A passage of the Pali canon introduces the gandhabba as playing a significant role in the conception of the child. The passage occurs twice in the Majjhima (as well as various parallels). Of these, the reference at MN 38 Mahātaṇhāsaṅkhayasutta is certainly secondary, due to its extended character, while the reference at MN 93 Assalāyana should be regarded as the primary occurrence.
Traditional explanations of odd ideas typically focus on looking forward, making them fit in with later doctrine, and for this reason, the Buddhist context at MN 38 is far more famous. As a historical scholar, I am more interested in, not what Buddhists made of it in later years, but what it meant to the original audience. Since in MN 93 this passage is purely brahmanical, being spoken only among brahmins with no Buddhists even present, it is safe to assume that it was originally a brahmanical idea, or at least, was believed to be so.
Here is the passage from MN 93. It occurs as part of a long argument about caste. The brahim student Assalāyana asserts the primacy of the brahmins, and the Buddha interrogates the grounds for his belief. The Buddha then relates the story of the past, a discussion between “Devala the Dark”—one of the mysterious “dark hermits” who appear in the Pali—and seven brahmin hermits (reminiscent of the “seven hermits” of brahmin lore). Devala provokes them, resists their curses, then interrogates them on caste. They say they understand how an embryo is conceived.
‘An embryo is conceived when these three things come together—the mother and father come together, the mother is in the fertile part of her menstrual cycle, and the gandhabba is present.’
‘But do you know for sure whether that gandhabba is an aristocrat, a brahmin, a merchant, or a worker?’
‘We don’t know that.’
What, then, did it mean to the brahmins? Clearly the view is presented as being part of an archaic brahmanical lore. Now, I am merely a dabbler in these areas, so I welcome a more informed opinion. But for me the most intriguing essay on this was the article by Wijesekera in his astonishing Buddhist and Vedic Studies. Here it is, thanks to the good folk at the Internet Archive!
There is so much great mythological lore in this chapter, I am loathe to summarize it. But very briefly, Wijesekera points out the following aspects of the gandhabba (gandharva in Sanskrit).
- It originated in the very ancient past, possibly pre-Indo-European, and appears early as a golden-hooved monster or nymph of the deep waters.
- He also guards the celestial waters.
- He is probably related to Greek kantauros (i.e centaur) and thus with rampant male potency.
- Wijesekera doesn’t get into this, but this suggests to me that the gandhabba was the defining deity of the foundational Indo-Europeans, to whom the taming of the horse granted unequaled power. Other deities may have been shared or inherited, but gandhabba was them.
- He is (punningly) associated with smell
- He is associated with Soma (the moon/potency/divine essence/drug) back at least to Indo-Iranian times. Specifically with the Soma juice (rasa (sap) = retas (semen); note that soma is referred to by the same word sukka that is used for semen in the Pali)
- Soma is a vitalizing power and the source of Indra’s energy.
- Soma is also said to be the atman of food.
- The rain that quickens the earth and the semen that creates pregnancy are associated as far back as Vedic times.
- The unrestrained sexuality of the gandhabba is a danger to the embryo, they are described as “the hairy ones that devour embryos”. (This is part of the normal aspect of ancient mythology: gods are neither good nor bad, but powerful and hence must be placated.)
- The gandhabba is also the sun, especially in its aspect of sinking into the waters, another sexual metaphor, and hence is associated with procreation.
- The gandhabba’s lustiness led to his being associated with desire for women, and later, with the idea of a “love-marriage”.
- He is hence able to drive men and women to madness.
- And in some cases, he is even a disincarnate spirit that possesses humans.
Now if all this seems like a lot, it is. And it’s only a little of what Wijesekera adduces. The irreducible and paradoxical complexity of the constellation of ideas that is the gandhabba speaks to its antiquity; we receive multiple aspects refracted through time. Now, many of these aspects find expression in the Pali. Normally, of course, the gandhabba is considered to be a lusty and vivacious minor deity. But I am here only concerned with its role in procreation.
Now, consider some of the ancient brahmanical theories of rebirth. There are multiple not always consistent accounts, but a famous one is in the Chandogya Upanishad.
Basically, a woman is regarded as an altar to which the gods, working through the man, bestow semen as offering, from whence arises the embryo. The process of rebirth is long and wandering, but essentially souls are reborn on the moon (soma), from where they rain down and are reborn in the food such as rice, corn, herbs, trees, sesame and beans (food is a divine force of utmost importance to the Upanishads!). The Chandogya says:
Whoever the persons may be that eat the food and beget offspring, he then becomes like them. Those whose conduct has been good will quickly attain some good birth as a brahmin, khattiya, or vessa. But those of bad conduct will take an evil birth: a dog or pig or outcaste.
Rebirth has a cosmic and organic dimension that is absent from Buddhism. The Kausitiki says “the soul is produced from semen”. The atman is a complex and many-facted idea in the Upanishads, but it is crucial to understand that there is an important thread that sees the individual atman as a quasi-physical entity that is passed to the mother through the semen. It goes without saying that the mother is regarded as merely the incubator of the embryo, not as the source of its atman.
Now to the Pali passage. To my mind Wijesekera’s discussion here is less adequate. He quite rightly points out the implausibility of the proposal by some earlier scholars that the gandhabba “presided” over rebirth. The relevant verb paccupaṭṭhito hoti has the sense “standing by” i.e. “ready to go”.
But he then says that “the text is unequivocal and leaves no doubt as to the real nature of gandhabba which clearly must refer in the context to the ‘spirit’ of a previously dead ksatriya, brahmin, vaisya, or sudra”. He then refers back to his previous discussion in section 12.
But I don’t think that discussion establishes such a clear conclusion at all. He shows an association between the gandhabba and the power over the mind, which I take as being a reference to the power of sexual desire. The apsaras, for example, are said to be the “mind-bewildering wives of the gandhabbas”. He then refers to a couple of cases of possession, in support of the idea that a gandhabba was a spirit, but these are just everyday cases of spirit possession, not connected with procreation.
He sets aside all the evidence that he has so painstakingly adduced about the cosmic/organic qualities of the gandhabba and semen. Then he goes on to support his conclusion with reference to later Buddhist texts. But of course they are concerned to rationalize this odd idea, which alludes to all kinds of arcane and uncomfortable notions, and fit it in with their doctrines.
The biggest single problem with the later Buddhist idea that “gandhabba = rebirth consciousness” is that there is then little role for the man. In fact, of the three factors, all that is required of the man is that he has intercourse. He has no other direct relation with procreation at all. But in the brahmanical tradition, as we have seen, the “seed” is essentially male, and it is the woman who is secondary.
indriyeṇa te retasā reta ādadhāmīti | garbhiṇy eva bhavati || BrhUp_6,4.11 ||
With power, with semen, I deposit semen in you!’ Thus she becomes pregnant.
I don’t for one moment believe the brahmins would advocate such a diminished role for men.
No. The gandhabba is a euphemism for the divine element of male potency that is the primary force of procreation. This is the semen, which contains the atmans of those who have previously died, and who have wandered through the paths of the moon, the rain, the earth, and the grain, before being eaten by him. No-one can know the caste of these atmans, which is why it is so troubling for the brahmanical doctrine of caste.
Thus we should translate something like:
An embryo is conceived when these three things come together—the mother and father come together, the mother is in the fertile part of her menstrual cycle, and the virile spirit is potent.
It is obvious that the sutta should refer to the male’s potency here, in addition to the female’s.
Just riffing here on the imagery, but this makes me think of the skandhas as “heaps” Like, a pile of leaves raked together which covers the ground (of being).