Riddle Me This: Vedic Brahmodya or Buddhist Poetry?

kíṃ svit sūryasamaṃ jyótiḥ
kíṃ samudrásamaṃ sáraḥ
kíṃ svit pṛthivyaí várṣīyaḥ
kásya mātrā ná vidyate

What is the light that equals the sun?
What is the stream that equals the ocean?
What is greater than the earth?
Whose measure cannot be found?

Vājasaneyi Saṁhitā (Thompson 1997)

natthi sūriyasamā ābhā
samuddaparamā sarā …
natthi paññāsamā ābhā
vuṭṭhi ve paramā sarā

There is no light that equals the sun
The ocean is among streams supreme

There is no light that equals wisdom
Rain is that supreme of streams

SN 1.13


It seems that the classic brahmodya of the White Yajurveda was fixed in form. Students would memorize the call-and-response poems in preparation for that moment in the sacrifice when their wits would be called into question. Knowledge of the sacrifice and its deeper meaning would require rigorous initiation, for that which is evident to the gods is but concealed to men (yanma manuṣyāṇāṃ parokṣaṃ taddevānāṃ pratyakṣam PB 22.10.4).

These poetic competitions were not new to the Brahmanical tradition. George Thompson (1997) argued that they could be found already in the Ṛgveda, the tradition’s oldest work, albeit in a more subtle and nuanced form. Following in his tracks to truth, Jurewicz (2010) discusses in more depth how the great Nāsadīya Sūktam is itself part of such a brahmodya, drilling its audience—the “eye-witness in the highest heaven”—on some of those most haunting of questions:

“The blend created by the competing priest makes him believe in his absolute competence and his participation in the events which took place in illo tempore. That is why the questions asked in the last two stanzas of the Nāsadīya are left unanswered: the answer is given every time a concrete human being realises a particular cognitive act.”

These riddles, then, vary in the extent of their use. They may test their opponent to see if they know the divine and esoteric dialect of the ritual, or throw them through the clouds to contemplate the origin of creation itself. And they will continue weaving their way through the layers of text, down to the Upaniṣads where they are clothed in a much more free style of inquiry and debate. In fact, the Indic loom on which these riddles were woven seems broader than the Vedas alone.

Bausch (2015) shed light ahead in the philosophical development from the Vājasaneyi Saṃhitā—the tradition to which Yājñavalkya belonged and had mastered, and to which our rhythmically compact brahmodya are typical. We are left then to tie together these ends and connect them back to the inheritance such brilliant Upaniṣadic debaters were moving forward from. After all, it is in the search for hidden connections so dear to the gods that motivated and propelled the contemplative search for divinity within.

The Sagāthāvagga of the Saṃyutta Nikāya manages to hold shadows from both of these traditions in plain sight. There we find the more open and personal dialogue characteristic of the dialogues and brahmodya debates in the Upaniṣads. But the majority of these discourses preserve poetic riddles suspiciously close in form to those we might expect to find in the Yajurveda.

Thompson (1997) discusses different types of verse brahmodya, and offers some of the core characteristics of our more familiar fill-in-the-blank poems. These reduce the semantic content of the poems to little more than a series of esoteric symbols which the answerer must, in near identical meter, mirror the question with an obvious connection underlying the hidden. This is precisely the structure and style of so many of the poems in the Sagāthāvagga, that the genre of at least the most obviously similar cases is undeniably the same.

What this might mean for the origins, use, and context of the Buddhist poems is up to discover. There is another hidden connection waiting to be known.

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These are Zen Kōans! :smiley:

This is another confirmation for a suspicion I’ve had - that Zen has quite a few brahmanical inspirations in it.

When there’s a dominant new religion, sometimes members of the old religion appear to convert, and still practice their old ways esoterically. Now, whether the Brahmanical influence on Chan/Zen lineages were a result of such esoteric brahmins or were they from genuine buddhists who were inspired from brahmanism, I don’t know the history enough to speculate. :slight_smile:

Sadhu, Bhante. :slight_smile:

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While I think the historical context for the origin of gongan/koan is a bit different, it is certainly true that for a long time pockets of the Buddhist tradition have retained the love for riddles and mystery found in the Brahminical tradition. We could perhaps say the poems influenced by brahmodya and the koan tradition are two touch points along these sometimes parallel, sometimes intertwining roads. :slight_smile:

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Wow, that’s an amazing reflection, thanks so much.

I’m currently working through the Sagathavagga, and wanting to identify exactly this kind of parallel. If you notice any more, please let me know! It’s not easy to find things.

