For this last idea to be made a point of implies that the opposite was sadly often the case. We can also learn from this story that even the humblest of devas have magical powers of transformation, and can make themselves visible to humans in some form if they so choose. Further, we learn from these stories of the family relations among devas, who are very fond of their children. Bhummadevas generally are born by spontaneous arising, like the higher devas, but later sources say that some of them also give birth via the womb (Vism 17:154). At times, there may be sexual attraction between devas and humans, as in the Samiddhi Jātaka (Jāt 167) where a female deva, (devadhitā, “daughter of the devas”) sees a hermit bathing and declares her love for him, attempting without success to seduce him away from his asceticism.
At this lowest level of the devas, there is sometimes very little distinction made between devas, petas and yakkhas:
A certain poor tailor lived in the same city as a wealthy merchant. The merchant was widely known for his great generosity, and when beggars came looking for the merchant’s abode, the tailor would stand outside his shop, pointing the way with a joyful heart. Because of this, when he died he was reborn as a tree-deva in a banyan tree in a desert oasis. When weary travelers stopped in the tree’s shade, they would see a golden hand, dripping with honey, pointing with a finger. And where the hand pointed, there would appear food and water. (Pv-a 2:9)
In the course of the story from which the above is an excerpt, this same being is called a deva, a peta and yakkha indiscriminately. The appellation of yakkha is generally used to emphasize the being’s powers. On the contrary, the word peta implies a being in a state of suffering. Whereas a rebirth as a bhummadeva is classed as a happy one, and is the result of making merit, their happiness is not on the same level as that of the higher devas. For one thing, the pleasures they enjoy are dependent on a material basis. As we have seen, rukkhadevas suffer greatly when the trees they dwell in are felled.
There is, nevertheless, one important way in which the bhumma devas have an advantage over the higher devas. If a higher deva should attain to arahatta, the state of full awakening, he or she must immediately perish because an arahant cannot exist in an entirely sensual world. Even in the case of humans, a lay arahant must either die or go forth as a bhikkhu or bhikkhunī within seven days. However, a bhumma deva who becomes an arahant can continue to live in that state indefinitely because they can seclude themselves in a remote place far away from sensual attractions (DN-a 29).
The relations between bhummadevas and humans are complex. Sometimes humans worship bhummadevas, as we have seen, making food offerings at their trees. There are accounts of this happening in ancient India, and the contemporary Thai custom of building “spirit houses” is another form of this custom. Sometimes they reward their worshippers, for example by revealing buried treasures to them (Jāt 307). Although the devas are generally benevolent towards humans, it seems that our coarse physical form and particularly our odour is offensive to them. (On the other hand, the scent of a moral person is “pleasing to the devas” and travels even against the wind) (AN 3:80, Eng. AN 3:79).
A thousand families seeking a home sailed in a large ship to a pleasant island, filled with all manner of fruit trees and other good things in abundance. A lone castaway lived there before them, and he warned them that powerful devas lived there too. He said that they would not trouble the people so long as they kept their living places clean and always buried their bodily waste. The people enjoyed life on the island for a long time, but one day they held a festival and got drunk on toddy made from sugar-cane. While intoxicated, they emptied their bowels and their bladders heedlessly about the island. This angered the devas who decided in council to wait until their powers were at a peak on the full moon and then to cleanse the island with a mighty flood. A kind-hearted deva took it upon himself to warn the people, and advised them to build a new ship and sail away. Knowing this, a cruel-minded deva also appeared to the people and told them not to worry, the first deva was only trying to trick them into leaving. Half the human families followed a wise leader and built themselves a boat straightaway. The others listened to the second deva and all perished when waves poured over the island. (Jāt 466)
From this we can see also that the devas vary in terms of their morality, and have power to effect human life for good or ill. Sometimes they act out of simple mischief. One example is the devī (female deva) who played a mean trick on a good bhikkhu. He had gone into the bushes to relieve himself and when he emerged, she followed close behind him in the form of a pretty young woman hastily adjusting her garments. This caused him to suffer an undeserved scandalous reputation among his fellow bhikkhus. The devī suffered terrible karmic results from this prank, being reborn in niraya. When she finally became reborn as a human male and took ordination, the residue of his kamma caused him to be followed everywhere by the illusory form of a woman, so that he too suffered disrepute (Dhp-a 10:4).
Devas vary in terms of wisdom. The foolish and greedy ones set up their abodes in solitary trees close to human villages, hoping for worship and offerings, whereas the wise ones choose to dwell in remote, dense forests where the interlocking branches protect the trees against storms (Jāt 74).
