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http://sarvajan.ambedkar.org anto 112 Seṭṭhaganthāyatta Bhāsā
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LESSONS 2887 Tue 29 Jan 2019- World’s oldest Buddhist shrine discovered in Nepal-
Filed under: Vinaya Pitaka, Sutta Pitaka, Abhidhamma Pitaka, Tipiṭaka, ಅಭಿಧಮ್ಮಪಿಟಕ, ವಿನಯಪಿಟಕ, ತಿಪಿಟಕ (ಮೂಲ)
Posted by: site admin @ 11:42 pm
LESSONS 2887 Tue 29 Jan 2019
Tamil Vinaya Pitaka Prt 26

135. liṅgādidassanaṁ

Seeing Traces, etc. [Mv.II.34.5]
8. வத்தக்க²ந்த⁴கங்

https://www.nytimes.com/…/…/travel/places-to-go-bhutan.html…
The 52 Places Traveler
In Bhutan, Prayer Flags and Birds From Heaven


With two more stops to go, our 52 Places columnist, exhausted after
nearly a year on the road, finds beauty and respite in the temples and
valleys of this Buddhist kingdom.

By Jada Yuan

Dec. 18, 2018


Our columnist, Jada Yuan, is visiting each destination on our 52 Places
to Go in 2018 list. This dispatch brings her to Bhutan (no. 9 on the
list); it is the 50th stop on Jada’s itinerary.


About This Website
nytimes.com
With two more stops to go, our 52 Places columnist, exhausted after nearly…
https://www.nytimes.com/…/…/travel/places-to-go-bhutan.html…
The 52 Places Traveler
In Bhutan, Prayer Flags and Birds From Heaven

With
two more stops to go, our 52 Places columnist, exhausted after nearly a
year on the road, finds beauty and respite in the temples and valleys
of this Buddhist kingdom.

By Jada Yuan

Dec. 18, 2018

Our
columnist, Jada Yuan, is visiting each destination on our 52 Places to
Go in 2018 list. This dispatch brings her to Bhutan (no. 9 on the list);
it is the 50th stop on Jada’s itinerary.
About This Website
nytimes.com
In Bhutan, Prayer Flags and Birds From Heaven
With two more stops to go, our 52 Places columnist, exhausted after nearly…

image.png
Sacred valley

The
valley was unspeakably beautiful: honey-colored hills flanked by
mountains covered in pine trees. Dark shrubs dotted the expanse, as did
wandering cows, temples and clusters of 108 white Buddhist prayer flags.
Relatives of the dead plant the flags — thin strips of fabric that run
the length of tall poles — during the 49 days it takes to guide and
protect the soul as it moves toward the next life.

Every time I’d
see those flutterings of white, I thought of the effort and devotion
that had gone into covering this landscape in so many acts of love.

My
energy levels were close to empty when I arrived in Bhutan’s Phobjikha
Valley, far enough east from the only international airport in this
lush, underdeveloped Himalayan kingdom that it had taken many, many
hours of driving to get to.

I had thrown Phobjikha onto my
itinerary after meeting a woman on my plane who was going there to see
the black-necked cranes who make the valley their winter home.
Classified as vulnerable, there are only some 6,600 left in the wilds of
South Asia. Around 500 of those make the long journey south from Tibet
to Phobjikha’s high-altitude wetlands each November.

Protecting
these cranes isn’t simply an environmental issue. In Bhutanese culture,
Phobjikha is a sacred valley and the cranes are birds from heaven.
“Local people believe their arrival will bring them good harvest for the
coming year,” said Phuntso Dorji, one of my two guides from the local
tourism company Bridge to Bhutan. They’ll even wait to plant their
winter wheat until the first crane has touched down.

