The Debate of a Paṇḍita Dog with a Monk: Critique of Buddhist Monastics in üg Genre Works of Agvaanhaidav

Abstract

It is in the nineteenth century that the üg genre of Mongolian literature became a favorite literary form for Mongolian writers. Most works written in this genre are didactic teachings on compassion for domestic animals, the ills of the transient nature of saṃsāra, and a critique of misconduct among Buddhist monastic communities in Mongolia. Through the words of anthropomorphized animals or even of inanimate objects, the authors of the works belonging to the üg genre expressed their social concerns and criticism of their society. One of such authors was a Mongolian monk scholar of the nineteenth century by name Agvaanhaidav (Tib: Ngag dbang mkhas grub), who in his works of the üg genre strongly advocated the development and preservation of the spirit of Mahāyāna Buddhism in Mongolia, and of the Geluk monasticism and scholarship in particular.

1. Introduction: The üg Genre and Its Studies

In the nineteenth century, the üg genre developed as a specific literary form in the history of Mongolian Buddhist literary tradition. The word üg, meaning a “word” or a “speech”, indicates that works belonging to the üg genre are dialogical and often composed in the form of talks delivered by animals and inanimate objects. In most cases, they are also the dialogues among domestic animals or the debates between an animal and a human, and occasionally, they contain dialogues between a layperson and a Buddhist monk.

The literary studies of the genre of üg were first carried out by the twentieth-century, Mongolian and Russian scholars, namely, Magsarjavyn Sanjdorj (1959) and three Russian Mongolists—L. K. Gerasimovich (1965a) and Mikhailov and Yatskovskaya (1969). All these scholars were active during the Soviet era and were among the first to point out that the unique features of the üg genre as the genre specific to the Mongolian literary tradition.1 In 1967, the Austrian Mongolist, Walther Heissig, published his first study of poetry belonging to the üg genre, together with his transliteration of the selected four üg poems and the appendix to them in his article Zur Überlieferung der Üge-Dichtung (Heissig 1967). In his volume on the history of Mongolian literature, published five years later in 1972, Heissig wrote about the authors of the üg genre and their works.

Some years earlier, in 1959, Mongolian academician Tsendiin Damdinsüren published an anthology of pre-modern Mongolian literature titled the Mongol Uran Zohiolyn Deej Zuun Bileg Orshvoi (The Best of Mongolian Literature: A Hundred Wisdoms).2 Damdinsüren included several üg stories into this anthology—specifically, The Dialogue of a Sheep, a Goat, and an Ox, composed by Mongolian monk-scholar Agvaanhaidav (also known as Kyaidor mkhan po, 1779–1838); The Words of a Young Orphan Antelope, written by another, monk-scholar Agvaanishsambuu (1847–1896); and several poems of Sandag (1825–1860).3 In the preface to this anthology, written during the Socialist period, Damdinsüren wrote about the pervasiveness of Buddhism-related themes in Mongolian literature, stating: “Just as it is difficult to find a dry object [emerged] from water, in the same way, it is impossible to find among the old literary works (pre-1921)4 a literary piece that is entirely unrelated to religion (Buddhism)”. Writing from a socialist perspective, he further noted that one should not forget that a literature of the feudal class occupied a dominant position in the literary tradition of the pre-Soviet period (Damdinsüren [1959] 2017b, p. 16). With this cautionary remark, Damdinsüren deleted the two thirds of contents related to Buddhist teachings from The Dialogue of a Sheep, a Goat, and an Ox published in the aforementioned anthology (Damdinsüren [1959] 2017a, p. 151).

A publication of what Damdinsüren called the “feudal literary works” in 1959 was actually in the line with a new cultural policy taken by the Mongolian communist party, known as the Mongolian People’s Revolutionary Party (MPRP), which was under the influence of “Khrushchev thaw”5 for a short period of time that allowed Mongolia to express its national identity in the post-Stalinist period. In October of 1956, after the Twentieth Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union convened in February of 1956, the MPRP Politburo issued the Resolution No. 346 regarding the Protection of Mongolian Cultural Heritage. The Resolution claimed that protection of the Mongolian national, cultural heritage has an important role in developing the new socialist culture, and it decided that the Mongolian historical and literary works should be published on an annual basis6 (Shinjleh Uhaany Akademiin Hel zohiolyn hüreelen 1967, p. 151). Under the framework of this cultural policy of developing a new socialist culture while preserving the national cultural identity, Damdinsüren emphasizes in his anthology: “We have not begun to build a new literary tradition in an empty land. We have been developing a new literature by utilizing the excellent features of old literary works and of the rich [tradition] of the [Mongolian] folklore. We have been respectfully employing certain excellent characteristics of old literary works while learning from the methods of socialist realism from the Soviet literature” (Damdinsüren [1959] 2017b, p. 24).

