The Buddha in the Tarot

by Paul Greer

  In the Madhyamaka school of Mahayana Buddhism, the Middle Way refers to the middle ground between the opposing positions that all phenomena either or neither exist or do not exist. As in the analogy of Indra’s Net, the Madhyamaka position is that all things “exist” in a subtle middle place outside our usual categories of either being or non-being. Life, to use the evocative words of Nichiren Daishonin, is “an elusive reality” that transcends all notions of both existence and non-existence, and yet “exhibits the qualities of both.”21

  The Devil (15)

  General Overview

  This card shows a claw-footed, goat-legged and horned devil with a reversed pentagram above his head, conforming somewhat to Eliphas Levi’s depiction of Baphomet, the so-called Goat of Mendes. He sits in darkness, perched on a small, black cuboid-shaped pedestal, to which are chained a naked male and female with horns and tails. The sign of Saturn – the God of the Underworld – is indicated by his right hand, while his left, holding a torch, ignites the man’s tail. The woman’s tail ends in a pomegranate-like shape, suggesting fertility and sexuality. For Waite, both tails indicate “the animal nature.”1 In most interpretations this card is associated with a variety of dark themes, including bondage, materialism, misery, indulgence, addiction, sexual lust, temptation, deception, illusion, and despair.

  Waite’s Devil, like some depictions of The Emperor, is positioned atop a cube-like block of stone, representing materiality and rational ordering. Yet this is a significantly compacted block, indicating as Pollack suggests a greatly reduced vision of material existence, condensed here to a number of selfish pursuits and desires, especially “monetary, sexual and political.”2 A denial of anything more spiritual to life is also conveyed in the reversed pentagram, indicating allegiance to the material, the sensual, the lustful and the destructive. The dark background to the card also connotes a sense of incompleteness or a lack of knowledge, recognized by Gardner in his channeled Devil, who boasts that he wields his power through our “ignorance” and “blindness.”3

  Like the Magician, The Devil holds one hand up and the other to the ground, signifying that this card also relates to the theme of “will.” However, it is not the will of The Devil that confines the two captives to this dark place, but their own. In this respect, as Pollack notes, the Devil with his two captured prisoners stands as a distorted reflection of The Lovers card, which, as we recall, pertains to the issue of “choice.”4 The prisoners, through their own exercise of will have the capacity to leave this place, indicated by the chains which hang but loosely around their necks. Their captivity is rooted in a lack of knowledge and understanding of their innate potential for liberation. The Devil here is that force which, as Gardner’s Devil says, denies our “greater possibilities.”5

  The Devil has a long history of development within the Judaeo-Christian tradition. In the Jewish book of Job we come across Ha-Satan – The Accuser; a member of God’s angelic court responsible for tempting and terrorizing the hapless Job away from his piety. By the time of Jesus, and under the influence of Zoroastrianism and Greek culture, this shady angelic lawyer had become Lucifer the Light-bearer – God’s rebellious archangel, fallen from grace through pride, and ruler of Hell. He stands in opposition to God’s will and holiness, and his main sphere of activity is that of tempting and leading mortals astray from their spiritual destiny.

  The Devil’s main role in the Gospels – and one that clearly mirrors Mara’s confrontation with the Future Buddha – is to question Jesus’ credentials and abilities as God’s Son and Messiah, and thus prevent him from embarking on his ministry to the world. Jesus’ temptations are described in such a way as to present him as a righteous alternative to God’s “unfaithful servant,” Israel, who failed its respective temptations during its forty years of sojourn in the desert. Where Israel failed in its prophetic call to be a “light to all nations,” Jesus, for the Gospel writers at least, will succeed.

  According to Luke’s account (Lk. 4: 1-13), after forty days of fasting in the wilderness, Jesus was approached by the Devil, who, recognizing his weakened state, demands: “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.” Unlike the Israelites, who demanded manna from Heaven, Jesus replies with a verse from scripture: “It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone.’” In this, Jesus recognizes that there is more to life than material needs and desires, and that the Messiah has come to do more than provide material blessings and equality. A full belly might be a prerequisite for human flourishing, but it is not, as Western civilization clearly shows, its guarantor.

