’ Un aspect peu connu de Vajrapani, protecteur de la Loi.” In Études de Dunhuang et Turfan, collected and edited by Jean-Pierre Drège, with the collaboration of Olivier Venture. Genève: Droz. Zheng Acai 鄭阿財. 2000. “Dunhuang xieben ‘Foding xin Guanshiyin pusa da tuoluoni jing’ yanjiu” 敦煌寫本佛頂心觀世音菩薩大陀羅尼經研究 [Research on the Uṣṇīṣavijayadhāranī-sūtra, a form of Avalokiteśvara], communication to the International Conference on Dunhuang Studies, 138–139. Zheng Binglin 鄭炳林 and Dang Xinling 黨新玲. 1995. “Tangdai Dunhuang sengyi kao” 唐代敦煌僧醫考 [Research on the healing monks in Dunhuang during the Tang dynasty]. Dunhuang xue 敦煌學 12:31–46. ———. 2005. “Non-Han Ethnic Groups and Their Settlements in Dunhuang during the Late Tang and Five Dynasties.” In Les Sogdiens en Chine, edited by Étienne de la Vaissière and Éric Trombert, 17:323–362. Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient, Études thématiques.

5

Empowering the Pregnancy Sash in Medieval Japan Anna Andreeva

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fter its introduction from Korea and China during the sixth to ninth centuries, Buddhism came to play a major role in medieval Japan. Transported across the sea, the diverse array of Buddhist scriptural sources, ritual techniques, and deities was subtly reconfigured to suit Japan’s local contexts and intertwined with its own traditions and landscapes. Previous chapters have persuasively argued that healing was an inseparable aspect of the Buddhist proselytization effort, metaphorical language, and practices within broader East Asia, and Japan was certainly no exception. But one of the key questions remains: How did the medieval Japanese Buddhist and healing practices reflect the complex transcultural entanglements between Indian and Chinese “Buddhisms” and Sinitic traditions of medical learning? Buddhist temples in Kyoto and central Japan preserved a sizable number of manuscripts that included portions or are extant copies of classical Chinese medical works. The growing scholarship on temples close to the centers of political power and maritime trade in eastern Japan, such as Shōmyōji 称名寺 and Gokurakuji 極楽寺 near Kamakura (now Kanagawa Prefecture), reveals their ample links to the study and practice of medicine.1 Moreover, as Andrew Macomber’s chapter in this volume further demonstrates, Japanese monks were keenly aware of curing technologies and adopted them into their ritual protocols beginning in early medieval times.2 This provides us with vital clues about the Japanese appropriation of Buddhism as well as the important aspects of medieval knowledge on health and various bodily states, as 160



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conceived within the Buddhist temple milieu, specializing mostly in esoteric teachings (mikkyō 密教). This particular strand of Buddhism is important, since its teachings, based on the Chinese translations of esoteric sūtras originating in Central Asia and India, became one of the major forms of institutionalized Buddhism in Heian (794–1185) and Kamakura (1185–1333) Japan. One previously overlooked array of medieval Japanese Buddhist practices linking esoteric ritual and healing stands out in particular: the knowledge and expertise of Buddhist scholar-monks on childbirth and women’s health.3 The larger study of childbirth in medieval Japan is still ongoing, but a preliminary analysis of medieval Buddhist handbooks and ritual memoranda on pregnancy and childbirth, as well as court protocols, personal diaries, and divination records produced at the behest of Japan’s imperial court, has shown several important trends. Although the processes and events these records describe all centered implicitly on pregnant noblewomen, they were overseen and directed formally by the male heads of aristocratic families (that is, fathers and brothers), and ritually by male esoteric Buddhist clerics, many of whom were connected to the imperial house and the elite households by blood or family ties. Additional support was also ­continuously provided by the yinyang diviners (onmyōji 陰陽師; the timekeeping specialists and prognosticators), exorcists and spirit mediums, physicians (kusushi 医師), midwives, wet nurses, and female relatives. The social organization of pregnancy and childbirth at the medieval Japanese court thus suggests that these vital experiences in the noblewomen’s reproductive lives required different kinds of support by many men and women, each specializing in different tasks and “arts of judgment.”4 As already mentioned, it was the Buddhist scholar-monks, clerics, and scribes who had left a substantial number of records on the ritual proceedings underpinning the elite women’s personal experiences of pregnancy and childbirth, but hardly any of these records have been studied so far in any detail. As a part of a larger ongoing study of Japanese Buddhist sources focusing on pregnancy and childbirth, this chapter investigates a ritual practice called the “empowerment of the pregnancy sash” (ninsha no obi no kaji 妊者帯加持) and places it in a broader historical ­context. This ritual framed the reproductive lives of noblewomen in medieval Japan.5 In the course of its investigation of this practice, this chapter first identifies the special elements that can be traced to the

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Indian and Chinese forms of Buddhism (especially their esoteric varieties) and traditions of medical learning. Second, the chapter discusses these elements as embedded within the context of medieval Japan, thus demonstrating the impressive degree to which esoteric teachings had become entangled with the gendered Buddhist practices, medicine, and politics, both at the Japanese court in Kyoto and among the elite warrior families in Kamakura. The distance between the two medieval capitals further highlights the fact of Buddhism’s transregional mobility within Japan. Some of these elements are the special Buddhist terms, concepts, and deities used in ritual actions focusing on pregnant women and their unborn or newly born children; others appear as material objects and substances appropriated from the healing-oriented medical discourses of India and China and “translated” into Japanese practice. For example, among the crucial forms of learning deriving from Indic forms of Buddhism and adopted into the Buddhist contexts of East Asia were the study and ritual use of Sanskrit seed syllables and incantations (such as dhāraṇī and mantras). These played a major role in the practices of both esoteric Buddhism and healing in medieval Japan and thus are amply referred to in this chapter. Esoteric deities who may have arrived in Japan from Central Asia and India, via Korea and China, are another example of the Buddhist elements on the move. To add to this, the Japanese term kaji 加持, featuring in the name of the “empowerment of the pregnancy sash” ritual, is a Chinese translation of the Sanskrit term adhiṣṭhāna. Although it is difficult to translate precisely, the term kaji indicates a kind of ritual fortification of an object or a person in front of an esoteric altar through the performance of ritual actions, such as symbolic purification with water or other substances, incantations, and prayers, or through activating direct links to certain deities. It is well known in esoteric Buddhism and was practiced on multiple occasions in medieval Japan.6 At the imperial court and in elite aristocratic households in Kyoto, this particular ritual focusing on the pregnancy sash was usually (although not exclusively) conducted by high-ranking clerics from the imperial temples during the fifth month of pregnancy. A purchased fabric was sent to a temple for purification and ritual empowerment. This ritual incorporated several transregionally mediated Buddhist elements, as explored later in this chapter. The empowered fabric was then delivered back to the household for further use as a pregnancy sash. This practice utilized the rituals of esoteric Buddhism (mikkyō) to protect



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the royal consorts and their unborn children, but also, on some occasions it featured an insertion of a special medicine whose ingredients and method of preparation derived from Chinese medical traditions. In symbolic terms, the wrapping of the consort’s abdomen in a purified, ritually empowered piece of cloth (chakutai no gi 着帯の儀) at the point in time when her pregnancy had been socially acknowledged was meant to “fixate” the ritual temporality of pregnancy and the impending birth of a royal or shogunal heir, that is, to make it conform to the Buddhist understandings of biological processes (particularly embryology), and to impose Buddhist “ritual time” on a pregnant female body.7 The sections that follow introduce a typical pregnancy sash ritual description, based on medieval and modern manuscripts; trace the provenance of its components to earlier Japanese Buddhist sources produced at esoteric temples with links to the imperial court; and discuss its contents in comparison to other historical records describing the actual procedures undertaken by the court and leading aristocratic families during the pregnancies of the imperial consorts in medieval Japan. N insha

no obi no kaji :

A Typical Example

Based on the study of an early medieval court diary, the scholar of Japanese art history Naoko Gunji has recently discussed “a ceremony of donning a maternity sash” (chakutai no gi) and its empowerment before the birth of Emperor Antoku in 1178.8 Although she provides only a single example based on a single source, a survey of medieval documents from Japanese temple archives and their modern copies suggests that such rituals and ceremonies had been conducted in Japan since the first decades of the twelfth century, if not earlier. Multiple short handbooks containing the ritual memoranda for empowering the pregnancy sash and dating from medieval and early modern times exist in Japanese temple archives and libraries including Mount Hiei near Kyoto, Mount Kōya in Wakayama Prefecture, and Kanazawa Bunko (the library of Shōmyōji) in eastern Japan.9 There are some differences between the Tendai and Shingon transmissions of this ritual, although often these respective transmissions quote and borrow from each other.10 Here, I will discuss a Shingon version that appears to have had considerable circulation in medieval Japan. The following analysis is based on a study of a modern copy of Ninsha no obi no kaji by a certain Yūshin 宥真 (n.d.), owned by

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the author. With minor exceptions (for example, the order of ­composite parts of the text) it is mostly identical to other similar medieval Shingon manuscripts. Usually, such a handbook is a short square-leaf bound manuscript of a few pages, with a title, Obi no kaji 帯加持 (Sash empowerment), and copyist’s name written on the front page, top left and lower right corner, respectively. These manuscripts are rarely dated. Some include one or two additional ritual procedures related to women’s or infants’ health, for example, “the empowerment of hot bathwater [for a newborn]” (yu no kaji 湯加持) or a short instruction on how to quell a bout of night crying (yonaki 夜啼).11 The brief, almost codified contents of such handbooks suggest that there were several aspects of aristocratic women’s (and their newly born children’s) bodily experiences for which the intervention of esoteric Buddhist ritual was made necessary, and that the elite noble houses in Kyoto and warrior families in Kamakura sought such ritual knowledge to protect the well-being of their daughters and wives. This section will describe the typical contents of such short handbooks and trace their origins to earlier Japanese sources wherever possible. A colophon in Yūshin’s modern copy, repeated in other such handbooks from the Shingon tradition, indicates that the ritual was partially based on the transmissions from Sanbōin 三寶院, an important subtemple of the esoteric temple complex of Daigoji 醍醐寺, ­located on Mount Daigo in the Fushimi district, to the southwest of the Heian capital (now Kyoto). Since its inception in 794 and throughout much of the late Heian (794–1185) and Kamakura (1185–1333) periods, the Daigoji temple heads (zasu 座主) were high-ranking Buddhist clerics related to Japan’s imperial house by blood. Being the offspring of the royal or an aristocratic family, these clerics were in a position to perform important esoteric rituals pacifying illnesses, protecting, or prolonging the life span (Ch. ming 命; J. mei, myō) of the royal family members, including the retired and ruling emperors and their wives and consorts. The ninsha no obi no kaji manuscripts of this line thus appear to intentionally highlight a link to the tradition of esoteric rituals performed by the Daigoji (especially Sanbōin) and, as will be shown shortly, Tōji clerics for the benefit of pregnant imperial consorts in Kyoto. The existence of similar handbooks at Kanazawa Bunko indicates that by the early fourteenth century the ritual protocols of imperial esoteric temples in Kyoto designed specifically for royal consorts were eventually copied for the benefit of



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shogunal wives and elite warrior women in Kamakura in eastern Japan (Kantō region), located some five hundred kilometers east of Kyoto.12 As is shown later in this chapter, these short documents were most likely prepared to serve as mnemonic notes for Buddhist clerics who found themselves in charge of ritual performance for safe pregnancy and childbirth requested by the court, shogun, or leading warrior families residing in Kamakura. Ninsha no obi no kaji handbooks usually include brief object specifications and ritual prescriptions. Starting with a personal appellation (watashi iwaku 私云, “I said”), page 1 (recto) of the modern copy notes only that “the sash length [should be] one jō and two shaku, or eight shaku, or six shaku and six sun” and that the material should be folded six times.13 On first inspection it is not clear whose words the handbook cites, as all of the enclosed descriptions are of the shortest, most necessary instructive kind. Nevertheless, the modern copy of Ninsha no obi no kaji suggests that the format and ­contents of citations for this short ritual protocol remained stable from the medieval period onward in at least one transmission and that this transmission continued to circulate in Japanese esoteric temples, most likely for the purposes of educating Buddhist priests in this specialized ritual knowledge. The order of the following items may differ slightly, but often page 2 (verso) explains in terse, codified terms a short memorandum on the ritual transformation and empowerment of the fabric (or possibly an existing sash), which is to be returned to a noblewoman and used further during the remaining months of her pregnancy for supporting the lower abdomen. Empowerment of the Pregnancy Sash (ninsha no obi no kaji) [Intone] a prayer specifying the ritual goal (kinen 祈念) over the measured sash [material] in front of the Buddha. Empowerment (kaji): [sprinkle] the perfumed water (kōsui 香水) on the inside of the sash.14 Write the “easy birth dhāraṇī” (ekisan darani 易産陀羅尼), by sprinkling the perfumed water. Next, empower it with seed-syllable spells of Mahāvairocana (Dainichi 大日), Bhaiṣajyaguru (Yakushi 薬師), the Peacock [King] (Kujaku 孔雀), and the Immovable One (Fudō 不動). The “easy birth dhāraṇī” [are these]: oṃ hō ra nī hō ra nī sowaka.15

The aforementioned segment lists the invocations of several esoteric deities, known in Japan as Gundari, Dainichi, Yakushi, Kujaku, and Fudō,

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that were appealed to for safety during childbirth in the Shingon and Tendai esoteric traditions.16 However, here the handbook does not give any immediate indications where these particular ritual transmissions came from, or how they came to constitute the pregnancy sash empowerment procedure. The so-called easy birth dhāraṇī, on the other hand, may serve as a vital clue. Essentially, it was a long string of Sanskrit seed syllables, an incantation formula designed to help women during labor. Such strings of syllables were listed in several Buddhist scriptures translated into Chinese that were imported to Japan before and during the early Heian period (794–1185).17 And although no uniform formula existed (since such dhāraṇī could be sourced from various scriptures privileged by different esoteric temples), it appears that at least one variant of it was known within both Shingon and Tendai esoteric milieu and transmitted as a part of ritual protocol designed to assist women throughout their pregnancies and labor. The Shingon handbooks on the pregnancy sash empowerment usually offer a full citation of this formula written in Sanskrit with a partial side transliteration in Japanese katakana syllables.18 Subtitled “The Mantra” (mata shingon 又眞言; lit. “another mantra”), this formula is written in five lines, each consisting of nine Sanskrit seed syllables (forty-five altogether).19 (For an exact copy of the short dhāraṇī, see fig. 3.) A closer inspection of medieval ritual documents included in the Japanese Buddhist canon (Taishō daizōkyō 大正大蔵経) reveals that this very formula almost in its entirety also appears in a Tendai collection of ritual protocols, Gyōrinshō 行林抄 (On Walking in the Forest, T. 2409) compiled in 1154 by the Mudōji 無動寺 monk Jōnen 静然.20 During the Heian period, when many Chinese translations of esoteric scriptures from Central Asia and India were imported to Japan, Japanese Tendai Buddhist scholars, most notably the ninthcentury systematizer of esoteric traditions Annen 安然 (841?–880?), were among the first to contribute to the assembling of ritual and religiomedical knowledge that could be employed for the benefit of the imperial court. Within the Tendai school, Annen, for example, was thought to have compiled a short handbook, titled Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū 求子妊胎産生秘密法集 (Collection on secret rituals for conception, pregnancy and childbirth, n.d.), for the sake of the ninth-century Fujiwara family daughters who had a chance to become royal consorts.21 But although this pioneering Heian-period handbook assembled from multiple Buddhist sources by this Tendai



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Figure 3. Obi no kaji 帯加持, by Yūshin 宥眞, n.d. Photo by the author of a modern copy in her personal collection.

scholar contains several references to the various dhāraṇī thought to be efficacious on different occasions for pregnant women, it does not cite the forty-five-syllable “easy birth dhāraṇī” in full,22 while Jōnen’s 1154 Gyōrinshō does. The search for the “easy birth dhāraṇī” within the canonized Japanese Buddhist sources reveals more clues to the history of “empowering the pregnancy sash” and further supports its links to the Sanbōin lineage of Daigoji. Another early medieval collection of ritual protocols, commentaries, and oral transmissions, this time from the aforementioned Shingon temple itself, has a fragment that

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partially matches the modern and medieval manuscript examples, although with significant additions and variations. Kōshinshō 幸心鈔 (Notes on the fortunate mind, T. 2498) was one of the few treatises penned by the Daigoji monk Kenjin 憲深 (1192–1263), also known under the names Gokurakubō 極楽房 and, later, “the prelate of Hōōn’in” (Hōōn’in sōjō 報恩院僧正).23 In his treatise, he also left notes on the empowerment of the pregnancy sash with several references to the “easy birth dhāraṇī.” The following passage describes the practical steps to be undertaken by a cleric performing this ritual. On the Empowerment of the Sash (obi no kaji 帶加持事). Question: The empowerment of the sash. I have received a transmission last year. Are there still any [further] details? Answer: The ritual procedure is largely reduced, [it is more] like a ritual memorandum (shidai 次第). However, [as for the] empowerment, during the sprinkling of perfumed water (kōsui), open the lid of the water vessel (shasuiki 灑水器); the scooping ladle must be placed horizontally on top of the water vessel. After the kaji ritual, it must be like that. When sprinkling the obi sash and writing the “easy birth dhāraṇī” [with water inside it], the ladle should be placed on top of the water vessel. Such is the master’s oral transmission. Next, the five kinds of mantra (goshu shingon 五種眞言) all must be used with mudras (in 印) and incantations (myō 明). The five-pronged vajra [mudra] from the Mahāvairocana sūtra (Dainichikyō 大日經); on top of the five-syllable incantation (Ten[dai style]) and Bhaiṣajyaguru’s dharma-world’s “decision-mudra” (Yakushi hokkai jōin 樂師法界定 印), one must contemplate on the medicine bowl (yakuko 藥壷). Incantations should be as usual. There must be a fan (ōgi 扇) for the “outerbinding mudra” of the Peacock King (Kujaku myōō gaibakuin 孔雀明 王外縛印). The “sword mudra” of the Immovable One (Fudō ken’in 不 動劍印) and his “merciful salvation” spell (jiku ju 慈救呪). The “wisdom fist mudra” of One-Syllable Golden Wheel (Ichiji kinrin chiken’in 一字金輪智拳印). If [using] the incantation of King of Buddha’s Protuberance Wheel ([But]chō rinnō myō [佛]頂輪王明), [then it should be] as usual.24

Kenjin’s explanations on the pregnancy sash empowerment e­ xpand the brief instructions provided within the first pages of the modern copy and other comparable medieval manuscripts. The inclusion of certain deities and scriptures, hand gestures, or material



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attributes associated with them (namely, Dainichi, Yakushi, Kujaku, and Fudō) suggest that Kenjin’s treatise, which may have been written between 1253 and his passing in 1263, reflected the earlier Daigoji tradition of the pregnancy sash empowerment. What is important here, and what both the surviving Tendai and Shingon medieval sources suggest, is that the Buddhist clerics’ knowledge of a specific string of esoteric incantations, called the “easy birth dhāraṇī,” created a certain appeal for the imperial court, politically motivated by the necessity to produce imperial offspring, and that this juncture, in principle, may have necessitated the creation of a small ritual of empowering the pregnancy sash for imperial consorts. Returning to the medieval ninsha no obi no kaji handbooks and their modern copy, these usually include additional mantras, subtitled the “decision-achieving mantra” (ketsui jōjū shingon 决意成就眞言), in six syllables, and “mantra of adamantine liberation” (kongō gedatsu shingon 金剛解脱眞言), in eight syllables. Both reportedly derive from the Tōji 東寺 tradition.25 The adjacent note in smaller characters states: “The thirty cursive books at Tōji [say that] this spell is potent” (kono ju [wa] kunō [ari] 此咒功能),” thus suggesting that this segment was copied from the sources close to this imperial esoteric temple, also located in Kyoto.26 The handbooks also include a small square talisman drawing, with the character hotoke 佛 (Buddha) in its center, and four characters at the bottom, from right to left: hotoke (Buddha), yumi 弓 (bow), yumi, ji 字 (syllable, letter). This drawing is accompanied by two notes. In the Kanazawa Bunko manuscript, one of these appears similar to the note on the Tōji books, stating: “the talisman for an easy birth” (ekisan no fu 易産 符). The note below the drawing reads: “[I] roughly recorded this talisman. Copy it as a small item, fold it, and administer during the time of labor (sanshō no ki 産生期). It appears in the Taigen ritual memoranda (Taigen ki 太元軌) brought [to Japan from Tang China] by [the Japanese monk] Jōgyō 常暁 (d. 866).” (For an identical drawing and annotation in the modern version, see fig. 4.) This segment indicates that in addition to the so-called easy birth dhāraṇī in medieval Japan, there existed a separate talisman that may have been used not so much during the latter months of pregnancy but during labor, although both could be transmitted to the pregnant woman at the same time. The assumption displayed in medieval Shingon handbooks on pregnancy sash empowerment is that the “easy birth talisman” originated in a particular ritual text brought

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Figure 4. Obi no kaji 帯加持, by Yūshin 宥眞, n.d. Photo by the author of a modern copy in her personal collection.

from China to Japan by the said monk Jōgyō and that it had been adopted within the medieval Japanese esoteric milieu, particularly the Ono school of Shingon. For example, the Kajūji 勧修寺 monk Kōzen 興然 (1121–1203), later the abbot of its Jison’in 慈尊院 subtemple, noted in his collection of ritual transmissions Shikan 四巻 (Four scrolls, T. 2500) that such a talisman was also called “the Taigen talisman” (Taigen no fu 太元符).27 He mentioned that Daigoji clerics had a long tradition of performing the childbirth-related rituals for royal consorts, starting with the two royal consorts of Emperor Toba 鳥羽 天皇 (1103–1156) in the first half of the twelfth century. These cases included the Sanbōin sōjō Shōkaku 三寶院僧正勝覺 (1058?–1129), who officiated during the labor of Taikenmon’in 待賢門院 (1101– 1145), and the aforementioned Daigoji cleric Rishōbō Kenkaku, who provided ritual support during the labor of Bifukumon’in 美福門院 (1117–1160).28 The example of rites conducted during Taikenmon’in’s



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pregnancy and labor would become an important precedent for later practices at court. I return to this point in the next section. As for the further historicity of the claim made within medieval and modern handbooks on ninsha no obi no kaji, indeed, the Japanese Taishō canon includes a record compiled in the second half of the ninth century, Jōgyō ōshō shōrai mokuroku 常曉和尚請來目錄 (List of items brought [from Tang China to Japan] by Venerable Jōgyō, T. 2163). This text suggests that in 839 Jōgyō crossed by sea to Tang China, where he learned the secret Taigensui ritual from the Chinese esoteric masters.29 Upon his return to Japan, Jōgyō brought with him the so-called Taigensui mandala and several depictions of this deity,30 as well as a scroll entitled Taigensui nenju giki 太元帥念誦儀軌 (Ritual commentary on the invocation of the great commander [of demons] (Skt. Āṭavaka; J. Taigensui).31 The reception of these ritual texts in Japan was further acknowledged by the previously mentioned ninth-century Tendai scholar Annen, who included them in his comprehensive list of Buddhist scriptures and ritual texts brought by the Japanese monks from Tang China.32 In his catalogue, Annen listed at least eight esoteric scriptures and protocols related to the performance of the Taigensui ritual (Taigensui hō 太元帥法), which had been adopted for yearly performances by the Japanese imperial court during the ninth century.33 However, his records do not include any further references to the “easy birth talisman.” At this point, we must draw the preliminary conclusion that the “easy birth talisman” was transmitted separately as a part of the emerging childbirth ritual protocol within the close circles of high-ranking clerics of noble blood, at least those residing at Daigoji, Tōji, and Kajūji, from the first half of the twelfth century onward. The last pages of medieval and modern handbooks on ninsha no obi no kaji display the transmissions with a similarly eclectic background, all leading back to the elite esoteric temples with imperial links in Kyoto, including Kajūji. These pages are usually taken up with two short notes: on the “Empowerment of the Hot Bathwater for Newborn Infants” (Sanji no yu no kaji 産兒湯加持) and “On Night Crying” (Koji no yonaki 小児夜啼).34 Empowerment of the Hot Bathwater for Newborn Infants When a person [performs] the empowerment of bathwater, there is a tinge of pollution and such (kegare no ke nado 穢氣等) [that lasts] for a while (shibaraku ari 暫有). First, perform the ritual for the protection

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of one’s own body (goshinpō 護身法) beside the water [tub]. [The procedure is] as usual. Next, scoop the water into a ladle. Then, [perform] the purification by Sanskrit syllables vaṃ and raṃ [by water and fire], while repeating kiri kiri 枳里々々 [incantation]. Lower the threepronged vajra [during that time]. Next, [intone] the five kinds of mantra (goshu shingon 五種眞言) invoking Mahāvairocana (Dainichi 大日) in five syllables, the Immovable One (Fudō 不動), Yamāntaka (Daiitoku 大威徳), Six-Syllable [Kannon] (Rokuji Kannon 六字[觀音]), and Hārītī (Karitei 訶梨帝) and [perform all the] necessary empowerment (shidai kaji 次第加持). After that, when pouring the hot water [into the tub] and [when it is] full to the brim, [intone] the Fudō mantra. [That is the spell of] mercy and salvation (jiku 慈救). Above is the august transmission by the previous teacher-prelate (senshi sōjō goden 先師僧正御傳). The transmission by precept-master Sōi (alt. Shūi risshi 宗意律師) is the same.35 In the oral transmission of the empowerment of bathwater at Sanbōin [of Daigoji], there are small spells of Kuṇḍalī, the Peacock [King], and other [deities].

On Night Crying Take the hair from a dog’s chin (lit. “from underneath a dog’s head”) and sew a sack (fukuro 褁). Take this sack, press together infant’s both palms, and insert [them] there. [The crying] will stop. [ . . . ] Perform mantra and empowerment (shingon kaji 眞言加持). This is most necessary. Next, [perform] Cundī (Juntei 准胎) mantra and empowerment. Or, write on the [infant’s] abdomen (hozō 臍) the syllable den (denji 田字; meaning unclear).

