Theodicy in Paradise
By Ni Wayan
Pasek Ariati
Introduction
The
beauty of the island of Bali, both the natural beauty lent by a complex system
of irrigated rice lands and the colourful vibrancy of its religious festivals,
has made it famous in the world as a tourist destination. Yet beneath the
placid, lush exterior of the Balinese landscape there lurk many dangers to the
health of the human community. The Balinese day is marked by frequent shifts in
wind patterns, and in relative humidity and temperature, while the basic
alternation of a dry and wet season is complicated by the topography of the
island, whose central line of high mountain peaks stand in sharp contrast to
the lowland areas of the coastal plains. These interior peaks of the island
thus act as a natural source of the patterns of precipitation that are a boon
to wet-rice agriculture, but a curse to those whose lives depend on daily
exposure to the elements as they tend their fields, often knee-deep in cold
water, at the same time exposed to the sweltering heat of the tropical sun.
It
is not surprising that we Balinese have developed a rich mythology to account
for the source of the physical evils that plague the human community as well as
a variety of ritual and healing practices aimed at reducing human suffering
brought about by natural causes. Given the complexity of our social structure,
especially the pattern of identification with a fixed point of family origin (kawitan) and questions of the relative
status of ancestral origins that are often difficult to resolve, it is not
surprising that accounts of the origin of evil from natural causes often merge
with accounts of the origin of evil of another sort – the suffering that can be
brought upon others through the practice of black magic (pangiwa).
Balinese
myths of the origin of evil owe much to Indian sources, either through direct
contact or through exposure to Javanized versions of Indian myths and
theological systems that were developed c. 1000-1500 CE when the archipelago
was part of a wider world of interchange with India
and mainland Southeast Asia. At the same time,
as I hope to show in this short study, Balinese myths of the origin of evil
develop along lines that make them quite distinct from Indian sources. Even
though certain basic themes remain constant, Balinese accounts of the origin of
evil reveal a unique orientation towards the interplay of celestial and demonic
forces that I believe responds directly to the physical and psychological needs
of Balinese society.
Theodicy in Bali and India
In
Balinese belief the gods and goddesses (Ida
Bhatara-Bhatari) not only created the living beings of the earth, but also
the evils that beset human beings.[1]
Some contemporary commentators say that the evils of this world were created to
teach human beings to conduct their lives in a spirit of devotion to their
creator, while others (Tonjaya 1980: 5, for example) say that evil forces are
necessary in order to preserve the balance of birth (utpatti), life (sthiti)
and death (pralina). In this view, if
there were no evils to cause sickness and death (pralina) the world would grow completely full of living beings and
disaster would result, while on the other hand if there were no new creation
the world would be empty and without purpose.
Given
the close parallels between mythical accounts of the origin of evil in Indian
and Balinese traditions, it is worth noting O’Flaherty’s work on the “origin of
evil in Hindu mythologies” which she describes with the term theodicy (1976:1)
Theodicy,
the term used to designate the problem of evil and its attempted resolution,
[is] derived from the Greek theos,
god, and dike, justice... to signify
the defence of the justice of God in face of the fact of evil.
Moving
away from earlier positions holding that theodicy is “a problem only in
religions which presuppose a single, benevolent, omnipotent god” or that
theodicy has not been a central concern of Indian philosophies, O’Flaherty looks
at the development of the term by social scientists like Talcott Parsons (1949)
and Obeyesekere (1968). In this line of
thinking the need for an explanation of human suffering is not theological; instead
it arises in “the discrepancy between normal human interest and expectations...
and what actually happens” (Parsons 1949:63). In that sense theodicy is always
important for a society whose “religion fails logically to explain human
suffering or fortune in terms of its system of beliefs” (Obeyesekere 1968:11).
In
Balinese tradition, mythology plays an important part in explaining how
sickness and other evils have come to exist in the world, while rituals and
offerings of various kinds play a functional role in communicating between the
human community and unseen (niskala) beings.
O’Flaherty (1976: 2) points out that these mythological solutions to the
problem of evil can be accepted by members of a faith like Balinese Hinduism,
even if they do not meet Western standards of logic:
When logic
fails, and theodicy fails, irrational resolutions are offered by other modes of
religious thought - notably mythology - and these, proving psychologically
satisfactory, are acceptable to the members of that faith, however inadequate
they may appear to professional philosophers.
O’Flaherty’s
work provides us with a broad analysis of Hindu accounts of the origin of evil.
Some of these are immediately relevant to my study, while I hope others may
prove to be valuable in future studies of the role of theodicy in Balinese
ritual and healing practices.