The cranes
seem to time their arrival and departure to auspicious dates on the
Buddhist calendar, according to Phuntso, circling the sky three times
above the valley’s 17th-century Gangteng Monastery. There’s video
evidence of it at the Crane Information Center run by the Royal Society
for Protection of Nature (R.S.P.N.) overlooking the protected wetlands.
Every November, the monastery hosts a crane festival featuring dancers
dressed as deities of the forest, or imitating the cranes’ bowing,
jumping, wing-flapping mating dance known as the thrung thrung karm.
Karma, the injured black-necked crane in Phobjikha. CreditJada Yuan/The New York Times
Image may contain: bird and outdoor

image.png
To
visit Phobjikha is to feel as if you’ve reached some inner sanctum of
the earth. We drove there on Bhutan’s single east-west highway, which
twists along vertiginous cliffs, cresting passes 10,000 feet high.
Wind-bowed trees clung to the mountainside as if by sheer force of will.
No guardrails stood between our van and 1,000-foot drops. At times,
we’d come across a bite mark of pavement that had tumbled down the
slope, a mudslide of toppled trees, and large rocks we had to drive
around. Another time, the highway turned to dirt, with a lone mountain
biker huffing through the dust.

And this was the good road, the national highway.

We
made a sharp right turn and drove an hour more on a dirt road lined
with yaks. You can’t understand what cranes mean to this valley without
going to Gangteng Monastery on a hill overlooking the valley floor. Its
whitewashed stucco was crumbling, and the lack of other outsiders seemed
to allow room for more sacred energy. Monks were in the courtyard
practicing choreography for an upcoming festival in which they would
dance with masks depicting the wrathful form of Padmasambhava, or the
Lotus Born, who is credited with bringing Buddhism to Bhutan in the
eighth century.   “Watch out for the land mine!” Phuntso joked, as we
dodged cow manure on our hike through the forests above the wetlands.
The cranes were white dots on the valley floor, black necks bent down as
they feasted on dwarf bamboo, their main sustenance. We couldn’t get
much closer because of park regulations; the cranes don’t interact well
with humans. But all day and all night, their unsteady, high-pitched
calls echoed across the valley as if on a loudspeaker.

It wasn’t
until I’d been there for hours that I realized what was really different
about this place: the total lack of above-ground wires. Back in 2008
when the government proposed a plan to bring electricity to the valley,
the R.S.P.N. stepped in to pay for solar paneling and convinced the
government to do all of the wiring underground, to guard against the
cranes running into electric poles.

Threats still abound, though,
from predators like foxes, leopards and feral dogs. One of them
attacked a juvenile crane, rendering his left wing unmovable and keeping
him grounded, unable to fly back to Tibet in summer. The R.S.P.N. named
him Karma. He has spent the last four years in a protected enclosure at
the crane center, and is the only crane you can see up close.

More
pernicious, of course, are the human threats, particularly from farmers
illegally encroaching on the cranes’ habitat to grow more potatoes, the
area’s cash crop. The worry is that someday the people are going to
want more than sporadic underground electricity. For now the R.S.P.N. is
working hard to convince residents that it’s in their interest to keep
Phobjikha a place where cranes will come. Schoolchildren help with
scientific fieldwork. The government also encourages certain locals to
earn income by offering home stays to tourists. I went to one called Aum
Passang Zam Farm House for a delicious dinner and a bath in a wooden
shed, heated with stones straight from a campfire.
Previous Lives

One
valley west of Phobjikha is the city of Punakha, famous for a temple
dedicated to the worship of a Buddhist leader known as the Divine
Madman, or Lama Drupka Kunley, who had a magic phallus he used to fight
off evil spirits. Penis imagery is everywhere: Painted on walls in great
detail, sometimes wearing a sash. More subtle versions include the
giant wooden penis that graced my hotel room mantle, and the red-painted
wooden penises with airplane wings that hung off each corner of the
hotel roof as a form of spiritual protection.