Although these two last fragments of the handbooks on ninsha no obi no kaji have less to do with the empowerment of the pregnancy sash, much like the “easy birth talisman” used during the royal consort’s labor, they constitute vital follow-up ritual support required during the first important events and necessities in the life of a newborn imperial heir. These two fragments also reappear in a variety of medieval esoteric collections throughout the Japanese Taishō canon, implying a strong attachment and a historic drive within the medieval Buddhist milieu to preserve these short rituals recorded on small scraps of folded paper (ko orikami 小折紙). For example, these two fragments, in almost identical wording, are included in Shiku 師口 (Teacher’s words, T. 2501), an undated collection of ritual transmissions by Einen 榮然, which was copied at Jison’in of Kajūji before the



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Kenmu period (1334–1336).36 These fragments are a clear reminder that the esoteric Buddhist milieu was keenly attuned to the ritual and political needs of the royal court, and within this framework, to the ritual needs of pregnant women and new mothers. What also binds these rituals together is the use of the fivefold structure of the empowerment segment: Five deities are to be invoked, and the five-syllable mantras are to be intoned. Even though the two sets of deities appear slightly different in the empowerment of the pregnancy sash (Gundari, Dainichi, Yakushi, Kujaku, Fudō) and of the hot bathwater (Dainichi, Fudō, Daiitoku, Rokuji Kannon, Hārītī), in medieval Japan they were all recognized as fierce, protective, omnipresent, and healing deities that were invoked for the pacification of malevolent forces during labor and for the protection of pregnant women and newborn children. It is not clear who is referred to under the alias of the “previous teacher-prelate” (senshi sōjō), but the preceding analysis of the handbooks’ previous fragments suggests that it might have been one of the prominent Daigoji or Kajūji clerics, perhaps the early-twelfth-century Daigoji Sanbōin cleric Shōkaku or his follower Rishōbō Kenkaku. On the other hand, it is evident that the late-twelfth-century Kajūji monk Kōzen (d. 1203) and the thirteenth-century prelate of Hōōn’in of Daigoji, Gokurakubō Kenjin (d. 1263), also made significant ­contributions to the transmission and formation of esoteric rituals for childbirth. Overall, from the preceding analysis it is becoming clear that the medieval ritual memoranda on ninsha no obi no kaji were composed with a strong adherence to preexisting early-twelfth-­ century transmissions that were known to the elite clerics and scholar monks of metropolitan Tendai and Shingon temples with imperial connections, located within or in close proximity to Kyoto. Politics and Pills: The Pregnancy Sash in Medieval Historical Sources Medieval ritual collections, documents, and oral transmissions focusing on the empowerment of the pregnancy sash and its various components investigated earlier suggest that there were multiple ­ sources for these elements within esoteric Buddhist traditions of medieval Japan. And although it is often difficult to trace their precise itineraries within the Buddhist temple milieu, it has become obvious that powerful esoteric temples and their subtemples, including Tendai’s Mudōji, or Sanbōin of Daigoji and Jison’in of Kajūji, had become

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associated not only with esoteric Buddhist learning and scholarship, but also with production of rituals for pregnant noblewomen. These rituals were highly prized by aristocratic families and the imperial court and tended to be adopted into a comprehensive protocol of protective rites, which usually began with one starting point: the empowerment of the pregnancy sash during the fifth month of pregnancy. This event indicated the aristocratic family’s official acknowledgment of a pregnancy that could result in the birth of a new imperial heir. Before returning to our manuscripts of ninsha no obi no kaji in the conclusion of this chapter, this section will analyze the historical practices of this short ritual as seen from official court records and personal diaries by medieval Japanese aristocrats, that is, secular historical documents and sources that were produced outside of the Buddhist temple milieu. One case of the pregnancy sash empowerment rituals performed at the behest of the imperial court in Kyoto around the year 1303 is of particular interest, since it fits well with the suggested time frame of the composition of the surviving medieval handbooks on pregnancy and childbirth, particularly those found at Kanazawa Bunko (1304–1318). This section also suggests the crucial historical and political actors who may have been inadvertently involved in facilitating the transfer of esoteric rituals for pregnancy and childbirth practiced at the imperial court in Kyoto to Kamakura in the eastern region of Kantō, near which the medieval Shōmyōji temple (modern Kanazawa Bunko temple archive) is located. Kōwa gannen osan buruiki 康和元年御産部類記 (Miscellaneous Records on the August Childbirth in the First Year of Kōwa Era, 1099–1100) is one of the late-Heian-period records compiled from relevant fragments of aristocratic diaries documenting the customs of Japanese aristocracy and the imperial court. Kōwa gannen osan buruiki starts with an excerpt from Daiki 大記 (Grand Records, alt. Tamefusa kyōki 為房卿記, ca. 1070–1114), written by the long-serving courtier Fujiwara no Tamefusa (1049–1115), who belonged to the so-called Kajūji branch of the powerful Fujiwara clan.37 First, this fragment briefly describes the prayers for begetting the royal offspring, which were commissioned at the Grand Ise shrines (Ise Jingū 伊勢神宮) in 1100. Next, it documents the procedures taking place during the pregnancy of Fujiwara no Ishi 藤原苡子 in 1103. It seems that the imperial progenitor, the solar divinity Amaterasu, enshrined at Ise (now in Mie Prefecture) had responded positively to the prayers of the court: Ishi’s pregnancy resulted in the birth of Prince Munehito,



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the future Emperor Toba 鳥羽天皇 (1103–1156, r. 1107–1123).38 The Kōwa osan buruiki record authored by Tamefusa demonstrates that the practice of putting on the pregnancy sash was definitely performed during the early twelfth century and that it was already ­customary during that time to send the fabric for the sash to a highranking esoteric Buddhist cleric for ritual purification and enforcement. It is not known, however, what particular procedures took place on that occasion. Tamefusa records: The fourth year of Kōwa (1102), eighth month, seventh day, tsuchi no to hitsuji 己末. Early in the morning I headed to the mansion of the “smaller official of the Left” (sashōben 左少弁). . . . At the imperial palace (kinchū 禁中), the consort (nyōgo 女御) was putting on the [pregnancy] sash (chakutai ari 有着帯).39 A flat narrow woven belt (hirao 平緒) was used [for that purpose]. Prelate Zōyo (Zōyo sōshō 增譽僧正) performed [its] ritual empowerment (kaji).40 In the coming night it was transferred to the current mansion. [This is usually performed] in the fifth month after the conception (gokainin no ato gokagetsu no mono to nasu 御懐妊之後為五ヶ月者).41

This early record from the turn of the twelfth century suggests that the practice of ritual empowerment of the pregnancy sash by esoteric (in this case Tendai) Buddhist clerics and further use of this object by the royal consorts was already known to the Japanese court. Tamefusa’s account states that a flat narrow woven belt called a hirao was used on this occasion. Although Tamefusa does not provide any further details, such as the hirao’s color or its pattern, one could ask if the appearance of the sash was always white or if it may have historically varied, perhaps, in accord with the social standing and the official title of the consort within the imperial court. (Nyōgo were consorts who may have already been romantically and physically linked to the ruling emperor but who had not yet received the official and more illustrious titles of the royal wife or primary consort, such as chūgū 中宮 or kōgō 皇后.) Nevertheless, it is obvious that the fabric for the sash had to be procured by the consort’s family or closely linked courtiers prior to its ritual empowerment, and that it was transferred and presented back to the court, again through the mediating court family, in this case, through the sashōben’s mansion. Another collection of official court records, describing the royal pregnancies and labors throughout the twelfth to mid-fourteenth

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centuries, reveals more details. Osan oinori no mokuroku 御産御祈 目録 (Records of Prayers for Childbirth, 1118–1337) begins with a brief outline of all esoteric rituals performed for the benefit of the primary consort of Emperor Toba, Taikenmon’in, during 1118– 1119.42 These rituals were led by high-ranking clerics of noble blood from Enryakuji, Ninnaji, and other temples with imperial connections. In many ways, the ritual protocol that had emerged during that period was used as a vital example and a template for several later occasions of royal consorts’ pregnancies and labor in medieval Japan, although with important alterations.43 Osan oinori no mokuroku lists many esoteric rituals drawn from the Tendai and Shingon traditions that were performed for Taikenmon’in between 1118 and 1129. However, in contrast to Kōwa osan buruiki, authored by Fujiwara no Tamefusa (discussed earlier), it does not list the empowerment of the pregnancy sash separately. The first official note mentioning putting on the pregnancy sash (gochakutai, or onchakutai 御着帯) occurs in these court records during the second year of Jishō 治承 (on the twenty-eighth day of the sixth month of 1178), when Kenreimon’in 建礼門院 (or Tokushi 徳子, 1155–1213), the daughter of the military leader Taira no Kiyomori 平清盛 (1118–1181) and the consort (chūgū) of Emperor Takakura 高倉 (1161–1181, r. 1168–1180), was pregnant with Prince Antoku 安徳 (1178–1185, r. 1180–1185).44 This record details that the Tendai ritual of the Healing Buddha (Yakushi hō 薬師法) was performed twice and the rite of the Northern Dipper (hokuto hō 北斗法) once; other rituals were commissioned two months later. From reading Osan oinori no mokuroku, it is not clear whether the three rituals performed on the twenty-eighth day of the sixth month of 1178 were focusing specifically on the empowerment of the pregnancy sash, but Naoko Gunji’s recent analysis of another court diary, the Sankaiki 山槐記 (The Record of the Mountain Tree, 1151–1194), written by Nakayama no Tadachika 中山忠親 (1131–1195), confirms that it was indeed the “ceremony of donning a maternity sash” (chakutai no gi), for which the fabric had to be ritually purified.45 It is the next record of the imperial consort’s pregnancy, more detailed and specific, that states clearly: “The sixth year of Kenkyū 建久 (1195), third month, fifteenth day. The imperial consort (chūgū), Gishūmon’in 宜秋門院 (1173–1238),46 has put on the pregnancy sash. [Its] empowerment (kaji) [was performed by] the prelate (zasu 座主),47 the messenger [was] the provisional chief officer Munefusa.”48



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And although this is one of the earliest extant mentions of the ninsha no obi no kaji in Japanese historical sources (together with the 1102 Kōwa osan buruiki and the twelfth-century Sankaiki mentioned earlier), the following Osan oinori no mokuroku records promptly return to the format in which the empowerment of the pregnancy sash was not mentioned again separately until 1230.49 Until then, the paucity and briefness of the official records do not allow much extended speculation as to whether, when, or where this small ritual was regularly performed. One possible assumption is that it was commissioned sporadically, performed privately, or adopted by the leading court factions at different times, and that much of the social and ritual dynamics surrounding the empowerment of a pregnancy sash depended on the political standing of the consort’s family: the Fujiwara, the Taira, or the Minamoto. It was only later, beginning with multiple pregnancies of Emperor Gosaga’s 後嵯峨 (1220–1272, r. 1242–1246) consort Ōmiyain 大宮院 (Saionji no Kitsushi 西園寺 姞子, 1225–1292), which took place between 1246 and 1259,50 and those of all subsequent imperial consorts that occurred during the second half of the thirteenth century and until the end of the Osan oinori no mokuroku’s records in 1337, that the empowerment of the pregnancy sash had become clearly considered an official, publicly acknowledged start of a royal consort’s pregnancy, thus initiating the court- and family-sponsored program of esoteric rituals for safe pregnancy and childbirth and meriting the rituals’ inclusion into all subsequent official records.51 The pregnancies of Ōmiyain must have been somehow special, as they created another kind of important precedent, perhaps due to her success as the royal wife. A descendant from the Saionji family (itself a branch of the Fujiwara), she was already the mother of two royal princes (future emperors Gofukakusa 後深草, b. 1246, and Kameyama 亀山, b. 1249). Her subsequent pregnancies in 1256 and 1257 necessitated extended esoteric ritual protocols sponsored by the Saionji house. It is during those times when the “ritual empowerments of hot bathwater” (oyu no kaji 御湯加持) and oxen bezoar (gōō kaji 牛黄加持) became recorded for the first time in the Osan oinori no mokuroku.52 On these occasions, the high-ranking clerics close to the Saionji house were “the prelate of Enman’in” from Onjōji 園城寺 and “the elder of Tōji” (Tōji chōja 東寺長者). All the ritual and court records analyzed thus far describe the religious practices of the court in relation to women’s health, namely,

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those ensuring the safety of pregnant women and their soon-to-be or newborn infants, and the increasing role in their staging by the male members of the Fujiwara, Taira, Minamoto, and Saionji families. If the frequency of certain patterns serves as a reliable clue, the aforementioned documents also suggest that the Saionji family was particularly attentive to the performance of a set ritual protocol, beginning with the empowerment of the pregnancy sash, during the mid-thirteenth century. It should also become clear that during that time the Saionji family was one of the key political actors linking the Kyoto scene, dominated by the imperial court and the aristocratic lineages, and the seat of the warrior government in Kamakura. However, what these fragments have not yet revealed in full measure is the inclusion of physical healing actions or objects intended to facilitate the smooth progress of pregnancy and childbirth and the correspondence of such acts to the pregnancy sash empowerment ritual. To glean a more decisive look, we must turn our attention to yet another secular source: this time, a very detailed record from a personal diary presently known as Kinhira kōki 公衡公記. It was penned by the courtier Saionji Kinhira 西園寺公衡 (also, Lord Takenaka, 1264–1315), the son of the prime minister Saionji no Sanekane 太政大臣西園寺実兼 (1249–1322). Three of Kinhira’s full and half sisters became royal consorts to different Japanese rulers: Eifukumon’in 永福門院 (Saionji no Shōshi 鏱子, 1271–1342)—the primary consort (chūgū) of Emperor Fushimi 伏見 (1267–1317, r. 1287–1298); Shōkunmon’in 昭訓門院 (Fujiwara no Eishi 藤原瑛子, 1273–1336)—the second wife (kōkyū 後宮) of Emperor Kameyama 亀山 (1249–1305, r. 1260–1274); and Gokyōgokuin 後京極院 (Kishi  禧子, 1303–1333)—the chūgū of the rebellious emperor Godaigo 後醍醐 (1288–1339, r. 1318–1339). Thus, Kinhira’s diary presents probably one of the most significant witness accounts as far as the practices of the fourteenth-century court and noblewomen’s reproductive lives were concerned. It provides further clues about the inclusion of herbal medicines that became linked with the pregnancy sash. The Saionji family, mentioned previously, played a decisive role in the political landscape of thirteenth- and fourteenth-century Japan. This was due to the Saionji’s important position within the Japanese imperial court and their family links to the military ­governors of Kamakura, the descendants of Minamoto no Yoritomo 源頼朝 (1147–1199, r. 1192–1199), who was the founder and the



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first leader of the warrior government in the twelfth century.53 With time, owing to that connection, the Saionji became appointed as political ambassadors to Kamakura, Kantō mōshitsugi 関東申次, remaining close to both the military government and the court. After being briefly shunned during the Jōkyū Rebellion of 1221, the Saionji family ­continued its successful career at court, assuming the leading posts, including that of prime minister (dajō daijin 太政大臣; e.g., Sanekane, mentioned earlier), and marrying their daughters (Ōmiyain, Eifukumon’in, Shōkunmon’in, Gokyōgokuin) into the imperial lineage. As Kinhira was a sibling to the two imperial ­consorts, between 1285 and 1288 he was awarded the role of chief administrator in charge of the imperial consort’s affairs (kōgōgū gondaifu 皇后宮権大夫, chūgū daifu 中宮大夫). After his appointment as the minister of the Right (udaijin 右大臣) in 1299, Kinhira inherited his father’s previous post as Kantō mōshitsugi; his elevated position in both the imperial court in Kyoto and the military government in Kamakura landed him the important role of a key mediator between the two split branches of the imperial house, particularly during the famous disputes on succession during the latter half of the thirteenth century. Shōkunmon’in, Kinhira’s sister by Lord Sanekane, entered the imperial court in service to Emperor Kameyama in 1301 and soon became his consort. Her brother’s diary has several detailed chapters on how the events unfolded during the second year of Kangen 乾元 (1303), when it was understood that Shōkunmon’in became pregnant with Emperor Kameyama’s child. One of them is titled “The Record of Putting on the Pregnancy Sash by Shōkunmon’in” (Shōkunmon’in onchakutai no ki 昭訓門院御着帯記) and describes the procedures that took place on the twenty-third day of the first month of 1303.54 Kinhira notes that these actions were modeled after two i­mportant precedents: the first pregnancies of Emperor Toba’s ­consort Taiken­ mon’in in the second year of Gen’ei (1118) and Gosaga’s ­consort Ōmiyain (Saionji no Kitsushi) in the fourth year of Ninji (1243), and that in the case of first pregnancies, the sash was often affixed during the sixth month (and not during the fifth as it was indicated in other sources earlier). The auspiciousness of these two precedents was determined by the calculation of matching the “twelve Earthly Branches and ten Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches” (shikan 支 干), that is, by means of the traditional Chinese calendar. This task was usually performed by the court yinyang diviners (onmyōji), this

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time by the chief of the Yin-Yang Bureau (Onmyō no kami 陰陽頭), Kamo no Arihide 加茂有秀. For the Saionji family, this sense of auspiciousness was no doubt reinforced by the inclusion of the previous case of Ōmiyain, one of their own. On the day when the ritual of empowerment was to be c­ onducted (this was again calculated by the diviners), the obi sash was prepared and presented by the order of Kinhira and Shōkunmon’in’s father, Saionji no Sanekane, following the other precedents of royal consorts hailing from the Saionji family. The fabric was purchased on the same day and placed in the prepared sheath and a box.55 The august sash was [made from] white woven silk (shiro suzushi, shiro kiginu 白生絹), one jō and two shaku [three meters sixty-nine centimeters] long.56 It was folded in half and then the third time again [by those with no karmic obstacles]. The sash was wrapped in the nine sheets of thick white paper along its length, inserted lengthwise into a sheath (fukuro 嚢), made of the same thick paper, and bound in the middle. [This package] was placed into the royal garment box (gyōi bako 御衣箱), with the gold lacquer design against the black background, with a white stork and yellow pines pattern, and with white wisteria design on its top. [The box] was inserted into a red woven fabric (ukiorimono 浮織物) with a small hollyhock (aoi 葵) pattern, nine shaku long, and placed on a table, which had similar lacquer design and the pine pattern in gold and silver pressed around its edges. After the preparation it was left for a while behind the door on the eastern side of the living quarters (shinden 寝殿).57

After some time, Kinhira, accompanied by another courtier who acted as the “sash messenger” (obi no tsukai 帯使), arrived to pick up the prepared box containing the pregnancy sash, which was delivered to the royal palace at Madenokōji 万里小路殿. This mansion was shared by the “Dharma-King” (hōō 法王) Kameyama, his son Emperor Gouda 後宇多天皇 (1267–1324, r. 1274–1287), and their consorts: Gouda’s wife, Yūgimon’in 遊義門院 (1270–1307), Kame­ yama’s unmarried daughter, Shōkeimon’in 昭慶門院 (1270–1324), and Kinhira’s own sister, Shōkunmon’in. The latter’s living quarters were in the northwestern portion of the Madenokōji palace, and this is where some of the procedures were supposed to be taking place. (Elsewhere, Kinhira notes that the palace was rather dilapidated and sad-looking.)



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Shōkunmon’in’s female assistants (nyobō 女房), some of them as young as eight and twelve years old, were meant to examine the box with the sash but were late to arrive and do so. Since the auspicious time (kichiji 吉時) designated by the diviners was already near, Kinhira and the “sash messenger” had to hasten matters; every step had to be followed according to the Gen’ei- and Ninji-era precedents, that is, the protocol adopted during the pregnancies of Taikenmon’in (1118) and Ōmiyain (1243). Eventually, the box was transferred to the western part of Shōkunmon’in’s quarters, the female assistants arrived, and the consort was finally able to briefly inspect its ­contents. The “sash messenger” hurriedly delivered the boxed sash to the Tendai cleric, “former grand prelate” Dōgen (mae daisōshō Dōgen 前大僧正 道玄, 1237–1304) of Jūrakuin 十楽院 in the Higashiyama district of the capital for the ritual empowerment (obi no kaji).58 (Although Kinhira could not have possibly known exactly how the empowerment of the pregnancy sash was conducted, we can glean these details from the contemporaneous Shingon handbooks and earlier Japanese temple records, as described in the two earlier sections.) After that, the sash was returned to Shōkunmon’in’s quarters, where she was to put it on behind a screen, accompanied by her ladies-in-waiting and separately by the mountain ascetic (gogenja 御 験者) Dōshō 道昭, later known as the chief administrator of the “three mountain shrines of Kumano” (sanzan kengō 三山検校). Since Shōkunmon’in was putting on her sash on the twenty-third day of the first month, that is, the day of the Rat, the ritually empowered obi sash was decorated by the three branches of pine, matching the ­example of Taikenmon’in in 1118.59 Next, one of the participating courtiers brought the senshōshi (Ch. xian zhao zi 仙沼子) pills, an herbal medicine thought to assist the smooth progress of labor. Its main ingredients may have derived from the parts or flower buds of the magnolia tree (kobushi 辛夷; Magnolia kobus) and rhizomes, stems, or leaves of cattail (gama 蒲黄; Typha latfolia), bound by so-called vermillion honey (shumitsu 朱蜜), made with small amounts of cinnabar powder. The magnolia tree, with large pink or white flowers, was thought to disperse cold-wind disorders. It was known in Japan since early times and included in the court ritual code Engishiki 延喜式 (The Rites of the Engi Era, 905) and Honzō wamyō 本草和名 (Japanese Names of Plants, 918), penned by the Japanese physician of Korean descent Fukane no Sukehito 深根輔仁. The cattail was generally

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considered efficacious in stopping bleeding and encouraging urination. The cinnabar powder, on the other hand, was a substance well known for its links to Daoist practices of longevity and immortality; although it is recognized as a poisonous substance today, in medieval China and Japan it was thought to quiet the mind and cure insomnia and convulsions as well as certain kinds of sores. This may explain the inclusion of these ingredients in the pills designed to ease labor and postpartum troubles.60 The sensōshi medicine was prepared and delivered in a box made of willow, together with a scroll on how to use it (goyōi no kamon ikkan 御用意勘文一巻), by one of the physicians from the drugmaking and medicine dispensary (Seyakuin no tsukai 施薬院使), Tanba no Yukinaga 丹波行長. These items were taken by Shōkunmon’in’s ladies-in-waiting. The pills were supposed to be inserted or even sewn inside the pregnancy sash. After the diviners proclaimed the auspicious time and direction, the “Dharma-King” Kameyama went behind the screen and, while remaining unseen to the rest of the court, personally tied the ritually empowered pregnancy sash on Shōkunmon’in’s waist. This was followed by the presentation of dedicated ritual items, such as paper dolls, and the performance of the “protection of the ­consort’s body” ritual by the Kumano ascetic Dōshō, who remained outside the screen.61 Kinhira further describes how the ceremony was continued by presenting the ritual offerings (mi­ nademono 御撫物) for cleansing away pollution. These dedications featured the esoteric deities One-Syllable Golden Wheel (Ichiji Kinrin 一字金輪), Adamantine Child (Kongō Dōji 金剛童子), and the Onmyōdō god, the king of hell, Taizan Fukun 泰山府君. Later, the fire rituals (Skt. homa; J. goma 護摩) dedicated to Ichiji Kinrin, Kongō Dōji, and Buddha Yakushi 薬師 were to be conducted, presumably still inside the mansion.62 The collection of court records, mentioned earlier, regarding the rituals for the protection of pregnant royal consorts, Osan oinori no mokuroku, has shown that similar procedures, all starting from the empowerment of the pregnancy sash performed in the fifth or sixth month, continued for at least another twenty-five years.63 An additional brief survey of the extended Osan buruiki records suggests that the practice of inserting the senshōshi pills into the ritually fortified pregnancy sash was performed at court beginning even earlier: between the years of Jishō (1178–1180, during the pregnancies of Kenreimon’in



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and Shichijōin)64 and Engyō (1310, during the pregnancy of another Saionji daughter, Kōgimon’in 広義門院, 1292–1357).65 The premodern medical sources surveyed by the Japanese physician-scholar Kotaka Shūji suggest that this particular medicine was known in Heian and Kamakura Japan initially as a potent drug preventing poisoning by the venomous worms (gu 蠱). Furthermore, it was recommended for use by pregnant women. According to the method known as “Jīvaka’s Method of Chosengū Senshōshi” (Giba chosengū senshōshi 耆婆長仙宮仙沼子) described in a manuscript called Isho 醫書 (Healer’s Records, n.d.), preserved at the Sonkeikaku Bunko 尊經閣文庫 in Tokyo, the following actions were necessary: “If there is a pregnant woman, place a sash on her abdomen. On the day of imminent birth, grind twenty-seven pills and administer them to her. The mother and child will be content, [the birth will be] natural and peaceful.” Alternatively, fourteen or fifteen pills had to be sewn into the obi sash.66 And although this drug-making knowledge may have been available to physicians since the tenth century, as Kotaka has argued, the historical sources surveyed here (that is, Osan buruiki and Kinhira kōki, as well as Sankaiki, discussed by Naoko Gunji) suggest that the practice of inserting a certain amount of senshōshi pills (usually twenty-seven) into the pregnancy sash for royal consorts was most visible at court between the late twelfth and mid-fourteenth century. These details paint a complicated, moving picture. Beginning from the internal preparations to the empowerment of a pregnancy sash, there had to be a degree of collaboration among multiple parties of relatives and knowledge experts involved in facilitating childbirth in elite households of medieval Japan. This suggests different forms of professional expertise and their related “arts of judgment”: knowing what had to be done when, where, and how. The yinyang diviners had to calculate the auspicious precedents and auspicious times, locations, and directions for giving birth. The pregnant consort’s brothers and fathers, who were set to benefit most in political terms if the male royal heir was born, had to orchestrate the events at their mansion with a keen awareness of time, designated by the diviners. The Buddhist clerics, both related to the family by blood and invited, ­conducted the ritual empowerment at their temples and within the mansion, while the court physicians prepared and delivered the herbal pills that had to be inserted into the pregnancy sash,

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in addition to other medical services. Finally, the consort’s royal husband personally participated in the ceremony of putting the obi sash (chakutai) on his wife’s body. This busy flow of events was interlinked by the ever-present “experienced women,” that is, the ­consort’s mother and her ladies-in-waiting, who were involved in the preparations of necessary items and sash inspection and acted as intermediaries between the realm of men and the closeted space inhabited by the royal consort.67 Kinhira’s diary entries do not reveal any further clues about the Saionji family connections to the esoteric temple milieu in Kamakura, and they certainly do not mention any Shingon books on the ninsha no obi no kaji, analyzed in the first section of this essay. Other historical sources, such as ritual documents from Tendai and Shingon temples or official court records, also highlight the selected aspects of ritual and political life at court but tend to omit other details that had significant implications for deciphering the broader meaning of “empowering the pregnancy sash.” However, when read all together in a comparative manner, these ritual documents and historical sources provide an ample background to understanding the significance of this short, anonymously copied six-page booklet manuscript found in Shingon temples in Kyoto and near Kamakura. From this reading, it becomes evident that the Buddhist scholar-monks residing near the seats of the medieval imperial court in Kyoto and warrior government in Kamakura were keenly attuned to the ritual and political needs of their patrons. The elite warrior families and their liaisons in the imperial capital (such as the Saionji) shared the same horizons of choice when taking precautions regarding the health and well-being of their daughters and wives, who were preparing to give birth to the royal and shogunal heirs. These precautions had to be assured and facilitated through the small, often almost invisible ritual actions, such as the esoteric empowerment of the pregnancy sash, ninsha no obi no kaji, performed by Buddhist clerics at their temples away from the aristocratic mansions where the pregnant consorts resided. This ritual empowerment was assembled with the help of multiple ritual transmissions and theological commentaries circulating within the medieval Buddhist temple milieu and further reinforced with specially prepared potent medicines. On the one hand, it provided a sense of security to the pregnant noblewomen, but on the other hand, it ensured their conformity to the power of Buddhist knowledge that penetrated the political,



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social, cultural, and, as is becoming increasingly evident, medical discourses in medieval Japan. The Tendai and Shingon temples with imperial links, such as Mudōji, Sanbōin of Daigoji, Tōji, and Kajūji, were the hubs of ritual knowledge arriving from the continent that was used to create localized strategies of maintaining noblewomen’s health and procuring the royal heir during the twelfth to mid-fourteenth centuries. The medieval and modern manuscripts of ninsha no obi no kaji thus demonstrate that this knowledge, despite all its alleged secrecy, had further important itineraries in central and eastern Japan. Notes This article was completed under the auspices of the independent research project “Buddhism, Medicine, and Gender in 10th–16th Century Japan: Toward the Transcultural History of Women’s Health in Premodern East Asia,” sponsored by the German Research Council (Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft) in 2017–2020. 1. On the significance of Gokurakuji in the medieval history of Japanese Buddhism and practice of medicine, particularly by the priest-physician Kajiwara Shōzen, see Goble 2009, 2011. 2. See chapter 6 in this volume, by Andrew Macomber. On Buddhist temples collecting medical works, see Goble 2011, 147n19. 3. Elsewhere (Andreeva 2017b, 2018) I have introduced some of the ­Buddhist texts dealing with this topic in English. 4. On my use of the term “arts of judgment,” see Andreeva 2017b, 181n32. 5. See a brief description of it in Naoko Gunji’s (2018, 96–99) article on the birth of Emperor Antoku. 6. For detailed explorations of this practice in English, see Winfield 2005. Benedetta Lomi has explored a practice very closely related to the pregnancy and childbirth rituals in medieval Japan, the so-called goō kaji 牛黄加持 (empowerment of the oxen bezoar) in Lomi 2017. 7. On the Buddhist and East Asian notions of embryology, see Andreeva and Steavu 2016; Andreeva 2016, 2017b. Note that there were other time-calculating specialists (that is, the yinyang diviners) involved in the household’s preparation for childbirth in medieval Japan. 8. Gunji 2018, 96–99. 9. I discuss the concrete evidence to this effect in the next section of this chapter. 10. See, for example, a description found in the Gyōrinshō 行林抄 [Compendium on walking in the forest], T. 2409, a ritual encyclopedia compiled in 1154 by the Tendai monk Jōnen 靜然 (n.d.). T. 2409: 157a21–c05.

