Hungry Ghosts

Advance Praise for

Hungry Ghosts

Hungry ghosts, with their misery of insatiable desires, are ever lurking in the shadows of the Buddhist world and, perhaps, in our own shadows. With his deft translations of their stories—at once funny, disturbing, and insightful—and his reflections on a broad range of narratives and visual art, Andy Rotman invites us to explore the teachings of hungry ghosts, especially on the destructive power of meanness and the transformative possibilities of charity and kindness.

—William Edelglass, director of studies at Barre Center for Buddhist Studies and associate professor at Emerson College

In this delightful study of hungry ghost stories and imagery, Andy Rotman illuminates Buddhist psychological insights and social commentary on ‘meanness’ in ways that resonate with our own time. His vivid translations spring this ancient wisdom into life.

—Maria Heim, professor of religion, Amherst College, and author of Voice of the Buddha: Buddhaghosa on the Immeasurable Words

"Andy Rotman’s elegant translations of the Divyāvadāna established him as the foremost English translator of Buddhist narrative literature. Here he turns his attention to the ten tales of pretas, or hungry ghosts, in the Avadānaśataka. Rotman’s deeply insightful commentary and lucid, precise translations open these stories to the modern reader, revealing a profound exploration of what it is to be mean-spirited and of the consequences of being mean. This beautiful volume is a masterpiece of translation and commentary, a gift that is literary, historical, and most importantly, ethical."

—Jay Garfield, Doris Silbert Professor in the Humanities, Smith College, and the Harvard Divinity School

It is a particular delight for me to see that another book with Rotman’s excellent translations is now available to all those interested in the Buddhist intellectual world. As always philologically accurate and enjoyable to read, this book brings to life the messages of the old narratives about pretas who, eaten away by meanness in their human life, now lead an existence of continuous pain and perpetual hunger. At the same time, Rotman provides a most insightful discussion of the development of the hungry ghosts in both literary and visual sources and their importance even for modern Buddhism. This volume is undoubtedly a must-read for students of Buddhist thought and art.

—Monika Zin, Saxon Academy of Sciences and Humanities, Leipzig University, author of Representations of the Parinirvāṇa Story Cycle in Kucha

THE REALM OF HUNGRY GHOSTS is one of the unfortunate realms of rebirth in the Buddhist cycle of existence, and those reborn there are said to have led lives consumed by greed and spite. In one of the earliest sources about hungry ghosts, translated here, hungry ghosts know the error of their ways, and they sometimes appear among humans, like the ghosts that haunt Ebenezer Scrooge, as augurs of what may await. Artistic depictions of the travails of hungry ghosts are found throughout the Buddhist world, and some of the best examples are reproduced and richly described here. In addition, Hungry Ghosts shows how an understanding of the meanness (matsārya) that afflicts hungry ghosts illuminates the human condition, offering insight and inspiring compassion for readers both in ancient times and today.

In this wonderful gem of a book, Andy Rotman offers us a compelling translation of a set of ten Sanskrit Buddhist stories about hungry ghosts (preta), taken from the Avadānaśataka (One Hundred Stories), an important early anthology of Indian Buddhist narratives. Rotman has brought them into the limelight and shown how important they are for Buddhists and for all of us. Hungry Ghosts will become a standard work on the subject."

—JOHN STRONG, Charles A. Dana Professor Emeritus of Religious and Asian Studies, Bates College

Rotman brings new life to old stories about hungry ghosts, and he provides unique insight into their development and their importance even for modern Buddhism. This volume will undoubtedly become a must-read for students of Buddhist thought and art.

—MONIKA ZIN, Saxon Academy of Sciences and Humanities, Leipzig University

Rotman’s deeply insightful commentary and lucid, precise translations open these stories to the modern reader, revealing a profound exploration of what it is to be mean-spirited and of the consequences of being mean. This beautiful volume is a masterpiece of translation and commentary, a gift that is literary, historical, and most importantly, ethical.

—JAY GARFIELD, Doris Silbert Professor in the Humanities, Smith College, and the Harvard Divinity School

To Sandy Huntington (1949–2020),

teacher, friend, and profound inspiration

Contents

Preface

INTRODUCTION

Mātsarya and the Malignancy of Meanness

Hungry Ghosts through Images

Technical Notes

TRANSLATION: Avadānaśataka, Stories 41–50

1.Sugar Mill

2.Food

3.Drinking Water

4.A Pot of Shit

5.Maudgalyāyana

6.Uttara

7.Blind from Birth

8.The Merchant

9.Sons

10.Jāmbāla

Glossary

Notes

Bibliography

Index

About the Author

Preface

HUNGRY GHOSTS ARE fascinating figures. At one level they are incredibly transparent—living testimonials, in body and word, to the dangers of meanness. And yet at another level they’re inscrutable, for they also function as a kind of repository for Buddhist fears and anxieties about how we as humans can be led astray, and these change according to time and place. You too, hungry ghosts seem to say, can be led away from the dharma and end up in the hell of your own meanness, echoing Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre.¹ So how do we circumvent this terrible fate? And what fears and anxieties are Buddhists addressing?