But I had come to
Punakha not just for penis imagery, but also to visit what Phuntso and
my other guide and driver, Kinga Tenzin, said was the best dzong, or
fortress in all of Bhutan. It’s a vast complex with both administrative
offices and monastic spaces, including temples that tell the story of
Buddha’s life. The week I was there, it was hosting the Moenlam Chhenmo
(The King of Aspirational Prayers), an annual festival for the faithful
in which the Chief Abbott, the top religious officer in Bhutan, recited
blessings and prayers for world peace over a loudspeaker.

For
miles heading to the dzong, the road was lined with pilgrims: men in
traditional gho outfits (a knee-length robe tied at the waist, with a
colored sash across the chest to show societal rank) and women in their
brightest silk jackets and ankle-length wrap skirts called kiras. When
we arrived, a field was filled with thousands of devotees, along with
tents where they’d sleep for up to two weeks. Some were taking a break
to see the country’s longest suspension bridge nearby. They’d traveled
days from other parts of Bhutan, and had never seen this part of the
country.
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That
night, I stayed in the Pamtsho Lodge guesthouse in Thimphu, the
capital, and ate dinner with the owner, Tsewang Nidup, whom everyone
calls Uncle. Both of my guides agreed that he had so much wisdom that it
seemed to emanate from his pores. I told him about my day at the
Punakha Dzong, and how I had looked around and hadn’t seen another
Westerner in that sea of Buddhists.

“You must have accumulated
enough merit in a previous life to be part of the event,” he said. “Or
maybe you are already associated with it in your previous life, so now
it’s a continuity.” People who’d seen me there, he said, likely thought
the same thing, which is why no one seemed to give me a second glance.

“We are Bhutanese-born here and still we did not get the opportunity to see the blessings,” he went on, “and you did.”

Had
I arrived at Bhutan any earlier in my 52 Places trip, I’m not sure I
would have been as grateful as I am now, so close to the end of my
journey. I spent so many months stressed out about logistics or finances
or work. I don’t know if it’s because of the exhaustion that set in
when I was in China and hasn’t lifted, or the asceticism of living out
of a suitcase for a year, but the Buddhists stories my guides told me
all seemed to make sense.

My trip had begun with a visit to the
recently completed giant golden Buddha statue, known as Great Buddha
Dordenma, who overlooks Thimphu and is filled with 125,000 smaller
Buddhas. There I learned to point with an open hand, and to prostrate
myself as I thought of the teachers who have helped to get me to this
moment. My last morning, we went to the ancient Jowo Temple of Kyichu in
the western city of Paro. Oranges grow in the courtyard, even though
the climate prevents them from growing anywhere else in the valley.
Circling the grounds clockwise were half a dozen frail and elderly
Bhutanese, some with hunched backs and canes, chanting the six
perfections that lead to enlightenment: generosity, morality, patience,
energy, meditation and wisdom.

Phuntso said the elderly come here and do this all day, every day. “They are preparing for the afterlife.”

I
even began to believe the story about Padmasambhava riding on the back
of a tigress to fight a demon on the high cliff where one of Bhutan’s
most popular tourist attractions, the Tiger’s Nest Monastery, is. It
takes over four punishing hours to hike there, round trip, and was, by
far, the most crowded tourism spot I visited. Yet mysticism still
drenched the air.

On the way back, Phuntso and I saw a figure
drop from a tree that turned out to be a gray langur monkey. We had seen
gray langurs once before on our trip, and Kinga had stressed what good
luck they are. Phuntso said that on all his many trips to Tiger’s Nest,
he had never seen one on this trail.

As we left, we pointed the
monkey out to a Bhutanese family. The father agreed with Phuntso that
spotting one here was of great portent.