Umå and the Cowherd: a myth of
transference?
One
of the most prominent Balinese myths relating to the origin of evil is the tale
of Giriputri (Umå) and the cowherd.[2]
This myth and its many Balinese and Javanese variants, provides a mythical
account of the origin of evil that has enjoyed lasting popularity in the
popular imagination. Perhaps this is because it has served at various times and
places not only to provide an account of the origin of evil, but to provide a
mythological basis for a complex pattern of prohibitions and injunctions aimed
at ensuring a harmonious relationship between the human community and the
unseen niskala world that is assumed
– even in our modern, technological age – to exist alongside the visible sakala world and to be the real cause of
both human welfare and human suffering.
The
term niskala itself requires a longer
study than is possible in this short article. It appears to go back to a period
c. 900-1500 CE when the saivågama traditions of India profoundly influenced the
development of Javano-Balinese ›aivism. In the later forms of the South Indian
›aiva-siddhånta from of ›aivism the word kala
is used to refer to five “divisions” or “stages” in the realization of the
›iva-nature (niv®tti, prati߆ha, vidyå,
¢anti, ¢antyåtΔta), while nißkala, “without
parts” refers to the transcendent nature of the reality of ›iva, which is
beyond even these aspects, or “stages” of his being. In Bali
the term niskala is understood to
mean the world of invisible beings that coexists alongside the visible world of
human and natural life, the sakala world.
Even
today in Bali, every problem faced by an
individual or a group of people is related back to nature of human interactions
with the beings of the niskala world.
Even the casual observer will come across evidences of the continuing belief in
the interaction of the sekala and niskala worlds. One may see, for
example, a small family group seated by the side of a highway clothed in their
best ritual attire, accompanied by a priest (pemangku)
and the requisite offerings (banten
penebusan). These people are very likely “calling back” the spirit of a
relative who has been involved in a traffic accident. Whether the accident has
been fatal, or has involved only an injury or fright, the spirit of the person
involved must be “called back”; for it is assumed that the shock of the
accident will cause a temporary disjunction of the person and the niskala element of their own being. The
name of the offering used - banten
penebusan – tells us much about the nature of relationships with niskala beings. Nƒbus means “to pay off a debt”. This suggests that no moral blame
is attached to the niskala beings for
their role in the accident. The accident rather represents a natural reaction
in the unseen world to an offence or ritual omission committed by the victim of
the accident (or a member of her/his family or community) that needs to be
“repaid”. This repayment takes the form of offerings and a ritual that should
be performed at the place where the accident happened, the place where the
forces of the niskala world have
chosen to show their displeasure.
In
a recent study of the arts and rituals of the “village temple” (Pura Desa) of Batuan, Hildred Geertz
(2004) has suggested that while social scientists have found it very difficult
to enquire directly into the nature of niskala
beings we can come to an understanding of their meaning for Balinese
through a consideration of the rituals and art forms that give expression to
human encounters with the world of niskala
beings. She brings out the ambivalent quality of niskala beings, at times benevolent, at times fiercely malevolent,
a trait that is shared with the deities of Indian Hinduism and stresses the
importance of intercession with these beings for human individuals and
society:
“... every priest or balian who performs individually oriented rites, works to persuade
these beings [spiritual evil beings] to grant divine gifts of fertility,
vitality, and protection” (p. 73)
Although
sometimes the cause of a problem may have a very clear and logical explanation,
even so people think that any unfortunate accident or sickness must have
something behind it that can only be cured through understanding its unseen
cause. For example: if there is a sudden death in the family, either by
accident, or without any obvious medical condition, the family and the society
where that person lives will without doubt spend a great deal of time asking
each other what the cause may have been, and very often will consult a “trance
healer” (dasaran) in the hope that
they can find out what offence the deceased person or his/her family committed
against some spirit in the unseen world, and what course of ritual action the
family should undertake to correct their mistake. In most cases a suitable
ritual “cure” for the difficulty can be found; however, there are also extreme
cases, which are considered to reflect so dire a transgression that they
prevent the seeking of a solution in the normal way. These include cases of salah pati, or “incorrect death”, that
is death before the full span of life resulting from falling out of a tree,
being struck by lightning or drowning. These cases are considered to represent
an extreme transgression against the niskala,
perhaps to be explained by resorting to the logic of the doctrine of karma and thus beyond individual
control, but in any case extreme enough to mean that the normal rites of
cremation cannot be carried out and the bereaved family must accept burial of
their loved one as the only possible form of post-mortem memorial possible in
such an extreme case.