  The Devil then proceeds to show Jesus all the kingdoms of the world in a “moment of time.” He relates to Jesus that all of their authority and glory have been delivered to him, and that if “you, then, will worship me, it shall all be yours.” Again, Jesus responds with a verse from scripture: “It is written, ‘You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve.’” Unlike Israel, who worshipped a golden calf and demanded a king like all the other nations, Jesus recognizes this for what it is – the idolization of power; the temptation as Messiah to solve the world’s problems through political and military authority or might.

  In the final temptation, the Devil takes Jesus to the pinnacle of the holy temple in Jerusalem, and getting the hang of things by now, quotes some scripture back at Jesus: “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here; for it is written, ‘He will give his angels charge of you, to guard you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.’” Unlike Israel, who constantly demanded “signs” in the desert, Jesus refuses, and answers with another piece of scripture: “It is said, ‘You shall not tempt the Lord your God.’” This reply indicates the centrality of faith over proof within the Judaeo-Christian heritage; an attitude of the heart which many now in the West – with some justification – find too difficult to bear. Yet Jesus’ final response can be read another way, indicating what ethicist Joseph Fletcher described as the attitude of “positivism” in relation to love or agape – the defining principle of Jesus’ words and actions.6 Love’s decisions are not made on the basis of evidence, likelihood or calculated success, but in the hope, in the belief and a commitment to the fundamental good nature of the human heart, whether one’s own, or others’. The refusal to demand signs is then ultimately a refusal to descend into the paralysis of despair about the human condition; something which is perhaps the greatest challenge and temptation faced by many in the world today.

  In the Story of the Buddha: The Confrontation with Mara

  Mara, says Asvaghosa, “was afraid.” He recognized that should the Future Buddha attain enlightenment, “all this my realm will to-day become empty.” He therefore drew close to the Asvattha tree with his “flower-made bow and his five infatuating arrows,” along with his three sons – Confusion, Gaiety, and Pride – and his three daughters – Lust, Delight and Thirst.7

  Mara begins his temptations through an appeal to dharma – the prince should forget his spiritual quest and “follow thine own duty” to become a mighty ruler of the world, and thereby “gain the higher worlds of Indra.” The Future Buddha remains unmoved, and so Mara “discharged his arrow” and set his six sons and daughters before him. Mara is astonished that the Buddha remains unyielding before his daughter Rati, the arrow “by which the god Sambhu was pierced with love.” Enraged, Mara decides that this fool, “destitute of all feeling,” deserves “the alarms and rebukes and blows from all the gathered host of the demons.” The Future Buddha is assailed from all directions “in grief and anger” by this monstrous horde; but still “the great sage remained unalarmed and untroubled,” secure in a resolution that had been acquired “through numberless aeons.” The Future Buddha remains steadfast in his quest to become a “great physician” for a world “lying distressed amidst diseases and passions.”8

  Finally, according to the Jataka account, Mara taunts the Future Buddha with a simple observation – u
nlike himself, whose achievements and powers are recognized by his mighty army, who can stand witness to the achievements of this mere man? Recalling all his efforts in previous lives, the Future Buddha drew forth his right hand and stretched it towards “the mighty earth” and said to it: “‘Are you witness, or are you not …?’ And the mighty earth thundered, ‘I bear your witness!’ with a hundred, a thousand, a hundred thousand roars, as if to overwhelm the army of Mara.”9 This powerful scene, in which the Buddha touches the earth, reminds us that liberation into the “deathless” is not obtained by flight from the phenomenal world, from the incessant flow of birth, death and rebirth experienced in nature; but, through some form of reconciliation with these processes.