Unfortunately there is very little scholarship on hungry ghosts, and many of the primary texts are unavailable in translation. That’s why I was so excited when Naomi Appleton and Karen Muldoon-Hules approached me with an intriguing proposition. They wanted to create a joint translation of the Avadānaśataka (One Hundred Stories), an early collection of Indian Buddhist narratives, with different scholars translating the various decades. They wanted to know if I would translate the ten stories on hungry ghosts. I immediately said yes.

Although the Avadānaśataka was translated into French by the inimitable Léon Feer and published in 1891, a new translation has long been on many wish lists. Feer crafted his translation directly from manuscripts. Between 1902 and 1909, however, Jacob Samuel Speyer, another early doyen of Buddhist studies, created a critical edition with an extensive apparatus that called into question a number of Feer’s readings. The intervening century has also given rise to numerous scholarly works like databases, dictionaries, editions, translations, and studies that make a new translation all the more glaring in its absence.

I began working on the present volume just as I was finishing up Divine Stories: Divyāvadāna, Part 2 (Wisdom Publications, 2017). At that time, in between rounds of reviews, rewrites, and copyedits, I wanted to keep my mind in the world of early Indian Buddhist narratives and on the intricacies of translation. Working on the present project allowed me to do so. What I didn’t anticipate was how complicated, compelling, and insightful these stories would be.

After working on the translations of these stories intermittently for two years, I wrote a brief introduction to the decade, which I presented at the International Association of Buddhist Studies conference in Toronto in 2017 on a panel of those of us who had agreed to translate the Avadānaśataka: Naomi Appleton, Karen Muldoon-Hules, David Fiordalis, and Justin Fifield. After much discussion, we agreed to publish our portions of the work separately, even though the hope still remains that one day a complete and fully collaborative translation of the text can be published. Inspired by the conference and my cotranslators, I decided that I would vastly expand my introduction, polish my translation, and publish the work independently.

Acknowledgments

The current volume benefited enormously from the advice of friends and colleagues. My first thanks go to the members of Five College Buddhist Studies Faculty Seminar, especially Jay Garfield, Peter Gregory, Yanlong Guo, Jamie Hubbard, Maria Heim, Susanne Mrozik, Ruth Ozeki, Ben Bogin, and Sandy Huntington. In fall 2017, they responded to an early version of the introduction, and their comments were invaluable as I expanded it.

Thanks to a sabbatical from Smith College, I was able to work on the introduction throughout 2018, both in India and the United States. I spent the spring writing the first half of the introduction at various locations in India. In Goa, I was fortunate to have Ira Schepetin as a conversation partner and to have a wonderfully supportive community that included Rebecca Andrist, Mohan Baba, Martin Brading, Renee Garland, Helen Noakes, Niels and Stina Legêne, Hélène Salvadori, and Sophia Schepetin. In and around Khandwa, Sumiran Caprihan, Shaista Dhanda, and Eva Joosten offered me friendship and refuge. And in Banaras, Rabindra Goswami once again let me stay in his home, work in my favorite chair, and listen to him make his sitar sing. Thanks, too, to my ever-helpful friends in the city: Abhishek Agrawal, Shubha Goswami, Arun Himatsingka, Ramu Pandit, Hari Paudyal, Divyansh Shukla, Sebastian Schwecke, Rakesh Singh, and Virendra Singh.

I returned to the United States for the summer, and there I wrote the second half of the introduction, with an eye toward a kind of comparative ethics. Much of the writing was done at Northampton Coffee, for I found it helpful to be in the public sphere of a coffeehouse, with its spirit of camaraderie and debate, to ponder various forms of meanness and faith, both good and bad. Many thanks to the coffee shop’s staff and patrons, especially Ernie Alleva, Lane Hall-Witt, Kevin Rosario, Amina Steinfels, and James Wilson. Thanks as well to Jonathan Stevens and Cheryl Maffei at Hungry Ghost Bread for their stellar baking and spirit of service.

In the fall, thanks to a Khyentse Foundation fellowship, I went back to India as visiting faculty in the Pali and Buddhist Studies Department at Savitribai Phule Pune University. There I presented parts of the book in the classroom and in public lectures and received very helpful feedback. My thanks to the department’s students, staff, and faculty, especially Shrikant Bahulkar, Lata Deokar, Mahesh Deokar, Pradeep Gokhale, and Talat Praveen. And a special thanks to Gayatri Chatterjee for good food, company, and conversation.