With the “green light” of a cultural policy of the MPR Party given in 1956, and with the publication of Damdinsüren’s anthology, Mongolian literary scholars were “officially sanctioned” to study Mongolian pre-revolutionary literature, including the üg genre. Thus, during the socialist period, scholars such as Chimid (1957); Gombyn Jamsranjav (1968a, 1968b); Horloo (1968); Dandaryn Yondon (1975); Lhamsürengiin Hürelbaatar (1975); and Tserensodnom ([1987] 2002, pp. 433–44) studied the literary works of Sandag, Agvaanhaidav, and Agvaanishsambuu; and Dandaryn Yondon (1971, 1984) discussed the üg genre and its main representative authors.

After the collapse of socialism in Mongolia in 1990, a historian of Mongolian literature, Lhamsürengiin Hürelbaatar (1990, 1992, 1996), published a number of üg works, mostly those of Agvaanishsambuu.7 Another literary scholar Hurgaagiin Süglegmaa (2005) examined the genre of üg, providing a detailed study of the üg poetry composed by Sandag. In 2003, Charles Bawden published an English translation of the works of Agvaanhaidav, Agvaanishsambuu, Sandag, Dorj Meiren (1878–1942), and Genden Meiren (1820–1882).

As Damdinsüren noted down that “we have been respectfully employing certain excellent characteristics of old literary works”, the tradition of writing the works in the üg genre continued in the twentieth century in a way of the “national in the form, and socialist in content”, with Mongolian revolutionary writers taking the advantage of the üg genre. In 1929, the Group of Revolutionary Writers (Huv’sgalyn uran zohiolch naryn bülgem) published the anthology of their works in 5000 copies.8 Üg genre works included in the anthology are The Words of a Steam Car, An Argument among the Motor Cars, A Suffering of a Tricycle, The Words of a Nobleman, The Words of a Feudal, and The Meaningful Words between a Mouse and a Ground Squirrel.9

Following the characteristic features of the üg genre from the pre-revolutionary period, the above-mentioned works10 contain a critique of corrupted government officials who used state-owned cars for their private purposes and of “hypocrite” reincarnated lamas. In the work titled The Meaningful Words between a Mouse and a Ground Squirrel, composed by Navaannamjil (1882–1956), which was written with a revolutionary, propagandistic tone, a mouse and a ground squirrel share the news of what they saw and heard in a day. They heard that a horse, camels, and cows are happy for the arrival of a fortunate time when they are freed from the pain of carrying a heavy burden and from disease due to the benevolent People’s Government, which has introduced the modern transportation system and brought the modern veterinary medicine. In the course of a dialogue among these three domestic animals, a cow expresses her appreciation for a Russian veterinary doctor, saying: “When a cattle plague spread among us, our owner brought a Russian, called a “doktor” (doctor), who gave us an injection. Thanks to him, we are now alive.” (Galbayar 2013, p. 72). Similarly, the conversing camels assert: “At the mercy of the benign government, we animals are now at rest” (ibid., p. 74). Through these words of a cow, the author implicitly criticizes the traditional Mongolian veterinary medicine as ineffective, which in good part was based on Buddhist veterinary knowledge and veterinary writings of Buddhist lamas, openly criticized by revolutionaries.

In the beginning of a dialogue between a mouse and a ground squirrel, the ground squirrel speaks about the attempt of a hypocrite reincarnated lama to kill it, saying:

Yesterday, when I was making some noise under the trunk of a home of a reincarnated lama with intention of stealing some food from him, the lama found me out. Alas, where is his compassion for not killing an animal? Suspecting [me] of stealing a food from him, the lama, with a frowning forehead, hurriedly stood up while throwing his rosary on the ground and putting an end of reading a sūtra. He chased after me while holding a thick club and saying: “I will kill you, you bad dog (muu nohoi)”. As I was escaping from the lama, heading toward the north,11 I thought that it is truly laughable that a lama revered among the common people as a manifestation of a Buddha, free from the desire and attachment, is in fact the one chasing after me, the poor, unfortunate ground squirrel. Your round, yellow rosary is thrown into the muddy earth. The sūtra you read with contemplation is wasted away with a thought of beating a little ground squirrel. It is indeed that a true nature of his compassion toward sentient beings is chasing after them with a thick, threatening club.