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11. One example of such a composition is KB 310–113, from Kanazawa Bunko in Yokohama, accessed in April 2013. This item may have been copied by one of the Shōmyōji abbots between 1304 and 1318, when several other ­Buddhist scrolls and handbooks on childbirth and women’s health were also compiled or copied there (Andreeva 2017b). Other similar if not completely identical items preserved at Eizan Bunko (the library of Tendai subtemples on Mount Hiei in Shiga Prefecture) and at Kōyasan University library were inspected in August 2018. 12. For more details on practices related to childbirth and women’s health at the royal court in Kyoto and warrior circles in Kamakura, see Andreeva 2017a, 2017b, 2018; for an art historical approach, see Suzuki 2014; for the rituals conducted by the Taira clan, see Gunji 2018. 13. As a measure of height or length in pre-1891 Japan, one jō 丈 was equal to approximately 3.03 meters, one shaku 尺 to 30.3 centimeters, and one sun to 3.03 centimeters. Based on these measurements, the medieval and modern manuscripts suggest that the pregnancy sash should be either 3 meters 69 centimeters, 2 meters 42 centimeters, or 2 meters in length, respectively. The exact rationale behind these measurements is not entirely clear; however, the number six (when folding the sash into six parts) may symbolize the Buddhist notion of “six obstacles” (rokuhei 六蔽; literally “six veils”) that can obscure a pure, undeluded mind. These are lack of compassion (kendon 慳貪), precept-breaking (hakai 破戒), anger (shinni 瞋恚), attachment (rennen 憐念), mental disarray (sanran 散乱), and useless complaining (guchi 愚痴). The fabric prepared for the sash is discussed again in the following section, dealing with medieval historical sources. 14. Some handbooks, for example, one from Kanazawa Bunko, may have a brief side note explaining that at that moment the priest performing the empowerment should “lower a three-pronged vajra (sanko 三鈷) and [intone] the Kuṇḍalī mantra (Ch. Jintuli zhou; J. Gundari ju 軍荼利咒).” 15. This sequence is usually written in six Sanskrit seed syllables (Skt. bīja; J. shuji 種字), often with a clarification of the central three syllables’ pronunciation (ho ra nī) on the side, written in smaller characters. Comparative reading of other similar texts and more modern manuscripts suggests that this seven-­syllable formula, while not the only one that existed, was well known within the esoteric Buddhist milieu among Shingon practitioners. On the use of the Sanskrit s­ yllables and spells in Chinese Buddhism, see Copp 2014. 16. The historical process of assembling the individual rituals dedicated to these and several other important esoteric deities thought to protect pregnancy and childbirth into a more or less uniform protocol employed by the imperial court during the medieval period is a separate issue that is not analyzed here extensively. 17. On the history and use of different forms of spells and incantations in Chinese Buddhism during the Tang dynasty, see Copp 2014; on the cross-cultural translation of Buddhism, see Salguero 2014.



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18. The partial transliteration in Japanese may be yet another indication that this small handbook was copied as a mnemonic note for the Buddhist clerics who had to intone this spell and thus had to learn its pronunciation. 19. Japanese transliteration of these Sanskrit characters suggests that they could be read as follows: oṃ hō so rūri yakushī gyaraha darani shissha tarasha hoshiya hrīḥ hrih sarahaya nōriya sowaka ta niya ta a to ha sowaka atoha toha sowaka

20. The modern Taishō edition of Gyōrinshō features a forty-four-Sanskritsyllable incantation formula, complete with the Chinese character transliteration. It differs slightly but insignificantly from the modern handbook and other medieval manuscripts and has an additional appellation to the Buddhist deity at the end. Gyōrinshō, ekisan darani, T. 2409: 157b24–c05. 21. Nihon daizōkyō, 43:191–198. I discuss this text in detail elsewhere (see Andreeva 2018). Jōnen refers to Annen’s work in his Gyōrinshō (T. 2409, 154c18–20). Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū has been attributed to Annen within the Tendai school, as Jōnen’s work demonstrates. 22. Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū only hints at the specific Buddhist scripture from which such an incantation can be sourced: a sūtra briefly called Daizuigu daranikyō 大随求陀羅尼經. Modern Buddhist dictionaries mention at least two Chinese translated scripture sources with similar titles, T. 1153 in two fascicles, translated by Amoghavajra (Ch. Bukong 不空; J. Fukū, 705–774), and T. 1154 in one fascicle, translated by Maṇicintana (act. 694 in Luoyang) (see Sinclaire n.d.). Both Chinese sūtras have lengthy Sanskrit transliterations into ­Chinese; it is difficult to say which of these two the Japanese Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū was pointing to. 23. Kenjin received his first esoteric initiation (kanjō 灌頂) at Sanbōin in 1214, presumably having spent a few years there before his ordination and perhaps afterward as well. Following an imperial decree of 1251, Kenjin became the abbot of Daigoji (Daigoji zasu 醍醐寺座主); this position entitled him to perform esoteric rituals for the members of Japan’s royal family and members of the court. Ruppert 2000, 350. 24. Kōshinshō, by Kenjin, T. 2498: 727c21–28a02. 25. Tōji is another esoteric Buddhist temple complex in the Heian capital, with close links to the imperial house and the state. 26. This is confirmed by other medieval sources, such as the Shikan 四巻 [Four scrolls], T. 2500, by the Kajūji 勧修寺 (alt. Kanshūji) monk Kōzen 興然 (1121–1203), which is mentioned in the following text. In this short segment, Kōzen also attributed the transmission of “easy birth dhāraṇī” to Rishōbō Kenkaku 理性房賢覚 (1080–1156) of Daigoji. See T. 2500: 828b18–20.

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27. Shikan, T. 2500: 823c28. From 1162 onward, Kōzen was the abbot of the Kajūji subtemple Jison’in 慈尊院. Given that at least two of the Kanazawa Bunko manuscripts on childbirth and women’s health, namely, the two different copies of the Sanpishō 産秘抄 [Secret notes on childbirth] (ca. 1304–1318) bear the Jison’in attribution, it seems likely that Kōzen was directly involved in editing and transmitting some of the ritual protocols focusing on pregnancy and childbirth. 28. Shikan, T. 2500: 823c22–27. 29. Jōgyō ōshō shōrai mokuroku, T. 2163: 1068c24. 30. Ibid., T. 2163: 1068c29–1069a1, 1070a24–27. 31. Ibid., T. 2163: 1069c22. Note that the name of the deity and consequently the ritual, as well as the scriptures associated with it, can also be spelled “Daigensui” 大元帥. In the modern Japanese Taishō canon this seems to be the preferred transliteration. For a discussion of this important figure in the context of the Dunhuang Buddhist manuscripts in western China, see ­Catherine ­Despeux’s chapter in this volume. 32. Shoajari shingon mikkyō burui sōroku 諸阿闍梨眞言密教部類總録 [Comprehensive catalogue of categorized esoteric Buddhist (scriptures brought to Japan from Tang China) by various masters), T. 2176. 33. Shoajari shingon mikkyō burui sōroku, T. 2176: 1128a25–1128b10. On the Taigensui ritual, see the early study in Duquenne 1974–1975. 34. The wording of the former segment follows another known early medieval record almost precisely. The very end of fascicle 19 of a mid-twelfth-century collection of ritual memoranda, titled Denjushū 傳受集 [Collection of transmissions], T. 2482, edited by the Shingon cleric Kanjin 寛信 (1084–1153) from the imperial temple Kajūji 勧修寺 in Kyoto, contains two small items, “Empowerment of the Bathwater for Infants” (Kaji koji no yu no koto 加持小兒湯事, no. 44; T. 2482: 256a17–21) and “Empowerment of the Sash for Pregnant Women” (Kaji ninsha no obi no koto 加持姙者帶事, no. 45; T. 2482: 256a22–27). The wording of item 44 is very similar to that found in the medieval Kanazawa Bunko manuscript and modern copy by Yūshin, owned by the author. However, Denjushū’s item 45 is not quoted in either. 35. Sōi (1074–1148), a Shingon monk from the Minamoto family, was a resident prelate (zasu 座主) at Anjōji 安祥寺 in Yamashina 山科 and a disciple of the Kajūji and Tōji cleric Gonkaku 嚴覚 (1056–1121), also of the Minamoto clan, who performed the rituals for safe pregnancy and labor for the imperial consorts, including Taikenmon’in (1101–1145), mentioned earlier. For a brief note on Sōi, see Shomonzeki fu 諸門跡譜 [Records of various princely abbots], 153. Kanjin (who was also a student of Gonkaku) explained in his Denjushū that Sōi performed such empowerment rituals for the birth of a royal prince who would later be known as the Minister of the Left Minamoto no Arihito (1103–1147) (Sadaijin Arihito Sannomiya shoshi kōtan kaji 左大臣有仁三宮初子降誕加持, T. 2482: 256a21). 36. See, for example, “How to Cure Small Children’s Night Cry” (Shōni no yanaki wo nawosu hō no koto 治小兒夜啼方事), T. 2501: 869a09–12.



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“Ritual Empowerment of the Pregnancy Sash” (Ninsha no obi no kaji sahō 妊者帶加持作法) is also included along with the full forty-five-syllable Sanskrit “easy birth dhāraṇī” and a description of the “easy birth talisman.” This segment contains an attribution to the Ninnaji Omuro 仁和寺御室 tradition of performing this ritual, which involved inserting a pine tree branch into the pregnancy sash and invocation of the Peacock King (Kujaku). T. 2501: 869b11–869c15. 37. The Kajūji branch was founded by Fujiwara no Sadakata (873–932). The Kajūji temple, mentioned earlier, was founded in 900 by Emperor Daigo to commemorate the early death of his mother, Fujiwara no Inshi 藤原胤子 (alt. Taneko, d. 896), who was Sadakata’s sister. 38. Kōwa gannen osan buruiki, GR, fascicle 999, 530–541. 39. Nyōgo 女御 was a title for the yet unofficial imperial consort, who emerged from a number of female assistants serving the ruling emperor in his quarters, including the bedroom. 40. Zōyo (d. 1116) was a Tendai cleric of the Jimon branch and a prominent mountain ascetic, who was based at the Onjōji temple and trained in the Kumano region of Kii peninsula. He received the title of sōshō and then assumed the title of Tendai zasu in 1104 and 1105, respectively. 41. Kōwa gannen osan buruiki, GR, fascicle 999, 530. 42. Osan oinori no mokuroku, GR, fascicle 997, 472–505. Taikenmon’in was known as Fujiwara no Shōshi 璋子, the daughter of Fujiwara no Kinzane 藤原公実, who became the primary imperial consort (kōgō 皇后) in 1118. She was the mother of two ruling emperors, Sutoku 崇徳 (1119–1164, r. 1123– 1141) and Goshirakawa 後白河 (1127–1192, r. 1155–1158). 43. The emergence and historical development of court protocol for safe pregnancy and labor in medieval Japan requires a separate treatment. Here I focus on only one historical example from 1303. 44. See the discussion in Gunji 2018 of the pregnancy rituals performed for Kenreimon’in by the Tendai clerics from Enryakuji and Onjōji. See also the annotated English translation of court procedures taking place during the pregnancy of Shichijōin 七条院 around 1178–1180, which often mentioned Kenreimon’in’s case (Andreeva 2017a). 45. Gunji 2018, 96–99. 46. The daughter of the regent and prime minister Kujō Kanezane 九条兼実 (1149–1207), Taeko 任子. She was the consort of Emperor Gotoba 後鳥羽 (1180–1239, r. 1183–1198). 47. Although the record does not state his name, it was most likely the ­Enryakuji zasu Jien 慈円 (1155–1225), the younger brother of Kujō Kanezane and therefore Gishūmon’in’s paternal uncle. 48. Osan oinori no mokuroku, 476. Gishūmon’in’s pregnancy had necessitated many esoteric rituals commissioned by her family, but space limitations prevent their discussion and analysis here.

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49. Osan oinori no mokuroku, 482. Kangi 寛喜 2 (1230.11.11), Sōhekimon’in 藻璧門院 (Kujō no Shunshi, 1209–1233), the daughter of Kujō Michiie 九条道家 (1193–1252) and the consort of Emperor Gohorikawa 後堀河 (1212–1234, r. 1221–1232). Her pregnancy resulted in the birth of future emperor Shijō 四条 (1231–1242). 50. Osan oinori no mokuroku, 482–486, gives the following dates for the “putting-on the pregnancy sash” by Ōmiyain: Kangen 寛元 1 (1243.1.23), Hōji 寶治 1 (1247.04.08), Kenchō 建長 6 (1254.01.26), Kenchō 7 (1255.10.10), and Shōgen 正元 1 (1259.10.27). 51. Gunji comes to a similar conclusion in relation to the earlier 1178 case of Kenreimon’in. Her discussion is based on a single source, the Sankaiki. 52. Osan oinori no mokuroku, 486. Note the appearance of the “empowerment of the hot tub water” in the early-fourteenth-century Kanazawa Bunko’s Ninsha no obi no kaji and its modern copies, as discussed in the earlier translation. On the oxen bezoar, see Lomi 2017. 53. Minamoto no Yoritomo’s niece was married to one of the Saionji courtiers. 54. Saionji Kinhira 西園寺公衡, Shōkunmon’in onchakutai no ki 昭訓門院 御着帯記, 1–11. 55. Shōkunmon’in onchakutai no ki, 3:1–2. 56. This length appears to be identical to the obi sash measurements described in the Kanazawa Bunko and modern manuscripts of Ninsha no obi no kaji. 57. Shōkunmon’in onchakutai no ki, 3:2. The current fragment has been edited for briefness, with omission of some details, mostly Kinhira’s additional remarks explaining the appearance of participants, design of objects, and previous court procedures. Compare this record with similar events occurring within the Taira family mansion during Kenreimon’in’s labor in 1178 (Gunji 2018). 58. Jūrakuin was one of the three Tendai temple residences for the princely abbots of imperial blood (monzeki 門跡). It subsequently became known as the grave site of Emperor Hanazono 花園天皇 (1297–1348, r. 1308–1318) and the Tendai temple Shōren’in 青蓮院. 59. The quote mentioned in note 35 describes a high-ranking cleric from Ninnaji performing the same procedure, adding the pine twigs to the sash. Kenreimon’in’s case, discussed by Naoko Gunji, also included this action (Gunji 2018, 97). 60. On these and other possible ingredients of this medicine, see Kotaka 2008; on the use of senshōshi and other material items during Kenreimon’in’s pregnancy, see Gunji 2018, 119. 61. For the protection of the body of both “Dharma-King” Kameyama and the pregnant Shōkunmon’in, this latter procedure had to be repeated each month three times. 62. Shōkunmon’in onchakutai no ki, 3:2–6. The paper dolls represented the human substitutes onto which the ritual pollution could be transferred from the human body, by rubbing the dolls against it, and thus cleansed away.



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63. Osan oinori no mokuroku, the years of 1310, 1313–1315, 1319, 1321, 1326, 1334, and 1337. 64. See details in Andreeva 2017a and Gunji 2018. 65. Kokiroku full text database 古記録フルテキストデータベース, Tokyo Historiographic Institute (Tōkyō Shiryō Hensanjo 東京資料編纂所), http:// wwwap.hi.u-tokyo.ac.jp, accessed June 3, 2017. The search for senshōshi returned several dates, all linked to the empowerment of the pregnancy sash: 1178, 1230, 1243, 1247, 1303, 1310. The dates between 1243 and 1310 correspond to pregnancies of the royal consorts hailing from the Saionji family: Ōmiyain, Shōkunmon’in, and Kōgimon’in. 66. Kotaka 2008, 169. He goes on with attempts to reconstruct the exact ingredients for the senshōshi medicine on the basis of the premodern records, including the aforementioned Isho, Honzō wamyō 本草和名 [Japanese names of major herbs] (ca. 918), and other records, but it soon becomes clear that this attempt cannot be entirely successful. 67. There were other important roles performed during such occasions by the consort’s female relatives and mother-in-law: they sponsored part of the ­Buddhist rituals performed for the benefit of the pregnant consort. See the recently published analysis of Kenreimon’in’s pregnancy in Gunji 2018.

References Andreeva, Anna. 2016. “Embryology in Buddhist Thought.” Oxford Bibliographies Online, edited by Richard K. Payne. New York: Oxford University Press. http:// www.oxfordbibliographies.com/ DOI: 10.1093/obo/9780195393521‑0228. ———. 2017a. “Childbirth in Early Medieval Japan: Ritual Economies and Medical Emergencies in Procedures During the Day of the Royal Consort’s Labor.” In Buddhism and Medicine: An Anthology of Premodern Sources, edited by C. Pierce Salguero, 336–350. New York: Columbia University Press. ———. 2017b. “Explaining Conception to Women? Buddhist Embryological Knowledge in the Sanshō ruijūshō 産生類聚抄 (Encyclopedia of Childbirth, ca. 1318).” Special issue “Buddhism and Medicine,” edited by C.  Pierce Salguero and William McGrath, Asian Medicine: Journal of the International Association of the Study of Traditional Asian Medicine 12:170–202. ———. 2018. “Devising the Esoteric Rituals for Women: Fertility and the Demon Mother in the Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū 求子妊胎産生秘密法集.” In Women, Rites and Things in Premodern Japan, edited by Karen Gerhart, 53–88. Leiden: Brill. Andreeva, Anna, and Dominic Steavu, eds. 2016. “Introduction: Backdrops and Parallels to Embryological Discourse and Reproductive Imagery in East Asian Religions.” In Transforming the Void, edited by Anna Andreeva and Dominic Steavu, 1–52. Leiden: Brill.

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Copp, Paul. 2014. The Body Incantatory: Spells and Ritual Imagination in ­Chinese Buddhism. New York: Columbia University Press. Duquenne, Robert. 1974–1975. “Atabaka arano yasha to Taigensui mishuhō” 阿吒婆倶曠野薬叉と大元帥御修法 [The Indian legends on Atavaka, the demon wandering through the wilderness, and the Japanese imperial cult of the Tai Yuan Shuai]. Indogaku bukkyōgaku kenkyū 印度学佛教学研究 23, no. 2:701–708. Goble, Andrew E. 2009. “Kajiwara Shōzen (1265–1337) and the Medical Silk Road: Chinese and Arabic Influences on Early Medieval Japanese Medicine.” In Tools of Culture, edited by Andrew E. Goble, Kenneth R. Robinson, and Haruko Wakabayashi, 231–257. Ann Arbor, MI: Association of Asian Studies. ———. 2011. Confluences of Medicine in Medieval Japan: Buddhist Healing, Chinese Knowledge, Islamic Formulas, and Wounds of War. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Gunji, Naoko. 2018. “Taira no Tokushi’s Birth of Emperor Antoku.” In Women, Rites and Ritual Objects in Premodern Japan, edited by Karen Gerhart, 89–140. Leiden: Brill. Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū 求子妊胎産生秘密法集 [Collection of secret rituals on conception, pregnancy, and childbirth]. n.d. Attributed to Annen 安然 (841–889?). In Nihon daizōkyō 日本大蔵経, edited by Matsumoto Bunzaburō 松本文三朗 and Nakano Tatsue 中野達恵, 43:191–198. Tokyo: Nihon daizōkyō hensankai. Kotaka Shūji 小高修司. 2008. “Senshōshi no kō”「仙沼子」攷. Yakushigaku zasshi 薬史学雑誌 43, no. 2:169–174. Kōwa gannen osan buruiki 康和元年御産部類記 [Miscellaneous records on the august childbirth in the first year of Kōwa era, 1099–1100]. GR, fascicle 999, pp. 530–541. Lomi, Benedetta. 2017. “The Ox-Bezoar Empowerment for Fertility and Safe Childbirth: Selected Readings from the Shingon Ritual Collections.” In Buddhism and Medicine: An Anthology of Premodern Sources, edited by C. Pierce Salguero, 351–357. New York: Columbia University Press. Ninsha no obi no kaji 妊者帯加持. Modern copy. n.d. Also, Kanazawa Bunko, KB 310–113. Osan no oinori no mokuroku 御産御祈目録 [Records of prayers for childbirth, 1118–1337]. GR, fascicle 997, pp. 472–505. Ruppert, Brian. 2000. Jewel in the Ashes. Harvard Asia Monograph Series. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center. Saionji Kinhira 西園寺公衡. ca. 1303. Shōkunmon’in onchakutai no ki 昭訓門院 御着帯記. In Kinhira kōki 公衡公記, 3:1–11. Salguero, Pierce C. 2014. Translating Buddhist Medicine in Medieval China. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Sanpishō 産秘抄 [Secret notes on childbirth]. ca. 1304?. Kanazawa Bunko, MS 249–15 and 255–04.



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Sanshō ruijūshō 産生類従抄 [Encyclopedia of childbirth]. ca. 1318. Kanazawa Bunko, MS 5–3–1. Shomonzeki fu 諸門跡譜 [Records of various princely abbots]. Gunsho ruijū 群書類従, vol. 5, Keifu-bu, den-bu, kanshoku-bu 系譜部傳部官職部 [Bio­ graphies, transmissions, official posts], fascicle 61. Sinclaire, Iain. n.d. “Dhāraṇī of the Great Protectress, Queen of Mantras.” In Digital Dictionary of Buddhism, edited by Charles Muller, http://buddhism -dict.net/ddb. Accessed July 20, 2017. Suzuki, Yui. 2014. “Twanging Bows and Throwing Rice: Warding Off Evil in Medieval Japanese Birth Scenes.” Artibus Asiae 74, no. 1:17–41. Winfield, Pamela D. 2005. “Curing with Kaji: Healing and Esoteric Empowerment in Japan.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 32, no. 1:107–130.