A
number of anthropologists who have worked on matters of community health in Bali have drawn the conclusion that Balinese myths and
rituals have a deep interconnection with the maintenance of individual and
community health (cf. Lovric 1987, Connor 1986). Lovric’s work (1987) is
especially important for the study of theodicy in Bali
in that she has begun to sketch the relationship between myths concerned with
the origin of evil and the personification of the fear of evil in beliefs
around black magic (pangiwa). While
this is a subject that is notoriously difficult of access for researchers, for
the simple reason that the “scientific study” of magical phenomena is not
easily distinguished in the popular imagination from the idea that the real aim
of such study is mastery of the black arts. In any case, in terms of
mythological accounts of the origin of evil, in either case – whether dealing
with natural or human sources of suffering – the most important conception is
that in order to find a solution to a problem people should know the origin of
that problem. By knowing its origin, the problem can be solved by ritual action
that will “send back” the source of the problem to its origin. This concept is
reflected in myths that have found their way into literary works that explain
the origin of troubles that commonly afflict the Middle World (madhyaloka), the world of humans,
plants and animals.
The tale of Umå and the cowherd appears to be one
that can be classed among those studied by O’Flaherty (1976:139-173) that have
to do with the transfer of evil from one or more of the gods to humankind.
Perhaps most pertinent to the Balinese case are the series of tales that relate
to the expiation of divine evil through distribution in the human world. Perhaps
the earliest of these tales is that of the great horse sacrifice (aßvamedha) that the Mahåbhårata tells
us was held in order to distribute to the four corners of the earth the Indra’s
sin for having slain the Brahmin V®†ra, who had been withholding life-giving
waters from the gods and humankind. Rudra’s slaying of Prajåpati for having
desired his own daughter, and the subsequent distribution of his seed
throughout the world is another early legend of the transfer of evil, as is the
distribution of a destructive fever born from a drop of sweat that fell from Siva’s
forehead when he destroyed Dakßa’s sacrifice.
As
in the case of Rudra’s slaying Prajåpati, the distribution of the evil of an
unconscionable (but mythically necessary) act like incest or brahminicide often
involves the problem of the distribution of the “hot” energy or seed of a god.
This links these legends to those that have to do with the birth of a
miraculously powerful child who must be born in order to save the gods from the
attack demons. The oldest variant of this myth appears to be the epic tale of
Agni’s siring of Skanda, but the locus
classicus of the tale is the form taken in the Siva-puråøa, also found in a slightly different form in Kålidåsa’s
classical treatment of the story in the Kumårasambhava.
For our purposes the most important elements of this legend are the
interruption of the lovemaking of ›iva and his spouse, Umå/Giriputri, and the
subsequent emission of a drop of ›iva’s semen, whose nature is so hot and
violent that its evolution into an embryo can only be completed after a series
of transferrals. First Agni takes it in his mouth, and then transfers it for
safekeeping by the K®ttikå-s, the seven wives of the seven sages who are
represented in astrology by the Pleiades. They in turn transfer the powerful
semen of ›iva to a peak of the Himalaya, then to the Ganges river, and finally
a clump of reeds along the Ganges. Only then,
“on the sixth lunar day in the bright half of the month when the moon is in the
constellation Deer’s head” (O’Flaherty 1975:168) can the son of ›iva be born
who will lead the armies of the gods to victory over their enemies.
In
the tale of Umå and the cowherd we find that the theme of the transferral of
evil from gods to humankind is combined with the theme of the dangerous seed of
the supreme deity, and its effects on the mortal world. Thus far we are dealing
with mythological elements that can be compared with the Indian sources. But
the resemblance ends there, for there a number of important elements in the
Javano-Balinese myth that have no counterpart in Indian mythology, and suggest
a different formulation of the problem of evil, and its solution. The main
point of difference is the active and central role played in the Javanese and
Balinese myths by the goddess Umå/D√rgå. This is not to say that the goddess D√rgå
plays no role in Indian myths on the origin of evil, or that there is no
connection with Balinese models. The Tutur
Aø∂a-bhuwana, for example, presents the goddess D√rgå as the progenitor of
diseases, especially of smallpox, and in this we can see a reflex of South
Asian goddesses like ›Δtalå-devΔ.[3]
As my summary
of the tale of Umå and the cowherd will show, the transfer of evil to the world
in the Balinese myth is gendered as female, which naturally brings up the
question of whether this shift can be attributed to the predominantly
patriarchal form of Balinese society. However, this begs the question of why a
similar shift did not take place in India, and also would lead us to
overlook a number of subtleties in the myth whose consequences can only be
roughly suggested in this short article.