(Galbayar 2013, p. 70)

With the words of a ground squirrel, Navaannamjil, a revolutionary writer, justifies to the reader the anti-religious policy and measures taken by the revolutionary government, including those related to reincarnated lamas (hubilgaan lam), categorized as the “upper class monks”.12 Since its establishment in 1921, the Mongolian People’s government began to take measures to eliminate the socio-political power of Buddhist establishment headed by the Eighth Jebtsundamba Khutugtu (1870–1924)13 and high-ranking reincarnated lamas. The policy was cautious in the beginning, yet decisive, and brutal at the end.14 After the death of the Eighth Bogd Jebtsundamba Khutugtu (1870–1924), the last theocratic monarch of Mongolia, in 1924,15 the government strengthened its anti-religious measures. In 1925, it abolished the Great Shabi Estate of Bogd Jebtsundamba Khutugtu16 and confiscated his property. Furthermore, in 1928, the MPRP banned a search for the reincarnations of all high-ranking incarnated lamas, including a new reincarnation of the Eighth Bogd Jebtsundamba Khutugtu.17

A critique of reincarnated lamas and monastics is, in fact, a common theme in both pre-revolutionary and revolutionary üg works. However, the intentions behind the criticisms differed in their religious and political ends. In contrast to revolutionary writers’ denouncing of incarnated lamas and monks in general as the “enemy of the oppressed classes”, the Buddhist monastic scholars, such as Agvaanhaidav and Agvaanishsambuu, criticized a misconduct of monastics, with the aim of keeping the Mongolian Buddhist tradition free from corruption and hypocrisy. Unlike the revolutionary writers who wrote in the Mongolian language accessible to the public, these pre-revolutionary writers wrote their works in the Tibetan language, accessible to the monastics. In the next section of this article, we will discuss some üg works composed by Agvaanhaidav. In his üg works, Agvaanhaidav strongly advocated the two major principles that should be observed by monastics in Mongolia—a strict observation of monastic precepts and a cultivation of compassion for all sentient beings—the two principles that stand at the very foundation of Mahāyāna Buddhism.18

2. The Life of Agvaanhaidav and His Works of the üg Genre

Before we discuss Agvaanhaidav’s works in the üg genre, it may be appropriate to introduce him briefly. According to Agvaanhaidav’s biography, titled The Vine of Faith: Biography of Dorje Chang Ngawang Khedrub,19 written by his disciple, Agvaantüvden (Ngag dbang thub bstan), Agvaanhaidav was born in 1779 in the place called Mandal (Skt: maṇḍala),20 located in the south of Ih Hüree, which was a residence city of Jebtsundamba Khutugtu and is now Ulaanbaatar, the capital of Mongolia. At a young age, Agvaanhaidav learned to read and write from his father Luvsan (Lobsang)21, who became an ordained monk in his later life.22 After receiving the lay upāsaka vows from the fully ordained monk by the name of Zundui (Tsondru), Agvaanhaidav later received novice vows from the geshe lharampa Ngawang Trinle, a tutor of the Fourth Jebtsundamba Khutugtu, Luvsantüvdenvanchugjigmedjamts (Lobsang Thubten Wangchuk Jigme Gyatso, 1775–1813), and received his monastic name as Agvaanhaidav. Under the tutorship of two teachers, Agvaan (Ngawang) and gabju Gonchig (bka’ bcu Konchok), Agvaanhaidav began his formal Geluk monastic education in one of the philosophical colleges in Ih Hüree.

At the age of 19, on the advice of his tutor Gonchig, who often praised Gomang dratsang in the Drepung monastery in Lhasa, Agvaanhaidav decided to pursue his further studies there. Although he received the permission from the Fourth Jebtsundamba Khutugtu to travel to Tibet, the disciplinarians of the main assembly (Tib: tshogs chen dge bsgos rnams) of Ih Hüree disallowed him to travel to Tibet, saying, “There is much to learn here in Ih Hüree. Do not say such words!” Despite of their disapproval, Agvaanhaidav secretly left for Lhasa. He eventually arrived Kumbum Jampaling monastery in Amdo, the native place of Tsongkhapa (1357–1419). Having reached Lhasa, Agvaanhaidav paid visit to the Eighth Dalai Lama, Jamphel Gyatso (1758–1804), and enrolled in Gomang dratsang of Drepung monastery.