6

Ritualizing Moxibustion in the Early Medieval Tendai-Jimon Lineage Andrew Macomber

T

he early medieval period, roughly defined here as the late tenth through early fourteenth centuries, marked the heyday for ­ritual healing in premodern Japan.1 Drawing upon vast liturgical resources— some continental in origin, others homegrown—monks of esoteric Buddhist lineages daily channeled the gods with chant and gesture, deploying technologies of prayer to expel the demonic agents of disease. Members of the Jimon 寺門 lineage, based at the temple Onjōji 園城寺 (aka Miidera 三井寺), warrant special mention, for although rarely acknowledged in scholarship to date, these monks were at the vanguard of efforts to ritually prevail over disease, having won great renown for successfully curing emperors and aristocratic patients throughout the Heian (794–1185) and Kamakura (1185–1333) periods. This chapter examines a practice developed by Onjōji monks over the late twelfth and thirteenth centuries that departed from established patterns of ritual therapy and further distinguished the Jimon lineage from other healers, Buddhist and otherwise, in early medieval medical culture. What set this novel healing program apart was its integration of moxibustion (kyū; Ch. jiu 灸), a classical Chinese medical technique until that time by and large used by court physicians, a distinct class of medical specialists.2 By examining the promotion of a classical medical modality to the center of a patently esoteric liturgy, this chapter seeks to explore the textual, imaginative, and material operations through which monks in medieval Japan drew from multiple sources to craft new medical practices.3 194



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Although it is widely acknowledged that Buddhist networks played a pivotal role in the reception of classical Chinese medicine in ancient and medieval Japan, we are only just beginning to explore what this means for how monks engaged diseases in practice. While ritual forms of healing have increasingly received attention, the predominant framework of competition between Buddhist lineages or schools often obscures how such rites were products of broader medical cultures wherein a range of healers drew upon sometimes divergent and other times overlapping sources of knowledge to manage disease. For monks in medieval Japan, classical medicine constituted in some senses a rival healing tradition, represented as it was by court physicians. At the same time, it was a viable resource, and monks drew from its textual corpus, significant portions of which they imported to Japan and preserved alongside sacred writings in monastic archives. As we will see, Jimon monks saw Buddhist and medical sources as complementary and read them together in ways not anticipated by their original genres or contexts. It was through such innovative readings that these monks were able to design an esoteric Buddhist ritual centered around a classical medical modality, a technique that had come to take on an especially conspicuous role in early medieval healing. Two Currents of Early Medieval Medicine Writing in the thirteenth century, court physician Koremune Tomo­ toshi 惟宗具俊 (fl. late thirteenth century) summarized the status moxibustion had reached in Japan by his time: A good physician is generally understood as one who performs both acupuncture (hari/shin 針) and moxibustion. We see in the Classic on Nurturing Life [with Acupuncture and Moxibustion] ([Zhenjiu] zi­ sheng jing 針灸資生經) that, “If one needles but does not cauterize, or if one uses cautery but does not needle, this is not a good physician.” However, as mentioned previously, the technique of acupuncture has perished and thus is not used. It is moxibustion that, even until this latter age, remains number one among ­treatments. 凡、針灸ヲ共ニ行ヲ良医トス。資生經云、若針而不 レ灸、灸而不 レ 針、非二良医一也、ト侍レドモ、先条ニ申ヤウニ、針術ハ絶ヌレバ不 用。灸コソ末代マデモ、療治ノ第一ナレ。4 レ

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Drawing on classical Chinese medical sources, this passage begins an argument for moxibustion’s superiority. It is especially remarkable, however, as a commentary on the ascendency of moxibustion among healing technologies used in Japan in the early medieval period. Documentary evidence from this “latter age,” particularly in the form of diaries written from the late tenth through thirteenth centuries by members of the aristocracy, vouch for Tomotoshi’s retrospective and historical assessment in two respects.5 Although transmitted to Japan together as interrelated modalities of classical medicine, acupuncture and moxibustion saw divergent trajectories in their reception over the Heian period. Needles did see therapeutic use, but this was in the main relegated to dentistry and petty surgery, not quite the chief functions of acupuncture as Tomotoshi, versed in classical medical literature, might have understood them. Moxibustion, in contrast, was used with great frequency for a wide range of disorders and came to occupy a central place among the therapeutic options available to court physicians. Eventually it would be adopted and transformed by Buddhist healers as well. The Rise of Moxibustion

Aspects of these developments were anticipated by the textual sources for classical medicine transmitted to Japan. Moxibustion was a preferred modality in various Chinese medical texts, most notably The Yellow Emperor’s Toad Canon (Huangdi hama jing 黄帝蝦蟇經), Formulae to Keep Close at Hand in Preparation for Emergencies (Zhouhou beiji fang 肘後備急方), Prescriptions in Brief (Xiaopin fang 小品方), and Arcane Essentials from the Imperial Library (Waitai miyao fang 外台秘要方, hereafter Arcane Essentials), a trend that might reflect popular reliance on the technique in China over the periods of compilation.6 In Arcane Essentials, compiler Wang Tao 王燾 (fl. 752) famously comments that acupuncture can kill but not revive a person.7 Putting that claim to work, Wang replaces nearly every instance of the character for “acupuncture” (zhen) or “pierce” (ci 刺) in quoted sources with the character for “moxibustion” (jiu).8 Wang’s treatise exerted considerable influence on court medicine in the Heian period, most conspicuously on Tanba no Yasuyori’s 丹波康 頼 Ishinpō 医心方 (lit. “Prescriptions at the Heart of Medicine,” 984), Japan’s oldest extant medical compendium and one benchmark for therapeutic knowledge for centuries.9



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The Ishinpō organizes acumoxa loci according to region of the body, rather than the circulation tracts or channels. Therapy on the ground apparently followed suit. Diary entries from the centuries following the Ishinpō suggest that in actual cases the channels were not taken into consideration by members of leading medical lineages such as the Tanba 丹波 and Wake 和気.10 Rather, those sources indicate serious engagement with moxibustion interdictions related to “bodygods” (jinshin 人神), spirits believed to circulate around the body in harmony with calendrical cycles. An important parallel is to be noted here with The Yellow Emperor’s Toad Canon as well as several Dunhuang manuscripts.11 In those sources as well as in Heian Japan, the application of moxibustion to the current residence of a body spirit was understood to be dangerous or even fatal; thus, correct knowledge about calendrical taboos was deemed critical. Diary entries, which allow us to glimpse the social contexts in which these ideas played out in Japan, demonstrate that medical families did not simply follow received literature but came to hold contrasting theories on this topic, leading to much deliberation and debate.12 These exchanges, as intellectual as they were clinically relevant, in turn stimulated the compilation of specialized manuals and secret transmissions, for the possession of such documents alone could authorize a given position regarding body-god locations.13 The increasing prominence of moxibustion among the healing activities at court through the Heian period was likely a stimulus for its eventual uptake among Buddhist monks of various stripes. Diaries suggest that some of the first among Buddhist communities to adopt the modality were hijiri 聖.14 These semireclusive and sometimes peripatetic figures, who were often summoned to court to perform healing for the nobility, are better known for thaumaturgical therapies involving spells, the nenbutsu 念仏 (reciting the Buddha’s name), and recitations of the Lotus Sūtra. But it is not hard to imagine why hijiri would come to include moxa in their repertoire. These marginal practitioners were after all among the least likely to come by the expensive and rarefied herbal medicines and aromatics from the continent that even large monasteries and physicians struggled to acquire in this period. Moxibustion offered a potent modality made of mugwort, a sprawling weed hijiri would have found in abundance along the roads of their travels and on the mountains where they carried out their spiritual pursuits. More important, given the prominence of moxibustion among court physicians at this time, adopting the technique would have

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allowed hijiri to further expand their role and influence as healers at court. Diary entries demonstrate that application of moxibustion by hijiri was, practically speaking, generally unremarkable. Ignoring body-gods and calendrical taboos—systems linked more closely to court-centric activities such as diary keeping itself and ceremonial protocol—hijiri applied moxa simply on a select number of locations on the body, some of which corresponded to acumoxa loci found in classical texts and thus would have also been used by court physicians. What would eventually distinguish hijiri practice, however, was their ability to augment the application of moxa with ritual technologies, the therapeutic status of which was arguably seen in this period to be greater than those of classical medical modalities, including moxibustion. One compelling and historically significant example of such a moxibustion/ritual blending can be found in the therapeutic practices of Iwaya Shōnin 岩屋聖人, a hijiri of the late twelfth century of unknown affiliation.15 The first mention of Iwaya’s use of moxibustion appears in 1165, according to which Iwaya reportedly applied moxa for a sufferer of “corpse-vector disease” (denshibyō 傳屍病).16 In entries dated ten years later, we learn that Iwaya’s treatment method integrated moxibustion with “empowerment” (kaji 加持) prayers (more on this later), performed in order to secure protection for the patient’s body against the same ailment.17 While only such minor details can be gleaned from surviving diaries, it is evident that Iwaya’s combinatory practice marks the beginnings of what would thereafter become a veritable current. Court physicians such as Tomotoshi might continue into the thirteenth century to revisit the classical notion of the ideal physician as one who dually applies moxibustion and acupuncture, but a wide swath of patients and healers in early medieval Japan would come to see the combination of moxibustion and ritual technologies as a uniquely compelling therapeutic package. As best we can tell, Iwaya’s integration, although surely one of the earliest, appears to have been rudimentary. In contrast, the ritualization of moxibustion to be explored in this chapter—a project of monks affiliated with Onjōji, a powerful monastic institution—reveals an intricate patchwork that will require careful unpacking. Before turning to the sources of that ritual, however, we must briefly clarify what place Onjōji monks occupied in medical culture prior to developing this rite.



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Kaji Healing in the Jimon Lineage

In terms of ritual therapy for treating disease—one field of the practically oriented endeavors comprising what has been called the “sociopolitical interface of the Tantric lineages”—monks of Onjōji were not mere contenders among rival factions in the Heian and Kamakura periods.18 Indeed, when courtiers and members of the imperial family sought ritual forms of healing, they turned to the expertise of Jimon monks more often than members of either the Sanmon—the other branch of Tendai—or the Shingon 真言 lineages, the other major esoteric Buddhist communities of the day.19 Along with the ascendency of moxibustion, ritual healing as led by Jimon monks marked a second pronounced feature of early medieval medical culture. The term reserved for healers utilizing ritual technologies was genza 験者, which we can understand to mean “those who manifest efficacy.” Genza performed healing through kaji (Skt. adhisṭḥāna) or empowerment, flexible modules of ritual actions through which the unseen agencies of deities are channeled by the genza into certain implements or the body of the genza himself and directed toward specific outcomes.20 At the core of kaji programs were mudras, mantras, and visualizations—the “three mysteries” (sanmitsu 三密) of body, speech, and mind in esoteric Buddhist practice. While doctrinal and soteriological formulations of kaji often revolved around Dainichi Nyorai 大日如来, in healing applications it was especially common for genza to invoke Fudō Myōō 不動明王, a deity with few peers in terms of expelling disease-causing demons. Credit for initiating kaji in Japan often goes to Kūkai, the founder of the Japanese Shingon school, but a distinction must be drawn between theorizing kaji and its clinical deployment. Early recorded cases of kaji applied to healing reflect influence not from Kūkai’s soteriological discussions, in fact, but from āveśa rites outlined in continental scriptures.21 Sources detailing āveśa rites were known in Japan from an early date, but the experimentation with such rites in practice appears to have begun with the immediate successors of Enchin 円珍 (814–891), the founder of the Jimon lineage.22 It was probably the sustained interest in these techniques among Jimon monks that would eventually inspire the later current of kaji healing and, in the process, earn this lineage considerable traction with influential members of the court through the Heian and Kamakura periods.23 The twelfth-century creation of a healing ritual

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using moxibustion by Jimon monks was thus not an anomaly but rather intricately tied to the role members of this lineage played for generations as ritual therapists. The Jimon Moxibustion Rite The surviving documents for the moxibustion rite can be divided into two broad categories: (1)  texts detailing the base liturgical program and (2) texts that additionally include oral transmissions about the rite. Briefly outlining these two types allows us to situate the rite in the context of the Jimon lineage in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The Ritual of the Blue-Faced Vajra-yakṣa for Eliminating Demons and Māras (Shōshiki daikongō yasha byaku kima hō 青色大金剛薬叉 辟鬼魔法), or Ritual for Eliminating Demons as it was often abbreviated, was the title under which the liturgical text circulated in the medieval period.24 Most editions of the text contain an attribution to a “master” (ajari 阿闍梨; Skt. ācārya) named Kūki (Ch. Kongqi 空基), who has been identified by scholars as a Tang period (618–907) monk, suggesting a Chinese provenance to the liturgy.25 The basis for this identification is a claim within a colophon dated 1220 that the liturgy was imported to Japan by Enchin, whose pilgrimage to China in the mid-ninth century resulted in the transmission of many esoteric Buddhist writings to Onjōji’s archives. However, this claim brings to mind similar attempts, common in this period, to legitimize indigenously produced rites by linking them to lineage or school founders and continental origins. No evidence suggests that the Ritual for Eliminating Demons existed within the Chinese esoteric Buddhist corpus or that it was included in Enchin’s catalogue of imported works. The base liturgical program and its textual sources are best understood as products of Jimon monks in the mid- to late twelfth century, a fact our analysis of its content will later bear out. When citing the Ritual for Eliminating Demons, later transmissions would refer to it simply as the “ritual protocol” (giki 儀軌) in order to distinguish the core liturgy from oral transmissions (kuden 口伝), the secondary category of documents concerning the practice. Although other lineages would go on to claim their own oral teachings for this rite, it was widely acknowledged by monks of various factions in the medieval period that the oral transmissions had originally developed in the Jimon lineage. Noteworthy here is the fact that, while these oral transmissions may have initially been conveyed



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verbally from master to initiated disciples when the liturgy was taught, the colophons for the oral transmission texts largely overlap with the dates of the extant liturgy documents themselves, which fall in the early 1170s. This suggests that Jimon monks put these oral transmissions into writing and passed them down as physical documents at an early stage. Indeed, the two sets of documents may have actually come into being at around the same time, with the oral transmission texts functioning as supplementary but essential teachings for the performance of the liturgy. In particular, the oral transmission texts contain many more practical details as concerns the application of moxibustion, without which the core treatment method outlined in the liturgy would be impossible to perform. Taken together with the historical overlap of their colophons, this interdependent relationship between liturgy and oral transmission further suggests the production of a single community of monks. Central to this project were several generations of Onjōji monks, beginning with Keihan 慶範 (1155–1221). In the earliest extant oral transmission document, titled Essential Notes on Corpse-Vector Disease and Treatment for Wasting Disease (Denshibyō kanjinshō narabini sōbyō chihō 伝屍病肝心抄並痩病治方; hereafter Essential Notes), we find colophons by Keihan dated to 1173 and 1174, just two years after he copied the Ritual for Eliminating Demons.26 In both texts, Keihan indicates that he received these teachings from a certain Jōjōbō 乗々房, about whom we have little information.27 Following Keihan, subsequent transcriptions of Essential Notes were completed by Keisei 慶政 (1189–1268) in the 1220s, and later Rishin 理真 (fl. mid-thirteenth century).28 Both Keisei and Rishin made ­major editorial changes to the document, particularly important because their editions would later circulate among other lineages.29 The earliest edition of Essential Notes that survives today is thought to be in the hand of Rishin from the 1250s. This information about various transmissions also invites speculation about one possible audience for the performance of this liturgy. Keisei and Rishin were both members of the Kujō 九条, a branch of the powerful Fujiwara family that maintained close ties to Onjōji in the early medieval period. While Keihan was not himself a member of the Kujō, he was certainly instrumental in linking this family to Onjōji, even compiling portions of his Record of Treasured Secrets (Hōhiki 宝秘記), a key liturgical anthology for the Jimon ­lineage, at the Kujō villa.30 Thus we can imagine that, in return for

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various forms of support that would have helped them to compile ritual documents—including perhaps access to medical texts—Jimon monks likely offered their healing services to members of the Kujō family.31 As a major therapeutic innovation that assimilated moxibustion into an esoteric liturgy, the Jimon rite was undoubtedly a resource of which aristocratic families would have sought to avail themselves in times of illness. Structure and Techniques

The Ritual for Eliminating Demons is most basically a goma 護摩 (Skt. homa) or fire ceremony performed according to the conventions of the “subjugation method” (jōbukuhō 調伏法; Skt. abhicāraka), a genre of esoteric Buddhist liturgy often used for healing purposes. The rite is dedicated to eliminating corpse-vector disease, a malady that Jimon monks imagined to be induced by demons and other malicious entities to be mentioned shortly. In line with this objective, the main deity worshipped in the rite is the wrathful Shōmen Kongō 青面 金剛. The instructions indicate that the ritualist should draw a mandala at the center of an altar during a solar or lunar eclipse, in which Shōmen Kongō will be illustrated alongside Shō Mudō Myōō 聖無動 明王, an iconographically rare six-eyed form of Fudō Myōō. Before these two and enclosed in a radiant sun disc are drawn a triad of higher worthies—the King of a Hundred Lights Universally  Illuminating, Shaka Golden-Wheel Buddha (Hyakkō Henjō Ō Shaka Kinrin Butsu 百光遍照王釈迦金輪仏); Master of Medicines Lapis Lazuli Light Buddha (Yakushi Rurikō Butsu 薬師瑠璃光仏); and Sacred WishFulfilling Wheel King Bodhisattva (Shō-Nyoirin ō Bosatsu 聖如意輪 王菩薩, i.e., a form of Avalokiteśvara). In addition to the worship of Shōmen Kongō and these other deities through hymns, mantras, and mudras, the Ritual for Eliminating Demons incorporates several miscellaneous methods for healing, the exact sequencing of which is not entirely clear. The first set of techniques involves reciting the “Great Body Spell” (Daishinju 大身呪) of Shōmen Kongō while flogging the sick person with tree branches and tossing mustard seeds at their face.32 The instructions note here that if the demons do not depart after three days of the treatment, the ritualist must switch to moxibustion. The liturgy lists the moxibustion loci along with mantras to be chanted while it is administered. It then prescribes cleaning the points to which moxa



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has been applied with an empowered decoction of water, aromatics, and the tree branches used previously for flogging, ending with the suggestion that these procedures—moxa and cleansing—should ­continue for thirty-seven days. An additional procedure involves boiling three effigies, proxies for the disease, in a pot, which is said to destroy the three demons that provoke the disease. Given the text’s own admission that if not treated within fortynine days the sufferer will surely die, it is apparent that the specific techniques (i.e., flogging, moxibustion, effigies), performed while observing the patient’s condition, are the focal point, rather than the formal aspects and timing of the goma structure in which the liturgy embeds them. While the liturgy accords roughly the same amount of space to explain each of these three techniques and thus does not institute a transparent hierarchy among them, the oral transmission sources make it clear that moxibustion constitutes the core of this healing rite. Moreover, unlike the liturgy, which provides only the names for all the moxa loci along with their corresponding mantra, Essential Notes provides concrete instructions for how to find those loci on the sick person’s body. Corpse-Vector Disease

In addition to its incorporation of moxibustion, the Ritual for Eliminating Demons is unique for its focus on corpse-vector disease. The notion that moxibustion would be efficacious for corpse-vector disease was already established in classical Chinese medicine, and this was apparently known not only to Jimon monks but also to certain hijiri, as in the case of Iwaya Shōnin, mentioned earlier. Here we must note two aspects of the disorder developed in classical medicine that were also emphasized in medieval Japan.33 First, the disorder was traditionally classified under the “exhaustion” or “depletion-­exhaustion” (xulao 虚勞) category, indicating that it is characterized by a depletion of vital energies and fluids in the body, leading to weakness, wasting, and eventually death. An infectious component was also emphasized. In particular, it was thought that when one sufferer died, the disease would spread from the corpse of the deceased to other living victims in close vicinity.34 The movement of this pathological agent suggested to Jimon monks a parallel to the related but originally separate idea of the “three corpse-worms” (sanshi 三尸) associated with the cult of kōshin 庚申.35 These corpse-worms were

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understood to be trapped inside the body of all humans, but able to leave the body on the night of the fifty-seventh day (kōshin) in the sexagenary cycle of days, when they ascended to heaven to report the vices of their host to celestial deities. While retaining classically defined aspects of corpse-vector disease and this link to the three corpse-worms, the Jimon ritual sources ultimately subsume these notions under a Tantric perspective of the demonic. Applying Moxibustion Having acquainted ourselves with corpse-vector disease, the problematic at the crux of the healing ritual developed by Jimon monks in the late twelfth century, it is now time to examine the healing technology they proposed in response. Ritual Action and Ritual Efficacy

As noted previously, the Jimon ritual is focused on moxibustion, a practice in which, minimally defined, the healer facilitates healing by burning the patient’s skin. The promotion of moxibustion within the context of an esoteric Buddhist goma presents a problem of interpretation. Our initial overview of how the rise of moxibustion coincided with the dominance of Jimon-lineage monks as specialists of kaji healing in early medieval Japan provides some inroads into imagining sociomedical factors behind this development. In order to understand why monks of this particular school would adopt this healing modality, however, it is necessary to think from within the ritual. In the liturgy Ritual for Eliminating Demons, moxibustion was to be paired directly with mantras, after which the mudra of Shōmen Kongō would be applied to each of the moxa points: When [applying moxa] on the Character-Ten on the Crown (Chōjūji) (of the head), recite aṃ khaṃ hūṃ phaṭ fifty-seven times [in order to] endow [the sufferer] with the virtues and attributes of the King of the Hundred Lights Universally Shining. Next, cauterize the Wind Gate (Fūmon) when reciting ha hā hūṃ phaṭ fifty-seven times. Next, when cauterizing the Platform Mirror (Dankyō), recite a ā aṃ aḥ hūṃ phaṭ fifty-seven times. Next, when you cauterize the Heart (Shinzō), recite ra rā raṃ raḥ hūṃ phaṭ fifty-seven times. Next, when you cauterize the Cinnabar Field (Tanden), recite hūṃ aḥ hrīḥ hūṃ phaṭ fifty-seven times. Next,



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when you cauterize the left and right Wind Gathering (Fūji) [points], recite ha hā haṃ haḥ hūṃ phaṭ fifty-seven times. Next, when you cauterize the left and right Hōkyō holes, recite va vā vaṃ vaḥ hūṃ phaṭ fifty-seven times. As above, the adept should use the aforementioned root mudra [of Shōmen Kongō] to empower the moxibustion points. 先灸頂十字時、誦姦禽轄發吒五七遍、具百光遍照王功徳蘊相。次灸 風門時、誦侍爾吽發吒五七遍。次灸亶鏡時、誦乾侃姦完吽發吒五七 遍。次灸心蔵時、誦差 挫紫資吽發吒五七遍。次灸丹田時、誦轄活完 吽發吒五七遍。次灸左右風市、誦侍爾夙述吽發吒。次灸左右彭矯穴 時、誦沙催脂雌吽發吒五七遍。已上以前根本印加持其灸処。36

Each moxa point on the body has been allocated short mantras that end with the phrase hūṃ phaṭ. This final phrase is understood as a furious roar, vocally marking the ritualist’s interpenetration with the wrathful deity, a transferal of power. Given that this phrase appears conventionally within rites of the subjugation genre,37 the instructions shown here can be understood to link all loci with the goal of eliminating demons, even as the unique set of syllabic formulas given to each call attention to their distinctiveness as points. The “fundamental mudra,” deployed it seems to seal the mantras within the body by empowering each of the moxa loci, performs similar work in braiding each point to the divine object of that mudra and the center of gravity for the rite, Shōmen Kongō. The combination of spells and moxibustion itself was not as innovative at this time as it might initially appear. Aside from what we have already noted about hijiri who started to pair these two around the same time the Jimon liturgy was created, it is important to keep in mind that the second fascicle of the Ishinpō already included spells for moxibustion (kyūji shō 灸治頌) following its elaboration of the bodygods.38 Culled from The Yellow Emperor’s Toad Canon, these spells are addressed to deities such as Heavenly Physician (Ten’i 天医) whose movements and locations in the body must be carefully monitored in order to ensure safe and correct administration. The spells read as petitions for the protection of these deities during treatment. Although it is not clear how often these spells were employed by court physicians in actual practice, their continual presence in medical sources over the medieval period suggests that they remained clinically relevant. We can imagine then that spells were part and parcel of what aristocratic patients expected when they received treatment

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administered by a physician. Healing monks of esoteric Buddhist lineages, too, would surely have been aware of the convention to pair moxa and incantation. But while the spells used by court physicians were linked to the somewhat circumscribed calendrical system of the body-gods as delineated in texts such as the Ishinpō, esoteric monks had at their disposal a host of divine resources beyond medical literature to render their combination especially robust. These were the countless spells that filled out the esoteric liturgical corpus. Such spells drew potency from entire mandalas replete with impressive divinities and were written in Siddhaṃ, a script to which esoteric monks in Japan ascribed magical qualities. In adopting moxibustion, Jimon monks also likely had in mind certain similarities in terms of how therapeutic modalities engage the body of the sick in specific ways. Moxibustion and kaji empowerment are both performed over and on the surface of the body in order to effect therapeutic change within. Court physicians would have generally applied moxa to any number of loci on the body; thus their focus was on the condition as presented by the disease at hand and the correct assessment of locations of body-gods. In contrast to this, the Jimon liturgy prescribes a small set of points to be administered according to a particular sequence that is strikingly similar to kaji forms of healing. That similarity becomes lucid in the following passage from the Collection on Ritual Conduct (Sahō shu 作法集), a Shingon text that reveals key aspects of kaji healing performed by genza in the early medieval period:39 When empowering a sick person, one’s own body takes on the essence of the main object of worship by imagining, “My body is originally pure, endowed with the essence of the World Honored One,” and by visualizing [the following]: “From above the moon-disc of my heartmind is the seed-syllable of the main deity. The bright light shines universally, and I myself become the deity.” And visualize [the following]: “There is the syllable ra, which blazes in radiant flames above the moon-disc of the sick person’s heart-mind, scorching the sick person’s crimes, obstacles, and ailments.” . . . Form the mudra and apply it to five places (forehead, right shoulder, left shoulder, heart, throat; chant the mantra once for each). Also, use the Fire Production mudra (kaen hasshō 火炎発生), the mudra of the Dharma-Realm Generation (hōkaishō 法界 生). Recite the mantras and hurl them at the body of the sick person. Next, form the mudra of the deity, place it on the heart [chakra], and



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with Vajra Eyes (kongō gen 金剛眼)40 contemplate the sick person. (First on the right side, then on the left, then above, then below.) 先加持病人時、我身為本尊性、謂想「我身本来清浄世尊性。」又 観、「自心月輪上有本尊種字。光明遍照曜自信成本尊。」又観、「 有羅字。於病人心月輪上火焔熾然。焚焼病人罪障病患観畢。」[ . . . ] 契相印五処。 額、右肩、左肩、心、喉、各誦真言一辺 又火炎発生 印、用法界生印。誦真言投病者身上。次作本尊印当心。以金剛眼而 観病人。先右方。次左方。次上。次下。41

Underlying the procedures described is an implicit map of the body’s chakras (Skt. cakra; J. rin 輪), a foundational component of esoteric visualization practices that is built upon the system of correspondence connecting the five Indian elements (earth, water, fire, wind, and space) to the embodied practitioner.42 While the activation of esoteric physiology through such practices is known to be central to soteriological pursuits, this passage indicates that this map of the subtle body could be readily applied to therapeutic scenarios as well. This is what is at work in the Ritual for Eliminating Demons. The number of moxa loci indicated in the Jimon ritual exceeds that of common numerical counts of chakras (five or six), reflecting the fact that the liturgy’s compilers sought to avail themselves of much acumoxa knowledge. Nevertheless, the points prescribed in the liturgy accord with the central and vertical alignment of the chakras we find in the kaji guidelines. That is, the moxa loci in the Jimon technique either fall on that centerline or, in cases of pairs of points, find their center of gravity along it. By plotting moxa loci over the five regions of the esoteric subtle body in this way, the Jimon liturgy renders moxibustion a practice parallel with kaji. When we imagine how the Jimon liturgy was performed in actual cases, it is apparent that the addition of moxibustion to kaji would have been no small supplement. Given the popularity of esoteric ritual during the early medieval period, and its widescale adoption in healing, it is evident that its core empowering techniques—mantras, mudras, and so on—were understood by monks and patrons alike to wield tremendous efficacy. In many cases, however, the effects of such techniques on a patient’s condition would have been subtle, at least not immediately obvious, leaving the question of efficacy open to varied and often ­conflicting interpretations.43 With the addition of moxibustion, however, which burns into the superficial layers of skin and soon after creates scars, the effects of kaji would be transformed into physical artifacts,

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allowing for a different way to assess whether or not the treatment was working. By converting the subdued effects of ritual into coarse imprints on the body of the patient, moxibustion could function to expand the means of verifying ritual efficacy. Indeed, in medieval medical culture more broadly, the burns, sores, and scars attending moxa practice were understood to constitute a critical dimension of the therapy, rather than mere side effects to be minimized. Moxa burns were generally thought to mean the desired effect was achieved, while subsequent scarring could be read to make judgments about the patient’s condition and adjust treatments accordingly. Thus, in a ritual context, we can imagine how moxibustion would allow for a particular fusion of images of efficacy, to be explored shortly, with immediately observable material effects. In highlighting these similarities between kaji and moxibustion, we should take care to underline the fact that there were quite different possibilities in early medieval Japan for braiding continental forms of medicine to the five-tiered system of correspondence so central to esotericism. In the well-known example of the Record of Nourishing Life by Drinking Tea (Kissayōjōki 喫茶養生記), Yōsai 栄西 (aka Eisai; 1141–1215) famously promoted the internal ingestion of tea as a means of restoring balance among the five viscera of classical medicine, which he links to the five buddhas and their associated bodhi­ sattvas, mandalic divisions, and seed syllables.44 But as specialists of the kind of kaji indicated in the Collection on Ritual Conduct, wherein healing involves engagement with inner chakras by way of external sites on the body, Jimon monks would arguably have been drawn more readily to a technique like moxibustion that allowed them to similarly forge pathways of healing on vital regions accessible from the exterior surface of the body. In light of the ritual dispositions of Jimon monks, then, we can imagine how the internal ­consumption of medicine might not have been as compelling as moxibustion as a healing modality to be ritualized. Continuing our examination of the inception of this liturgy, we must note the central role of fire as a second area of resonance between moxibustion and esoteric ritual. The centrality of fire in esoteric Buddhist ritual itself has two interrelated and mutually reinforcing dimensions, the first concerning expressions of and about efficacy, and the second related to how efficacious actions are accomplished in material ways during the ritual performance. Expressions revolving around fire, so pervasive as the backdrop for much esoteric symbology and discourse as to almost go unnoticed,



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figure prominently in instructions for kaji healing.45 The Collection on Ritual Conduct passage quoted here provides a vivid case. The instructions tell the genza performing the practice to visualize blazing flames emanating from the syllable ra 差. This description draws its logic from the correlative system of the esoteric five elements, wherein the syllable ra in turn corresponds to the element fire, in which capacity it is said to represent the “fire of wisdom.” Rather than a simple doctrinal operation, however, these associations inform descriptions of ritual efficacy. We see this in the comment that the ­visualized syllable will scorch the sick person’s karmic burdens and diseases. Finally, in a third extension, the mudra employed in tandem with the visualization is the “Dharma-Realm Generation” mudra. Here, that is given in its alternative name, “Fire-Generating” mudra, further exploiting the links with fire and its power.46 These instructions thus show how images of fire, grounded in esoteric syntax, were used to express ritual action even as they were tied to concrete techniques such as visualizations and mudras. This convergence of imagery and technique is discernible even in the shape of the “Fire-Generating” or “Flames” mudra (see fig. 5), where the pointer fingers of both hands meet to form a triangle, coming together in the figure of a flame.47 Indeed, the fire-god of the goma hearth, Agni, is represented by a triangle, and this is also the shape of the hearth used in subjugation rites. An identical form is commonly made during the goma ceremony by the ritualist, who connects the two ends of a pair of ladles in the same way that the pointer fingers are linked in the mudra, thus imitating the contours of the rising flames of the altar’s hearth, before which they sit (shushaku hō 取杓法).48

Figure 5. The Flames Mudra (kaen in 火焔印). Reproduced from Keisokuin Kanshitsu 2006, 70.