Indeed yes.

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There’s a good example of this form at SN 1.60.

“What’s the source of verses?
What constitutes their phrasing?
What do verses depend upon?
What underlies verses?”

It sounds very much like something a Vedic teacher would ask in order to exalt the divine origins of verses, which acc. to Rig Veda 10.90.9 arise from the sacrifice. But I haven’t found a close correlate to this verse.

In the Buddhist context, of course, it’s a setup for the Buddha to give a purely naturalistic account.

“Metre is the source of verses.
Syllables constitute their phrasing.
Verses depend on names.
A poet underlies verses.”

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Sādhu, yes, I think with the context of the brahmodya then such poems which seem to be secular or lacking Dhamma are actually, as you say, responses to what would otherwise be non-Buddhist answers. There are at least a few of those seemingly secular or tangential poems in the SN. But with this context, a lot of light is shed on the interpretation of those and similar verses! :slight_smile: :pray:

For example, SN 1.72

“What’s the mark of a chariot? What’s the mark of fire? What’s the mark of a nation? What’s the mark of a wife?”
“A banner is the mark of a chariot. Smoke is the mark of fire. A ruler is a nation’s mark. And a husband is the mark of a wife.”

An original purpose of the brahmodya is to ‘translate’ ritual terms. In this context, chariots, fire, nations and women are all plausibly Brahmanical concepts related to the sacrifice. The response seems banal, unless it is actually a dramatic refutation of any esoteric meaning to these things! What’s the mark of fire? … Smoke of course!

Aside: I changed ‘woman’ for ‘wife’ which seems a more contextually accurate translation.

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And they say Pāli Canon has no humour! :rofl:

It’s just… on a very subtle, off-the-cuff manner…

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Indeed yes.

Great point, yes.

Ahh, no itthī means “woman”, not “wife”.

I’ve changed the rendering. The Pali uses a somewhat unusual sense of paññāṇa, which here is a noun meaning “recognizable sign”. “Mark” is okay, but I think the sense is better conveyed via the commentarial gloss, “it is known by this”.

“A chariot is known by a banner.
Fire is known by smoke.
A nation is known by its ruler.
A woman is known by her husband.”

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The same verse also occurs in the Śāṅkhāyana-śrautasūtra 16.5 (this is a text affiliated to the Ṛgveda)
kiṃ svit sūryasamaṃ jyotiḥ kiṃ samudrasamaṃ saraḥ
kaḥ svit pṛthivyai varṣīyān kasya mātrā na vidyate

along with its answers in verse:
brahma sūryasamaṃ jyotir dyauḥ samudrasamaṃ saraḥ
indraḥ pṛthivyai varṣīyān gos tu mātrā na vidyate

There is yet another question and answer verse-pair there:

Questions:
kaḥ svid ekākī carati ka u svij jāyate punaḥ
kiṃ sviddhimasya bheṣajam kiṃ svid āvapanaṃ mahat

Answers:
sūrya ekākī carati candramā jāyate punaḥ
agnir himasya bheṣajaṃ bhūmir āvapanaṃ mahat

Of course the Mahabharata contains hundreds of such verses in such chapters as the Yakṣapraśna (Pāli: yakkhapañha), for example

yakṣa uvāca (The Yakṣa asks the same questions as in the above verse)
kiṃ svid eko vicarati jātaḥ ko jāyate punaḥ
kiṃ sviddhimasya bhaiṣajyaṃ kiṃ svid āvapanaṃ mahat

yudhiṣṭhira uvāca (Yudhiṣṭhira answers with the same answer as above)
sūrya eko vicarati candramā jāyate punaḥ
agnir himasya bhaiṣajyaṃ bhūmir āvapanaṃ mahat

The śatapatha-brāhmaṇa also contains a similar question but with a different answer:
athādhvaryur hotāram pṛcchati - kiṃ svit sūryasamaṃ jyotiriti
tam pratyāha - brahma sūryasamaṃ jyotiriti

Again the same question and answer as above (in the śatapatha-brāhmaṇa)
sa hotādhvaryum pṛcchati kaḥ svid ekākī caratīti
tam pratyāha sūrya ekākī caratīti

This searching for parallels is a never-ending business, and there could be hundreds of such parallels in the EBTs.

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This is one of the classic examples used later in Indian epistemology for inference (anumāna). The smoke seen without a fire for inferring the presence of a fire.

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Interesting, this style is associated with yakkhas in the Pali, too.

True, let’s find them all! The more we can find, the better we can address questions of history, timing, doctrinal relations, and so on.

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