After completing the Geluk monastic curriculum, he received the title of rabjampa (Tib: rab ‘byams pa). During his studies in Lhasa, Agvaanhaidav received the full ordination from the Eighth Dalai Lama. After that, Agvaanhaidav wanted to remain in Tibet and defend the lharampa (Tib: lha ram pa) degree during the Lhasa Great Prayer Festival (Tib: monlam chenmo), but after receiving the advice from Tricheng Rinpoche to return to Ih Hüree and assist the activities of the Jebtsundamba Khutugtu, he had a dream of a splendid, god-like horseman attired in the traditional Mongolian dress, commanding him: “You must return your native place!”23 Hearing about Agvaanhaidav’s dream, Tricheng Rinpoche said to him: “It is better to return Mongolia. Delaying your return to your home may result in upcoming obstacle in your life. Go back home, together with merchants [who were leaving for Mongolia]”. Agvaanhaidav, now of the age of 32, left for Mongolia in 1811.

Upon his return from Tibet, Agvaanhaidav engaged in the activities of teaching, debating, and writing, with the aim of developing and preserving the Geluk monasticism and scholarship in Mongolia. In 1822, he was appointed as the Vice-abbot of Ih Hüree, and 11 years later, in 1833, he was appointed as the Hamba Nomun Khan of Ih Hüree at the age of 54. The position of the Hamba Nomun Khan (Tib: mkhan po chos kyi rgyal po) is the second in a line of the hierarchical positions in the monastic administration of Ih Hüree after the Jebtsundamba Khutugtu. The position was created in 1654 during the time of the First Jebtsundamba Khutugtu, Öndör Gegeen Zanabazar (1635–1723).24 Due to its high administrative authority over all monks in Ih Hüree,25 the Qing administrator (amban) in Ih Hüree held the authority to approve a candidate proposed by Jebtsundamba Khutugtu and Erdene Shanzodba, the office of the Jebtsundampa’s estate.26

After completing one of his seminal works, titled Few Words of Summarizing the Four Tantras27 in 1837, Agvaanhaidav thought that it would be his last composition. Starting from the first month of the Year of a Dog (1838), the health of Agvaanhaidav deteriorated, and despite the medical treatments he received, including a hot spring treatment in Hujirt,28 his health did not improve. In the meantime, he dreamt that about taking a bath in a marvelous lake in Tuṣita Heaven, where Maitreya, the future Buddha, resides. Refusing that any long-life rituals be performed on his behalf on the basis that he does not have any regrets, Agvaanhaidav instructed his disciples not to search for his next incarnation,29 saying, “Since I am an ordinary person, I could be born in any place, but since I am the person praying for rebirth in Tuṣita Heaven of Maitreya, it is appropriate for you to recite a prayer for rebirth in Tuṣita Heaven”. Having instructed so, Agvaanhaidav passed away in the morning of the 22nd of the first summer month in 1838. Agvaanhaidav produced some 160 works, which were later compiled into 5 volumes of his Collected Works (Tib: gsungs ‘bum) and published in Ih Hüree.

Among Agvaanhaidav’s works composed in the genre of üg, the worth mentioning are three short stories and poem composed in Tibetan, in which he criticizes the misconducts of monks: A Dialogue of a Sheep, a Goat, and an Ox with a Monk,30 A Debate Letter of the Paṇḍita Long Haired Tserenphel,31 and The Letter of the Precious Teachings of the Victories One to Buddhas and Bodhisattvas32.

The legacy of Agvaanhaidav’s criticism of misbehaving monks continued into the socialist period in Mongolia. However, while his critique aimed to preserve the Geluk tradition unsullied by the internal and external impurities, the socialist, anti-religious propaganda used it to discredit the Buddhist institution and monastics. During the socialist period, Mongolian scholars portrayed Agvaanhaidav as a nineteenth-century founder of the reformist movement for Buddhism.33 He was thus one of the few monks who was portrayed during the socialist period in a positive light.34 Because of that, his works of the üg genre were considered allowable for publication, as attested by their inclusion into the previously mentioned Damdinsüren’s anthology. However, Damdinsüren omitted a considerable number of the passages from a story that contain teachings on karma and its results in the next life and compassion of the buddhass and bodhisattvas for all sentient beings. One example is the following passages that he removed from his anthology in his publication of The Dialogue of a Sheep, a Goat, and an Ox with a Monk:

All buddhas and bodhisattvas of the ten directions always have a concern for all sentient beings, including us—a goat, a sheep and an ox, as their much beloved sons….

