Translator’s Introduction: Writing about Ritual
HAVING ALREADY provided a general introduction to Tsong Khapa’s Illumination of the Hidden Meaning commentary on the Chakrasaṁvara Tantra in the introduction to the first volume of my translation of this work (Gray 2017), here I would like to focus on a specific issue, namely the challenge of writing about ritual, meditative, and yogic practices, and the strategies employed by Tsong Khapa to meet this challenge. First, it should be noted that this is a challenge that is generally faced by all who delve into the genre of tantric literature. Usually, this is attributed to the secrecy of tantric traditions. Secrecy is, after all, a defining feature of these traditions. Tibetans refer to this tradition as that of “secret mantra” (gsang sngags), while in East Asia it was referred to as “esoteric teachings” (密教) or “esoteric Buddhism” (密宗佛教). The tantras are known for their secrecy; this was in fact a strategy used by advocates of tantric traditions to create the space for new revelations. The authority figures of Mahāyāna Buddhism either existed in the distant past, i.e., Shākyamuni, or far off in “space,” i.e., the cosmic buddhas such as Mahāvajradhara who dwelled in alternate reality buddhalands. For most tantric traditions, the “secret” is a new revelation recently made available in the human realm. The Chakrasaṁvara Tantra, after all, opens with the following two lines:2
Now I will explain the secret,
Concisely, not extensively.
This promises the disclosure of a secret: teachings that were hitherto secret, unknown in the human realm, are now being revealed by this work. Secrecy here is a strategy permitting the revelation of new teachings in an otherwise conservative religious community, and this idea permitted the canon of Mahāyāna Buddhism to remain theoretically open until the present day.3 As Ronald Davidson has noted, the tantras have involved an ongoing evocation of secrecy. He argued that:
Indian tantric secrecy is a self-disclosing idiom of scriptural development, a rubric that continues to require both self-emptying and self-filling, a kenotic process that discharges a horizon of expectations so that the real scriptures are continually being revealed, the new mandalas and new sacraments continually unfolding, while the yogins try to avoid suspicion by acting suspiciously themselves. The esotericness of tantric Buddhism was a self-perpetuating strategy that ensured its continued independent maturation. (2006, 74)
Throughout the history of tantric Buddhism in India, new traditions have emerged with the discovery of a “new” scripture that, almost always, invokes the concept of secrecy. This is partly because these scriptures typically do not claim to be new, but rather ancient works attributed to Shākyamuni or other buddhas, which were either hidden away or lost and newly rediscovered, or timeless works that are newly revealed, as advocates of the Chakrasaṁvara tradition claim. This is discussed in the first volume of this work. The works themselves are thus newly revealed secrets. They often claim to teach “new” or newly revealed practices, these being secrets that these texts and their traditions are intent on disclosing, albeit in a controlled manner, to properly qualified students.
Root tantras such as the Chakrasaṁvara promise disclosure of “the secret,” but the text’s brevity and ambiguity arguably prevent this from being accomplished. The history of tantric literature is, from a certain perspective, the history of attempts to fulfill this promise of disclosure in a recursive manner. That is, tantric traditions are characterized by cycles of revelation, which promise disclosure, and commentary, which attempt to disclose, in turn giving rise to a new cycle of revelation and commentary that builds upon the foundation of the older revelations and systematizations. So, as I have argued previously, we see a process of “primary revelation,” new tantras attributed to awakened buddhas, which give rise to “primary exegesis,” initial attempts to explain the meaning of these works, typically in commentaries. Tantras that become popular, the basis of new practice traditions, will sometime give rise to “secondary revelation,” new revelation in the so-called explanatory tantras (vyākhyātantra), subsidiary tantric works that typically reveal the secret practices in greater detail. Through this process, the primary tantra becomes recognized as a “root tantra” (mūlatantra), the foundation of this new and growing scriptural tradition. We might include in this category works attributed to great saints such as Nāropa, which, due to the great prestige of their authors, come to be recognized as authoritative as well. These works can include commentaries, ritual texts, and “oral instructions” (upadeśa), which were transformed into a written genre, which in turn spawned more commentary, leading to a final level of exegetical development, “secondary exegesis,” i.e., commentaries on these works of commentary.4
It is in this way that a tantric tradition or “cycle” (skor) of literature surrounding a root tantra becomes established. Once a tradition is fully elaborated in this manner, invariably new scriptures are revealed that borrow from it and hence build upon its foundation, giving rise to new cycles of revelation and commentary, and hence new traditions of scripture and practice. Thus, the cycle of the development of tantric literature and practice comes full circle and begins a new recursive cycle.