One source of
understanding of the form taken by the Balinese myth of Umå and the cowherd may
be the tendency noted by Zimmer (1972:189) to account for the evils of the
world. As Zimmer notes, this form of violent projection is especially prominent
in the case of myths about the transformation of Umå/Giriputri, the gentle
consort of ›iva, into the violent goddess D√rgå:
“The story of KΔrttimukha shows that the violent
emotions of a god can be projected or externalized in the shape of an
autonomous monster. Such apparitions abound in the mythological annals of India.
›iva’s power of destruction is precipitated all around him in the hordes of his
wrathful ‘hosts’... The fury of DevΔ, the supreme Goddess, may be projected as
a ravenous lion or tiger. She [may appear] in the form of a black demoness,
slavering over a battlefield in man-destroying wrath; this is a materialization
of the exterminating aspect of the Mother of the World. In the same way, a
curse can be personified.”
In
Javano-Balinese mythology the violent emotions of ›iva and Giriputri and the
effects they have on the world are a main topic in literary texts and religious
discourse aimed at explaining the origin of evil. Similar myths about the
origin of D√rgå in the Javano-Balinese
tradition go back at least to the time of composition of the Tantu Panggelaran, which is believed to
have been composed in East Java in the sixteenth century. A typical Balinese
form of the myth can be found in the Tutur
Aø∂a-bhuwana (TA) where it is told in the form of a dialogue between “three
magically powerful beings”(tri-puru¢a-¢akti).
In
this dialogue Sang Hyang Dharmasiddhi asks Sang Hyang Mƒngƒt and Sang Hyang
Tattwajñåna about the origin of the smallpox, saying that he has heard that
smallpox is as personification of the curse laid upon Umå by ›iva for her crime
of being unfaithful. Sang Hyang Mƒngƒt and Sang Hyang Tattwajñåna then tell
Sang Hyang Dharmasiddhi the following tale: [4]
There was a
mountain called Mahameru that was the sacred abode of Bhatara Guru and his
consort Bhatari Giriputri. Once Giriputri experienced the craving for the milk
of a cow, and she couldn’t restrain her desire. So she asked permission form
her husband to go to search for milk in the Middle World. After getting his
permission she left for the earth, but after wandering around for a long time
she still could not find any cows. Then, in order too test the faithfulness of
his wife, Bhatara Guru decided to descend to the mortal world disguised as a
cowherd and go to a place where the goddess was sure to find him. When the
goddess Giriputri happened to come upon her disguised husband she was overjoyed
to find a cowherd and his cow. She asked to buy the milk of the cowherd’s cow,
offering many precious worldly things, but the cowherd each time refused her.
Finally he said he would give her the milk if she were willing to have sexual
intercourse with him. Since her desire to get the milk was so strong she agreed
to do so, but first she moved her genitals to her leg. From her union with the
cowherd, many small creatures were born from her limbs. She then got the milk
she desired while the cowherd flew up into the sky as Bhatara Guru.
When
Bhatara Guru got back to his home on Mahameru he told his son Gana (Skt. Gaøa,
Gaøeßa) about what had happened in Middle Earth and he ordered Gana to use the Lontar Wariga Tƒnung, a divinatory
palm-leaf text (lontar) that teaches
about auspicious and inauspicious days, in order to divine his mother’s
behaviour, then to confront her with what he knew about her unfaithful
behaviour while in the Middle World. When the goddess Giriputri arrived on
Mahameru, Gana asked her how she had gotten the milk she craved so strongly.
First she lied, but since Siwa had told Gana to use the lontar to see into the true nature of things, he was able to reveal
to her the truth about how she got the milk. At that the goddess became furious
and burnt the lontar with her inner
fire. Gana also got furious and cursed his mother to take a demonic form as
Durga and to go and dwell in the cremation ground of the mortal beings of the
Middle World.
When
Bhatara Guru learned of Gana’s curse he gave his agreement, but he also blessed
the goddess Durga with powerful servants in the form of 108 bhuta, or demonic spirit-demons. With their help the goddess spread
smallpox and other beings throughout the Middle World. In addition Bhatara Guru
granted to Durga the right to grant power to all those who want to practice the
black arts. However, at the same time that Bhatara Guru gave these destructive
powers to Durga and the bhuta-kala he
also created other deities who went into the world to act as the healers of the
diseases caused by Durga and her 108 demonic assistants. Bhatara Guru also
charged Bhatari Giriputri to be selective in afflicting diseases. Only those
who do not make the proper caru
offerings that contain some element of blood, and so satisfy the demonic
attendants of D√rgå, are eligible to be struck with disease. At the same time,
those who fall ill, and yet make the proper offerings of propitiation to Durga
and her demonic assistants, should also forgiven, and their afflictions lifted.