“He must be a disciple of Buddha,” he said, matter-of-factly, and walked off, down the trail.


image.png
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/11/23/obituaries/bernard-glassman-dead.html?rref=collection%2Ftimestopic%2FBuddhism&action=click&contentCollection=timestopics®ion=stream&module=stream_unit&version=latest&contentPlacement=5&pgtype=collection  
https://www.nytimes.com/…/obitu…/bernard-glassman-dead.html…
Bernard Glassman, Zen Master and Social Activist
The
American Buddhist teacher Bernie Glassman in 2013. His activism was as
much a product of his Buddhist spiritualism as it was of the liberal
Jewish tradition into which he was born; one commentator called him “a
Zen mensch.”CreditCreditDia Dipasupil/FilmMagic

Bernard Glassman,
an acclaimed American Buddhist teacher known for his social activism
and, briefly, a venture with the actor Jeff Bridges to capitalize on
Zen-like traces in the movie “The Big Lebowski,”

Contrary to the
stereotype of a Zen practitioner lost in meditation, Mr. Glassman was
deeply active in the world, trying to address its ills. His activism was
as much a product of his Buddhist spiritualism as it was of the liberal
Jewish tradition into which he was born; those two influences remained
inseparable throughout his life.

Columnist Jay Michaelson
described Mr. Glassman as “one of the most important figures in ‘Engaged
Buddhism,’ which applies Buddhist teachings to what many Jews call
tikkun olam, the project of ‘repairing’ the brokenness in the world.”

He was “a Zen mensch,” Mr. Michaelson wrote.

Mr.
Glassman broke into pop culture, sort of, when he got together with the
actor Jeff Bridges, a friend, to write a slim volume called “The Dude
and the Zen Master,” published in 2013. Mr. Bridges played Jeffrey
Lebowski, a California slacker known as “The Dude,” in Joel and Ethan
Coen’s cult movie “The Big Lebowski” (1998).

When Mr. Glassman
told Mr. Bridges that some Buddhists considered his character a Zen
master, based in part on his enigmatic utterances (“The Dude abides,”
“The Dude is not in”), Mr. Bridges agreed to collaborate with him on a
book about the movie’s Zen lessons.

“Not being in — not being
attached to Jeff or Bernie or whoever you are — is the essence of Zen,”
Mr. Glassman explains in the book. “When we’re not attached to our
identity, it allows all the messages of the world to come in and be
heard. When we’re not in, creation can happen.”
About This Website
nytimes.com
Bernard Glassman, Zen Master and Social Activist, Dies at 79
A practitioner of “Engaged Buddhism,” he hired the unemployable; provided…


image.png
Bernard
Alan Glassman was born on Jan. 18, 1939, in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn,
to Pauline (Finkelstein) and Albert Glassman, Jewish immigrants. His
father, who was from what is now Moldova, was a printer and construction
foreman; his mother, who was from Poland and lost much of her family in
the Holocaust, worked in a factory.

Bernard’s mother died of
mercury poisoning when he was a child, and his four older sisters raised
him. One of his first jobs was hawking Good Humor ice cream at Brighton
Beach; when sales were slow, he would call out that he had “dietetic”
ice cream, and customers would come running, his daughter, Alisa
Glassman, said in a telephone interview.

Mr. Glassman obtained an
engineering degree from Brooklyn Polytechnic Institute and went to
Israel to attend the Technion-Israel Institute of Technology in Haifa,
where he had an assistant teaching fellowship; on the boat on the way
over, he met Helen Silverberg. They married in 1963.
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Mr.
Glassman earned a Ph.D. in applied mathematics at the University of
California, Los Angeles. While in California, he also worked as an
aeronautical engineer at McDonnell Douglas, developing plans under
contract with NASA for what were expected to be manned spaceflights to
Mars.

He first became interested in Zen in 1958 when he read “The
Religions of Man,” Huston Smith’s survey of the world’s great
religions, published that year. What struck him about Zen, he said in a
2014 NPR interview, was “the interconnectedness of life and living in
the moment.”

He began meditating, sought out a local Zen teacher,
got involved with the Zen Center of Los Angeles and became a Zen
teacher himself.

Even as his family lived in the Zen center, he and his wife sent their children, Alisa and Marc, to Jewish schools.


image.png
“We kept the Sabbath,” his daughter said.