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This comparison with the Collection on Ritual Conduct instructions, a text we noted likely reflects Jimon transmissions, allows us to see the Ritual for Eliminating Demons in a new light. The first technique introduced in the liturgy involves throwing mustard seeds in the sufferer’s face in much the same way that mantras are launched in the Collection on Ritual Conduct. The Ritual for Eliminating Demons describes the resulting effect by saying the seeds cause the “demon body to break and split as if consumed by flames.” A similar image is invoked in descriptions of the third technique, which follows moxibustion. There, the ritualist fashions three effigies in the form of the “three demons,” a homological reference to the three corpse-worms and thus instigators of corpse-vector disease. After boiling these effigies in oil, the ritualist is instructed to chant the “Fire Realm” mantra (kakai shingon 火界真言) of Fudō Myōō—a deity celebrated for his iconographic and ritual associations with fire—and then to throw the effigies into the goma hearth.49 The liturgy notes here that once the demons are consumed by the flames of the hearth, the character for a 乾 in the Siddhaṃ script will manifest in their ashes, signaling their transformation into the “immovable thusness of original enlightenment” (hongaku mudō shinyo 本覺無動眞如), a phrase that alludes to Fudō Myōō as well as the notion of original enlightenment for which medieval Tendai thought is known.50 Few could miss how throughout these passages fire operates as the agent of, and figure for, transformation. As with the Collection on Ritual Conduct, the liturgical text casts the language of fire imagery to articulate the palpable operations of ritual potency while remaining tied to prescribed actions to be performed by the ritualist. Not surprising in the context of a subjugation ritual, those effects are essentially synonymous with the destruction of demons, who are notably handled in two different guises, either as or within the patient’s body or in the form of effigies. It is apparent that the first technique, involving mustard seeds, even if executed by the ritualist with much intensity, would likely cause little observable impact on the patient, whereas the latter—extinguishing the disease-­causing demons through fire—clearly requires substitute bodies. The language of the liturgical text in fact reflects this difference in performance. Of the first technique, wherein no fire is used at all, the text says metaphorically that it is “as if the demon-body is consumed by flames.” As to the destruction of material effigies in the goma fire, however, the text describes more ontologically how the ashes of the demons are transformed, leaving the Siddhaṃ c­ haracter a in their wake.



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The instructions for moxibustion are situated in the liturgy between those for tossing mustard seeds at the patient’s body and those for burning effigies in the fire. This textual juxtaposition of techniques is noteworthy since moxibustion assimilates aspects of both, involving a direct engagement of the patient’s body (like mustard seeds) that is performed through the mediation of fire (as seen in the burning of effigies). Unlike the instructions for those other techniques, however, the textual instructions for moxibustion contain no expressions or references to or about fire. After all, in the context of an esoteric Buddhist rite, moxibustion’s resonance with such imagery would arguably have been self-evident to esoteric masters as well as patrons accustomed to witnessing these practices. No other technique in the liturgy fuses images of efficacy with material performance as closely as moxibustion, which is to say that it succeeds as a felicitous citation of the rich associations with which the esoteric tradition has encoded fire and its transformative powers. It is as if through moxibustion, the ritualist was capable of generating therapeutic flames from the tips of his fingers, thus realizing the possibility implied by the “Fire Production” mudra we noted earlier. Seen according to these considerations, vis-à-vis the distinct imaginary and material elements at play in the liturgy, moxibustion’s incorporation begins to seem like a sensible and even natural strategy for an esoteric rite. For this, however, we should not lose sight of it as a historically innovative product of Jimon monks, who were seeking to carve out a distinctive position for themselves within the dynamic healing culture of late-twelfth-century Japan. Moxibustion Loci

Having explored the reasons behind the adoption of moxibustion through an examination of the liturgy, we now turn to the oral transmission document, Essential Notes, to delve further into concrete aspects of this integration. In particular, our discussion will highlight, in addition to esotericism, two types of sources being repurposed in the oral transmission text, namely, the writings of Chinese Tiantai and acumoxa knowledge. The Jimon rite prescribes a total of eleven loci: 1. C  haracter-Ten on the Crown (Chōjūji 頂十字): one point on the crown of the head

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2. W  ind Gate (Fūmon 風門): the first bone of the spinal cord on the nape of the neck 3. Platform Mirror, above and below (Dankyō jōge 亶鏡上下): one sun51 above the dan (“platform,” i.e., the space between the breasts) and one sun below [two points] 4. Heart (Shinzō 心臓): less than one sun above the navel 5. Cinnabar Field (Tanden 丹田): two and a half sun below the navel 6. Wind Gathering (Fūji 風市): the middle of each thigh at the point where the arms reach when hanging down [two points] 7. Hōkyō 彭矯: under the bone that protrudes from the sides of each inner ankle [two points] 8. Back of the Platform (Danhai 亶背): located behind the dan (“platform”) loci described in 3 above52 9. Shoulder Well (Kensei 肩井): the hollow spaces of one’s shoulders [two points] 10. Benevolence (Jin 仁): the center of the sole of each foot [two points] 11. Back of the Head (Tōhai 頭背)

This list first reflects an understanding of vital points on the body as well as a grasp of acumoxa knowledge. Platform Mirror (3), Back of the Head (10), and Back of the Platform (11) are loci named after anatomical landmarks, while Wind Gate (2), Wind Gathering (6), and Shoulder Well  (8) are common points in acumoxa literature.53 Benevolence (9) is a point name that appears to be specific to the ritual, but it is not clear from where the compilers culled it. Hōkyō (7), another point unique to the Jimon rite, corresponds in both name and location to the third corpse-worm, one of the agents of corpsevector disease. More striking, however, is that several loci—Heart (4), Cinnabar Field  (5), and Shoulder Well  (8)—appear to be drawn from what would seem an unlikely source for collecting acumoxa points: the writings of Zhiyi 智顗 (538–597), the Chinese founder of the Tiantai school. The link to these writings is made explicit in the oral transmission document in a note attached to the instructions for Cinnabar Field, which reads, “the twelve illnesses emerge from the Cinnabar Field.” Those twelve illnesses are listed at the end of the moxibustion instructions, where they are cited as coming from Zhiyi’s The Great Cessation and Contemplation (Mohe zhiguan 摩訶止觀), in particular a section ­concerning a meditation for “contemplating disease” (guan binghuan jing 観病患境).54



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This citation makes clear that the Jimon compilers gleaned Cinnabar Field from Zhiyi; that the same holds for the points Heart and Shoulder Well, on the other hand, must be unpacked further by examining the content of the quote itself. Looking closely at Zhiyi’s delineation of the twelve illnesses, we find disorders focused on the heart, such as the “malady of burning distress in the heart” and “descending cold and ascending heat in the heart.” The list also includes a disorder known as “pain of the left and right Shoulder Well.” Although Shoulder Well is a well-known acumoxa point, its integration into the Jimon method appears to be more closely linked to its inclusion in Zhiyi’s formulation of the twelve illnesses rather than any particular acumoxa text.55 Heart and Cinnabar Field are also undoubtedly central to the classical medical view of the body, Heart being one of the five viscera (gozō 五蔵) and Cinnabar Field being a pivotal location for the storage and circulation of vital energies. However, as a survey of acumoxa literature indicates, Heart does not figure specifically as an acumoxa point, making it unlikely that the Jimon compilers extracted it from such texts.56 Cinnabar Field, on the other hand, does appear in acumoxa sources as an alternative name for the point Stone Gate (sekimon 石門),57 but the location given in the oral transmission—two and a half sun below the navel—perfectly matches a description in Zhiyi’s text,58 which is slightly below, and thus distinct from, the Stone Gate point. It seems likely, then, that the Jimon monks, who were ­consciously referencing Zhiyi’s writings when assembling this part of the ritual method, adopted Heart, Cinnabar Field, and Shoulder Well as loci because this set already figured into Zhiyi’s discussion of the twelve illnesses. The ritual compilers appear to have been particularly interested in selecting points that were associated with diseases, as mentioned previously with the Hōkyō point, which is itself linked to one source of corpse-vector disease. That Heart, Cinnabar Field, and Shoulder Well are locations associated with individual ailments is a notion that Jimon monks would have gathered most immediately from their study of Zhiyi’s writings. This scenario highlights the unexpected ways medical knowledge was repurposed by monks in different contexts and for different reasons. The writings of Zhiyi, who was unquestionably versed in classical medical knowledge, represent cogent assimilations of components of the medical body, including acumoxa loci, into the framework of Buddhist practice.59 In addition to the points already discussed, for example,

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Zhiyi’s contemplation-of-disease section mentions sanli 三里, a frequently cited classical point to which Zhiyi instructs adepts experiencing sharp pains during practice to direct their mind for alleviation.60 As this example suggests, in his own writings Zhiyi was drawing the medical body, point by point, into the fold of his practice-oriented discourse as a way to assist disciples navigating the obstacles of meditation, and as sites upon which to contemplate the nature of disease for soteriological advancement. Jimon monks comprised one group of heirs to the Chinese Tiantai tradition, but they were also established esoteric Buddhist healers in early medieval Japan, facing the rising prominence of a particular classical technique. These monks extracted body loci highlighted by their patriarch Zhiyi but externalized them as sites for kaji-invigorated moxibustion. The way Jimon monks engaged Zhiyi’s writings reflects their circumstances and dispositions, and they departed from the genre in which Zhiyi wrote even as his writings served to help them navigate the acumoxa body. Other Healing Practices and the Question of Influence Having surveyed the body loci to which moxibustion was to be applied, it is now possible to consider connections between this ritual and similar healing practices. Reframing Zhiyi’s Writings

The foregoing discussion suggests the inadequacy of defining acumoxa knowledge and the writings of Zhiyi as mere “influences” on the compilation of the moxibustion ritual texts. Instead, it vividly shows that such sources were always open to multiple readings, whose particular interpretations point back to the varied concerns of those authors who gave these sources new contexts. This insight on how medieval Buddhist reading practices guided the creation of ritual practice becomes indispensable when we turn to Character-Ten on the Crown (1), a moxibustion point located on top of the head our discussion has thus far passed over. Moxibustion applied to multiple places on the pate within a Buddhist context immediately calls to mind an ordination practice referred to as jieba 戒疤 known in China from at least the late nineteenth century.61 It is unlikely, however, that the Character-Ten



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technique has any direct connections with this practice or earlier ­examples of self-immolation.62 It has been shown that, except for an anomalous example of burning the crown at ordination from the Yuan period (1271–1368), textual evidence that could place this kind of ordination practice in earlier periods is lacking.63 More important, the Character-Ten technique is embedded within an esoteric liturgy performed for healing, a context quite different from what appears to be a much more recent adoption (and prohibition, in 1983) of moxibustion in Chinese monasteries. As we already noted, the crown of the head figures into kaji programs as the first chakric region engaged by the ritualist through techniques such as visualization and mudras. The procedure for moxibustion in the Ritual for Eliminating Demons can be understood to basically replicate the body sequence of kaji, with administration starting on the crown of the head and moving progressively down the body. At the same time, for the Jimon monks who crafted the Character-Ten technique, the crown of the head likely embodied connotations exceeding the routine sequence for the performance of kaji. Writings in the Tiantai tradition, which we know at this point were critical for the compilers of the ritual, foreground important associations between the crown, the visualization of healing, and disease. Zhiyi himself drew extensively upon visualization practices that incorporate eidetic images of consecration (Skt. abhiseka; J. kanjō 灌頂), a ceremony of transferring teachings, rank, or sacred power by pouring a liquid substance over the crown of an adept’s head.64 One passage that might have been particularly striking to Jimon monks comes in The Great Cessation and Contemplation, where Zhiyi briefly alludes to a “method for treating exhaustion-injury (lao sun 勞損) using warm butter,” said to be found in the āgama sūtras.65 In his study on consecration discourses, Yamabe Nobuyoshi notes that the actual source for this idea was probably the Zhi chanbing miyao fa 治禅病秘要法 (T. 620).66 There, we find mention of a visualization in which Brahmā consecrates the adept’s head with butter, thereby “softening the four elements and subduing the ninety-eight afflictions and all manner of disease whether inside or outside the body.”67 In his commentary on Zhiyi’s treatise, Zhanran 湛然 (711–782) elaborates on this method in the following manner: Regarding [the line] “like a method in the āgama [sūtras] for treating exhaustion-injury with butter,” the first text says: “Imagine warm but-

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ter on the crown of the head that drips into the brain. It pours into and infuses the five viscera, flowing and moisturizing throughout the body. This method is efficacious for curing those with exhaustion-injury.” 如阿含用酥者。第一本云。想燸酥在頂滴滴入腦。灌注五藏流潤遍 身。治人勞損當有驗也。68

As Yamabe points out, contemplations drawing on the imagery of consecration often incorporated healing motifs.69 Thus, in addition to soteriological implications, consecration was imagined to permeate and then transform the recipient’s very physiology, even if the act was conjured within the mind space of an adept. The Jimon compilers were surely aware of these interesting images of efficacy associated with the crown, since they, too, were ­contained in the contemplating-disease section the monks drew upon in formulating the moxa loci.70 What would have caught their attention in particular was the disease that Zhiyi and Zhanran were claiming this virtual consecration could cure: exhaustion-injury. Although this appears to be a combination of two terms referring vaguely to symptoms, perhaps fatigue attending meditation practices, in classical medical writings, exhaustion and injury were discussed as two specific and often conjoined categories.71 Importantly, exhaustion is the category in which medical texts placed corpse-vector disease, the disease that the Jimon liturgy was crafted to treat.72 Therefore, regardless of what the term signified in Tiantai and earlier Buddhist writings, Jimon monks would have arguably noted a connection between this term and the disorder around which they had framed their liturgy, as well as the significance of the crown of the head for the treatment of such disorders. The Four Flowers Technique

There is still more to say on how the significance of the crown in the Jimon moxibustion ritual builds upon ideas from Buddhist, and especially esoteric Tendai, sources. To better tease out how this rite uniquely intersects Buddhist and Chinese medical knowledge, however, this last section will explore the question of influence as it relates mainly to the latter. Aspects pertaining to Chinese medicine come to the fore when we turn to the rite’s practical instructions for applying moxibustion on the crown. As we noted previously, such concrete



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and logistical details are found only in the oral transmission text. Would-be healers possessing the liturgical text alone would find themselves largely unable to conduct the actual moxibustion method that is the centerpiece of the rite. The instructions for performing moxibustion on the crown show that there is more in this method to be unpacked: The Character-Ten [on the Crown]: take a piece of straw and, starting from the forehead, wrap it around the head, folding it in four and having it touch the crown of the head above the hairline. Apply moxibustion to the place the piece of straw reaches. 十字ヲハ藁スヘヲ以テ額ヨリ頭ニ迴テ四ニ折テ髮際ヨリ頂ニ充テ彼 ノ藁スヘノ至ル所ヲ炙スル也。73

As with nitty-gritty instructions for techniques in both medical and ritual literature, this passage presents the reader with reconstructive challenges. The text does not specify how long the piece of straw ought to be, and various interpretations might be suggested for the phrase “the place the piece of straw reaches,” including the possibility that more than one point is to be obtained. It would seem that even direct recipients of the oral transmission texts, to say nothing of later interpreters, would require hands-on instruction to properly ­execute the technique. Fortunately, one aspect can be clarified by way of the earliest extant oral transmission manuscript, which comes with a pair of illustrations depicting the front and back sides of an adult male courtier. On the crown of the head in the latter illustration we find a single black dot; thus, the focus of this technique is one point rather than several. Part of the difficulty in reconstructing the technique stems from the name of the point itself, Character-Ten on the Crown (chōjūji 頂 十字). Like Platform Mirror (3), Back of the Head (10), and Back of the Platform (11), this is an anatomical term, yet it does not derive from classical medical sources, nor is it original to this text. Rather, the term is found throughout esoteric Buddhist ritual texts to indicate the point on the head that corresponds to what today’s anatomy calls the bregma, the point where the coronal and sagittal sutures meet at a right angle and form a cross—that is, a shape identical to the Chinese character for “ten” 十—on the skull. Classical medical texts likewise took this point as an anatomical landmark and referred to it

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with characters pictographically similar to “ten.” For example, the first acumoxa point in the second fascicle of the Ishinpō, the volume concerning acumoxa, is rendered in transcriptions of the text as either eie 盈会 or shin’e 顖会, the latter being more widely accepted.74 But in the manuscript (and copies based on it), the first character appears smudged, as if it was a mistake that had been crossed out, and to the immediate right side of this character is what appears to be a simplified variant of the character shin 囟, which resembles a cross.75 Furthermore, a note added to the top margin of that page cites Jade Chapters (Yupian 玉篇) to say that the character depicts “the meeting [point] of a person’s head,” which is the “cover for the brain,” thereafter giving the variant shin 顖.76 Perhaps to dodge some of the confusion suffered by writers of medical texts, authors of esoteric Buddhist works preferred the simpler graph “ten” but usually used the compound, Character-Ten on the Crown. This term is found in a variety of sources, but an especially striking example in light of our theme of healing are coeval discourses related to vital energy and its loss.77 For example, in a discussion on “human ­yellow” (ninnō 人黄), Notes by Kakuzen (Kakuzenshō 覚禅鈔; 1143–­ ca. 1218) reports: One master says: On the character-ten on the crown there are six drops of human yellow, guarded by the Five Dragons [who are] controlled by the Wisdom Kings. Or, there are ten drops. It is also said: On the crown of the human there are seven drops [to be] licked. When one is exhausted [the person] becomes ill; when seven are exhausted the p ­ erson dies. 一師云。頂十字有人黄六粒。五龍守之。明王攝伏之。或十粒。又 云。人頂有七舐滴。一盡即病。七盡即死。78

Certain ambiguities in the passage notwithstanding, it is evident that the crown was imagined as a midway point between the body and the divine, and thus served as seat of concentrations of human vitality, the dispossession of which was equated with sickness or death. Perhaps this notion refers distantly to the fact that during infancy this area is soft, the sutures of the skull having not yet fused together. At this stage, biomedical anatomy refers to this area as the anterior fontanelle, which etymologically betrays earlier understandings of the site as a “small fountain,” especially an opening for the discharge of humors; this is aptly translated into modern Japanese medical



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terminology as the “Fountain Gate” (shinmon 泉門).79 A parallel sense of an opening on the body that is directed upward—and overlaid with cosmological nuance—is evoked in the alternative name given to the corresponding point in the Ishinpō: “heavenly window” (tensō 天窓). With the crown in place, let us return to the moxibustion method to consider material aspects of its performance. Especially noteworthy is the reliance on a prop to obtain the point. There is a striking similarity here with another method that was being ­explored in the early medieval period, known as the “Four Flowers” (shika 四花).80 Comparing the logistical details of these methods with textual-­ historical considerations will enable us to reconsider the issue of influence as it concerns the Buddhist ritualization of moxibustion in this period. Perhaps the most commonly cited form of the Four Flowers appears in Arcane Essentials, which can be summarized as follows: The healer first measures a piece of string by hanging it around the neck of the patient’s body.81 The two ends of the string are measured and cut where they line up at the kyūbi 鳩尾 point (the xiphoid process). The string is then reversed so that it hangs down the back of the body, and a black ink spot is marked where the two ends meet along the spine. Next, a shorter string is measured by taking the horizontal length of the lips with the mouth closed. The center of that string is then aligned with the center of the black spot on the spine, and four additional spots are marked, corresponding to the two ends of the string when placed horizontally and when placed vertically along the spine. These four dots indicate loci for moxibustion application.82 This summary reveals two stark differences between CharacterTen on the Crown and Four Flowers in terms of how and where points are located. First, Four Flowers is a much more involved method, requiring the healer to perform a series of steps of measuring and marking the patient’s body before finally applying moxa. Second, the Four Flowers method is used to locate and label points on the patient’s back. Our preceding survey, in contrast, has made clear that Character-Ten on the Crown derives much of its significance from a Buddhist perspective precisely because it focuses on a point located on the crown. These differences notwithstanding, the use of a prop as a device of measurement is a distinctive commonality between these techniques that would have been appreciated by court physicians in the early medieval period. Indeed, only a small number of moxibustion methods

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in classical acumoxa literature utilize props like string, straw, or bamboo.83 Moreover, the difference between the techniques in terms of the actual material used (i.e., string in Four Flowers and straw in CharacterTen on the Crown) can be ascribed to a minor but nevertheless noteworthy alteration made to the classical, textually transmitted version of Four Flowers as it was localized in Japan. Most Chinese versions follow the method summarized here and accordingly indicate string as the tool for measurement. It is thus not surprising that in the discussion of the Four Flowers in Kajiwara Shōzen’s 梶原性全 (1266–1327) Man’anpō 万安方 (1313–1327), a synthesis of Song medical knowledge written in Chinese, the material indicated is string. Turning to Shōzen’s Ton’ishō 頓医抄 (1304), however, a work written in colloquial Sino-Japanese and meant for broader circulation, we find straw as the material for Four Flowers measurements.84 Before either of these two works, instructions for using straw to find body measurements for moxibustion application had appeared in the Collection of Oddments (Shūgaishō 拾芥抄), an encyclopedic window into everyday life in the late thirteenth century.85 None of these sources discuss the rationale behind the local preference, but one can imagine its utility, as straw retains the shapes into which it is bent. It was also, like the fuel for moxibustion, mugwort, abundant and likely often on hand, large amounts of it being used for cremation.86 Adding to these technical overlaps between the Character-Ten on the Crown and Four Flowers is a parallel between these methods that neither court physicians nor Jimon monks would have failed to observe. The Four Flowers technique was prescribed for disorders of the classical medical category of exhaustion. As Chinese texts detailing the Four Flowers method make explicit, this includes corpse-­vector disease, a representative exhaustion ailment that we know well by this point the Jimon moxibustion liturgy had been designed to treat. In Japan, this connection was further solidified. Shōzen, for example, discusses Four Flowers in his section on corpse-vector disease. As Shōzen’s inclusion and localization demonstrate, this method was known in the late Kamakura period. But, importantly, this process of reception began in earnest well before Shōzen’s early-­fourteenthcentury works; the technique was already receiving special attention around the time that Jimon monks crafted the moxibustion ritual in the late twelfth century. In 1194, within twenty-five years of the first known appearance of the Jimon rite, court physician Tanba no Nagamoto 丹波長基 (fl. late twelfth century) compiled the Moxa



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Method for the Four Flowers and Suffering Gate (Shika kanmon kyūhō 四花患門灸法).87 Although the Four Flowers was already in circulation in the pages of larger medical treatises such as Arcane Essentials, as was the case later with Shōzen, Nagamoto’s was an extract from those sources devoted solely to the technique. As we noted toward the beginning of this chapter, such extracts served both as compact manuals to therapeutic practice on the ground and as a means of authenticating a physician’s treatment decision, a go-to strategy in the context of debates between healers occasioned by actual cases of illness. Given that very few medical texts in general are known from the early medieval period—to say nothing of the shorter extracts born of medical contingencies and debate—the appearance and survival of Nagamoto’s extract confirms that the Four Flowers method was of considerable interest to major court physician lineages at the time. Because the Jimon ritual we have examined in this chapter centers on moxibustion, an originally non-Buddhist modality, one might be inclined at first to approach it with an eye for the ways it was influenced by classical medical knowledge and the court physicians whose practice derived largely from it. However, by putting the rite in juxtaposition with the Four Flowers method, the reverse possibility begins to emerge, namely, that the Jimon ritualization of moxibustion shaped the concerns of court physicians and the ways they related to their own textual tradition and practices. Aside from the fact that the Jimon rite appeared decades before Nagamoto’s ­extract, two additional points encourage further exploration of this fascinating scenario. First, despite its heavy reliance on Arcane Essentials, the Ishinpō does not mention the Four Flowers method. As a high-­ranking member of the Tanba clan, Nagamoto presumably had access to this family treasure, yet he turned instead to other classical Chinese medical texts to produce his extract. Perhaps he was seeking a more elaborate and we might even say—with all the stages of measuring and patient involvement that it entailed—a more “ritualized” moxi­bustion method, one that could compete with the ritual that Jimon monks had devised decades before. The second astonishing fact is that Nagamoto produced this extract at a moment when court physicians based their moxibustion treatment largely on those body-gods we discussed earlier, a frequent subject of debates between medical lineages. Nagamoto’s Four Flowers extract, just like the sources upon which it is based, makes no mention of such body-gods. This makes the work remarkably similar to

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the Jimon ritual: a moxibustion method that departs from the dominant paradigm associated with that modality in the early medieval period, which is, moreover, a specialized program for exhaustion diseases, foremost of which was corpse-vector disease. However, rather than concluding, then, that court physicians of major lineages were definitively influenced by the activities of monks—and thereby simply switching the terms of a binary that risks reproducing the unhelpful division between religion and medicine— I prefer to see both productions along a spectrum of what were probably many and diverse responses to a variably expressed but shared anxiety about a frightening malady imagined to circulate by way of corpses in early medieval Japan. We can appreciate the distinctiveness of each response by examining the creative ways that healers drew both from within the tradition(s) they represented and from without. Although scholarship has tended to sharply distinguish Buddhist therapy from classical medicine in historical study, in the period ­examined here, overlaps and intersections were common, and it was these areas that often drew the attention of healers, regardless of affiliation. Not surprisingly, Buddhist moxibustion texts written later in the medieval period would directly assimilate the Four Flowers method into aspects of the ritual developed by Jimon monks. Seeking to bolster their own programs against corpse-vector disease, the authors of those texts undoubtedly seized upon some of the same overlaps we have surveyed here and thus attest to the interactive dynamics that these practices embodied. While underscoring the dominant role of ritual healing in the early medieval period, the emergence of the Jimon liturgy and its oral transmissions was linked to the ascendency of one classical healing modality and its diffusion among a wide range of healers and patients. Despite their prescriptive nature, as well as the fact that they were meant only for initiated disciples of the lineage, these sources can thus be understood as products of a shifting historical matrix of therapeutic options, which proffer insights into matters of concern across the communities involved in medical practices. These concerns range from the particular disease in focus—in this case corpse-vector disease, which was tied to the category of exhaustion—to various aspects related to the treatment, as in the pairing of moxibustion with spells, approaches to verifying efficacy on the patient’s body, and the acumoxa loci themselves.