While tantric texts and traditions are seemingly focused on the disclosure of secrets, this disclosure — when mediated by texts — is always imperfect and incomplete since these texts and traditions are focused on practices that are not readily or entirely communicable via written text. The tantras in general tend to focus primarily on practice; tantric literature — by which I mean the tantras themselves as well as the commentaries, ritual manuals (maṇḍalavidhi, abhiṣekavidhi, etc.), and meditation manuals (sādhana) — tends to share this focus. They are thus “self-secret” (rang gsang), incapable of complete disclosure via words alone. For when reading about ritual, yogic, or meditation practices that one has never personally experienced, it is arguably impossible to fully understand these practices simply by reading the text, even if one’s ability to read and understand the words of the text is perfect.
The task then of commenting upon ritual texts is a very challenging one, and it is arguably not directed toward total neophytes at all. Rather, the ideal reader for texts such as Tsong Khapa’s commentary is someone who, having been initiated and introduced to the practices, already has had exposure to the practice tradition and is seeking a deeper understanding. Such a reader might gain a great deal from works of tantric exegesis. Those with no exposure to the traditions might find them impossible to understand, regardless of how well or poorly these works are translated and presented.
In seeking to compose a commentary on the Chakrasaṁvara Tantra, Tsong Khapa had a great number of resources to draw upon. When Tsong Khapa gave the lectures that were eventually compiled into this commentary at Ganden Monastery during the early fifteenth century, approximately 500 to 600 years had passed since the root text was initially composed.5 He was thus commenting upon the root text of a tradition that was, on account of its popularity, very well established. In addition to the root text itself, he was thus able to draw upon at least five explanatory tantras — most of which were considerably longer than the Concise Saṁvara root text — and he therefore treated the rituals and contemplative practices of the root text in greater depth. There were also a dozen Indian commentaries preserved in the Tibetan canon, if one does not count Sumatikīrti’s one-and-a-half-folia Intended Import of the Chapters of the Concise Saṁvara Tantra, and many dozens of ritual texts, meditation manuals, and commentaries. He also had several centuries of Tibetan scholarship on which to rely.