(Lobsang Tsering 2005, p. 130)

The Buddha is called the Omniscient One, because only the Buddha directly perceives every fruition of virtuous and unvirtuous actions....

(ibid., p. 132)

Well, you monk should kill us now. As a result [of your killing], we will kill you in the course of the next five hundred years at least. Nevertheless, we cannot generate bad desires (Tib: smon lam log pa) [for killing you in the future], no one can obstruct the nature of karmic fruition....

(ibid., p. 143)

The Enlightened One, the Victorious One said: “When someone inflicts harm on sentient beings, that is the worst harm to me. When someone pleases sentient beings, that is the best offering to me”.

(ibid., p. 151)

The Dialogue between a Sheep, a Goat, and an Ox with a Monk (hereafter Dialogue) also appeared in Mongolian translation made by a Buriat monk Galsanjamba (Vagendra Sumati Kalpa Dāna, or Ngag dbang blo bzang skal bzang sbyin pa) and published by Lhamsürengiin Hürelbaatar in 1992 (Hürelbaatar 1992, pp. 81–89) and an English translation prepared by Charles Bawden in 2003.35

In the colophon to the Dialogue, Agvaanhaidav states that he composed the Dialogue at the request of his two disciples, geshe Dandar (Bstan dar) and gelong Luvsantseren (Blo bzang tshe ring), to write about the negative karmic consequences of killing the livestock. In the preface of the Dialogue, he advises that:

Those people who think that it is not a wrong to take a life in accord with time and place as well as those the learned ones see that there would be no importance in this work because it is written by that bad person (Agvaanhaidav), please do not see this composition at all.

Otherwise, those who concern about what is the virtue, what is the non-virtue, by what actions beings fall into the lower realm, by what actions beings liberated from the lower realm, please see this work with investigative and fair minds while taking sūtras and śāstras as the witness.

(Lobsang Tsering 2005, p. 125)

The Dialogue is written in the form of the question and answer between the three domestic animals which are about to be slaughtered—a sheep, a goat, and an ox and the slaughterer, who is a fully ordained monk (gelong). The animals plead with him to spare their lives, arguing that taking a life is entirely in contrary to the Buddha’s teachings. In defense of their argument, the animals extensively quote the teachings of the Buddha. In his counter-argument, the monk defends himself by claiming that taking life is not entirely wrong because the lay devotees, in general, do not see any faults in the famed scholar monks and in high-ranking lamas who consume slaughtered animals in their meals. He further tells them of the profound, tantric purification rituals by means of which he can purify his unvirtuous act of killing. At the end of the debate, the monk admits his wrongdoing, saying: “The most of what you all said is true. In the future, I will refrain from taking life as much as I can” (Lobsang Tsering 2005, p. 143). Nonetheless, he has the animals slaughtered. Witnessing his cruel act, buddhas and bodhisattvas of the 10 directions were disappointed with his act, while the myriads of māras were extremely pleased.

This story is more than Agvaanhaidav’s criticism of monks who have livestock slaughtered and consume meet; it is also his criticism of the hypocritic gelong and learned monks (geshe) whom he sees as the “slaughterers” of the Buddha dharma. Through the words of the god Indra and of the protector gods of virtues, he calls that monk “the thief of teachings”, “the murderer of the happiness and well-being of the world”, and “the demon who destroys the tradition of Dharma”.36

In the Dialogue and in the Debate Letter of Paṇḍita Long Haired Tserenphel (hereafter Debate Letter), the domestic animals defeat the learned monks in the debate and give them teachings. In this way, Agvaanhaidav implicitly tells us that monks who act contrary to Buddha’s teachings are less intelligent and less fortunate than animals, despite their fortune of obtaining the precious human body and encountering the precious Buddha dharma. In the Debate Letter, a Russian poodle called Tserenphel says to the monk: “It appears that you do not need a human body but a dog’s body”. After the monk commanded the dog, saying, “Shut your mouth and sit down! It is a bad omen for a dog to speak in a human language”, the poodle responds, reproaching the man with these words: “It is wonder that a dog speaks in a human language. But it is a bad omen that a man leads the life of a dog”. As in the concluding passages of the Dialogue, here, too, after a debate with the poodle, the monk admits his wrongdoing, saying: “Perhaps, you are right. Although we are a higher [species] than you animals, the goats, sheep, and dogs, due to the demonic conduct of craving for meat and blood, it is certain that we will depart to a lower realm”.37