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The particular shape those concerns took in the rite and its secret teachings speak directly to the inclinations and practical dispositions of the Jimon lineage as a group of ritual healers. The liturgy is structured as text and as practice by esotericism, which offers its techniques for ritual action while supplying the very language for articulating ritual efficacy. Kaji healing in particular plays a central role in the rite’s performance as the body map and chakric program to which moxibustion was allocated. Zooming in, the particular moxa loci selected for the ritual reveal not only the use of classical medical sources, as we might expect, but also sophisticated engagement with the writings of Zhiyi. As intricate patchworks of Buddhist and medical writings oriented toward practice, these writings offered not only sophisticated models to emulate and adapt, but also, as sources of legitimization, a way for Jimon monks to distinguish their brand of Tendai with elements of their patriarch’s work not highlighted by other Tendai lineages. As much as the Jimon ritual reflects one historically significant moment in the convergence of Buddhist ritual medicine and classical healing, subsequent centuries would prove this particular combination to be remarkably influential beyond its time. From the thirteenth to sixteenth century, new forms of Buddhist-inflected moxibustion appeared and made their way throughout the archipelago via monastic networks. Monks studying across factions ensured the transmission of the Jimon material to the Anō 穴太 lineage of Sanmon-Tendai as early as the late thirteenth century, leading to two new iterations in the Kamakura period: On the Types of Corpse-Vector Disease (Denshibyō shu no koto 伝屍病種事) and Twenty-Five Methods for Corpse-Vector Disease (Denshibyō nijūgo hō 伝屍病二十五方). Both of these texts were transmitted from the Anō lineage to Shinpukuji, a Shingon seminary in Owari Province (Aichi), and would eventually travel farther west to areas such as Bizen (Okayama) and Sanuki (Kagawa) Provinces. Whereas the former work elaborates five demonic manifestations of corpse-vector disease by pairing textual ­explanations with vivid illustrations, the latter is preeminently practical, having much more in common with the new culture of acumoxa texts that was to emerge after the Kamakura period. There can be no doubt, then, that the initial ritualization of moxibustion by Jimon monks considered in this chapter was one of the most compelling healing programs to appear in the medieval period. The new and vibrant forms of Buddhist moxibustion it inspired, however, await further investigation.

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Notes 1. Traditionally understood to have begun with the rule by warriors established in the Kamakura 鎌倉 period (1185–1333) and ending in the late sixteenth century, the concept of Japan’s “medieval” era has been redefined in various ways over the past several decades. In the study of religion, where particular emphasis is placed on Buddhist institutions and the activities of monks, it is common to push starting dates back into the Heian 平安 period (794–1185). The central sources discussed in this chapter are evidence of key continuities within such activities between the late Heian and early Kamakura eras, a period I refer to throughout as “early medieval.” 2. Any historical study on this technique must address the appropriateness of the term “moxibustion,” the etymology of which can be traced to early modern Japan. “Mogusa,” which refers to processed mugwort (yomogi; Artemisia) in Japanese, first appeared in a Western language in Vocabulario da lingoa de Iapam, a Japanese-to-Portuguese dictionary compiled by Jesuit friars in Nagasaki in 1603. Herman Buschof would later coin “moxa” in his 1674 Het ­Podagra (1674) (see Lu and Needham 2002; Michel 2011). Early manuscripts excavated at Mawangdui 馬王堆, however, evidence the use of the character jiu with the burning of various substances other than mugwort or its tinder, and Sui and Tang texts notably mention the use of realgar, leading several scholars to favor the broader term “cautery” (Harper 1998, 5; Lo 2001, 66–67). The question is as fundamental as it is thorny, as much so for Japan as for China, but for the purposes of this chapter, I follow Japanese medical literature of the relevant period such as Ishinpō and Discussions on Medicine (Idanshō 医談抄), which strongly suggest mugwort was the primary substance used. 3. My turn to practice seeks to supplement the predominantly bibliographic focus of Japanese medical history in the past few decades. For foundational research on the reception of Chinese medical texts in Japan, see Kosoto 1996; on acumoxa literature specifically, see Kosoto and Amano 2015. Although in his influential monographs Hattori Toshirō (e.g., 1955, 1964) endeavored to situate medicine in the everyday life of each period, his view of religion, particularly his idea that Buddhist ritual was a superstitious hindrance to the development of proper medicine, severely restricts its utility for the study of Buddhist medicine in Japan. 4. Koremune 2006, 143. 5. These diaries include the following (with the rough span of years they cover in parentheses): Shōyūki 小右記 (982–1032), Heihanki 兵範記 (1132– 1184), Sankaiki 山槐記 (1150–1194), Gyokuyō 玉葉 (1164–1205), Meigetsuki 明月記 (1180–1235), Inokuma kanpakuki 猪隈関白記 (1197–1235), and Oka­ noya kanpakuki 岡屋関白記 (1222–1251), as well as the Kamakura bakufu (warrior government) chronicle Azuma kagami 吾妻鏡 (1180–1266); brief reports on moxibustion and acupuncture in these diaries can be found in Terakawa 2003, 2005, 2007, 2008, and 2009; see also Soga 2008.



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6. On moxa’s prominence in the Tang and decline in the Song, see Yu 2007. 7. Wang 1981, 5:768. 8. Kosoto 1996, 491–500. 9. The Ishinpō saw greater circulation throughout the medieval period than is often acknowledged. For a handful of examples associated with monks and monasteries alone, we can note the following four: (1)  Renki’s 蓮基 (fl. late twelfth century) Prescriptions for Care and Nurturing for Longevity (Chōsei­ ryōyōhō 長生療養方; 1184); see Drott 2010; (2) Heian period manuscripts of the Ishinpō (fascicles 1, 5, 7, 9, 10) preserved at Ninnaji 仁和寺; see Tanba Yasuyori 1991; (3) the Kamakura period manuscript of fascicle 13 of the Ishinpō stored at Kongōji 金剛寺; see Yamamoto et al. 1994, 47–62 (transcription) and 123–190 (fascimile); and (4) the Encyclopedia of Childbirth (Sansei ruijūshō 産生類聚抄, ca. 1318); see Andreeva 2015. This evidence suggests that rather than in its complete form of thirty fascicles, the Ishinpō circulated in extracted volumes and citations. The Kongōji manuscript is particularly relevant for our discussion, as it is the fascicle that concerns “depletion-exhaustion” disorders, a topic to which we will later return. 10. Vigouroux 2015 argues that the dissemination of channel theory and its therapeutic application would have to wait until the sixteenth century, when Manase Dōsan 曲直瀬道三 (1507–1594) adopted Hua Shou’s 滑壽 Development on the Fourteen Channels (Shisijing fahui 十四經發揮, 1341). This parallels to some degree the state of acumoxa literature in Tang China. As Asaf Goldschmidt (2001, 85) has noted of Tang period texts included in the early Song dynasty compilation Taiping Era Prescriptions of Sagely Grace (Taiping shenghui fang 太平聖恵方, 992)—The Acupuncture Classic (Zhen jing 針經) and the moxa-leaning Illuminated Hall (Mingtang 明堂)—“The authors almost completely ignore the circulation tracts as a basis for diagnosis and treatment.” Goldschmidt goes on to note that channel theory became more important in Song compilations, paralleling the increasing prevalence of acupuncture highlighted in studies such as Yu 2007. 11. On the Huangdi hama jing, see Lo 2001 and Urayama 2014, 293– 322. Relevant manuscripts from the Dunhuang cache include the Xinji beiji jiujing 新集備急灸經 (P. 2675) and Jiujing mingtang 灸經明堂 (S. 5737), as well as many untitled illustrated texts (e.g., S. 6168, S. 6262). Lo 2005 offers an ­insightful analysis of such sources as popular manuals. Kosoto (1996, 589– 670) provides an overview of excavated sources that includes comparisons with medical texts surviving in Japan. 12. The locations of body-gods critical to acumoxa practice are discussed in fascicle two of the Ishinpō (Tanba 1975, 122–134), which is partly based on the The Yellow Emperor’s Toad Canon; see the discussion in Lo 2001, which also considers calendric injunctions. Belief in these gods belongs to a larger East Asian religious and medical culture, the Daoist expressions of which are well known; see Pregadio 2008 for an introduction.

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13. For example, it was in response to these debates that Kujō Kanezane 九条兼実 (1149–1207), author of Gyokuyō, consulted the Secret Essentials of “A Thousand in Gold” (Senkin hizui hō 千金秘髓方), likely an extract from Sun Simiao’s 孫思邈 (581–682) Prescriptions Worth a Thousand in Gold (Qianjin yaofang 千金要方), which may have been composed in Japan; see Gyokuyō, Jōan 3 (1173), 4/15, and Bunji 1 (1185), 3/3 (Kujō 1994–2013, 2:223, 9:137). Based on this text, Kanezane supported the Wake family theory for the existence of gods that circulated based on the month, in addition to the better-known time, day, and year gods. On another occasion, Kanezane asked Tanba no ­Tomoyasu to write up a text on moxibustion specifically in order to navigate the divergent theories put forth by medical lineages (Jishō 5 [1181], 2/15; Kujō 1994–2013, 7:279). Another document compiled on this subject was the Notes [to Keep Handy at the] Right of One’s Seat (Zayūshō 座右抄), the colophons of which date to 1171 and 1182; see Zayūshō 1996. 14. Gorai 1965 is the classic study on hijiri. On hijiri in scholarship and in setsuwa 説話 tale collections, see Kleine 1997. Recent research on their sociohistorical roles, including how they were viewed by courtiers such as Kanezane, can be found in Kikuchi 2011, 47–95. 15. Several details, albeit tenuous, indicate possible ties between Iwaya and Onjōji. Iwaya’s name, “Sage of the Grotto,” suggests reclusive mountain practice. A figure of this same name appears in an entry in Origins of the Mountains (Shozan engi 諸山縁起, early Kamakura period) performing a winter retreat on Ōmine; see Shozan engi 1975, 345. The Ōmine range covers Kumano to the south, the pilgrimage routes of which were overseen by guides known as Kumano sanzan kengyō 熊野三山検校, and thus in the jurisdiction of principal abbots of Onjōji (chōri 長吏); on the Kumano pilgrimage, see Moerman 2005. The Origins of the Mountains passage further refers to this Iwaya as an “imperial messenger,” which may explain why Iwaya would have been called in to treat members of the imperial family, despite his marginal status as hijiri. Finally, the manuscript for the Origins of the Mountains itself was held and transmitted by Keisei, who as we will see was one Jimon monk who played a crucial role in the transmission of the moxibustion ritual texts. 16. Sankaiki, Eiman 1 (1165), 6/28 (Nakayama 1965, 26:284). 17. Sankaiki, Angen 1 (1175), 8/16 (Nakayama 1965, 27:72); and Gyokuyō, Angen 1 (1175), 8/22 (Kujō 1994–2013, 3:248). 18. Dolce 2012, 337. Studies emphasizing the particular significance of the Jimon lineage include Tokunaga 2002, Sakō 2013, and Ueno 2013. 19. This should not be taken to mean that monks of these schools were not also actively involved with medicine. Shingon priests played a crucial role from early on in the production and transmission of medical knowledge. Important examples include the voluminous materia medica (honzō 本草) treatises of Jōrenbō Ken’i 成蓮房兼意 (b. 1072), which incorporate Buddhist scriptures and dictionaries (ongi 音義), Chinese materia medica, ancient Japanese dictionaries,



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and Chinese and Japanese mytho-historical sources. A remarkable number of early editions of these texts are extant. Additionally, some of the earliest if incomplete manuscripts for pivotal Chinese medical texts, namely the Grand Basis (Taisu 太素) and the Chart of the Illuminated Hall (Mingtang tu 明堂図), as well as the Ishinpō, have long been preserved at Ninnaji; see Kosoto and Shinohara 1981, 1–3, for the former two. 20. On kaji and its therapeutic application, see Winfield 2005 and Josephson 2013. 21. Michel Strickmann suggested the possibility that “the wave of demonomania that swept over the Japanese aristocracy was to a large extent iatrogenic, produced by the monkish physicians themselves,” by which he meant a consequence of the local adoption of āveśa through which ideas of demonic etiology were transmitted (2002, 198). He provides a substantial discussion of continental āveśa rites (194–227) but does not return to early medieval Japan to explore his hypothesis. 22. Ueno 2013, 96–97. Aside from kaji, a central feature of āveśa rites not addressed in this chapter is the use of mediums whose body the genza would cause disease-causing spirits to possess. This element remained an important ­fixture of much kaji healing through the Kamakura period; thus, its absence from the Jimon moxibustion rite is notable. 23. From the mid-thirteenth century on, Jimon genza also monopolized rituals for the safe birth of potential heirs to the throne. Tokunaga 2002 connects their employment as healers with their aforementioned role as supervisors over pilgrimage in the mountains of Kumano. 24. The Taishō edition (T. 1221), while commonly used, contains numerous missing passages and mistakes. A transcription of a complete text, based on a manuscript held at Kōyasan University, can be found in Yoshioka 1967. The analysis in this chapter, however, is based primarily on an unpublished manuscript held by Shinpukuji 真福寺 (Nagoya, Aichi Prefecture; 56合–157號), though I cite other editions. My research leads me to cautiously conclude that the Shinpukuji manuscript, although not yet introduced in scholarship, is the oldest extant edition. 25. For example, see the entry in Ono 1977, 5, 341. Issues of authorship for this text have long been entangled and sometimes confused with those concerning the Scripture of Seeking Long-Life by Guarding the Fifty-Seventh Day as Expounded by Laozi (Rōshi shukōshin kyūchōsei kyō 老子守庚申求長生經; abbreviated as Kōshin kyō); see Yoshioka 1968. 26. Incomplete transcriptions of this work can be found in the Taishō canon as two separate texts, Oral Transmission on Corpse-Vector Disease (Denshibyō kuden 伝屍病口伝; T. 2507) and Moxibustion Treatment for Corpse-Vector ­Disease (Denshibyō kyūji 伝屍病灸治; T. 2508); see the partial translation in ­Macomber 2017. 27. Scholars think Jōjōbō might also have been known as Gyōchi 行智, since this name appears at the end of the Essential Notes manuscript; see Ōta 2014a,

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15. Information is otherwise lacking, except for several mentions of a Jōjō(bō) in Keihan’s Hōhiki (mentioned later in this chapter). 28. At least some of the attention paid to the Jimon ritual documents in research stems from Keisei’s involvement, since he is otherwise known as the author of the setsuwa tale collection A Companion in Solitude (Kankyo no tomo 閑居友); for an introduction to this work, particularly as it concerns women and sexuality, see Pandey 1995. Ōta 2014b links Keisei’s transcription of the Jimon rite to his project of creating an archive of sacred works (shōgyō 聖教) at his modest temple in west Kyoto, Hokkesanji 法華山寺. We might also note Keisei’s fascination with the body and its impermanence, which comes to the fore in several stories related to fujōkan 不浄観 (meditation on the decaying corpse) in A  Companion in Solitude; Keisei 1993, 403–413. Healing was another of Keisei’s interests, and this is exemplified in his own account of releasing his brother Kujō no Michiie 九条道家 (1193–1252) of possessing spirits in Oracles from the Old Man of Mt. Hira (Hirasan kojin reitaku 比良山古人霊託). 29. Keisei inserted a sizable quotation from the Kōshin kyō into the text he received from Keihan. This somewhat incidental addition is the aspect of the ritual document that has concerned scholars most until recently. In his colophon Keisei also notes that the text he received was in the kana 仮名 phonetic ­syllabary—perhaps reflecting its originally oral character—which he rendered into Chinese characters in order to make the text easier to read. Rishin collated both texts (the kana and Chinese-character editions) together. 30. On the Hōhiki, see Matsumoto 2008, 2010; Dolce 2011. 31. Michiie likely supplied similar texts to Enni Ben’en 円爾弁円 (1202– 1280), a monk associated with Rinzai Zen who began his studies at Onjōji and later established Tōfukuji 東福寺 with Michiie’s support. The existence of such works is suggested by their inclusion in a catalogue mostly comprised of writings imported by Enni from China in 1240 (Fumon’in kyō ron shō so goroku jusho ra mokuroku 普門院經論章疏語録儒書等目録); see Tōkyō Daigaku Shiryō Hensanjo 1954. This catalogue includes the classic Chart of the Illuminated Hall along with what may have been a Japanese compilation on acumoxa, Notes on Essential Loci (Yōketsu shō 要穴抄). Most remarkable is the inclusion of a text entitled Treatment Methods for the Exterior (Waijing zhifang 外境治方). This otherwise unknown text, which may have concerned external injury or anatomical knowledge, is quoted in a note written on the verso of the Essential Notes manuscript. The work itself appears to be lost, and I have not seen it quoted in any text except for the Jimon ritual document. For an excellent discussion of Ennin and Tōfukuji’s collection of medical texts in the medieval period, see Goble 2011, 10–14. 32. Also called the “great mind” or “yakṣa mind” spell, this spell is transliterated into Chinese characters at the beginning of Ritual for Eliminating Demons and in Siddhaṃ characters in the “Treatment for Wasting Disease” section of Essential Notes.



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33. Corpse-vector disease had already appeared in Chinese Buddhist scriptures, two of which are quoted in the Jimon ritual texts: (1) Atikūta’s translation of Dhāraṇī Compilation (Tuoluoni jijing 陀羅尼集經, T. 901, dated to 654), where corpse-vector disease is mentioned in a long list of ailments that invoking Shōmen Kongō is said to cure; and (2) The Sutra on Mixing Medicines and Healing Illness by the Thousand-Armed, Thousand-Eyed Avalokiteśvara (Qianshou qianyan guanshiyin pusa zhibing heyao jing 千手千眼觀世音菩薩治病合藥經, T. 1059, ca. 650); for a translation of this text, see Unschuld 2010, 314–321. 34. The technical term for such infectious disorders is zhu 注, or “infusion.” Li 1999 discusses this category and the relation of its disorders to death pollution and purification rites. 35. For studies on the three corpse-worms that deal directly with the Jimon ritual texts, see, for example, Yoshioka 1968; Kobanawa 1978a, 1978b, 1988; Kubo 1978; Nagai 1988; and Minobe et al. 2012; for an introduction in English and translation, see Kohn 1993–1995. 36. T. 1221: 100a21–28, with punctuation altered by the author; Ōta 2014a, 12–13. See also the inclusion of this passage in Oral Transmission on Corpse-Vector Disease, translated in Macomber 2017. This passage accounts for most of the moxibustion loci, indicated in bold; the full list is discussed later. 37. Shizuka 1997, 253. 38. Tanba 1975, 110. 39. While the lack of extant Onjōji sources prevents a direct analysis of how this would have been performed by Jimon monks, the Collection on Ritual Conduct likely incorporates Jimon teachings. It is thought that when Seigen 成賢 (1162–1231) was compiling the Collection on Ritual Conduct, he received transmissions from Ken’i, compiler of Buddhist materia medica mentioned earlier, and Shinkaku 心覚 (1117–1180). Known for his Notes on Separate Worthies (Besson zakki 別尊雑記), an anthology of esoteric Buddhist iconography, Shinkaku was a relative of Keihan and is thought to have received Taimitsu lineages at Onjōji prior to his studies under Ken’i on Mount Kōya (Ueno 2013, 113–114). Adding to this, as Morimoto (2002, 233) has argued, because there were few Shingon genza before the Kamakura era, the “Procedures for the Genza” passage discussed here was probably originally a Tendai creation. Another edition of the same text confirms this, because it is attributed to an oral transmission of Ennin 円仁 (794–864; see Seigen 2003, 241). That these procedures were explicitly based on an āveśa rite, however, suggests they were more likely compiled by members of Enchin’s lineage at Onjōji. At this point we can only speculate, but at any rate, Jimon monks were widely known in aristocratic society as formidable genza whose healing activities undoubtedly set examples for those of other lineages. 40. One of the four types of gazes discussed in the Diamond Peak Sutra (Jingangding jing 金剛頂經; Skt. Vajraśekhara sūtra), Vajra Eyes refers to a glaring stare of the eyes when contemplating the radiance of the sun and

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moon, said to drive away demonic entities; for illustrations of the four types, see Seigen 2003, 265. 41. Seigen 2003, 236–237; punctuation altered by author. Words in parentheses indicate smaller interlinear text. 42. As a reviewer of this chapter helpfully pointed out, the esoteric physio­ logy adopted in this rite and in Buddhist esotericism generally is genealogically related to notions of the subtle (Skt. sūkṣma) body in Indian religions. Variations on this body are discussed in several chapters in Samuel and Johnston 2013; Hatley 2007 explores one extraordinary adaption to Islamic yoga in Bengal; and immediately relevant to the intersections of Buddhism and medicine, Gyatso 2017 (esp. chaps. 4 and 5) discusses the challenges Tibetan Buddhists faced when the related channel system of Tantric anatomy was juxtaposed with knowledge of the body gleaned from dissection. 43. Mimi Hall Yiengpruksawan argues that this ambiguous afterward of therapy, which opens up “when the fire in the hearth has turned to ash” (1996, 75), goes far in explaining the astonishing popularity of constructing icons and other artworks in this same period, for these objects command a physical presence that outlives the sufferer and signifies that the divinities thus instantiated continue the “mortal battle” against disease; see Yiengpruksawan 1996. 44. For the body-gods in Record of Nourishing Life by Drinking Tea and Prescriptions for Care and Nuturing for Longevity, see Drott 2010. 45. On the multilayered significance of fire in the homa ceremony, see Payne 2002 and Strickmann 1983; aspects of its role across popular religious traditions in Japan have been discussed by Gorai (2008). 46. In his Record of Receiving the Grand Rite of the Womb Mandala (Taizōkai taihō taijuki 胎藏界大法對受記), Annen 安然 (841?–880?) cites ­numerous masters of the opinion that no mudra is formed for the ra-syllable ­contemplation (T. 2390: 56a12–24). While the mudra included in the genza procedures might represent a later addition, a divergence between Sanmon and Jimon interpretations of Taizō realm practices is also conceivable, suggesting again that this rite was originally of Jimon origin. 47. Seigen 2003, 243; originally published in Mikkyō Jiten Hensankai 1963–1970, 53. For another illustration, see Keisokuin Kanshitsu 2006, 52. The latter is an explanatory text, published by Shibakinseidō 芝金聲堂 in Kyoto, for basic goma practices used today by Sanmon-Tendai initiates (Keisokuin Kanshitsu 2006). Explanations and commentary on ritual procedures are provided in modern Japanese, along with illustrations, mostly of mudras and implements, for the Eighteen Methods, the Womb and Diamond Mandalas, and the generic goma. Although this is a contemporary textbook, the work is composed primarily of Anō lineage transmissions associated with the Keisokuin 鶏足院 cloister of Yokawa 横川, a community historically associated with the transmission of ­Buddhist moxibustion texts, including the Shinpukuji manuscript for the Ritual for Eliminating Demons used in the present chapter. For another example of the



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“Dharma-Realm Generation” mudra, see the Gongyang yishi 供養儀式, T. 859: 178c15. 48. For a photograph of this gesture performed by a ritualist, see Strickmann 1983, 449; for an illustration and explanation of the procedure in the context of a goma rite, see Keisokuin Kanshitsu 2006, 168. 49. Fudō’s “fire realm mantra” figures in early medieval setsuwa collections as a potent healing technology. A story otherwise replete with fire imagery in A Gleaning of Tales of Rebirth (Shūi ōjōden 拾遺往生伝), for example, describes how Jōzō 浄蔵, a monk versed in Taimitsu rituals, performs a Fudō altar rite to successfully treat a lower-back ailment of Daigo Naishinō 醍醐内親王 and on another occasion uses the “fire realm mudra” to revive a once-deceased Koretada Shinnō 是忠親王; see Inoue and Ōsone 1974, 319–325. These miraculous stories may have sparked Keisei’s interest in the healing power of fire, since he transcribed the moxibustion ritual documents shortly after copying A Gleaning of Tales of Rebirth. 50. On original enlightenment and its multiple registers of influence, see Stone 1999. 51. One sun 寸 (Ch. cun) measures approximately one inch. An important qualification to note is that the Jimon rite follows the tongshen cunfa 同身寸法 method, which dates back to Sun Simiao, whereby lengths such as cun are measured relative to the length of the patient’s own middle finger; men are to use their left hand whereas women use their right; see Kosoto and Amano 2015, 110. 52. Here I number points in pairs together. The texts give inconsistent numbering, listing “nine” main points (1–7 above)—thus, some but not all pair points are counted as two—and noting that “some add three” (8–10); “back of the head” (11) is given separately later. The majority of these points are depicted on the first two pages of the Essential Notes manuscript, which are dedicated to two large illustrations of body charts. Drawn horizontally across the scroll, the illustrations depict the front and back sides of an unclothed adult male figure of the Heian period. The illustrator used black dots to indicate moxibustion loci and for adjacent landmarks that would have assisted in finding those points. A vertical series of circles was drawn on the figure’s back side to indicate the vertebrae. Every point or pair of moxa points is accompanied by one textual explanation, often indicated by a red line. The illustrations appear to include more loci than the textual instructions. While I am preparing a fuller study on this and related illustrations, suffice it to say that the existence of these drawings demonstrates that Jimon ritualists knew of their importance in the tradition of moxibustion, the sources of which frequently used such illustrations. The illustrations in the ritual document are in fact the oldest extant in Japan to depict a moxa body chart for a male figure of the Heian period. Tracings of these illustrations can be seen in Moxibustion Treatments for Corpse-Vector Disease (T. 2508). Photographic reproductions of the original manuscript were included in my partial translation of the

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­ ssential Notes manuscript, based on the incomplete Taishō version (T. 2507), E in Macomber 2017. 53. In acumoxa texts Wind Gate is usually given as a pair of points, the second of them referred to as neppu (Ch. refu 熱府); see, e.g., Ishinpō, Tanba Yasuyori 1975, 37. The Jimon method thus places Wind Gate between those two points. 54. T. 1911: 106a19–111c21. For an English translation of an abbreviated but related section in the Essentials of Practicing Cessation and Contemplation Meditation (Xiuxi zhiguan zuochan fayao 修習止觀坐禪法要, T. 1915), see Salguero 2017, 382–389. The Great Cessation and Contemplation was compiled and edited by Guanding 灌頂 based on lectures by Zhiyi that began in 594 (Satō 1961, 399). 55. The only Taishō texts in which Shoulder Well appears are Zhiyi’s The Great Cessation and Contemplation, Oral Transmission on Corpse-Vector Disease, and the Collection of Leaves Gathered by Storms in the Valley (Keiranshūyōshū 渓嵐拾葉集集, T. 2410), the latter of which is mainly composed of citations from the Jimon liturgy and oral transmissions. 56. Acumoxa literature includes points related to the heart, such as koketsu 巨闕, which functions as the heart’s “concentration point” (boketsu 募穴), where heart channel qi collects. The location provided in the ritual instructions (less than one sun above the navel), however, coincides with a separate point in acumoxa texts, known as suibun 水分. 57. E.g., fascicle 2 of the Ishinpō, Tanba Yasuyori 1975, 52. 58. T. 1911: 108a27. 59. For examples of Zhiyi’s engagement with medical knowledge, see Salguero 2014, 97–105. 60. T. 1911: 8a27–28. 61. Prip-Møller 1967, 317–324; de Groot 1893, 217–231; Benn 1998; and Ikai 2009. 62. Although we tend to imagine influence in premodern East Asia predominantly as currents flowing eastward, another possibility—that late medieval forms of Buddhist moxibustion developed in Japan influenced later Qing period ordination practices in China—cannot be disregarded, but it does lie outside the scope of the present chapter. 63. Indigenous Chinese texts dating to the Tang period that prescribe burning incense on the body might, as James Benn suggests, refer to a practice like moxibustion, if in an indirect manner; see Benn 1998, 308–309. 64. The pervasive religious and cultural significance of consecration practices in early medieval Japan is discussed in Matsumoto 2014. 65. T. 1911: 109a22–23. 66. Yamabe 2014, 182–183. For an extensive study on this work with an annotated translation, see Greene 2012; excerpt translated in Greene 2017. 67. T. 620: 335a22–23.