Later that fall, once again in the United States, I presented portions of the book at the University of Chicago, at a memorial symposium for the much-missed Steven Collins, and at Cornell University, at a seminar for the South Asia and Buddhist Studies programs. Thanks to Dan Arnold, Whitney Cox, Wendy Doniger, Charles Hallisey, Matthew Kapstein, and Christian Wedemeyer; Tarinee Awasthi, Anne Blackburn, Bronwen Bledsoe, Daniel Boucher, Arnika Fuhrmann, Daniel Gold, Liyu Hua, Larry McCrea, and Sujata Singh.

A special thanks goes to Steven Collins, who advised me as a graduate student and whose insights and generosity have continued to inspire me. His comments about the evolution of hungry ghosts in the Pali tradition helped me recognize the idiosyncratic nature of many depictions of hungry ghosts in Buddhist materials, and how the realm of hungry ghosts could function as a kind of workshop for Buddhists to think through issues of human depravity. Professor Collins had a unique ability to combine philological, philosophical, and sociological observations into something that was somehow much more than the sum of its parts. I am lucky to have learned from him and thankful for all that he shared.

That year also saw the passing of my grandmother, Ida Rose Rotman, just shy of her 105th birthday. Ida was gratitude embodied, and her love and care offered a wonderful example of charity and its virtues. She was a teacher of the highest order, and I count myself blessed to have spent so much time in her presence.

In putting together this book, I was also fortunate to receive additional help and guidance: Peter Skilling reviewed the manuscript; Sara McClintock helped me with some puzzling passages in Tibetan; William Edelglass, Mitch Goldman, Elizabeth Huntington, Andrew Marlowe, Anne Mocko, Madhulika Reddy, Teodosii Ruskov, and Kate Schechter helped me see the humanity in hungry ghosts; William Elison (aka Akbar) and Christian Novetzke (aka Anthony) offered me brotherhood; and Emma offered me feline charms, asleep on my lap.

In compiling the images for this book, I benefited from the help of numerous institutions and individuals. For providing the images included in this volume, I want to thank Museum für Asiatische Kunst in Berlin; State Museum of Ethnology in Munich; Henry Ginsburg Fund and Fragile Palm Leaves Foundation in Bangkok; Rokudōchinnō-ji in Kyoto; Osaka City Museum of Fine Arts; Shin Chion-in in Shiga Prefecture; Otsu City Museum of History; and yokai.com. And for advising me on hungry ghost imagery, many thanks to Naresh Bajracharya, Philip Bloom, Eric Huntington, Jinah Kim, Simona Lazzerini, Todd Lewis, Adeana McNicholl, Matthew Meyer, Takashi Midori, Andrew Nguy, Marylin Rhie, Lilla Russell-Smith, Peter Skilling, Donald Stadtner, Daniel Stevenson, Trent Walker, and Monika Zin. And a special thanks to Takashi Midori, who played a crucial role in helping me gain access to images from Japanese museums and temples.

I also want to thank everyone at Wisdom Publications for their consummate care and professionalism. Thanks to Daniel Aitken, publisher extraordinaire, and to Josh Bartok, Gopa Campbell, Laura Cunningham, Kat Davis, Ben Gleason, Kristin Goble, Alexandra Makkonen, Faith McClure, Kestrel Montague, Brianna Quick, L. S. Summer, and Pema Tsewang. And a special thanks to David Kittelstrom for being such an extraordinary editor and such a good friend.

And lastly I want to thank Janna White for her love and support, wisdom and compassion.

Introduction

Mātsarya and the Malignancy of Meanness

HUNGRY GHOSTS MAKE frequent and poignant appearances in early Buddhist literature and later Buddhist art, and there are diverse and telling accounts of their psychology and appearance that offer insight into the inner workings of Buddhist morality as well as ongoing anxieties about meanness and the dangers it poses to individuals, families, and communities. And yet there are surprisingly few academic studies of hungry ghosts, even though the topic, like many a hungry ghost in Buddhist stories and paintings, is hiding in plain sight. As William LaFleur suggests, hungry ghosts have been

something of an embarrassment to modern Buddhists, including persons of the West who like their Buddhism rational and empirical; although these ghosts pop up all over the tradition, such persons dismiss them as external to real Buddhism, things that the popular mind dragged in during weak moments when the Buddhist philosophers—with their usual vigilance for maintaining the rational—were dozing.²

Regardless of the reason for this oversight, hungry ghosts deserve better, as do scholars and students of Buddhism. In what follows, in an effort to bring hungry ghosts out of hiding, I focus on one of the earliest collections of stories about hungry ghosts, the Avadānaśataka, or One Hundred Stories.