In the Dialogue and in the Debate Letter, Agvaanhaidav is highly critical of the monastics and self-proclaiming tantric practitioners (Tib: sngags kyi rnal ‘byor ba) who were carelessly consuming meat and alcohol and indulging in sexual relationships with women. In the Dialogue, when the monk claims that he can purify his misdeeds by engaging in a tantric ritual practice by saying:

There are profound mantras for the purification of the evil deed of killing you (animals). Thus, I will get you slaughtered and consume the meat while purifying my non-virtuous deed by reciting the profound mantras, names of the buddhas, and prayers. This will also be beneficial to you.

(Lobsang Tsering 2005, p. 135)

The goat rebukes him with these words:

Without loving-kindness and compassion, nothing can be accomplished in Mahāyāna practice, not to even mention a tantric practice (ibid., p. 136)… If there is such an extensive and effective method by which one can purify one’s unwholesome deeds while stuffing the belly with meat, and at the same time deliver slaughtered animals to a higher realm and liberation by performing some recitations of mantras here and there, why did Buddha did not know about that method? If the Buddha had known it, he surely would have taught this easy method (ibid., p. 138)… It is appropriate for monks to recite a dedication prayer after performing virtuous deeds. But it is absolutely inappropriate to recite a dedication prayer after committing a great, sinful act of causing animals to get killed. Moreover, it is also inauspicious. If such things are heard by the learned ones in other places, they would despise you and laugh at you.

(ibid., p. 138)

Agvaanhaidav sarcastically portrays a hypocritical conduct of the monk in this way:

The fully ordained monk, wearing a water-flask (chab ril)38 and reciting the refugee prayer and the maṇi mantra39 with his rosary, came near the animals that are to be slaughtered in order to examine their fatness, while animals were lamenting and shedding tears with the utmost fear at losing their dearest lives.

(Lobsang Tsering 2005, p. 129)

Everyday they (gelong monks) earnestly pray that “all sentient beings be happy and endowed with the cause of happiness, and that all sentient beings be free from suffering and the cause of suffering” while closing their eyes and folding their hands.

(ibid., p. 127)

In another passage, Agvaanhaidav condemns the serving of meat-meals to monks during a religious ceremony. He paints a gruesome scene in which the livestock is slaughtered for a meal of the monks assembled to recite the discourses of the Buddha (Kangyur) and other scriptures in a rite for the longevity of higher-ranking lamas and in other rituals:

Hundreds and thousands of monks assembled in the assembly hall, and at the same time, hundreds of animals were brought outside [of the assembly hall] to be slaughtered for the monks’ midday meal.

The voices of monks reciting the scriptures inside [the assembly hall] compete with the groaning sounds of suffering animals being killed outside [the assembly hall]. These competing sounds reach the ears of the buddhas, bodhisattvas, Dharma protectors, and [other] protectors.

[The area] surrounding the assembly hall where monks have gathered looks like a great cemetery in India or like a battlefield, covered with the blood, filth, and cud, with the bones of animals killed are scattered all around, while the flocks of various flesh-eating birds chatter and chitter.

(ibid., p. 141)

In the concluding part of the Dialogue, Agvaanhaidav addresses those monks with these words:

I do not have any thought of exposing your faults publicly other than writing under the witness of stainless teachings of the Buddha. Please do whatever pleases you, either think over [what I said] or just rebuke me. Dharma protectors know that I did not compose this [work] with the intention of slandering you with exaggeration.

(ibid., p. 156)

Agvaanhaidav’s view on the negative karmic consequences of consuming the meat and offering it as a religious offering is expressed in the following passage in the Dialogue:

Although one does not accumulate an actual karma of killing when one did not take the life [of animals] by himself or had it done by others, he will incur the unthinkable karmic debt due to consuming the flesh [of a slaughtered animal]. Thus, do not be haughty as if you did not do anything wrong, claiming, “I eat meat that was sold in a market. Make your best effort to engage in a purificatory method for mishandling the faith offerings (Tib: dkor sbyong pa’i thabs)40 taught by the Buddha.