In
1979 the family moved to New York, where Mr. Glassman founded the Zen
Community of New York and began a period of intense social commitment.

In
1982 he opened the Greyston Bakery in Yonkers, initially as a way to
provide jobs for Zen students. He eventually hired anyone who wanted a
job, regardless of employment history or arrest record.

The
bakery was soon making brownies and supplying them to ice cream makers,
supermarkets and restaurants; today its food processing plant turns out
35,000 pounds of brownies a day. Its slogan is “We don’t hire people to
bake brownies. We bake brownies to hire people.”

Mr. Glassman
(whose first marriage ended in divorce) and his second wife, Sandra
Holmes, founded the Greyston Foundation, sometimes called Greyston
Mandala, in 1989 to address community needs in Yonkers. Its programs
provide day care, job training, produce-growing gardens, medical care
and housing for about 5,000 people a year.

In 1996, Mr. Glassman
and Ms. Holmes established the Zen Peacemaker Order, an interfaith group
dedicated to peace and social justice. In 1998, shortly after they
moved to Santa Fe, N.M., to develop the organization, Ms. Holmes — who
as a Zen Buddhist priest took the name Sandra Jishu Holmes — died of a
heart attack.

In addition to his wife, Ms. Marko, and his
daughter, Mr. Glassman’s survivors include his son, Marc; a sister,
Sally Blatter; and four grandchildren.

Mr. Glassman developed a
series of retreats, including “street retreats,” in which participants
live among the homeless, and “bearing witness” retreats, holding them at
Auschwitz and other sites of atrocities around the world.

“When
we bear witness, when we become the situation — homelessness, poverty,
illness, violence, death — the right action arises by itself,” Mr.
Glassman said. “Once we listen with our entire body and mind, loving
action arises.”
A version of this article appears in print on Nov.
28, 2018, on Page A25 of the New York edition with the headline: Bernard
Glassman, 79, Zen Activist. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe






https://www.nytimes.com/…/alice-kandell-show-us-your-wall.h…
image.png
Enshrining Tibetan Buddhist Artifacts at Home. For Now.
Alice
Kandell, surrounded by her collection of 17th- to 19th-century Buddhist
art.CreditCreditDaniel Dorsa for The New York Times

By Ted Loos

Dec. 5, 2018

The story of how Alice S. Kandell discovered Tibetan Buddhist art sounds like the plot of a fanciful movie.

As
a Sarah Lawrence College student in the 1960s, she wanted to put Tibet
on the itinerary of a class trip, but her parents objected because of
unrest related to the Chinese occupation there. A close friend tried,
however, and got as far as India.

That friend, Hope Cooke, met
the crown prince of Sikkim, which borders Tibet. Eventually, “she
married him,” Ms. Kandell said. “She was becoming the queen and invited
me to the coronation.”

By then, Ms. Kandell was studying
psychology. In asking for leave to go to Sikkim (now part of India), she
told her professor the tale. “He said, ‘When fantasy becomes reality, a
member of the Harvard psychology department should be there to witness
it,’” she recalled.

So she went. “I was overwhelmed by the beauty of it,” she said of the region. “I was most taken by the art.”
About This Website
nytimes.com
Enshrining Tibetan Buddhist Artifacts at Home. For Now.
Alice S. Kandell’s adventures have led her to a cradle of Buddhism, and to…

image.png
Image
A
small carved wooden shrine in Ms. Kandell’s collection, with niches
filled with statues depicting a variety of Buddhist deities.CreditDaniel
Dorsa for The New York Times   In the intervening years she established
her career as a child psychologist in New York, as well as becoming
known as a photographer and the author of several books.
image.png
A gilt bronze figure from Thailand that is 200 to 300 years old. The hand gesture indicates peace in the family.CreditDaniel Dorsa for The New York Times
These
days, her Upper East Side apartment features around 250 objects,
largely from Tibet. Many are bronzes depicting the Buddha and other
deities. The collection includes household objects like teacups, too,
and the bulk of the trove was made between the 17th and 19th centuries,
what she called the high-water mark of Tibetan art.