There
are many aspects of this story that might seem strange from the point of view
of Western religious ideas. For example, Bhatara Guru uses deceit and trickery
to trap his own wife so that she will have to take on a demonic form. Then he
induces his son to inflict the curse on his own mother, and instructs him to
use a special book of divination in order to “see” the truth about what his
mother has done.
From
other myths of a similar kind it seems that Bhatara Guru and Giriputri are
often involved in stories that suggest the way that power is understood in
shadow plays. Divine beings like Bhatara Guru play with the world, creating
both good and evil aspects of existence, but are themselves beyond good and
evil. They have to create both evil in the world, but they also create the ways
it can be limited or overcome.
The Origin of Kala: evil, and its transformation
The
most striking myth about the origin of disease is narrated in the Tattwa-kåla, or “Origin of Kåla”. This
myth offers an explanation of the origin of evil, but also a means to
overcoming the evil that is even more explicit and detailed than the version
found in the Tutur Aø∂a-bhuwana. There
are three sections to the tale. The first part relates the story of the birth
of Kåla and the problem of finding food that will satisfy his ravenous hunger;
the second part concerns the rituals called bhuta-yadnya
(Skt bh√ta-yajña) that must be
performed to exorcise Kåla and his
demonic troops; the third part concerns the rituals and remedies used to heal
people who are inflicted with various diseases by Kåla and his bhuta assistants.
These include descriptions of sacred phrases and syllables (mantra, bΔja-mantra), and of sacred written characters (modre) along with instructions on how
to apply modre to afflicted or
weakened parts of the body as well as explanations of which deities are
invoked, or “placed” within the body through the use of modre.[5]
As we will see the first part of the tale, the myth of Kåla’s origin, is very
similar to the tale of the origin of the war-god Skanda as found in diverse
Indian sources. However, the second and third sections of the myth carry the
story into new territory that is related to Javano-Balinese understandings of the
role of ritual in the healing arts.
The basic story
of the Tattwa Kåla can be summarized
as follows:
One
day the god Bhatara Siwa and his wife Bhatari Giriputri were wandering above
the ocean, observing the beauty to be seen below them as they flew along in the
sky. Suddenly a powerful desire arose within Bhatara Siwa to unite with Bhatari
Giriputri, but she refused him, saying that only demons have intercourse in
public, not gods. This enraged Bhatara Siwa and so he wanted to force himself
on the goddess in order to fulfil his sexual desire, but before he succeeded in
forcing her to do his will, a drop of his semen emerged and fell into the
ocean. Bhatara’s lust was thus spent and the couple returned to their abode in
heaven.
However,
the violent, hot power of Siwa’s semen caused the ocean to boil and seethe, and
roused the attention of the gods Brahma and Wisnu, who went into a deep state
of meditation in order to divine the origin of this unnatural disturbance. But
before they could conclude their meditation a terrible demon of incomparable
size and terrifying appearance arose from the drop of Siwa’s semen that had
fallen into the ocean. Seeing this awe-inspiring demon, both Brahma and Vishnu
fled in terror.
At
the moment this enormous demon was born he was alone, and saw nothing around
him. Wherever he looked there was only emptiness filling the four quarters of
the compass directions. Because he was alone he set out on foot to seek his
parents. When he reached the abode of the gods they were terrified, and
attacked him without asking first what he was doing. But despite using their
most powerful weapons none of the gods could defeat him. Even Bhatara Siwa, who
was enraged to see this enormous demon attacking heaven, could defeat him, even
after a fierce battle. Finally Bhatara Siwa asked Kala why he was attacking the
gods. Kala replied that he was just looking for his parents. At that point
Bhatara Siwa admitted to Kala that he himself was his father, and Bhatari
Giriputri his mother, but that they would not admit their parentage to the
other gods unless Kala agreed to cut off his fangs, the most visible sign of
his demonic nature.
Because
of his ravenous appetite Kala was different from the other gods, who do not
need to eat food, and so he asked his parents what kind of food he could eat to
satisfy his intense craving for food In reply his father and mother each
blessed him and gave him the right to consume many different kinds of things,
from among both moving and unmoving beings.