(Lobsang Tsering 2005, p. 155)

Although it is taught in Mahāyāna scriptures, such as the Hastikakṣya Sūtra, Mahāmegha Sūtra, Laṅkāvatāra Sūtra, and Aṅgulimālīya Sūtra that one should completely abstain from eating meat, the scriptures of the Vehicle of the Hearers (Skt: śrāvakayāna) allow the eating of a meet that is with three purities (Tib: rnam gsum dag pa’i sha)41 [for the occasions of curing illness and other purposes]…Thus, you fools who say that there is no difference between killing and non-killing after someone eats meat, sit quietly–it is better for both you and others (Tib: kha btsum ste bsdad na rang gzhan la phan no).

(Lobsang Tsering 2005, pp. 156–57)

As previously mentioned, Agvaanhaidav, adhering to the Geluk tradition of Tibetan Buddhism, recommends to Mongolian monastics that a tantric practice should be based on monastic discipline, the cultivation of compassion for sentient beings,42 and an extensive study of sūtras first, then followed by tantric studies. For him, the fully ordained monks (Tib: dge slong) are the main holders of Buddhist teachings (Tib: bstan pa ‘dzin mkhan gyi gtso bo) as well as for the development of Vajrayāna Buddhism in Mongolia. Such a way of practice is praised by a Geluk scholar monk Gungthang Tenpai Dronme (1762–1823) in his Prayer for Flourishing of Je Tsongkhapa’s Teachings as “outwardly calmed and subdued by the Hearer’s conduct, and inwardly trusting in the two stages’ practice (tantric practice)”.43 In other words, a Geluk monastic tantric practitioner should preserve monastic disciplines while engaging in tantric practice. This view can be seen in Agvaanhaidav’s work titled The Wheel of Thunderbolt That Crushes the Fools Carried by Demon to Dust (hereafter Wheel of Thunderbolt).44 Agvaanhaidav rebukes the monastic “fools” who consume meat, alcohol, and indulge with women under the pretext of engaging in tantric practices, as he writes:

If one could attain enlightenment by relying on alcohol and a woman

Without engaging in learning, reflection, and meditation,

The Enlightened Ones who manifested various ascetic practices45 to beings

Are certainly the manifestation of Māra.46

If it is the sign of an adept who disregard

The teachings of the Buddha, karma, the abandonment and acceptance,

(Tib: spang blang)

What is a harm in saying that yakṣas (Tib: gnod sbyin), demons, tigers, leopards, and bears are the adepts?

(ibid., p. 565)

[You are] the highest of the highest in the consumption of alcohol and in [indulging with] a woman and

The lowest of the lowest when you are inflicted with sorrow and decline,

Incomparable to a pig when you utter words and the meaning of the teachings

Unmatched with a snake when speaking harsh words and idle gossip.

(ibid., p. 566)47

Agvaanhaidav further warns the misbehaving monks of the consequences of their misconduct:

Once such conduct of yours is heard by Yamarāja

(the Lord of Death)

Your life-force will become deprived,

If you have a thought of cherishing your own life

Be careful about your conduct.

(ibid., p. 568.)

The Wheel of Thunderbolt ends with Agvaanhaidav’s final remarks:

I do not wish to defeat you

Nor I am angry or jealous of you.

I solely wanted to help you.

However, it is up to you what you think.

(ibid., p. 573)

My support is the teachings of the Buddha and scriptures.

My truthful witness is the Triple Gem,

My judge is Yamarāja of karma.

It is an easy [for you] to do anything to me, the weak one.

(ibid., p. 573)48

For refuting or defending [what is true]

There is no need of the high status, wealth

The multitude of companions and a high reputation

Whoever has an intelligence, that is needed for [defending the truth].

(ibid., p. 573)

By the time of Agvaanhaidav, the Buddhist institution was firmly established in Mongolia. By the end of the nineteenth century, there were around 940 monasteries and 100,000 monks in Khalkha Mongolia (Dashbadrah and Gerelbadrah 2003, p. 212). There were 61 reincarnated lamas among the monastics.49 However, Agvaanhaidav saw the condition of monasticism of his time as degenerated and his time as a degenerate age (Tib: snyigs dus). In his work titled The Letter of the Precious Teachings of the Victories One to Buddhas and Bodhisattvas (hereafter Letter), Agvaanhaidav gives his reasons for why he sees his time as a degenerate era. The Letter is composed in the form of a plea letter sent from Buddhism to the buddhas and bodhisattvas for the protection from monks’ misconduct.