There’s a
many-armed Yamantaka figure, representing the vanquisher of death, in
gilt bronze, that she admires for its detail. “He is a deity who is both
creating and destroying at the same time, an important part of the
Buddhist philosophy,” she said. She also pointed out two female deities
in gilt bronze from around the same time, a Tara and a Dharmapala, as
favorites for their movement and grace.

Most stunning is a
dedicated shrine room that is richly layered with at least 100 pieces,
including a ceremonial dagger, prayer beads and multiple bronzes,
arranged as they might have been in a noble family’s home.
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The
room, which is visually striking, is kept cool. “It’s cold and dry in
Tibet,” Ms. Kandell said, gesturing to a series of complex thangka
paintings on silk. “I don’t want steam heat on these.”

Ms.
Kandell, who has retired and now performs nonsinging parts at the
Metropolitan Opera, only buys objects from individuals, and she isn’t a
fan of auctions.

And she is being increasingly philanthropic: In
2011, she donated the contents of another shrine room (some 250 objects)
to the Arthur M. Sackler Gallery in Washington, where it is now on
view.

On the occasion of the release of a new book — “Assembly of
the Exalted: The Tibetan Shrine Room From the Alice S. Kandell
Collection,” by Donald S. Lopez Jr. and Rebecca Bloom — Ms. Kandell
spoke about her 50-year passion. These are edited excerpts from the
conversation.


image.png


A
Dhamma wheel flanked by a male and female deer, an image that can be
found atop Tibetan Buddhist temples.CreditDaniel Dorsa for The New York
Times
There was a big gap between discovering these pieces and actively collecting them. What was the spark?

In
the 1990s a friend took me to the home of a Brooklyn collector and
expert who had Tibetan antiques, and I felt a rush: “I’m home.”
Gradually he helped me collect things. It became so much, we put it in
the shape of a shrine room. I did this all after my children were gone,
turning over the dining room to it.

What have the reactions been?

A
curator at the Smithsonian came in here, and I was in the other room.
She stayed for about five minutes, and she started to cry.

Yamantaka, a
Buddhist creator and destroyer, center, with the female deity Tara,
left, and Avalokiteshvara, with 11 faces, right.CreditDaniel Dorsa for
The New York Times

Wow. How about at the Sackler?

People
have the most incredible religious experiences, even if it’s one minute
or one second. We had philosophers saying, “I’m at the end of the
universe. It’s changing my life.” And a college student who said, “OMG.
I’m, like, whoa.” Same thing.


https://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/nov/26/oldest-buddhist-shrine-discovered-nepal  
image.png
World’s oldest Buddhist shrine discovered in Nepal
Archaeologists say structure inside Mayadevi temple in Lumbini dates from sixth century BC – around the time of Buddha’s birth 
Buddhist
monks at the Mayadevi temple in Lumbini, Nepal, where archaeologists
unearthed the shrine. Photograph: Ira Block/AFP/Getty Images

Archaeologists
in Nepal say they have discovered traces of a wooden structure dating
from the sixth century BC which they believe is the world’s oldest
Buddhist shrine.

Kosh Prasad Acharya, who worked with
archaeologists from Durham University, said on Tuesday that the
structure had been unearthed inside the sacred Mayadevi temple in
Lumbini.

The Buddha, also known as Siddhartha Gautama, is
generally thought to have been born in about the sixth century BC at the
temple site.

The findings were published in the December issue of the journal Antiquity.
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Read more

Acharya
said the traces had been date tested using radiocarbon and luminescence
techniques. The archaeological team dug underneath previously known
brick structures in the temple, and experts from the University of
Stirling examined and collected the samples, he said. The team has been
working at the site for the past three years.

Previously, a
pillar installed by the Indian emperor Ashok with inscriptions dating to
the third century BC was considered to be the oldest Buddhist
structure, Acharya said. “This finding further strengthens the
chronology of Buddha’s life and was is major news for the millions of
Buddhists around the world,” Acharya said.