Rukkhadevas, those living in trees, have some governance over the tree and have their duties to perform, rukkhadhamma or tree-duty:
Long ago, the great king Koravya had a mighty banyan tree called Supatiṭṭha. It’s branches spread over twelve yojana. The tree produced an abundance of huge fruits, as sweet and delicious as honey. One portion of the fruit was enjoyed by the king and his concubines, another by the army, another by the common people, another was for the brahmins and samaṇas, and one was reserved for the birds and beasts. It happened one day that a man rested in the shade of Supatiṭṭha, enjoyed some of its fruit and then heedlessly broke a branch before going on his way. This angered the deva who dwelt in the tree and he caused it to stop bearing the wonderful fruit. King Koravya told this to Sakka, the king of the gods, and he made a mighty tempest which overturned the banyan tree and tore its roots out of the ground. The deva stood by the tree weeping for the loss of his home. Sakka appeared before the deva and asked him if he had been keeping rukkhadhamma (“tree-duty”). “But what is that?” “A tree keeps rukkhadhamma if when someone grubs for the roots, picks the leaves, plucks the fruit or strips the bark, he does not make it a cause for complaint. If you keep to your rukkhadhamma in the future, I shall restore your home to its former place.” The deva promised to do so, and Sakka magically restored the tree. (AN 6: 54)
The Buddha told this story to the bhikkhu Dhammika as a parable with the meaning that he should bear any insult without animosity.
Bhummadevas, and occasionally higher types, are sometimes depicted as admonishing forest dwelling bhikkhus who have gone astray in one way or the other. An entire chapter of the Saṃyutta Nikāya is devoted to these episodes.506 In each case, a bhikkhu or a group of bhikkhus, are found negligent in some specific way: thinking sensual thoughts, falling asleep, or associating too much with lay people. Then the deva inhabiting that part of the forest will appear to the bhikkhu and admonish him in several stanzas of Pali verse, after which the bhikkhu “acquires a new sense of urgency.” Sometimes the deva’s verses are sarcastic or teasing, as in the story of the “scent-thief.”
A certain bhikkhu was in the habit of wading into a pond to smell the lotuses which grew there. The deva who lived there appeared to him and admonished him in verse:
When you sniff this lotus flower,
An item that has not been given,
This is one factor of theft:
You, dear sir, are a thief of scent
When the bhikkhu objects (also in verse) that he has not damaged the plants, and asks why the deva does not admonish those who tear them up by the roots, she replies:
When a person is rough and fierce,
Badly soiled like a nursing cloth,
I have nothing to say to him:
But it’s to you that I ought to speak.
For a person without blemish,
Always in quest of purity,
Even a mere hair’s tip of evil
Appears as big as a cloud.
The bhikkhu thanks her, and asks her to admonish him again in the future whenever she sees him going astray. But to this the deva speaks one final verse:
We don’t live with your support,
Nor are we your hired servant.
You, bhikkhu, should know for yourself
The way to a good destination.507
Such woodland devas are also seen lamenting when good bhikkhus move away from their habitat (SN 9:4). There is also this story, from the Visuddhimagga:
A certain elder bhikkhu was dwelling at the Cittapabbata Vihara (in Sri Lanka) and was devoted to the practice of mettā (“loving-kindness”) meditation. At the end of the rains retreat, he started thinking of moving somewhere else. A deva living in a maṇila-tree at the end of his walking path began to weep. The elder asked after the sound, and the deva introduced herself as Maṇiliyā and said she was weeping because he was going away. “As long as you dwell here, the devas are in harmony. If you leave, they will fall into quarrels and loose talk.” So he agreed to stay where he was. (Vism 9:69)
A story about a river-deva living in the Ganges illustrates something of their nature and their relations with human beings:
When Brahmadatta was king of Bārāṇasi there were two brothers who travelled up the Ganges on some business whereby they made a thousand kahāpaṇa (a unit of money). Before boarding the boat for the return journey they ate a meal by the river bank and the elder brother threw the left-overs into the river for the fishes, giving the merit of the gift to the nadīdevatā (“river deva.”) The deva rejoiced in the gift and thereby experienced an increase in her508 divine power (dibba yasa). Reflecting on this, she knew what action had made this happen.
Now, whereas the elder brother was good and honest, the younger brother had a somewhat thievish nature. He made up a parcel of gravel to look like the parcel of money, and when they were in the middle of the river he pretended to accidentally kick it overboard. “Brother, the money has gone overboard! What should we do?” “It has fallen into water, there is nothing to be done. Don’t give it another thought.” But the thievish brother had made a mistake and kicked over the real parcel of money, leaving him with just the gravel.
