Singapore -- Why do monastics
wear robes? The first and most obvious answer is clearly so that
they are not indecently exposed. This may sound banal, but in the
Sabbāsava Sutta (M 2), the Buddha gives this reflection as one of a
monastic's methods for overcoming defilements for sake of
liberation.
A monastic is to
reflect on his robes thus:
“Wisely
reflecting, he uses the robe: | only for the ward off heat, | for
the sake of warding off cold, | for the sake of warding off the
touch of mosquitoes, flies, the wind, the sun, and creeping
creatures; | for the purpose of covering up the privies, out of
moral shame.” (M 2)2
In the Buddha's times, the monastic robes
were simple pieces of cloth, often bits of rags and pieces of
discarded shroud (that is, cloth that have no owner) stitched
together. In fact, such a garb was no different from that of other
monastics or from those of the followers of other
sects.
In other words, the monastics had shaven
heads and dressed more or less alike, and the Buddha was almost
indistinguishable from other monks.
One thing is certain, however, the robes of
such renunciants (that's what they really are) are clearly
different from the richer dress of the laity. The message is clear:
monastics are a life apart from the laity. The monastic robe is
part of a simple spiritual lifestyle that one has freely vowed to
live by, and as such should not fall back on one's word. More
importantly, the simple robes are to remind renunciants (and
non-renunciants) that their relevance is in being apart from the
world, so that they can truly be able to help and heal it without
getting caught up in it.
As Buddhism spread and became main stream
in some cultures, the robes changed into rich and elaborate
uniforms, reflective more of power and prestige than of humility
and renunciation.
Understandably, in the case of one of
Singapore's richest priests who was jailed for gross mismanagement
of public funds in 2010, did not switch his monastic gear for
proper civvies. This is symptomatic of a larger problem of a
heavily money theistic “monasticism” and devotee-exploitation,
which are also found in western Buddhism, but which it has been
able to solve more readily than the ethnic Buddhists have
done.
Oriental Buddhists surely would benefit
from learning such problem-solving skills from our western
siblings. If we are morally weak, Māra the evil one treats us like
switches: we might be on or off without even realizing it. If the
Singapore priest refused to remove his robe, a Siyam Nikaya chief
high priest in Malaysia had no qualms about taking off his monastic
gear to don an elegant lounge suit, topped with a bald pate, to
receive his “Datuk” title from the palace. Perhaps, the ironic, no
less ominous, message is that worldly power is incompatible with
monastic renunciation.
In February 2011, Ajahn Brahmali, a
respected forest bhikkhu in the line of Ajahn Chah,
recalled:
“...a few years ago, while
visiting one of my old university friends, I found myself being a
bit apologetic about my strange appearance. What he responded
really opened my eyes. He said the robe of a Buddhist monastic is a
fairytale in "branding"; a marketing manager's dream. He said that
the positive image most people have of Buddhism coupled with the
very distinct appearance of Buddhist monastics is a combination
that any business would be willing to pay huge amounts for. In a
sense, it is a very distinct and valuable brand. After that
incident I have looked upon my monastic robes quite differently. I
now believe that the beautiful message of Buddha's teachings in
fact is enhanced by our unusual appearance. Our robes can probably
help get the message out that there is something worthwhile in
these teachings.”
Ajahn Chah was clearly aware of the
monastic robe's vitality and ingenuity, as attested by scholar
Sandra Bell in her article on “Being Creative With Tradition:
Rooting Theravāda Buddhism in Britain” (2000), on how Ajahn Chah
successfully planted forest Dharma in the west. She warmly
records:
“By all accounts that have been
offered to me, the laity was impressed by the fact that the monks
were prepared to venture forth every day in all types of weather
wearing only thin cotton robes to walk single file carrying their
alms bowls, receiving nothing but jibes or indifferent
incomprehension from the majority of members of the public. The
monks'; tenacity was viewed as a sign of devotion and obedience to
their revered teacher…”
The laity has always, and should continue,
to be the “quality control” factor regarding monastic conduct, as
repeatedly attested in the Vinaya. Such a voice, in the spirit of
the divine abodes, only serves to inspire monastics with ever
greater sense of meaning and purpose of renunciation and
spirituality.
Otherwise, we deserve the kind of Buddhism
we get, as we euphorically add more fuel into the fire of the
burning house. Let us work hard to douse the
flames