“Very little is known
about the life of the Buddha, except through textual sources and oral
tradition,” a Durham University archaeologist, Robin Coningham, said.
“Now, for the first time, we have an archaeological sequence at Lumbini
that shows a building there as early as the sixth century BC.”

Each
year, tens of thousands of Buddhists visit Lumbini, 175 miles
south-west of Kathmandu. Followers believe Siddhartha, a prince, left
his family and kingdom and meditated in the jungles of Nepal and India
before achieving enlightenment.
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135. liṅgādidassanaṁ

Seeing Traces, etc. [Mv.II.34.5]

[240] idha pana
bhikkhave āgantukā bhikkhū passanti āvāsikānaṁ bhikkhūnaṁ āvāsikākāraṁ
āvāsikaliṅgaṁ āvāsikanimittaṁ āvāsikuddesaṁ supaññattaṁ mañcapīṭhaṁ
bhisibimbohanaṁ pānīyaṁ paribhojanīyaṁ supaṭṭhitaṁ pariveṇaṁ
susammaṭṭhaṁ.

“There is the case where incoming monks see
evidence of resident monks, traces and signs of resident monks,
indications that there are resident monks—a bed & bench or mattress
& pillow well laid out, drinking water and washing water set out,
the surrounding area [courtyard] well-swept.

passitvā vematikā honti atthi nu kho āvāsikā bhikkhū natthi nu khoti.

On seeing this, they become doubtful: ‘Are there resident monks or not?’

te vematikā na vicinanti avicinitvā pavārenti āpatti dukkaṭassa .pe.

“Being doubtful, they don’t search for them. Not searching, they invite: an offense of wrong doing. …

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā na passanti apassitvā pavārenti anāpatti.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching for them, they don’t see them. Not seeing them, they invite: no offense.

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā passanti passitvā ekato pavārenti anāpatti.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching
for them, they see them. Seeing them, they invite together with them: no
offense.

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā passanti passitvā pāṭekkaṁ pavārenti āpatti dukkaṭassa.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching
for them, they see them. Seeing them, they invite separately: an offense
of wrong doing1.

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā passanti
passitvā nassantete vinassantete ko tehi atthoti bhedapurekkhārā
pavārenti āpatti thullaccayassa.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching
for them, they see them. Seeing them, (thinking,) ‘They are lost. They
are destroyed. Who needs them?’ they invite separately, aiming at
schism: a grave offense.

idha pana bhikkhave āgantukā bhikkhū suṇanti
āvāsikānaṁ bhikkhūnaṁ āvāsikākāraṁ āvāsikaliṅgaṁ āvāsikanimittaṁ
āvāsikuddesaṁ caṅkamantānaṁ padasaddaṁ sajjhāyasaddaṁ ukkāsitasaddaṁ
khipitasaddaṁ.

“There is the case where incoming monks hear
evidence of resident monks, traces and signs of resident monks,
indications that there are resident monks—the sound of feet walking back
and forth, the sound of chanting, throat-clearing, or sneezing.

sutvā vematikā honti atthi nu kho āvāsikā bhikkhū natthi nu khoti.

On hearing this, they become doubtful: ‘Are there resident monks or not?’

te vematikā na vicinanti avicinitvā pavārenti āpatti dukkaṭassa .pe.

“Being doubtful, they don’t search for them. Not searching, they invite: an offense of wrong doing. …

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā na passanti apassitvā pavārenti anāpatti.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching for them, they don’t see them. Not seeing them, they invite: no offense.

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā passanti passitvā ekato pavārenti anāpatti.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching
for them, they see them. Seeing them, they invite together with them: no
offense.

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā passanti passitvā pāṭekkaṁ pavārenti āpatti dukkaṭassa.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching
for them, they see them. Seeing them, they invite separately: an offense
of wrong doing.