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68. Discussions on Supporting Practice and Broadly Disseminating the [Great] Cessation and Contemplation (Zhiguan fuxing chuanhong jue 止觀輔行 傳弘決, T. 1912: 400a03–06). 69. Yamabe 2014, 180–184. 70. In addition to The Great Cessation and Contemplation, Zhiyi’s Explanations of the Sequential Path (Shichan boluomi cidi famen 釋禅波羅蜜 次第法門, T. 1916) and Zhanran’s commentary informed developing Tendai discourses on the body in twelfth-century Japan. One example is the Dictionary of Wind and String Instruments (Kangen ongi 管弦音義) of 1185, a tract about music and sound that also describes the five viscera, disease, and healing in terms of correlative cosmology; see Abe 2014. 71. For example, in the Origins and Symptoms of Medical Disorders (Zhubing yuanhou lun 諸病源候論), injury (sun 損) from continuous depletion (xu 虚) is described as leading to exhaustion; also, the “five exhaustions” (wulao) 五勞 were categorized with the “six extremes” (liuji 六極) and the “seven damages” (qishang 七傷), with “damages” sometimes written with the character 損; see, for example, the sections on “depletion-exhaustion” in Chao 1981, 33–37. 72. A later author in Japan who not only related his “malady of meditation” (zenbyō 禅病) to corpse-vector disease, among other disorders prominent in the exhaustion category, but also turned to the writings of Zhiyi to promote a new healing technique was the Zen master Hakuin Ekaku 白隠慧鶴 (1686– 1769). Hakuin’s mention of corpse-vector disease and his note about Zhiyi appear, for example, in his Oradegama 遠羅天釜; see Yoshizawa 2001, 279 and 343, respectively. An excellent study that locates Hakuin’s vexations and innovations in anxieties about exhaustion and labor emerging in the Edo period is Ahn 2008. 73. Ōta 2014a, 12. 74. Eie is given in Tanba Yasuyori 1975, 5, the second half of the book; shin’e appears, e.g., in Kuwahara 2006, 149, 189. 75. The character, which also looks like a 亞 but without the top line, is related to the aforementioned shin 顖. The same character is written again two lines to the left under the second acumoxa point, this time as a gloss on shin 囟; for the manuscript (a reprint of the Edo Igakukan 江戸医学館 edition), see Tanba Yasuyori 1975, 3, the first half of the book. 76. This embeds a quote from Xu Shen’s Explanation of Simple and Compound Graphs (Shuowen jiezi 説文解字). 77. See, e.g., Annen’s Taizōkai taihō taijuki 胎蔵界大法対受記 (T. 2390: 58c). 78. I follow Iyanaga 2016, who provides a translation of the entire section in an appendix to an outstanding study on the human yellow; see ibid., 401n149, for seven other texts with the same comment, translated by Iyanaga as “six drops of human yellow at the top of the cross-shaped [seam].”

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79. Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “fontanelle.” As Barbara Duden (1991, 134) explains in her study of eighteenth-century German medicine, the “fontanel” referred also to “an artificial wound that was kept open by a wick made of hair, a seton, to allow the continuous drainage of fluids.” In other contexts, cautery was used for this purpose. 80. The invention of this method is attributed to Tang period physician and scholar Cui Zhiti 崔知悌 (b. ca. 620), who outlined it in a single-volume monograph thought to have circulated under various titles, including Moxibustion Method for Bones-Steaming Disease (Guzhengbing jiu fa 骨蒸病灸法) and Cui Zhiti’s Moxibustion Method for Exhaustion (Cui Zhiti jiulao fa 崔知悌灸労法). Although original editions are no longer extant, the method was recorded in a remarkably large number of texts, a fact rare among such specialized methods and that some scholars interpret as evidence of its continual clinical success over the centuries (Ishihara 1986, 176–177). Aside from Arcane Essentials, the method survives in Chinese texts such as Superior Formulae of Su [Shi] and Shen [Kuo] (Su Shen liang fang 蘇沈良方, 1075), Comprehensive Record of Sagely Benefience (Shengji zonglu 聖濟總録, 1117), and New Book [of Caring for] the Young (Youyou xinshu 幼幼新書, 1150). 81. The complete method usually begins with two separate points later known as huanmen 患門 (Affliction Gate). Because early medieval Japanese texts pay special attention to the Four Flowers points, I will not focus on those additional points here. 82. Seven or so cones of moxa are to be burned on the first day on each of the loci, and this is to be doubled every day until the number of cones reaches one hundred or even one hundred and fifty, depending on the patient’s condition and if they can withstand the treatment; see Wang 1981, 4:243. 83. There are fifteen such methods in Prescriptions Worth a Thousand in Gold compared to twenty-four in Arcane Essentials; Hashimoto 2015. 84. Kajiwara 1986, 183. Shindō (2014, 32–33) notes that Shōzen’s desire to widely disseminate the Ton’ishō explains its inclusion of elements from folk medicine and other local customs and beliefs. Man’anpō, on the other hand, represents a secret transmission Shōzen sought to pass down to his son, a practice consistent with medical lineages; see Goble 2011 for a fuller treatment of Shōzen’s works. 85. The text describes a method of measuring sun for the purposes of applying moxibustion, which departs from the tongshen cunfa method attributed to Sun Simiao and adopted in the Jimon rite in using a piece of straw; see Imaizumi 1906, 407. 86. Katsuda 2003, 109. 87. This is thought to be the oldest text on the method in Japan. The only surviving edition, held in the Kyōu Shooku 杏雨書屋 archive, dates to a copy from 1801 (乾 3582); the discussion here is based on the reproduction in Tanba Nagamoto 1996.



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List of Contributors

Anna Andreeva (PhD, University of Cambridge, 2007) is a research fellow at the Heidelberg Centre for Transcultural Studies, Heidelberg University, Germany. Her publications include Assembling Shinto: Buddhist Approaches to Kami Worship in Medieval Japan (Harvard Asia Center, 2017), Transforming the Void: Embryological Discourse and Reproductive Imagery in East Asian Religions (with D. Steavu, Brill, 2016), and “Childbirth and Women’s Healthcare in Premodern Societies” (Dynamis 34, no. 2, 2014). Catherine Despeux (PhD, Université Paris 7, 1976) is honorary professor of Chinese thought at the Institut National des Langues et Civilisations Orientales. She has published and edited monographs, translations, and articles on Chinese Buddhism, Daoism, and medicine. Her work focuses on Daoist women and inner alchemy and on the representations and techniques of the body in Daoist and medical contexts. Andrew Macomber (PhD, Columbia University, 2019) is currently assistant professor of East Asian religions at Oberlin College. His research explores the body, illness, and healing technologies at the intersections of Buddhism and medicine in medieval Japan. Antje Richter (PhD, Ludwig Maximilians University of Munich, 1998) teaches at the University of Colorado, Boulder. She studies the culture of early and medieval China, with research interests in literature, ­religion, art history, and medicine. She is working on a book about narratives of health and illness in early and medieval China literature. C. Pierce Salguero (PhD, Johns Hopkins University, 2010) is an interdisciplinary humanities scholar fascinated by the intersections between Buddhism, medicine, and cross-cultural exchange. He is the 243

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author of a two-volume anthology, Buddhism and Medicine (2017– 2020), as well as a number of other books and articles on various aspects of Buddhism and medicine. Shi Zhiru (PhD, University of Arizona, 2000), a Chinese Buddhist nun from Singapore, is professor of religious studies at Pomona College. She is the author of the book The Making of a Savior Bodhisattva: Dizang in Medieval China (Kuroda Institute, 2007). She has also published several articles on Buddhist thought, culture, and art in books and journals such as Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies and Asia Major.

Index

Page numbers in boldface type refer to illustrations. Accounts of Lives of Famous Monks (Mingseng zhuan chao; Shi Baochang), 46n6 acupuncture (hari; shin), 48n29, 225n10; and Buddhist incantations, 37; at Dunhuang, 120; in Lives, 29, 30; and moxibustion, 12, 195–196, 198, 207, 212, 220, 232n56 Adikuta, 129 Ajitasena, 140 Amaterasu, 174 Amitābha Buddha (Amitāyus), 24, 32, 42, 121, 128 Amoghapāśa, 123, 126, 137, Plate 6 Amoghavajra (Bukong; Fukū), 128, 137, 147n19, 149n60, 187n22 Ānanda, 65–66 Andreeva, Anna, 11, 13, 160–193 An Huize, 33–34, 40, 47n20 An Lushan Rebellion, 85n83 Annen, 166, 230n46 Anō lineage (Tendai Buddhism), 223, 230n47 anomaly accounts (zhiguai), 25, 33, 41–42 An Shigao, 29, 40, 48n29 antarābhava (intermediate existence), 93, 95, 101 Antoku, Emperor (Japan), 163, 176 Arcane Essentials from the Imperial Library (Waitai miyao fang; Wang Tao), 196, 219, 234n80 Aṣṭāṅgahṛdaya-saṃhitā (Vagbhata), 133, 137, 151n110 Aṣṭāṅgasaṃgraha, 133, 150n85 astrology, 10, 38, 151n91. See also deities: astral Aśvaghosa, 132

Āṭavaka (demon; Taigensui), 131, 140, 146, 171 Avalokiteśvara (Guanyin), 3, 5, 24, 49n40, 202; in Dunhuang manuscripts, 121, 123, 124, 126, 129, 146; and incantations, 35; in Lives, 32; seals of, 140, 141 Bai Juyi, 75–77 Bamboo Slips on Golden Registers (Jinlu jianwen), 112n43 banners (fan), 91, 92, 94, 95, 98, 101, 110n15, Plate 6 Baoliang, 150n91 Bei Du, 34 Bhaiṣajyaguru (Master of Medicines Buddha; Yaoshifo; Yakushi), 3, 5, 24; and corpse-vector disease, 202; demons of, 148n25; in Dunhuang manuscripts, 121; images of, 105–107; and Japanese pregnancy ritual, 165, 168, 169, 176, 182; in Korea, 7–8; lamp-lighting cult of, 91–117; and luminosity, 10 Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra (Yaoshi jing; Medicine Buddha Sūtra): in Dunhuang manuscripts, 146; and illness, 97–99; in India, 91–97, 99, 108; in Korea, 7–8; and lamp/flame metaphors, 99–102; lamp-lighting cult of, 91–117; and longevity, 92, 93–97; paintings of, 105–107, Plate 3, Plate 5; versions of, 109n9 Bian Que, 30, 36–37, 48n24, 48n34 Bifukumon’in, 170 Bodhiruci, 127 body, the: of Buddha, 81n21; deities of, 197, 198, 205, 206, 221, 225n12; and

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immortality, 103; impurity of, 65, 66, 82n35; Indian concept of, 230n42; and lamp/flame metaphor, 99–100; miraculous, 27–28; similes of, 9, 63–65, 66, 68, 77, 82n44; Tantric concept of, 230n42; transient transformation (nirmāṇa-kāya; huashen), 63; in Vimalakīrti Sūtra, 9, 62–68, 77, 78, 82n44 Book of Odes, 83n45, 83n49 Buddhasmṛti (Zhufonian), 152n112 Buschof, Herman, 224n2 calendar, Chinese ritual, 96, 179, 197, 198, 206 Campany, Robert, 24, 40, 42 Canon of Difficulties (Nanjing), 7 Canon of Materia Medica (Bencao jing), 7 Cao Pi, 83n57, 84n63 Caraka-samhitā, 134, 136, 151n110 Catalog of the Mahāyāna Texts Entered in the Canon (Dasheng ruzang lu), 126 chakras (cakra; rin), 207, 208, 215, 223 Character-Ten on the Crown (moxibustion point), 204, 211, 214–219, 220 Chen Ming, 135, 137 Chen Zi’ang, 75 childbirth, 11, 30, 131–133, 141, 145, 161. See also pregnancy children: and demons, 132–133, Plate 8; rituals for, 164, 171–172, 173; sūtra for, 127–128, 132, 144, 149n55 Chosŏn period (Korea), 8 Christianity, 81n18 Cikitsāsaṃgraha, 150n86 Classic on Nurturing Life [with Acupuncture and Moxibustion] ([Zhenjiu] zisheng jing), 195 Classic on the Numinous Pivot (Lingshu jing), 97 “Climbing the Tower by the Pond” (Deng chishang lou; Xie Lingyun), 70, 84n59 Collection of Meanings and Terms in Translation (Fanyi mingyi ji), 136 Collection of Miscellaneous Dhāraṇī (Tuoluoni zaji), 124 Collection of Oddments (Shūgaishō), 220 Collection of Transmissions (Denjushū; Kanjin), 188nn34–35 Collection on Ritual Conduct (Sahō shu; Seigen), 206–210, 229n39

Collection on Secret Rituals for Conception, Pregnancy and Childbirth (Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū; Annen), 166, 187n22 “Commanding Scholars to Discuss Books” (Ming xueshi jiang shu; Xie Lingyun), 69, 70 Complete Tang Poems, 75 Consecration Sūtra (Guanding jing), 93, 109nn9–11, 110n23, 131 Continued Lives of Eminent Monks (Xu gaoseng zhuan; Daoxuan), 47n16 corpse-vector disease (denshibyō), 11, 198, 210–213, 223, 229n33, 233n72; and corpse-worms, 203–204, 210, 212; Essential Notes on, 201, 203, 211–212, 228nn31–32, 231n52; medical category of, 216, 220, 222; Ritual for Eliminating Demons on, 202–204, 210 correlative cosmology, 209, 233n70 Cui Zhiti, 234n80 Cundī (Juntei) mantra, 172 Daigo, Emperor (Japan), 189n37 Daigoji (temple and monastery), 11, 164, 167, 171, 172, 173, 185 Daiki (Grand Records), 174 Dainichi Nyorai, 199. See also Mahāvairocana Daizuigu daranikyō (sūtra), 187n22 Dao’an, 40 Daodejing, 86n86 Daoism: and Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra, 92, 95; body gods in, 225n12; vs. Buddhism, 3, 9, 42; in Dunhuang, 4, 120; and herbal medicine, 182; incantations in, 34; and lamp-lighting rituals, 10, 102–104, 105, 108, 113n53; Lingbao, 102; and Lives, 26, 31–32, 33; seals used in, 140, 152n116 Daoshi, 114n68, 149n55 Daoxuan, 47n16, 112n47, 142 Daozhen, 149n56 dark learning (xuanxue), 57 death: and Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra, 93, 95, 97, 98, 99–102, 108; vs. healing, 99–102; incantations against, 36–37, 44; in Lives, 28; resurrection from, 97–99, 110n32; untimely, 97, 101, 110n28



Index

deities: astral, 102–104, 108, 112n48, 113n55; body (jinshin), 197, 198, 205, 206, 221, 225n12; BuddhoDaoist, 103; and corpse-vector disease, 202; and demons, 131; in Dunhuang manuscripts, 10–11, 121, 123, 146; foreign, 24; healing, 1, 3, 5, 24, 142; in Japanese pregnancy ritual, 11, 162, 165–166, 168, 173, 186n16; in Korea, 8; in Lives, 31–34, 37; and medications, 139, 142–143; and moxibustion, 199, 205, 206; of the Three Primes, 112n49. See also particular Buddhas and boddhisattvas Demiéville, Paul, 4, 57, 58, 62 demons, Plate 7; of Bhaiṣajyaguru, 148n25; categories of, 131–132; and children, 132–133, 134, Plate 8; Chinese names of, 130, 132; and corpse-vector disease, 202–204, 210; in Dunhuang manuscripts, 11, 123–125, 127, 130–133, 136–137, 139, 140, 146; and empowerment, 199; in Japan, 227n21; in Lives, 31, 32; and moxibustion, 205, 210, 223; talismans against, 141. See also Ritual for Eliminating Demons Denjushū (Collection of Transmissions; Kanjin), 188nn34–35 “Describing the Meaning of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra while Lying Sick in Min-Yue” (Wang Zhou), 72–74 Despeux, Catherine, 10–11, 12, 118–159 dhāraṇī (incantations; zhou, shenzhou; tuoluoni), 3; of Amoghapāśa, 126–127; in Dunhuang manuscripts, 11, 119, 121–130, 131, 136–139, 146; “easy birth,” 162, 165–169, 189n36; exoticism of, 50n60; and fire rituals, 141–142; in Lives, 34–37, 44; and medications, 127, 129, 138–139; and moxibustion, 197, 202, 205–206, 222, 228n32 Dhāraṇī Compilation (Tuoluoni jijing), 129 Dhāraṇī-sūtra of the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara, in the Form of the “Heart of the Buddha’s Uṣṇīṣa” (Foding xin Guanshiyin pusa da tuoluoni jing), 129 Dhāraṇī-sūtra of the Great Samantabhadra, Spoken by the

247

Buddha (Fo shuo da Puxian tuoluoni jing), 125 Dhāraṇī-sūtra Presented to the Buddha by Āṭavaka, Generalissimo of Demons (Azhapoju guishen dajiang shang Fo tuoluoni jing), 139–140 Dhāraṇī-sūtra to Protect Children, Spoken by the Buddha (Fo shuo hu zhu tongzi tuoluoni jing), 127–128, 132, 144, 149n55 Dharmagupta, 114n64 Dharmakṣema (Tanwuchen), 68 Diamond Sūtra (Vajracchedikāprajñāpāramitā; Jingang banre jing), 67–68 diaries, 174, 178, 184, 224n5; on moxibustion, 196, 197, 198 Dien, Albert, 104, 105, 113n60 diet, 4, 92, 101; vegetarian, 95–96, 110n23 Discussion on Distinguishing What Is Essential (Bianzong lun; Xie Lingyun), 67 divination, 38, 97, 103, 121; yinyang, 96, 161, 179–180, 183, 185n7 Dōgen, 181 Dōshō, 181, 182 Duden, Barbara, 234n79 Du Fu, 75 Du Guangting, 112nn43–45 Dunhuang: Army Returning to Its Duty (Guiyi Jun) period in, 118, 125, 126, 143, 145; paintings in, 105–107, 110n15, Plates 3–6; Tibetan period in, 118, 125, 129, 133 Dunhuang manuscripts, 4, 118–159; apocryphal sūtras in, 119, 121, 124, 129, 131, 144, 145, 146; and Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra, 109n10; categories of illness in, 133–138, 146; copying of texts in, 143–145, 146; incantations in, 11, 119, 121–130, 131, 136–139, 146; influences on, 10–11, 12; on moxibustion, 197, 225n11; therapeutic methods in, 138–145, 146; and Vimalakīrti Sūtra, 58; and zhai ritual, 96 Earth-Treasury Bodhisattva (Jizō; Dizang), 6 Edo period (Japan), 6

248

Index

Effective Recipes of Physicians of This World (Shiyi dexiao fang; Wei Yilin), 142 Eifukumon’in (Saionji no Shōshi), 178, 179 Einen, 172–173 Eisai (Yōsai), 5, 208 elites, 2, 9–10; and artificial lighting, 105; in Dunhuang, 145; Japanese, 4; and Japanese pregnancy ritual, 11, 161–165, 171, 173, 183–184; Korean, 7, 8; and Lives, 26, 42; and Vimalakīrti Sūtra, 58, 59 embryology, 132, 133, 150n78, 163. See also pregnancy empowerment (kaji; adhiṣṭhāna), 5; in Japanese pregnancy ritual, 162, 177; and moxibustion, 11, 198–200, 203, 204, 206–208, 214, 215, 223 emptiness (śūnyatā; kong), 57, 60, 65, 66, 78 Enchin, 199, 200, 229n39 Engishiki (Rites of the Engi Era), 181 Engyō, 183 enlightenment, 57, 61, 62, 67, 82n43, 126; original (hongaku), 210 Enni Ben’en, 228n31 Ennin, 229n39 epidemics, 5, 98, 112n45; Dunhuang manuscripts on, 123, 124, 131, 137, 138, 146; Lives on, 33, 34, 43, 44 esoteric Buddhism (mijiao; mikkyō), 5; in Dunhuang manuscripts, 10–11, 118–119, 121, 129; and Japanese pregnancy ritual, 11, 161–185; and moxibustion, 194–242. See also Shingon Buddhism Essence of the Supreme Secrets (Wushang biyao), 102, 112n47 Essential Notes on Corpse-Vector Disease and Treatment for Wasting Disease (Denshibyō kanjinshō narabini sōbyō chihō), 201, 203, 211–212, 228nn31– 32, 231n52 Essential Principles from the Golden Cabinet (Jingui yaolüe), 136 Essentials of Medical Treatment. See Ishinpō eulogies (zan), 68, 82n44 “Expressing My Intent while Lying Sick” (Wo ji xu yi; Wang Xiuzhi), 70–71

fasting. See diet Fayuan zhulin (Forest of Pearls in the Garden of the Dharma; Daoshi), 47n15, 122, 125 Fei Changfang, 127 “Fifteen Poems Written in Sickness” (Bing zhong shi shi wu shou; Bai Juyi), 76–77 filial piety, 108 fire: as metaphor, 99–102, 111n36, 111n39; in rituals, 11, 141–142, 182, 202, 204, 208–210, 211, 231n49 five elements, 207 five phases (wuxing), 96 Foguang Shan temple (Gaoxiung, Taiwan), Plate 2 food offering ritual (pūjā; gongyang), 96 Formulae to Keep Close at Hand in Preparation for Emergencies (Zhouhou beiji fang), 196 Four Flowers (shika) technique, 219–222 fox spirits, 49n47 Fudō Myōō, 165, 168, 169, 172, 199, 202, 210, 231n49 Fujiwara family, 67, 174, 177, 178, 181, 189, 201 Fujiwara no Eishi (Shōkunmon’in), 178–182, 190n61, 191n65 Fujiwara no Shōshi (Taikenmon’in), 170–171, 176, 179, 181, 188n35, 189n42 Fujiwara no Tamefusa, 174–175, 176 Fushimi, Emperor (Japan), 178 Ge Hong, 26 genza (ritual healers), 199, 206–207, 209, 227n23, 229n39 ghosts, 31–34, 39, 49n47, 50n58, 95, 102, 132 Gishūmon’in, 176, 189nn47–48 “Giving up Moxibustion” (Ba jiu; Bai Juyi), 77 Godaigo, Emperor (Japan), 178 Gofukakusa, Emperor (Japan), 177 Gohorikawa, Emperor (Japan), 190n49 Gokurakubō Kenjin, 173 Gokyōgokuin (Kishi), 178, 179 Goldschmidt, Asaf, 225n10 Gonkaku, 188n35 Gosaga, Emperor (Japan), 177, 179 Goshirakawa, Emperor (Japan), 189n42



Index

Gotoba, Emperor (Japan), 189n46 Gouda, Emperor (Japan), 180 Great Cessation and Contemplation (Mohe zhiguan; Zhiyi), 212–214, 215, 232nn54–55 Great Dipper Sūtra, 113n55 Guanyin. See Avalokiteśvara Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū (Collection on Secret Rituals for Conception, Pregnancy and Childbirth; Annen), 166, 187n22 Gu Weimojie jing (trans. of Vimalakīrti Sūtra; Yan Fotiao), 80n9 Gyōrinshō (On Walking in the Forest; Jōnen), 166, 167, 185n10, 187nn20–21 Hakuin Ekaku, 233n72 Hanazono, Emperor (Japan), 190n58 Han dynasty (China), 7, 43 Han Shu (Standard History of the Han), 110n14 Hattori Toshirō, 224n3 healers: fangshi, 26, 94, 110n14; monks as, 28–29; popular vs. Buddhist, 39–42; ritual (genza), 199, 206–207, 209, 227n23, 229n39. See also physicians Heian period (Japan): epidemics in, 5; and medieval period, 224n1; moxibustion in, 12, 194, 197, 199; pregnancy ritual in, 11, 161, 164, 166 He Jianping, 67 He Luojie, 27, 33, 34 hijiri (semireclusive monks), 197–198, 203, 205 Historical Records of the Three Kingdoms (Samguk yusa), 7 historiography, Chinese, 25, 41–42, 46n7, 47n18 History of the Northern Dynasties (Beishi), 107–108, 136 History of the Three Kingdoms (Samguk sagi), 7 Hōjōki (Account of my ten-foot-square hut; Kamo no Chōmei), 79n7 Honzō wamyō (Japanese Names of Plants; Fukane no Sukehito), 181, 191n66 Huainanzi, 99, 111n36 Huan Tan, 100–101, 103 Hua Shou, 225n10

249

Hua Tuo, 30 Huijian, 93–99, 103, 105, 107, 109n10 Huijiao, 9, 25–50 Huijing, 71–72 Huiju, 114n64 Huiyuan, 67, 100, 111n39 hun and po souls, 97, 99 Hu-Sterk, Florence, 85n83 Hu zhu tongzi tuoluoni zhou jing. See Dhāraṇī-sūtra to Protect Children, Spoken by the Buddha Hyetong, 7 illness: Buddhist concept of, 120, 121, 145; categories of, 133–138, 146, 213; of children, 132–133, 134; of ear, nose, and throat, 134, 137; exhaustioninjury (lao sun), 203, 215, 216, 220, 222, 225n9, 233nn71–72; external vs. internal, 134–137; lai, 136–137; language for, 10, 12; meditation on, 212–213; mental, 31, 50n58; in monks, 28–29; smallpox, 6; Vimalakīrti Sūtra on, 62–67, 78–79. See also corpse-vector disease; epidemics incantations. See dhāraṇī India: Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra in, 91–97, 99, 108; concepts of the body in, 150n78, 230n42; demons in, 130–133; in Dunhuang manuscripts, 146; healing tradition of, 1–4, 8, 9; monks from, 40; oil lamps in, 104; ophthalmology in, 151n108; types of diseases in, 134, 136 Inner Canon of the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi neijing), 7 Ishinpō (Prescriptions at the Heart of Medicine; Tanba no Yasuyori), 6, 7, 129; on moxibustion, 196–197, 205, 218, 219, 221, 224n2, 225n9, 225n12, 227n19 Isho (Healer’s Records), 183, 191n66 Islam, 6, 81n18 Iwaya Shōnin, 198, 203, 226n15 Jade Chapters (Yupian), 218 Japan: incantations in, 129; medieval, 4–6, 14n6, 224n1; moxibustion in, 12–13, 194–242; pregnancy ritual in, 11, 160–193; and Tang dynasty, 171;