The Letter opens with these lamenting statements of Buddha dharma or Buddhism:

Alas! My only father, the protector of sentient beings

Glorious and unequalled Buddha, the Victorious One,

Children [of the Buddha]—paṇḍitas, adepts, assembly of noble śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas

Please listen to the words of me (Buddhism), your miserable relative!50

Is it appropriate for you to reside in a Pure Land

While abandoning me in the mire of the degenerate age

[Me] for whom you only cared very much,

Since the immeasurable eons?

(ibid., folio 1a.)

Previously, I was the moon of gods and others,

Radiating the white light of happiness and bliss,

Dispelling the darkness of the world.

[Now, I am] swallowed by Rāhu of the degenerate age.

(ibid., folio 1a, 2a.)

The majority become my enemy.

Only few of my beloved friends

Have made effort in helping me with exhaustion.

I sit in disappointment with tears filling my eyes.

(ibid., folio 2a.)

As in the previously discussed texts, here, too, Agvaanhaidav mourns about the misconduct of Mongolian monastics—fully-ordained monks, solitary meditators, high reincarnated lamas, scholars, and students of the Geluk tradition:

Although there are many bald-headed [monks],

Claiming to support me while [calling themselves] my sons, grandsons, and great-grandsons,

They all pile up the ashes of misdeeds

On the top of my head.

(ibid., folio 2a.)

Although there are many who dwell in caves,

Claiming to be recluse in the guard of me

They have been waiting for the fame and reputation

And at the end they disregard the faultless me.

(ibid., folio 2b.)

Many who are regarded as high lamas

Build a religious building (Tib: gzhi rten) at the cost of the suffering of people

By piling up the dirt, stones, and bricks

Saying that my tradition is like this.

(ibid., folio 2b.)

Not to mention the assembly of the foolish ones,

Majority of the famed scholars and gelongs

When [they are] asked to choose the world and me

(Buddhist teachings)

With their trembling hands they chose the world over me. (ibid., folio 3b.)51

A seat of a scholar endowed with fine intelligence

Is occupied by the wealth of deceitful ones.

(ibid., folio 4a.)

The wealthy fool is highly regarded

Over a good spiritual friend who teaches me.

(ibid., folio 4b.)

The childish ones who want to learn about me

(Buddhist teachings)

Slander and refute the teachers.

(ibid., folio 4b, 5a.)

Disappointed with this desperate situation, the Buddhist religion or Mahāyāna Buddhism decides to leave Mongolia with lamentation:

I was precious in the three worlds

When the Buddha and his children dwelt.

At this present time,

What is a more worthless possession than me, the helpless one?

(ibid., 3 b.)

Looking in any direction,

There is no single cause to make me overjoy

Thus, it is better to leave this place

Without any delay for another place.

(ibid., 5b.)

In the colophon to this work, Agvaanhaidav explains his intention behind composing it, emphasizing that it is not for “making oneself a white crow and a rival against the worldly ones, but with the intention that it may help those who are like-minded”. He also asks those offended by his critique to practice patience. (ibid., folio 6b, 7a.)52

In the Letter, Agvaanhaidav as being a “spokesperson” for Buddha dharma, tells his monk colleagues that a degenerate age is not the certain period of time that inevitably comes but it actually arrives as a result of misconduct of monastics. As previously discussed, he points out that Mahāyāna Buddhism in Mongolia should be developed on the basis of two principles—upholding monastic precepts and combined studies of sūtras and tantras.53 Agvaanhaidav, himself, who was a scholar and fully-ordained monk, was the exemplary model for cherishing these principles.

3. Conclusions

In Agvaanhaidav’s view, the best teacher is one who censures the wrongdoing, and a censure should be seen as a pith instruction. A literary genre of üg, which was fully developed in nineteenth-century Mongolia, was employed by monastic scholars as well as revolutionary writers as the means of religious pith instructions and socialist propaganda. When we look at the works discussed above, we can observe that there is a common theme in both pre-revolutionary and revolutionary üg genre works, that is, an advocacy for change. A monk-scholar Agvaanhaidav strongly criticized the decline of monastic moral life at his time and advocated to bring back the past glorious time of Buddhism. In other words, for him, the present time was seen as a degenerate age and the future of Buddhism in Mongolia should be developed on the model of the past time. Unlike Agvaanhaidav, revolutionary writers applauded the present revolutionary period and criticized the past “brutal feudal time”. Their views were oriented towards a future that was building socialism and communism in Mongolia, while Agvaanhaidav’s was towards the past, which was reviving the Buddhism of the time of the Buddha and Je Tsongkhapa in Mongolia.