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā passanti
passitvā nassantete vinassantete ko tehi atthoti bhedapurekkhārā
pavārenti āpatti thullaccayassa.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching
for them, they see them. Seeing them, (thinking,) ‘They are lost. They
are destroyed. Who needs them?’ they invite separately, aiming at
schism: a grave offense.

idha pana bhikkhave āvāsikā bhikkhū passanti
āgantukānaṁ bhikkhūnaṁ āgantukākāraṁ āgantukaliṅgaṁ āgantukanimittaṁ
āgantukuddesaṁ aññātakaṁ pattaṁ aññātakaṁ cīvaraṁ aññātakaṁ nisīdanaṁ
pādānaṁ dhotaṁ udakanissekaṁ.

“There is the case where resident monks see
evidence of incoming monks, traces and signs of resident monks,
indications that there are resident monks—an unknown bowl, an unknown
robe, an unknown sitting cloth, a splashing of foot-washing water.

passitvā vematikā honti atthi nu kho āgantukā bhikkhū natthi nu khoti.

On seeing this, they become doubtful: ‘Are there incoming monks or not?’

te vematikā na vicinanti avicinitvā pavārenti āpatti dukkaṭassa .pe.

“Being doubtful, they don’t search for them. Not searching, they invite: an offense of wrong doing. …

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā na passanti apassitvā pavārenti anāpatti.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching for them, they don’t see them. Not seeing them, they invite: no offense.

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā passanti passitvā ekato pavārenti anāpatti.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching
for them, they see them. Seeing them, they invite together with them: no
offense.

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā passanti passitvā pāṭekkaṁ pavārenti āpatti dukkaṭassa.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching
for them, they see them. Seeing them, they invite separately: an offense
of wrong doing.

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā passanti
passitvā nassantete vinassantete ko tehi atthoti bhedapurekkhārā
pavārenti āpatti thullaccayassa.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching
for them, they see them. Seeing them, (thinking,) ‘They are lost. They
are destroyed. Who needs them?’ they invite separately, aiming at
schism: a grave offense.

idha pana bhikkhave āvāsikā bhikkhū suṇanti
āgantukānaṁ bhikkhūnaṁ āgantukākāraṁ āgantukaliṅgaṁ āgantukanimittaṁ
āgantukuddesaṁ āgacchantānaṁ padasaddaṁ upāhanāppoṭhanasaddaṁ
ukkāsitasaddaṁ khipitasaddaṁ.

“There is the case where resident monks hear
evidence of incoming monks, traces and signs of resident monks,
indications that there are resident monks—The sound of approaching
footsteps, the sound of leather footwear slapping (the ground), the
sound of throat-clearing or sneezing.

sutvā vematikā honti atthi nu kho āgantukā bhikkhū natthi nu khoti.

On hearing this, they become doubtful: ‘Are there incoming monks or not?’

te vematikā na vicinanti avicinitvā pavārenti āpatti dukkaṭassa .pe.

“Being doubtful, they don’t search for them. Not searching, they invite: an offense of wrong doing. …

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā na passanti apassitvā pavārenti anāpatti.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching for them, they don’t see them. Not seeing them, they invite: no offense.

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā passanti passitvā ekato pavārenti anāpatti.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching
for them, they see them. Seeing them, they invite together with them: no
offense.

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā passanti passitvā pāṭekkaṁ pavārenti āpatti dukkaṭassa.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching
for them, they see them. Seeing them, they invite separately: an offense
of wrong doing.

te vematikā vicinanti vicinitvā passanti
passitvā nassantete vinassantete ko tehi atthoti bhedapurekkhārā
pavārenti āpatti thullaccayassa.

“Being doubtful, they search for them. Searching
for them, they see them. Seeing them, (thinking,) ‘They are lost. They
are destroyed. Who needs them?’ they invite separately, aiming at
schism: a grave offense

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