250

Index

Vimalakīrti Sūtra in, 67, 82n37. See also Heian period; Kamakura period; Kyoto Jia Dan, 144 Ji An, 70 Jiang Yan, 71 Jimon lineage (Tendai Buddhism), 11–12, 194–234; Sanmon lineage of, 199, 223, 230nn46–47 Jin dynasty (China), 129 Jīvaka (King of Physicians; yiwang), 31, 45n4, 74, 120, 136, 142 Jizang, 75 Jñānagupta, 126 Jōgyō, 169–170 Jōgyō ōshō shōrai mokuroku (List of Items Brought by Venerable Jōgyō), 171 Jōjōbō, 201, 227n27 Jōkyū Rebellion (1221), 179 Jōnen, 166, 167, 185n10 Jōrenbō Ken’i, 226n19 Kajiwara Shōzen, 220, 221, 234n84 Kajūji (temple), 171, 172, 173, 185, 189n37 Kamakura period (Japan), 224n1; moxibustion in, 194, 199, 220, 223; pregnancy ritual in, 11, 161, 164; warrior government of, 174, 178, 179, 184 Kameyama, Emperor (Japan), 177, 178, 179, 180, 182, 190n61 Kamo no Chōmei, 79n7 Kanazawa Bunko manuscripts, 11, 163, 164, 169, 174, 186n11, 186n14, 188n27, 188n34, 190n52, 190n56 Kanjin, 188n34 karma, 3; in Dunhuang manuscripts, 121, 130, 137; and lamp-lighting ritual, 92, 93, 96–100, 102, 105, 111n39 Kāśyapa (Jiashe fo), 123–124 Kawaguchi Ekai, 82n37 Keihan, 201, 228n29 Keisei, 201, 226n15, 228nn28–29, 231n49 Ken’i, 229n39 Kenjin (Gokurakubō), 168, 187n23 Kenreimon’in (Tokushi), 176, 182, 189n44, 190n51, 190n57, 190n59, 191n67 Kharakhoto, 129 Khotanese language, 132

Khri lde gtsug btsan (king of Tibet), 133 Khri Srong lde btsan (king of Tibet), 133 Kieschnick, John, 24 Kinhira kōki (Saionji Kinhira), 178, 183 Kōgimon’in, 183, 191n65 Korea, 6–8, 15n47, 160, 162 Koremune Tomotoshi, 195, 196, 198 Koryŏ period (Korea), 8 Kōshinshō (Notes on the Fortunate Mind; Kenjin), 168 Kotaka Shūji, 183 Kōwa gannen osan buruiki (Miscellaneous Records on the August Childbirth in the First Year of Kōwa Era), 174–175, 176, 177, 183 Kōzen, 170, 173, 187n25, 188n27 Kucha, 40 Kujō family, 201–202 Kujō Kanezane, 189n46, 226n13 Kujō no Michiie, 190n49, 228n28, 228n31 Kujō Taeko, 189n46 Kūkai, 5, 199, 200 Kumārajīva, 58, 63, 75, 81n24, 85n81 Kumāratantra, 133 Kyoto (Japan): imperial court in, 162, 174, 178, 179, 184; temples in, 160, 163, 164, 169, 171, 173, 184, 188n34, 228n28 lamp-lighting rituals, 91–117; banners in, 91, 92, 94, 95, 98, 101, 110n15; and Daoism, 10, 102–104, 105, 108; and healing, 107–108; in India, 91–97, 99, 108; lamps in, 10, 13; and longevity, 93–97; paintings of, 105–107, Plates 2–5 lantern festival, 107 Liang dynasty (China), 27, 40, 43, 81n24, 84nn63–64 Liao dynasty (China), 129 life-saving rituals, 96–97, 101, 102, 110n14 Li Geng, 143 light, 28, 32; artificial, 10, 104–107, 108n1. See also lamp-lighting rituals Li He, 75 Linghu Jinzi, 145 Linghu Sizhen, 145, 147n1 Liu Xiaochuo, 71 Liu Zhen, 83n57 live-saving rituals, 95–96, 98



Index

Lives of Divine Immortals (Shenxian zhuan; Ge Hong), 26 Lives of Eminent Monks (Gaoseng zhuan; Lives), 23–56; authenticity of, 41–42; Chinese medicine in, 29–31; context of, 24–27; cultural translation in, 9, 23–24, 43–44; incantations in, 34–37; on monks as healers, 28–29; popularity of, 26–27, 44; proselytism in, 39–45; rituals in, 37–39; sources for, 25–26, 29, 31–32, 48n29; supernatural powers in, 31–34; wondrous bodies in, 27–28 Lives of the Nuns (Biqiuni zhuan), 46n6 longevity (changsheng), 6, 110n14, 164, 182; and lamp-lighting ritual, 92, 93–97, 101, 105, 108 Lotus Sūtra (Fahua jing), 80n15, 104, 197 Lu Xiujing, 112n47 “Lying Sick I Lament Parting from Head Scribe Liu” (Wo ji yuan bie Liu changshi; Jiang Yan), 71 Macomber, Andrew, 11–12, 13, 160, 185n2, 194–242 Mādhava-nidānam, 133 Mahāmāyūrī, 123, 146 Mahāsāṃghika-vinaya, 132 Mahāvairocana (Dainichi), 165, 172 Mahāvairocana sūtra (Dainichikyō), 168 Man’anpō (Kajiwara Shōzen), 220, 234n84 Manase Dōsan, 225n10 mandalas, 126, 171, 202, 206, 230nn46–47 Maṇicintana, 187n22 Mañjuśrī, 57, 60, 66, 77, 124, Plate 1 mantras, 124, 128, 172, 199, 231n49; and corpse-vector disease, 202; and moxibustion, 204, 205, 207, 210. See also dhāraṇī (incantations) Master of Medicines Buddha. See Bhaiṣajyaguru material culture, 9, 10, 13, 35, 40, 162, 220 Materia Medica of the Divine Husbandman (Shennong bencao jing), 121 Mather, Richard, 58, 67, 79n5 Mawangdui manuscripts, 49n47, 224n2 medications, 3–6, 13; and deities, 139, 142–143; in Dunhuang manuscripts,

251

142–143, 146; herbal, 178–179, 181–183, 197; and incantations, 127, 129, 138–139; and Japanese pregnancy ritual, 163, 178–179, 181–183, 184, 191n66; recipes for, 7, 94, 102, 119, 120, 125, 134, 136, 137, 142–143, 146, 196 medicine, Āyurvedic, 3, 10, 121, 124; demons in, 130, 131; masters of, 150n85, 151n110; medications in, 139; types of diseases in, 134, 135, 137 medicine, Chinese classical: vs. Buddhist, 3, 4, 37, 39–42; and Buddhist monks, 29–31, 120; on diseases, 134, 203; in Dunhuang manuscripts, 4, 10, 119–120, 146; and esoteric Buddhism, 194–195; in Japan, 5, 160–161, 163; in Korea, 7, 8; and moxibustion, 198, 208, 213, 216, 217, 222, 223 Medicine Buddha Sūtra. See Bhaiṣajyaguru Sūtra medieval periods (China and Japan), 2–6, 14n6, 224n1 meditation, 3, 32, 33, 41, 82n35, 85n84, 228n28, 233n72; and moxibustion, 212–214, 216 Meng Jiao, 75 mental illness, 31, 50n58 merit: and copying of texts, 143–145; in Dunhuang manuscripts, 128, 146; and healing, 3, 121, 142; and lamp-lighting ritual, 93, 94, 99, 101–102, 105; and life-saving rituals, 96–97 messianic literature, 43–44 metaphors: of the body, 9, 63–65, 66, 68, 77, 82n44; of illness, 62; lamps and fire, 99–102, 111n36, 111n39 Milbon, 7 Minamoto family, 177, 178 Minamoto no Arihito, 188n35 Minamoto no Yoritomo, 178, 190n53 Ming dynasty (China), 4 miracle tales, 6, 7, 60, 61 Mogao Caves (Dunhuang), 118, 145; paintings from, 105–107, 110n15, Plates 3–5 Mollier, Christine, 113n55 monks, 1, 3–5; biographies of, 9, 23–56, 46n6, 47n16; bodies of, 27–28, 41; and Chinese classical medicine, 29–31,

252

Index

120; esoteric knowledge of, 40–41; exemplary, 12, 30; foreign, 40; as healers, 4, 28–29, 120–121; Japanese, 4, 5; and Japanese pregnancy ritual, 161, 184; Jimon, 12, 194–234; Korean, 7; rules for, 3; semireclusive (hijiri), 197–198, 203, 205; and Vimalakīrti Sūtra, 58, 79nn5–7 Moxa Method for the Four Flowers and Suffering Gate (Shika kanmon kyūhō; Tanba no Nagamoto), 220–221 moxibustion (kyū; jiu), 11–12, 194–242; application of, 204–214; efficacy of, 208, 211, 216, 222; Japanese adoption of, 195–200; in Lives, 29; loci for, 205–207, 211–215, 219, 222, 223, 231n52, 232n56; oral transmission of, 12, 200–201, 211–212, 217, 222; and other practices, 214–222; ritual of, 12–13, 198, 200–204, 219; sources on, 200–202 Mozi, 81n18 mudras: flame, 209; and Japanese pregnancy ritual, 168; and moxibustion, 199, 202, 204–207, 209, 211, 215, 230n46 mugwort (yomogi; Artemisia), 197, 220, 224n2 Munehito, Prince, 174 Nāgārjuna, 24 Nakayama no Tadachika, 176 Naoko Gunji, 163, 176, 190n59 Nara period (Japan), 5 neo-Confucianism, 8 New Bodhisattva Sūtra (Xin pusa jing), 145 “New Discourse on Body and Spirit” (Xinlun xingshen; Huan Tan), 100–101 New Sūtra of the Bodhisattvas (Xin pusa jing), 122 New Tang History (Xin Tangshu), 119, 145 Ning Qiang, 105, 107 Ninsha no obi no kaji (Yūshin), 163–165, 167, 170, 190n52, 190n56 Nirvāṇa Sūtra (Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra; Da banniepan jing), 68, 82n43, 150n91 nonduality (advaita; bu’-er), 57, 58, 60–63, 72, 77, 78

nonself (anātman; wu/fei wo), 66, 68, 100 Northern Dipper (hokuto hō; bei dou), 103, 108, 113n55, 176 Notes by Kakuzen (Kakuzenshō), 218 numerology, 93, 95, 98, 101, 108 nurturing life (yangsheng), 96–97, 101, 102, 110n14 “[Observing] the Autumn Rain while I Was Lying Sick” (Qiu yu wo ji shi; Liu Xiaochuo), 71 Ōmiyain (Saionji no Kitsushi), 177, 179–180, 181, 191n65 Onjōji (Miidera; temple), 12, 194–234 On the Types of Corpse-Vector Disease (Denshibyō shu no koto), 223 ophthalmology, 3, 151n108 oral transmission: and corpse-vector disease, 203; of Japanese pregnancy ritual, 167, 173; vs. liturgical texts, 200–201; of Lives, 27; of moxibustion ritual, 12, 200–201, 211–214, 217, 222, 228n29 Osan oinori no mokuroku (Records of Prayers for Childbirth), 176, 177, 182 Owen, Stephen, 76 physicians: court, 194, 195, 197–198, 205–206, 219, 220, 221–222; in Dunhuang, 119–120; and Japanese pregnancy ritual, 161, 183; lineages of, 197; monks as, 120–121; numinous (shenyi), 26, 30, 45n4, 48n24 pilgrimage, 5, 6, 8, 226n15, 227n23 Pill to Strengthen the Heart (buxin wan fang), 142–143 “Poem Presented to Shen Yue While I Am Lying Sick in My Commandery” (Zai jun wo bing cheng Shen shangshu shi; Xie Tiao), 70 “Poem Sent to My Old Companions from a Winter’s Day in Puguang Temple Where It Was Snowing while I Was Lying Sick” (Yu dong ri Puguang si wo ji zhi xue jian zhu jiuyou shi; Huijing), 71–72 poetry: medical language in, 10; sickbed, 59, 67–77, 78; Tang, 75–77, 78 poison-dispelling pill (Gedokuen), 6 pregnancy, 132, 133, 150n78, 227n23



Index

pregnancy sash ritual (ninsha no obi no kaji), 11, 13, 160–193; secular sources on, 173–183; temple sources on, 163–173 Prescriptions in Brief (Xiaopin fang), 196 Prescriptions of Silla Buddhist Priests (Silla pŏpsa pang), 7 pure conversation (qingtan), 57 Pure Land, 32, 42, 107 purification, 5, 6, 35, 95; in Japanese pregnancy ritual, 162, 175, 176, 182, 190n62 Qing dynasty (China), 4, 232n62 Qiyu, 35–36 Questions of King Milinda (Milindapañha), 111n39 Quintessential Mantras of Vajrakumāra (Jingang tongzi xinzhou), 128 Rāvaṇa, 133 Ravigupta, 135, 136, 151n94 “Reading in My Study” (Zhai zhong du shu; Xie Lingyun), 69 rebirth, 93, 100, 101, 105, 110n20, 111n35, 111n39 recipe masters (fangshi), 26, 94, 110n14 “Recipes and Methods” (fangji), 94, 101, 102, 110n14 Recipes for Healing Numerous People (Guangji fang; Xuanzong), 147n3 Record of Nourishing Life by Drinking Tea (Kissayōjōki; Yōsai), 208 Record of Treasured Secrets (Hōhiki; Keihan), 201 Records of the Grand Historian (Shiji; Sima Qian), 37, 46n7, 48n34 Rgyud-bzhi, 133 Rhapsody on Living in the Mountains (Shan ju fu; Xie Lingyun), 68 Richter, Antje, 9–10, 12, 57–90 Rinzai (Linji) Buddhism, 5, 228n31 Rishin, 201, 228n29 Rishōbō Kenkaku, 170, 173, 187n26 Ritual for Eliminating Demons (Ritual of the Blue-Faced Vajra-yakṣa for Eliminating Demons and Māras; Shōshiki daikongō yasha byaku kima hō), 200–205, 207, 210, 215, 228n32, 230n47 rituals: āveśa, 199, 227nn21–22, 229n39; for children, 164, 171–172, 173;

253 consecration, 215–216; fire (goma), 11, 141–142, 182, 202, 204, 208–210, 211, 231n49; food offering (pūjā; gongyang), 96; forbidden, 48n31; medical, 3, 5, 8, 10, 11, 12–13; moxibustion, 12–13, 198, 200–204, 219; ordination, 214–215; recipes for, 141–142; repentance, 37–39, 142; subjugation, 202, 205, 209, 210; zhai, 95–96, 102, 103. See also lamp-lighting rituals; pregnancy sash ritual

Saichō, 5 Saionji family, 177, 178, 180, 184 Saionji Kinhira (Lord Takenaka), 178–182, 183, 184 Saionji no Kitsushi (Ōmiyain), 177, 179–180, 181, 191n65 Saionji no Sanekane, 178, 179, 180 Saionji no Shōshi (Eifukumon’in), 178, 179 Śākyamuni Buddha (Siddhārtha Gautama; Shijiawen fo), 63, 66–67, 124 Salguero, Pierce, 9, 12, 23–56 Samantabhadra, 121, 125 Sanbōin (Daigoji temple), 164, 167, 173, 185 Sankaiki (Record of the Mountain Tree; Nakayama no Tadachika), 176, 177, 183, 190n51 Sanmon lineage (Tendai Buddhism), 199, 223, 230nn46–47 Sanpishō (Secret notes on childbirth), 188n27 Sanskrit, 40, 67, 122, 130; in Japanese pregnancy ritual, 162, 165, 166, 172, 187nn19–20, 189n36; seed syllables in, 162, 166, 186n15, 208, 209 Śāriputra, 60, 72 Schopen, Gregory, 92, 93, 97, 99, 111n35 seals, 11, 131, 139–141, 152n116 Secret Essential Prescriptions Transmitted by Silla Buddhist Priests (Silla pŏpsayugwan pimilyosulbang), 7 Secret Prescriptions of Silla Buddhist Priests (Silla pŏpsa pimilbag), 7 Sengyou, 93, 109n11, 111n38 Sengzhao, 85n81 sexology, 4, 94 shamanism, 8, 95

254

Index

Shan Daokai, 29 Shen Yue, 70, 84nn61–62 Shi Baochang, 46n6 Shichijōin, 183, 189n44 Shi Huiyong, 27, 40 Shijō, Emperor (Japan), 190n49 Shikan (Four Scrolls; Kōzen), 170, 187n25 Shiku (Teacher’s Words; Einen), 172–173 Shi Le, 36–37 Shi Naiying, 146 Shingon Buddhism, 5, 199, 226n19, 229n39; and Japanese pregnancy ritual, 163, 164, 166, 167, 169, 170, 173, 176, 184, 185, 186n15; and moxibustion, 206–207, 223 Shinkaku, 229n39 Shi Sengjin, 29, 40 Shi Zaiying, 120 Shi Zhiru, 10, 13, 91–117 Shi Zhiyan, 39, 40 Shōkaku, 170, 173 Shōkeimon’in, 180 Shōkunmon’in (Fujiwara no Eishi), 178–182, 190n61, 191n65 Shōkunmon’in onchakutai no ki (Record of Putting on the Pregnancy Sash by Shōkunmon’in), 179 Shōmen Kongō, 202, 204, 205, 229n33 Shōtoku Taishi, 82n37 Siddhaṃ script, 206, 210, 228n32 Siddhasāra (Ravigupta), 135, 136, 151n94 Silk, Jonathan, 58 Silk Roads, 3, 4, 6, 9, 10–11 Silla (Korea), 7, 8 “Sitting Quietly in My Sickness” (Bingzhong yanzuo; Bai Juyi), 75–76 Six Dynasties period (China), 104–107 skillful means (upāya; fangbian), 59, 61, 63, 66, 80n15 Sogdiana, 9, 40, 120 Sōhekimon’in (Kujō no Shunshi), 190n49 Sōi, 172, 188n35 Song dynasty (China), 4 Songs from Chu (Chu ci), 84n65, 84n70 Songs of the South, 74 Sōtō Buddhism, 6 “Spirit Does Not Perish When the Body Dies” (Xing jin shen bumei lun; Huiyuan), 100 spirit mediums, 3, 161, 227n22 Sri Lanka, 1

Śrīmitra, 109n10 Strickmann, Michel, 109n10, 152n116, 227n21 Studies in the Belief in Vimalakīrti in Medieval China (He Jianping), 67 Śubhakarasiṃha, 131 Sun Hao, 38–39 Sun Simiao, 3, 136, 226n13, 231n51, 234n85 Suo Chong’en, 121 Suo Falü, 121 Suo Qing’er, 144 Suo Zhiyue, 121, 146 Supplement to the Recipes Worth a Thousand in Gold (Qianjin yi fang; Sun Simiao), 136 Suśruta-saṃhitā, 133, 137, 151n110 Sutoku, Emperor (Japan), 189n42 sūtras: apocryphal, 119, 121, 124, 129, 131, 144, 145, 146; Mahāyāna, 9–10; as talismans, 39; translated, 3. See also particular titles Sūtra of Divine Incantation Expounded by the Buddha (Fo suoshuo senzhou jing), 131–132 Sūtra of Golden Light (Jin guangming zuisheng wang jing), 143 Sūtra of the Divine Incantations, Which Are Great Dhāraṇī, Spoken by the Seven Buddhas and Eight Bodhisattvas (Qifo ba pusa suoshuo da tuoluoni shenzhou jing), 123–125 Sūtra of the Divine Incantation Spoken by the Seven Buddhas and Eight Bodhisattvas (Qifo shenzhou jing; Si Tianwang suoshuo da shenzhou), 123, 125–126 Sūtra of the Essence of the Divine Incantation of Amoghapāśa (Bukong juansuo shenzhou xinjing), 126–127 Sūtra of the Great Peahen, Protective Queen (Mahāmāyūrī vidyārājñi; Fomu da Kongque mingwang jing), 137–138, 147n19 Sūtra on Deliverance from Illness (Fo shuo jiuji jing), 121, 124, 144 Sūtra on Incantations against Enchantments, Expounded by the Buddha (Fo shuo zhoumei jing), 121–122, 145



Index

Sūtra on Protection of Living Beings Suffering from Penicious Diseases (Jiuhu zhongsheng eji jing), 121 Sūtra on the Care of Fleshy Growths and Hemorrhoids (Liao zhibing jing), 129 Sūtra on the Four Heavenly Kings (Si tianwang jing), 96 Sūtra on the Names of a Thousand Buddhas (Xianjie qianfo mingjing), 143 Sūtra on the Rites for Exorcising a Hundred Supernatural Phenomena, According to the Diamond-Being Ucchuṣma (Huiji Jingang jin baibian fa jing), 140 Sūtra on the Wise and the Foolish (Xianyü jing), 109n6 Sūtra on Trapuṣa and Bhallika (Tiwei Boli Jing), 96 Sūtra on Zhi Illness, Spoken by the Buddha (Fo shuo zhibing jing), 129–130 Sūtra Urging Kindness (Quanshan jing), 122, 144 sympathetic resonance (ganying), 31, 36, 38, 48n32 Taigen ritual memoranda (Taigen ki), 169 Taigensui nenju giki (Ritual Commentary on the Invocation of the Great Commander), 171, 188n31 Taikenmon’in (Fujiwara no Shōshi), 170–171, 176, 179, 181, 188n35, 189n42 Taira family, 177, 178 Taira no Kiyomori, 176 Taishō Tripiṭaka (Taishō daizōkyō), 227n24; and Dunhuang manuscripts, 123, 126–129, 140; and Japanese pregnancy ritual, 166, 171, 172; and Korean Tripiṭaka, 15n47 Takakura, Emperor (Japan), 176 talismans, 6, 13; in Dunhuang manuscripts, 11, 139–141; in Japanese pregnancy ritual, 169–170, 171, 172, 189n36; sūtras as, 39 Tanba no Nagamoto, 220–221 Tanba no Tomoyasu, 226n13 Tanba no Yasuyori, 196 Tanba no Yukinaga, 182 Tang dynasty (China), 104, 232n63; Dunhuang in, 118, 119, 120; histories of, 119, 136, 145; and Japan, 171; sickbed poetry in, 75–77

255

Tanguts, 118, 129, 149n64 Tantric Buddhism, 137, 139, 199, 204, 230n42 temples, 6, Plate 2; archives of, 163–173; in Kyoto, 160, 163, 164, 169, 171, 173, 184, 188n34, 228n28. See also Daigoji; Kajūji; Onjōji; Tōji Tendai (Tiantai) Buddhism, 5, 229n39; Anō lineage of, 223, 230n47; and Japanese pregnancy ritual, 163, 166, 169, 173, 175, 176, 184, 185; and moxibustion, 11–12, 194–234; Sanmon lineage of, 199, 223, 230nn46–47 Text of the Four Precepts (Sijie wen), 144 Tibet, 1, 118, 125, 129, 133 Tibetan language, 58, 65 Tibetan medicine, 133 Toba, Emperor (Japan), 170, 175, 176, 179 Tōji (temple), 169, 171, 185, 187n25 Ton’ishō (Kajiwara Shōzen), 220, 234n84 toxicology, 134, 137–138, Plate 9 Treatise of the Great Virtue of Wisdom (Da zhidu lun), 122 Treatise on the Origins and Symptoms of Diseases (Zhubing yuanhou lun), 134, 136 Treatise on the Profundity of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra (Jingming xuan lun; Jizang), 75 Tripiṭaka: Chinese, 23; Korean, 8, 15n47 Trübner Stele, Plate 1 Turfan manuscripts, 4 Twenty-Five Methods for Corpse-Vector Disease (Denshibyō nijūgo hō), 223 Ucchuṣma (Wushusemo), 140 Vāgbhata, 150n85, 151n110 Vaiśravana (Pishamen), 143, Plate 7 Vajrakumāra, 128, 137, 140, 141 Vajrapāṇi, 121 vegetarianism, 95–96, 110n23 Vimalakīrti Sūtra, 9–10, 12, 57–90, 146; Assembly on (Yuima-e), 67; on illness, 62–67, 78–79; plot of, 58, 59–61; and sickbed poetry, 67–79; and Tang poetry, 75–77; translations of, 58, 74–75, 80nn8–12, 82n37; in visual art, 57, 58, 67, Plate 1 visualization, 138–139, 199, 206–207, 209, 215

256

Index

Waley, Arthur, 75, 77, 86n85 Wang Tao, 196 Wang Wei, 75 Wang Xiuzhi, 70–71 Wang Zhou, 72–74 water: in Daoism, 33; empowerment of, 177, 203; and incantations, 35, 127, 129, 139; in Japanese pregnancy ritual, 168, 177, 190n52; in Lives, 33–34 Weimojie jing (Vimalakīrti Sūtra; Zhi Qian), 58 Wei Yilin, 142 willow branches, 13, 35 women, 4; biographies of, 46n6; ritual roles of, 161, 184, 191n67; in Vimalakīrti Sūtra, 60. See also pregnancy; pregnancy sash ritual Wongwang, 7 Wu, Emperor (Liang; Xiao Yan), 43, 81n24 Wu, Emperor (Yu Wenyong; Northern Zhou), 112n47 Xiao Gang (Jianwendi; Liang), 84nn63–64 Xiao Yan (Emperor Wu of Liang), 43, 81n24 Xiao Yi (Yuandi; Liang), 27, 84n63 Xie Lingyun, 67–70, 77, 84n59 Xie Tiao, 70 Xuanzang, 63, 75, 80n10, 109n9, 126 Yamabe Nobuyoshi, 215–216 Yan Fotiao, 80n9 Yellow Emperor, 31

Yellow Emperor’s Toad Canon (Huangdi hama jing), 196, 197, 205, 225n12 Yijing, 129, 130, 151n91 Yinhai jingwei, 151n108 yinyang divination, 96, 161, 179–180, 183, 185n7 Yuan, Emperor (Xiaoyi; Liang), 27, 84n63 Yuan dynasty (China), 129 Yuanzhao, 149n54 Yu Fakai, 26, 30–31 Yufu, 120 Yūgimon’in, 180 Yūshin, 163–165, 188n34 Zen Buddhism, 6 Zhai Farong, 121 Zhai Fengda, 128, 144, 145 zhai ritual, 95–96, 102, 103 Zhang Cun, 119 Zhang Yuan, 107–108 Zhanran, 215–216, 233n70 Zheng Binglin, 147n9 Zhi chanbing miyao fa, 215 Zhi Qian, 58, 63, 75, 80n10 Zhiyi, 12, 212–216, 223, 232nn54–55, 233n70 Zhuangzi, 86n86, 99, 111n36 Zhu Daosheng, 85n81 Zhu Fakuang, 26, 32, 34, 37–38 Zhu Fayi, 32–33 Zhu Fotiao, 29 Zhu Fotucheng, 26, 28, 36–37 Zhu Sengxian, 32, 42 Zōyo, 189n40 Zürcher, Erik, 57, 58, 63, 74