  Finally, Mara and his army flee “in all directions,” and a victory roar is taken up by the gods: “‘Mara is defeated! Prince Siddhattha has conquered!’”10

  A Buddhist Reflection: Mara

  Although suggestions have been made for an etymological link between Mara and maya, the consensus opinion is that Mara derives from the root mer, which means “killing” or “death.” He also bears a number of ominous epitaphs, including Popima (“Evil One”), Kanha (“Dark One”) and Namuci (“Inescapable”). He is also referred to as Kamadeva (“God of Pleasure” or “God of Desire”) or simply Kama-Mara - indicating what Buddhists see as the causal link between sensory attachment and the endless cycle of birth and death within Samsara.

  There are at least four different but related ways in which Mara is understood and appreciated within Buddhism. The first is as Klesa-Mara, where Mara is viewed as a symbolic embodiment of the three unskillful “poisons” that sit at the center of the Wheel of Becoming; namely, greed, hatred and delusion. As Mrtya-Mara, Mara indicates “death” in the sense of the ceaseless process of birth, death and rebirth within Samsara. As Khandha-Mara, the demon is viewed as a metaphor for life lived within the five aggregates, especially in the act of grasping or clinging to these components of personality. It is in “the desire of grasping,” says the Buddha, that “Mara follows the man.” Worldlings are but “creatures of desire … sticking fast in the realm of death.” Conversely, those who give up “greediness for name and form” are no longer subject to “the power of death.”11 Yet it is not just foolish worldlings who need to be on their guard. The Mahayana Surangama Sutra further links each aggregate with ten Maras, giving a total of fifty “demons” responsible for generating erroneous meditative insights into the nature of each khandha. Finally, as Devaputra-Mara, Mara is recognized as a “son of a god” - a divine being conceived either literally or psychologically; a powerful and malevolent force concerned with keeping all captive to the pleasures and illusions of Samsaric life. In this respect, he mirrors the role of the Demiurge within ancient Gnosticism.

  Devaputra-Mara is said to be the Lord of the realm of Devas wielding Power over the Creations of Others – the highest heavenly abode of the kama-loka. One source presents him as being originally a rebellious prince, who usurped control of this realm from another god.12 Another view is that Mara is not a single being, but a succession of beings. Indeed, the Pali texts seem to suggest it is possible to be reborn as Mara. Whatever the case, Mara is considered to be the one responsible for binding all to the temporal and empty pleasures of Samsara, and the one who confronts any who would dare challenge his authority and rule.

  When in human form, Devaputra-Mara is pictured as a kingly ruler riding an elephant. He often appears accompanied by his three daughters – Tanha (craving/thirst), Arati (aversion) and Rati (sexual passion). Later accounts expand his family to include an additional two daughters and three sons – Confusion, Gaiety and Pride. He is also said to command ten legions of demons, each linked to some kind of vice, whether of deficiency or excess. The Padhana Sutta from the Sutta Nipata describes his army in the following way:

  “Lust thy first army is called, discontent thy second, thy third is called hunger and thirst, thy fourth desire.

  “Thy fifth is called sloth and drowsiness, thy sixth cowardice, thy seventh doubt, thy eighth hypocrisy and stupor,

  “Gain, fame, honor, and what celebrity has been falsely obtained; and he who exalts himself and despises others.

  “This, O Namuki, is thine, the black one's fighting army; none but a hero conquers it, and after conquering it obtains joy.”13

  Within many suttas, Mara's functions are primarily those of temptation and distraction – he tries to prevent the Dharma from being spoken or heard, and distracts or tempts monks and nuns while they meditate. However, his most celebrated role within the scriptures is as the Buddha's spiritual adversary, whether before, during, or after his enlightenment. His persistence derives from his awareness that the Buddha's enlightenment and establishment of the Dharma and Sangha signify the end of his reign over the world.