The Avadānaśataka is an anthology of narratives that, in its present Sanskrit recension, was likely compiled by a Buddhist monk from the Mūlasarvāstivādin community in northwest India³ between the second and fourth centuries CE.⁴ And considering that a number of the stories in the anthology have nearly word-for-word counterparts in the monastic legal code of the Mūlasarvāstivādins,⁵ these stories may very well have functioned as a kind of law,⁶ offering prescriptions for behavior for both monastics and laity.⁷

The text is divided into ten sections of ten tales each, with each decade having a different orientation: (1) predictions of becoming a buddha, (2 & 4) the Buddha’s previous lives,⁸ (3) predictions of becoming a solitary buddha, (5) hungry ghosts, (6) rebirth in heaven, (7) men from the Śākya clan who became arhats, (8) women who became arhats, (9) persons of irreproachable conduct, (10) the consequences of evil deeds.

This volume contains a translation of the fifth decade of stories, all of which concern hungry ghosts—more literally, the departed (preta), a term with an important Brahmanical backstory.⁹ These hungry ghosts, along with animals and hell beings, constitute the miserable inhabitants of the three realms of existence that no one desires.¹⁰ The stories in this decade are an especially important record of early Buddhist thinking about hungry ghosts, as well as about ethics, eschatology, and ancestors, all the more so considering the dearth of extant representations of hungry ghosts in early Buddhist art.

More specifically, these stories recount the bad thoughts and actions various hungry ghosts cultivated as humans that led them to their current existence with its karmically customized miseries. In this way, the text offers a pathology of pretahood, and fundamental to this pathology is the cultivation and malignancy of what in Sanskrit is called mātsarya. In my translations of these stories I render the term as meanness, relying on two senses of the term: it is an unwillingness to give or share—what might be termed miserliness, avariciousness, or stinginess—along with being unfair, unkind, and spiteful.

The Mechanics and Misery of Mātsarya

The stories in this volume explain the logic of mātsarya’s development, the actions it engenders, the suffering it induces, and the ways it can be eradicated. All this is of the utmost importance, according to the text, for the karmic consequence of cultivating mātsarya is rebirth as a hungry ghost, and the result of engaging in the nefarious activities that mātsarya inspires is a unique set of torments. And one of those torments is elsewhere a wondrous attainment: the memory of past lives, although in this case it appears to be only the memory of those mātsarya-inspired activities from one’s previous human life that caused the present hellish predicament.¹¹

Consider this description from the story called A Pot of Shit:

The venerable Maudgalyāyana saw a hungry ghost who looked like a burned-out tree stump, naked and totally covered with hair, with a mouth like the eye of a needle and a stomach like a mountain.¹² She was ablaze, alight, aflame, a single fiery mass, a perpetual cremation. Tormented by thirst, she was racked with sensations that were searing, piercing, distressing, agonizing, and acute, and she was crying out in pain. She was foul smelling—really foul smelling. She looked like shit, and she was feeding on feces. And even those, she only procured with difficulty.

As the text goes on to explain:

She runs around suffering,

piles of shit everywhere,

[wailing] I drink and eat only shit!

The venerable Maudgalyāyana then approaches the Buddha, who explains to him the deed that the hungry ghost performed in a previous life that led her to this present fate:

Long ago, Maudgalyāyana, in the city of Vārāṇasī, there was a solitary buddha who had compassion for the poor and neglected and who stayed in remote areas. Afflicted with an illness, he entered Vārāṇasī for alms, since a doctor had prescribed for him [a diet] of wholesome food. He approached the home of a merchant.

The merchant saw him and asked, Noble one, do you need anything?

Homemade nutritious food, he said.

Then the merchant instructed his daughter-in-law: Give wholesome food to the noble one.

In his daughter-in-law there arose a feeling of mātsarya. If I give him food today, he’ll just come back again tomorrow. She retreated indoors, filled a bowl with shit, then covered it with food and proceeded to give it to the solitary buddha.

Now the knowledge and insight of disciples and solitary buddhas does not operate unless they focus their attention. So the solitary buddha accepted the bowl, and only after accepting it did he realize how much it smelled. She must have filled it with excrement, he thought. Then that great being dumped out his bowl to one side and departed.

The goal of the hungry ghost stories in the Avadānaśataka is pithily summarized at the end of nearly every story: Work hard to rid yourself of mātsarya!¹³ And for good reason. To cultivate mātsarya is