Arahant Bhikkhuni Khema

(Of Great Wisdom)

Just as the Buddha has appointed two chief disciples in the order of monks, Sāriputta and Moggallāna, he likewise named two women his foremost disciples in the Bhikkhunī Sangha, the order of nuns. These two were the bhikkhunīs Uppalavaṇṇā and Khemā, the former excelling in psychic power, the latter in wisdom (AN 1, chap. 14). The Buddha has held up these two as the models and examples for all the nuns to emulate, the standard against which other nuns could evaluate themselves (SN 17:24).

The name “Khemā” means security and is a synonym for Nibbāna. The nun Khemā belonged to a royal family from the land of Magadha. She was extremely beautiful and fair to behold, and when she reached marriageable age she became one of the chief consorts of King Bimbisāra. This king was a stream-enterer and a generous benefactor of the Blessed One. He has donated his own Bamboo Grove to the Sangha and constantly looked after the monks with great solicitude. But although Khemā often heard about the Buddha from the king, she resisted going to see him, fearful that he would find fault with her beauty of form and preach to her about the vanity of sensual pleasures, to which she was tightly attached. The king, however, found a way to induce her to listen to the Teaching.8 He hired a troop of singers to sing songs to her in praise of the harmony, peacefulness, and beauty of the Bamboo Grove monastery, and because Khemā loved the beauties of nature she decided to visit there.

Decked out in royal splendour with silk and sandalwood, she went to the monastery and was gradually drawn to the hall where the Buddha was preaching. The Buddha, who read her thoughts, created by his psychic powers a beautiful young woman standing beside him fanning him. Khemā was enthralled by this lovely woman and thought to herself,

“Never before have I seen such a woman. I myself do not come within even a fraction of her beauty. Surely those who say the ascetic Gotama disparages beauty of form must be misrepresenting him.”

The Buddha then made this created image gradually change from youth to middle age, and then to old age, with broken teeth, grey hair, and wrinkled skin, until it finally fell to the ground lifeless. Only then did she realize the vanity of external beauty and the fleeting nature of life. She thought,

“Has such a body come to be wrecked like that? Then my body too must share that fate.”

The Buddha read her mind and said:

“Khemā, behold this mass of elements,

Diseased, impure, decaying;

Trickling all over and oozing,

It is desired only by fools.”

At the conclusion of the stanza Khemā was established in the fruit of stream-entry. But the Buddha continued to teach her, concluding his sermon with another verse:

Those enslaved by lust drift down the stream

As a spider glides on its self-spun web.

Having cut off even this, the wise wander

Indifferent to the pleasures they’ve renounced.

(Dhp 347)

Khemā penetrated the sermon fully, and right on the spot, while still dressed in her royal attire, she attained arahantship together with the analytical knowledges. Thereafter, having received her husband’s permission, she joined the order of nuns.

An ordinary person, hearing Khemā’s story, sees only the wonder of the present happening. A Buddha, however, can see beyond this and knows that this woman did not come to full liberation by chance or good fortune. Such an attainment, almost like lightning, is only possible for one whose seed of wisdom has tong been ripening and whose virtue is fully matured. In past aeons, Khemā had planted the roots of merit under many former Buddhas. Due to her innate attraction toward the highest truth, she always came to birth wherever a Buddha, a Bearer of Truth, lived. It is said that already one hundred thousand aeons ago she had sold her beautiful hair to give alms to the Buddha Padumuttara. During the time of the Buddha Vipassi, ninety- one aeons ago, she had been a bhikkhunī and a teacher of the Dhamma. Further, it is told that during the Dispensations of the three Buddhas of our happy aeon, the predecessors of our Buddha Gotama, she was a lay disciple and gained happiness through building monasteries for the Sangha.

While most beings drift around in heavenly or infernal realms during the lifetime of a Buddha, Khemā always tried to be near the source of wisdom. When no Buddha appeared in the world she would be reborn at the time of paccekabuddhas or in proximity to the Bodhisatta, the future Buddha Gotama. In one birth (J 354) she was the wife of the Bodhisatta, who always exhorted his peaceful family thus:

According to what you have, give alms;

Observe the Uposatha, keep the precepts pure;

Dwell upon the thought of death, mindful of your mortal state.