  Many Buddhists understand Devaputra-Mara and his retinue in a symbolic rather than literal sense; as representations of negative psychological forces, impulses, emotions and tendencies, as opposed to metaphysical entities in their own right. Thus, his role is really didactic – a teaching tool to help practicing Buddhists appreciate and conceptualize the inner obstacles and forces they will confront while meditating. As Shaila Catherine says, Mara serves as a “metaphorical image” that allows Buddhists to “depersonalize” the hindrances they may confront during meditation.14 As such, Mara conforms in some respects to the Jungian notion of the Shadow - the darker and perhaps unconscious aspects of one's own nature. Stephen Bachelor describes Mara as the Future Buddha's “devilish twin,” revealing a deep-seated conflict within human nature between our capacities for “awakening” and “sanity,” and for those of “confusion” and “chaos.” Mara is, in reality, the Future Buddha’s “own conflicted humanity.”15

  The Tower (16)

  General Overview

  The RWS Tower shows a grey rock-bound stone tower blasted by a thunderbolt, with two figures (usually viewed as male and female) falling from its heights. While one still bears a crown, a larger one appears as if to tumble from the tower top. In earlier renditions of this card, the bolt was surrounded by hailstones or drops of solar fire. In Waite’s version, these have been replaced with twenty-two Hebrew yods, indicating as Butler says the fire’s divine origin.1

  Traditionally, The Tower has been associated with the depressing themes of misfortune, destruction, disaster, ruin and sudden calamity. The 19th-Century occultist Papus for example linked it with the story of the Fall of Adam and Eve and their entrance into the material world.2 This is also suggested by a 17th-Century Minchiate version of the card, which shows Adam and Eve being driven forth from the Gates of Eden.3 Other negative interpretations have linked this card with the biblical story of the Tower of Babel, when humanity in its foolish pride attempts to penetrate the divine mysteries, and is chastised by God for doing so. In this interpretation the two falling figures may, as Katz and Goodwin suggest, represent “Nebuchadnezzar and his vizier.”4

  Within the spectrum of possibility however, the card connotes themes of a much more positive nature. Indeed Waite himself rejected the view of it being either the “chastisement of pride” or “the fall of Adam,” and was drawn to Papus’ alternative explanation – “the materialization of the spiritual world”; the two figures indicating the end to a “false interpretation” of reality. Overall, the card for Waite indicates the “rending of a … House of Falsehood.”5 A similarly positive interpretation may be deduced from this card’s probable links with medieval artistic depictions of the Harrowing of Hell, where Christ is shown knocking the gates of Hell asunder, and freeing those trapped inside. This definition is bolstered with The Tower’s links with an earlier version of the card known as The Castle of Plutus – Plutus being the Greek God of wealth, corresponding in many ways to the Semitic Mammon, the New Testament demon of greed and materialism. In this case, the two figures perhaps represent the chained figures of the previous card, set free at last. For both Pollack and Banzhaf, the card represents a psy
chological breakthrough into a new realm of consciousness and self-understanding, in which our erroneous perceptions of the world are destroyed in a “single blinding flash.”6

  In the Story of the Buddha: The Three-Fold Knowledge

  After his defeat of Mara, the Buddha remained meditating under the Bodhi tree and under a full moon, where it is said that he gained three subsequent realizations into the deathless state, known collectively as the Three-Fold Knowledge. In the “first watch of the night” he gained the knowledge of his previous existences. In the Bhayabherava Sutta, the Buddha recounts that when he had purified his mind, he directed it towards the recollection of past lives. He remembered various births and deaths, including names, appearances and places of origin, until at last he “reappeared here.”7

  In his post “The First Watch of the Night,” Mark Knickelbine puts forward a “naturalistic” explanation of this realization, based upon his reflections on metta (“loving-kindness”). In metta meditation, as we explored in The Lovers card, Buddhists attempt to extend thoughts and feelings of love towards others, even those we do not “like.” Knickelbine admits that this can be a challenging undertaking, but points out that it can be achieved through the recognition that we all share fundamental things in common. Perhaps the meaning of the first watch experience then is that enlightenment awakens us to an experience of “our common humanity.” At whatever time and however we are born, we all share in the basic existential conditions of Samsaric life; and, at the same time, the same “potential to wake up.”8