Theodicy in Paradise

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

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[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 10^th 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.