For in the case of beings like us,

Death is certain, life uncertain;

All existing things must pass, subject to decay.

Therefore be heedful day and night.

One day Khemā’s only son in this life was suddenly killed by the bite of a poisonous snake, yet she was able to keep total equanimity:

Uncalled he hither came, unbidden soon to go;

Even as he came, he went. What cause is here for woe?

No friend’s lament can touch the ashes of the dead:

Why should I grieve? He fares the way he had to tread.

Though I should fast and weep, how would it profit me?

My kith and kin, alas! would more unhappy be.

No friend’s lament can touch the ashes of the dead:

Why should I grieve? He fares the way he had to tread.

Another time she was the daughter-in-law of the Bodhisatta (J 397), many times a great empress who dreamed about receiving teachings from the Bodhisatta and then actually received such teachings (J 501, 502, 534). It is further recounted that when she was a queen her husband the king was the future Sāriputta. This husband in former lives was a righteous king who upheld the ten royal virtues: generosity, morality, renunciation, truthfulness, gentleness, patience, amity, harmlessness, humility, and justice. Because of these virtues the king lived in happiness and bliss. Khemā, too, lived in accordance with these precepts (J 534). It was only because Khemā had already purified her heart in many past lives that she was mature enough, on her first meeting with the Buddha, to realize the ultimate truth in the twinkling of an eye.

Khemā’s transformed attitude to sensuality is starkly revealed to us by a dialogue in verse, recorded in the Therīgāthā, in which she fends off the advances of a charming seducer. According to the commentary, the seducer is actually Māra, the Tempter, who had approached intending to divert her from her quest for liberation—vainly, as she was already an arahant:

“You are so young and beautiful,

And I myself am in the bloom of youth. Come, noble lady, let us rejoice

In the music of a fivefold ensemble.”

 

“I am repelled and humiliated By this putrid fleshly body,

Afflicted by illness, so very fragile; I have uprooted sensual craving.

Sensual pleasures are now like sword stakes, The aggregates are their chopping block.

That which you call sensual delight Has become for me no delight at all.

Everywhere delight has been destroyed, The mass of darkness has been shattered. Know this, O Evil One—

You are defeated, Exterminator.”

(Thī 139–42)

The Buddha praised Khemā as the nun foremost in wisdom (etadaggaṃ mahāpaññāna). A dialogue that has come down in the Saṃyutta Nikāya (44:1) confirms this, illustrating how her wisdom made a deep impact on King Pasenadi. The king was travelling through the countryside of Kosala and arrived one evening at a small township. Wishing to have a conversation about spiritual matters, he ordered a servant to find out whether there was a wise ascetic or brahmin in the town. The servant inquired everywhere. He could not find any ascetic or brahmin for his master to converse with, but he learned that a bhikkhunī, an ordained disciple of the Buddha, was dwelling in the town. It was the saintly Khemā, who was famed everywhere for her wisdom, deep insight, great learning, and perspicacity in discussion.

When the king received this report he went to her, greeted her with respect, and questioned her about the after-death condition of a Tathāgata, a liberated sage:

“Does a Tathāgata—a Perfect One—exist after death?”

“The Exalted One has not declared that a Tathāgata exists after death.”

“Then a Tathāgata does not exist after death?”

“That, too, the Exalted One has not declared.”

“Then a Tathāgata both exists and does not exist after death?”

“Even that, the Exalted One has not declared.”

“Then does a Tathāgata neither exist nor not exist after death?”

“That, too, the Exalted One has not declared.”

Thereupon the king wanted to know why the Buddha had rejected these four questions. To understand the reason we must first understand what these four views imply. The views concern a Tathāgata, which here means not only a supreme Buddha but any liberated sage. The four views, however, conceive the Tathāgata in terms of the category of selfhood; assuming that the liberated being is a substantial self, they formulate contradictory theses on the fate of that self. The first view, which is conditioned by the craving for existence, maintains that those who have reached the highest goal continue on after death in some metaphysical dimension, either as distinct individuals or as absorbed into some transpersonal spiritual essence. This answer is the one given by most religions, including several later interpretations of Buddhism.