However,
each time they gave Bhatara Siwa and Bhatari Giriputri gave a favour to Kala
they created a restriction that would allow human beings to escape from the
terror of being consumed, so long as they observed special rules of behaviour.
For example, Kala was told that he would be allowed to eat persons who sleep at
dawn or dusk, the two dangerous points (sandhi-kala)
in between day and night, or that he could devour people who read kakawin, kidung or other sacred religious works in the streets and so people
were able to escape being devoured by carefully following restrictions on their
behaviour.
Much of the remainder of the Kåla-tattwa concerns the means of healing those affected by the
“consuming” power of Kala, and the detailed instructions given by Bhatara Siwa
on the rituals to be performed in order to effect the transformation of Kala
into a less-threatening form. Kala, for example, is described himself as being
generous in giving boons to those who know how to pay homage to him in the
proper way. Those who understand this are termed manusa jati, “true human beings”, who understand how to merge the
“demonic” forces – bhuta, Kala and Durga
– into the “divine forces” – dewa,
bhatara and hyang (all names for
the high gods in Balinese Hinduism). The Kålatattwa
further describes the special rituals to be performed by High Priests of
the ›aiwa and Boddha orders during the Balinese month sasih kasanga, which normally falls in March-April. The performance
of these exorcistic rituals is aimed at ensuring that the Kala and bhuta elements of the unseen world are
transformed into benign beings.[6]
In a recent
work that does much to dispel the notion that rituals involving the bhuta-kala are aimed at ridding the
world of dangerous, demonic spirits, Michele Stephen (2005) has brought out the
importance for Balinese of the element of transformation in the relationship
between “divine” and “demonic” aspects of the unseen world. Stephen likens the
picture of Balinese mysticism she builds up through her study of two
contemporary mystical painters of Bali, I Ketut Budiana and I Gusti Nyoman
Mirdiana, to the “oscillating universe” described by Davis (1991) for medieval Indian Hinduism.
There is also much that is reminiscent of the “doctrine of vibration” (spanda) of non-dualist Kashmiri
›aivism, though it is not certain that this was the exact strain of non-dualist
›aivism that was most influential in ancient Indonesia.
Like Hooykaas
(1961) before her, Stephen has noted the importance of the myth of the birth of
Kåla in the formation of social institutions that have long played an important
role in Balinese society. Foremost among these is the Wayang, or shadow plays.
Commenting on Mirdiana’s painting Kåla and
Kumåra (Stephen 2005, plate 18), Stephen takes as her text the version of the
story of Kala narrated in the lontar manuscript
titled Kåla Puråøa. In this tale one
of the boons given to Bhatara Kåla by his divine parents leads to special
difficulties. This is their promise that he can consume anyone born in the
Balinese week called Wayang, “Shadow Play”. This part of the story of the birth
of Kåla as told in the Kåla Puråøa represents
a literary version of a tale that is better-known to the average Balinese
through the Wayang theatre itself, where many variations are found on the basic
theme of Kumara’s trickster-like flight from Bhatara Kåla and the implications
this has for social prohibitions and practices. One version of the shadow-play
version of this tale runs as follows:
Bhatara
Siwa and Bhatari Giriputri granted their son, Bhatara Kala, the right to
consume children born in the week of Wayang.
Unfortunately, in due time Bhatara Siwa and Bhatari Giriputri themselves
have a son named Kumara. At first Siwa tries to outwit Kala by ensuring that
Kumara stays forever young; however, Kala continues to pursue his ill-fated
sibling relentlessly, so that Kumara is continually forced to find new hiding
places at each point that Kala discovers
where he has concealed himself For example, at one point Kumara hides inside
the clay cook-stove of a Balinese kitchen. Now this particular stove had four
holes, one in front for inserting firewood, and three on top for placing pots
for cooking. After searching the kitchen for some time Kala realised that
Kumara must be hiding in the stove. So he put his mouth around the hole used
for firewood and put his hands over two of the three holes on top of the stove.
Naturally Kumara escaped through the third hole. Enraged at being foiled by
Kumara in this way he put a curse on all stoves henceforth, saying that from
that moment on only stoves with three holes would be safe, and that anyone who
built a stove with four holes would be cursed with a recurrent illness called pemalinan. However, such persons can be
cured by correcting the form of their stove, and having the ritual of release (ma-lukat) performed by a priest,
accompanied by proper offerings and the sprinkling of purifying holy water (tirtha) over the stove.