Tsong Khapa relied on all five of the explanatory tantras that he deemed authoritative,6 the twelve Indian commentaries as well as Sumatikīrti’s chapter synopsis, which he quoted in its entirely. Among the various ritual and contemplative texts, he focuses on those attributed to the mahāsiddha trio, Lūipa, Ghaṇṭapā or Vajraghaṇṭa, and Kāṇha or Kṛiṣhṇāchārya, who are major figures in the development of the Chakrasaṁvara tradition in India.7 Regarding the tradition of Tibetan scholarship on this work that preceded him, Tsong Khapa mentions by name, and comments upon, the commentaries composed by Sachen Kunga Nyingpo, Butön Rinchendrup, and Mardo. As discussed in my introduction to the first volume of this translation, he relies generally on the former two, and particularly on the latter. Mardo’s commentary, entitled the Summary and Detailed Commentary on the Saṁvara Root Tantra by the Translator Mardo Chökyi Wang-chuk, (mar do lo tsā ba chos kyi dbang phyug gi bde mchog rtsa rgyud kyi bsdus don dang ṭikka rgyas pa), is evidently lost, so it is not currently possible to estimate the degree to which Tsong Khapa relied upon it. I believe, however, that many of the quotes from unidentified sources may be from this work.8
In commenting upon the Chakrasaṁvara Tantra in general, and in the latter half of this work in particular, Tsong Khapa was faced with the challenge of explaining ritual and contemplative practices that are presented in a very bare-boned manner in the root text. In doing this, he relied on all of the sources available to him. However, he relied primarily on the more extensive Indian commentaries that comment on the ritual practices in more detail. These include Bhavabhaṭṭa’s (CV) commentary, which is one of the longest commentaries, at over one hundred folia long in Tibetan translation. However, the work on which he most relies is Kambala’s Treasury of Practice Manuals commentary (Sādhananidhi-śrīcakrasaṁvara-nāma-pañjikā). A relatively long work (seventy-seven folia in length in Tibetan translation), it is indeed a “treasury of practice manuals,” as the title promises. Here in the title of the text, the term sādhana refers not only to meditation manuals but to any sort of practice manual.9 Kambala’s commentary provides more detailed explanations for many of the text’s ritual and meditative practices, and as this text is also attributed to a mahāsiddha, it served as an indispensable source for those interested in understanding the root text. For Tsong Khapa, it was particularly important as the translation he preferred, the “dual translation” jointly revised by Mardo and Sumatikīrti, was itself a secondary revision of the revised translation by the India scholar Sūryagupta and the Tibetan translator Gö Lotsawa Shönu Pal, who also translated Kambala’s commentary into Tibetan.10 Kambala’s commentary was thus a major influence on the Tibetan translation that Tsong Khapa preferred, so it is natural that he would find it particularly helpful for facilitating his understanding of the root text.
In addition to Chakrasaṁvara literature, Tsong Khapa ranges beyond it, drawing upon scholarship from other traditions, particularly the highly influential Esoteric Communion (Guhyasamāja) and Hevajra traditions. Here he followed in the footsteps of his Indian predecessors, including Kambala, who also made reference to major works from these traditions. Lastly, Tsong Khapa also refers to classic works from the Mahāyāna tradition, such as Asaṅga’s Bodhisattva Stages and Asaṅga/Maitreyanātha’s Ornament of the Universal Vehicle Sutras and Haribhadra’s Splendid Ornament commentary on the Eight-thousand-stanza Perfection of Wisdom Sutra. In so doing, he contextualized the Chakrasaṁvara Tantra within the larger Mahāyāna tradition and furthered the integration of exoteric and esoteric Buddhist traditions.
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2. CT 1.1ab: athāto rahasyaṁ vakṣye samāsān na tu vistarāt, Gray 2012, 49; cf. Gray 2007, 155.
3. I explore this concept in my 2010 article “On the Very Idea of a Tantric Canon: Myth, Politics, and the Formation of the Bka’ ’gyur.”
4. For a more extensive discussion of these categories see Gray 2001, 299–314.
5. The date of the composition of CT is impossible to set precisely; it may have been composed as early as the late eighth century to as late as the tenth century, when Rinchen Zangpo’s intitial Tibetan translation was made. Regarding the dating of this work see Gray 2007, 11–14, Gray 2012, 6–8, note 14, and Sanderson 2009, 162–63.
6. Published in the first volume of this translation, see Gray 2017, section 2.1.1.
7. See also Gray 2017, 7.
8. Regarding these commentaries see Gray 2017, 8.
9. As I noted in my 2012 edition, the title for Kambala’s commentary is mislabeled in the Tibetan translation as “context for practice manuals,” sādhananidāna/sgrub pa’i thabs kyi gleng gzhi. This title makes much less sense than the title preserved in the Sanskrit manuscript, the Śrīherukābhidhāna-sādhananidhi-pañjikā. See Gray 2012, 41.
10. See Gray 2012, 31.