The second answer—that a Tathāgata does not exist after death— reflects the craving for nonexistence, for annihilation. The theorist regards the Perfect One as a truly existent self whose fate at death is complete annihilation. From this perspective deliverance is nothing more than the absolute dissolution of a real self.

The third answer seeks a compromise: everything impermanent in a Tathāgata would be annihilated at death, but the permanent essence, his soul, would remain. The fourth answer tries to escape the predicament by formulating a “neither-nor” solution—a sceptical approach that still implicitly accepts the validity of the Tathāgata as a real self.

All four formulas have been rejected by the Buddha as wrong views. They all presuppose that there is an “I” distinct from the world—an “I” which is either raised to eternal life or annihilated in the abyss of nothingness—while in reality “I” and “world” are mere abstractions posited on the basis of the five aggregates that constitute the process of experience. Only the Enlightened Ones and their wise disciples can actually see this as it is. Those who do not share this insight assume one of the four speculative views. They suppose either that an “I,” an essentially permanent “self,” is wandering through saṃsāra, the round of birth and death, gradually ascending higher and higher until it is liberated into the divine essence; or they conclude that liberation is simply the destruction of a real self; or they attempt to formulate a syncretic position; or they fall into scepticism.

The Buddha, however, teaches that there is no real “I” or “self” to be either projected into eternity or utterly destroyed; such a substantial self has never existed and thus has never wandered through saṃsāra. What we call “I” and what we call “world” are in reality a constantly changing process, always in flux. This process throws up the ‘illusions of “I” and “world,” which then become objects of speculation regarding their past origin and future destiny. The way to liberation requires that we stop speculating about the “I,” abandon our habitual views and formulas, and directly examine the phenomena on the basis of which views of self are formulated: the concrete processes of mind and body.

Liberation is to be won, not by fashioning metaphysical hypotheses, but by observing with mindfulness the arising and passing away of the five aggregates: form, feeling, perception, volitional formations, and consciousness. All these phenomena have arisen due to causes; therefore they are impermanent and subject to dissolution. But whatever is impermanent and subject to decay cannot be a self. Since the five aggregates are subject to destruction—since they become sick, disintegrate, and pass away—they are not “my” self, they are not “mine”; they are merely empty phenomena occurring through conditions.

Because all views of self are only mental constructions, products of speculative thought, any designation of the Enlightened One after death is an illusion born from a compulsive urge for conceptual certainty. Whoever has followed the Buddha’s Teaching, as Khemā did, is greatly relieved to see that the Buddha did not teach the destruction of an existing entity, the annihilation of a self. We live in a world of perpetual destruction and uncontrollable transiency, in the realm of death, and whatever we look upon as “I” and “mine” is constantly vanishing. It is only by renouncing these things that we can reach a refuge of true peace and security. Thus the Blessed One proclaimed: “Open are the doors to the Deathless. Let those with ears send forth faith.”

In her discussion with King Pasenadi, Khemā illustrated her point with a simile. She asked the king whether he had a skillful mathematician or statistician who could calculate for him how many grains of sand are contained in the river Ganges. The king replied that this was not possible, for the grains of sand in the Ganges were innumerable and incalculable. The nun then asked him whether he knew of anyone who could figure out how many gallons of water are contained in the great ocean. That, too, the king considered impossible, for the ocean is deep, immeasurable, hard to fathom. Just so, said Khemā, is the Tathāgata. Whoever wishes to define the Perfect One can only do so through the five aggregates, yet those who have reached awakening no longer hold to any of them as their personal identity:

“The Tathāgata is released from reckoning by form, feeling, perception, volitional formations, and consciousness; he is deep, immeasurable, hard to fathom like the great ocean.”

Therefore it is not appropriate to say that after death the Tathāgata exists or does not exist, or that he both exists and does not exist, or that he neither exists nor does not exist. None of these designations can define the undefinable.

The king rejoiced in the penetrating explanation of the nun Khemā. Later he met the Buddha and asked him the same four questions, and the Master replied exactly as Khemā had done, using the very same words. The king was amazed and recounted his conversation with the holy nun Khemā, the woman disciple who excelled in wisdom.

(From the book: GREAT DISCIPLES OF THE BUDDHA – NYANAPONIKA THERA AND HELMUTH HECKER , Edited with an Introduction by BHIKKHU BODHI)