After
hiding many other places, only to be discovered each time by Kala, and escaping
yet again, Kumara finally hides in the bamboo resonator of a gender wayang, one of the bronze musical
instruments used to accompany performances of shadow plays. The wise and
courageous dalang, who was then
performing a shadow play, realised that he must remain unperturbed even in the
face of a visitation by so terrible and frightening a spectator as Bhatara
Kala. Seeing the offerings that the dalang
had spread in front of the screen before initiating his performance – which
included roast suckling pig, his favourite delicacy - Kala immediately consumed
them all. The dalang then politely
told Kala that since he had consumed the offerings of his shadow play, Kala was
now in his debt and should agree to spare the life of Kumara.
As Stephen
(2002:62) tells us, the conclusion of this tale is also the founding myth that
explains the special right granted to mature dalang who take a special initiation to then perform the play (Sapu Leger) that protects children born
in the week of Wayang from the consuming power of Bhatara Kala:
“In
payment of [his] debt, the dalang said,
Kåla should spare Kumara and give his promise, to be recorded in the lontar [Kåla Puråøa], that he would
never disturb Kumara again. Kåla conceded to the dalang’s request – whereupon an amazing change came over him: ‘The
heart... of Bhatara Kåla became gentle: he rejoiced and no longer wanted to
devour Kumara’. Ins this way the dalang became
the protector of everyone born in Wuku Wayang.”
Conclusion
From
this short introduction we can see that Balinese mythological texts represent a
rich resource for the study of theodicy in non-Western contexts, and that a
brief study cannot do justice to the complexity of the issues raised in so
cursory an examination. For us the most important aspect of the traditional
Balinese world-view that comes out in a contemplation on sources like the Tutur Aø∂a-huwana, Kåla-tattwa and Kåla Puråøa is the
element of transformation, which links this short study with more extensive
recent works like those of Michele Stephen (2005) and Hildred Geertz (2004). We
also note the remarkable degree to which the Balinese mythological sources
present an explanation of the origins of evil along with a series of ritual and
behavioural prescriptions aimed at overcoming the evil introduced into the
world through an original act of transference of the ‘sin’ of the deities to the
human world. Here we can glimpse both the Indian origins of Balinese myths on
the theme of theodicy, and the remarkable to degree to which the Balinese
religious imagination is focussed on the here-and-now problems of social and
individual health and security and their mediation through ritual, behavioural
prescriptions and healing practices. In this I am reminded of Clifford Geertz’
well-known description of Balinese religion as an “orthopraxy” rather than an
“orthodoxy” (1973). As the Balinese myths around theodicy tell us this
“orthopraxy” is no empty collection of “rituals without meaning”, but a richly
worked out system for dealing with some of the most crucial concerns of human
society.
Works
Cited
a. Balinese and Old Javanese Language Sources
Kåla-tattwa. Fakultas
Sastra, Universitas Udayana, Denpasar, (no number), transcribed 1962.
Tutur Aø∂a-bhuwana. Pusat
Dokumentasi Bali, Denpasar, 344, transcribed 2000.
b. Secondary Sources
Connor, Linda
1986 “Balinese Healing.” In Linda Connor, Patsy Asch
and Timothy Asch, Jero Tapakan: Balinese
Healer—An Ethnographic Film Monograph. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Davis,
Richard H.
1991 Ritual in
an Oscillating Universe: Worshipping ›iva in Medieval India. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Geertz,
Clifford
1973 “’Internal Conversion’ in Contemporary Bali.” In Geertz, Clifford (1973) The Interpretation of Cultures. Basic Books, pp. 170-192.
Geertz, Hildred
2004 The Life of a Balinese
Temple, Artistry, Imagination, and
History in a Peasant
Village. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i
Press.
Hooykaas,
Christian
1973 Kåma and
Kåla: Materials for the Study of Shadow Theatre in Bali.
Amsterdam: North
Holland Press.
Hooykaas, Jacoba
1961 “The Myth of the Cowherd and the Little Girl.” Bijdragen Tot de Taal-, Land- en
Volkenkunde, 117: 267-278.
Lovric, Barbara
1987. “Rhetoric
and Reality: The Hidden Nightmare.” Ph.D. thesis, Department of Indonesian and
Malaysian Studies, University
of Sydney.
Obeyesekere, Gananath
1968 “Theodicy,
Sin and Salvation in a Sociology of Buddhism.” In Leach, Edmund R. (ed.) Dialectic in Practical Religion. Cambridge Papers in Social
Anthropology, no. 5, pp.7-40.
O’Flaherty, Wendy Doniger
1973 Asceticism and Eroticism in the Mythology of
›iva. Oxford: Oxford University
Press.
1975 Hindu Myths, a sourcebook translated form
the Sanskrit. London, NY: Penguin Books.
1976 The Origins of Evil in Hindu Mythology. Berkeley: University of
California Pres.
Parsons, Talcott
1949 Essays in Sociological Theory Pure and Applied.
Glencoe, Illinois.
Stephens, Michel
2995 Desire
Divine and Demonic, Balinese Mysticism in the Paintings of I Ketut Budiana and
I Gusti Nyoman Mirdiana. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press.
Zimmer,
Heinrich
1972 Myths and
Symbols in Indian Art and Civilization. [Bollingen Series VI] Princeton: Princeton University Press.
[1] In this paper I will use current
Balinese spellings for words that are part of the contemporary vocabulary of
writing on religious matters in Bali, which
generally speaking does not preserve Sanskrit (or Old Javanese) spelling.
However, when writing about concepts or myths in their Indian or Old Javanese
forms I will use diacritics to indicate correct spelling.
[2] Giriputri is the more commonly found
name of the eternal spouse of ›iva in Bali.
The spelling “Siwa” is more commonly found for ›iva in Balinese, and the
epithet Bhatara Guru, which developed in the later East Java period (c.
1000-1500 CE), is more commonly found than Bhatara Guru. The names of both
deities are frequently found combined with the titles Bhatara or Bhatari, which
can be traced back to Buddhist Sanskrit bha††åra,
which is also found in mixed Hindu-Buddhist contexts in Nepal. The use of
these terms has been so common in the history of Javano-Balinese culture that
the Balinese frequently term the deities/ancestors Ida Betara-Betari. The word hyang
represents a similar case of a word that has served both as a title for
divinities (in phrases like Sang Hyang Surya, Sang Hyang Siwa) and as a general
term for a divinity (hyang) or group
of divinities (para hyang).
[3] Chicken pox is also considered by
Balinese to be sent by gods (Balinese: dewa);
therefore the persons (usually children) who have chicken pox are said to be ma-dewa, which can be translated “to bear
the gods”. Balinese do not normally go to a medical doctor for treatment of
chicken-pox; instead parents will take their children to the confluence of two
rivers, bringing along colourful fragrant flowers for bathing and asking the
blessings of the deities.
[4] The names of the tri-puru¢a-¢akti in the TA deities recall elements of Indian
philosophy that have found their way through a long process of assimilation
into the mythological framework of the Balinese system of belief. These are: Sang Hyang Dharmasiddhi, “The Sacred
Lord Who is Powerful in Spiritual Law”,
Sang Hyang Mƒngƒt, “The Lord of
Sacred Recollection” and Sang Hyang Tattwajñåna
“The Lord of the Knowledge
of the True Elements of Being”.
[5] The birth of Kala is recounted in a
Javanese shadow play plot (lakon)
called Murwa-kala (OJ M√rwa-kåla) “the Origin of Kala”.
Balinese and Javanese versions of the birth of Kala have much in common, but
there are also important differences. For example, the types of diseases that
Kala can cause differ in the two traditions, while the Javanese list of those
who can be “eaten” by Kala due to the circumstances of their birth is longer
and more complex. These people, called wong
sukertha, “fortunate persons”, in Javanese include not only children born
in the Javano-Balinese wuku week
“Wayang” (shadow-play), but the fifth brother or sister in a family, named Panca-Pandawa and Panca-Pandawi. As is the case in Bali
a special shadow-play performance of the Murwa-kala
should be performed for persons born under these conditions, in which case
the dalang, or “shadow-play master”
acts as an exorcist in the Javanese ritual of purification called ngruwat.
[6] In present Bali
five kinds of rituals are recognized, which are called panca yadnya. They are dewa
yadnya, rituals addressed to the deities,
rsi yadnya, rituals addressed to priests and spiritual teachers, manusa yadnya, rituals concerning the
life cycle of human beings, pitra yadnya,
rituals addressed to the souls of the dead, and bhuta yadnya, rituals addressed to the chthonic spirits. In Bali the most prominent annual ritual for the bhuta kala is called Tawur Agung, aimed at propitiating and exorcising destructive
demonic spirits and effecting their transformation into protective divine
spirits. The Tawur Agung must be performed by representatives of the tripaksa, the “three denominations”
whose history in Java and Bali extends back to
at least the 10th Century CE. Today the ›aiva and Boddha pedanda
represent the older ›aiva and Sogata/Boddha orders of East Java, while the sƒngguhu, or Resi Bujangga, represents
the ‰ƒßi i denomination of ancient East Java.