The nadīdevatā thought, “By this one has my divine power increased. I will safeguard his property.” So, by her power she caused a great fish to swallow the parcel of money, thus holding it safe.
When the brothers got home, the younger was at first elated at the trick he had played on his brother but when he opened the parcel and saw the gravel, he fell to his bed, sick at heart. Meanwhile, some fishermen had caught the fish in their net. Afterward, they went into the city to sell their catch. When people asked how much they wanted for the big fish, they said “One thousand kahāpaṇa and seven māsaka” (a small coin of little worth) The people laughed, “Now we have seen a fish worth a thousand kahāpaṇa!” At last the fishermen came to the door of the elder brother and said “Buy our fish.” “How much is it?” “You can have it for seven māsaka, but for others it is one thousand kahāpana more.”
So he bought the fish and gave it to his wife to cook. When she cut it open, they found the parcel of money. (Jāt 288)
There are a couple of points worth noting in this story. First, the mechanism by which the river deva increases her power is identical to the way the sharing of merit works in the case of petas.509 The elder brother did not give an offering directly to the deva; he gave some scraps of food to the fish and made the merit over to her. Furthermore, the increase in her power occurred only after she rejoiced (anumodati) in the act of generosity. This is in spite of the doctrine that sharing of merit only benefits those in the peta realm. Another point of interest is the way in which the deva exercises her power to help her benefactor. She did not act directly, but through the agency of other beings: the fish and the fishermen. Both of these are beings who live dependent on the Ganges and may be considered in some sense under her dominion.
Some bhummadevas live in towns and cities; these are given the appellation nagaradevatā. It seems that their favourite dwelling place is over a gateway, such as were found in the walled compounds which were the homes of the wealthy in ancient India:
Anāthapinḍika was a very wealthy merchant, and a devout follower of the Buddha. His home had seven gateways, and over the fourth gateway there dwelt a devī who had wrong views (micchaditṭṭhikā-devatā). Whenever the Buddha or one of his disciples came to see Anāthapinḍika, she was compelled to leave her place and flee to the first floor. This annoyed her, so she appeared to Anāthapinḍika hovering in the air and attempted to persuade him to stop making meal offerings to the Buddha and the Saṅgha. Anāthapinḍika responded by expelling her from his home. She left weeping with her children in tow and appealed to the chief deva of the city (nagara-pariggāhaka-devaputta). He had no sympathy, calling her wicked. She then went to the Four Great Kings, with the same result. Finally, she went to Sakka, King of the Devas in Tāvatiṃsa, who told her that Anāthapinḍika had almost exhausted his wealth, and advised her that she could make amends by finding him more. This she did in three ways: by using her deva powers to recover some treasure he had lost at sea, by finding him new wealth in the form of a buried treasure and by going with some fierce young yakkhas to dun his negligent debtors. Afterward, she again appeared before Anāthapinḍika and begged his forgiveness, which he gave her after taking her to the Buddha to take the triple gem as refuge. (Jāt 40)
Here we have a fascinating glimpse into the internal government of the devas, and an example of both their powers and their vulnerability. The episode near the end which has yakkhas acting as bill-collectors may be a droll image, but nevertheless somehow appropriate; one imagines it would at least be effective!510
3:5:4 VALĀHAKA-DEVAS
The valāhakadevas, cloud-devas, dwell in the clouds and have some control over the weather. They are divided into cold-cloud devas, warm-cloud devas, storm-cloud devas, wind devas and rain devas. Creating weather is, for these devas, an act of play (kīḷā) (DN-ṭ 27). When a storm-cloud deva, for instance, causes a storm it is due to his “revelling in his own kind of delight” (SN 32:7). During the hot season they do not like to stir from their vimānas, it being too hot to play, hence it does not rain, “even a single drop” (DN-a 27). These devas, however, are not the sole cause of the weather; the commentary lists seven: the power of nāgas, the power of supaṇṇas, the power of devas, the power of an assertion of truth, natural weather (utusamuṭṭhāna- lit. caused by temperature), the workings of Māra and supernormal power (SN-a 32:1). The sub-commentary explains that normal seasonal changes are simply the work of natural processes, but unusual weather is caused by action of these devas.511
It is also said that the morality of human beings has an indirect effect on the weather; by causing the sky devas to become either pleased or annoyed. When the state of human morality is good the devas are pleased and the rain falls regularly in due season; when human morality is bad, the devas are displeased and withhold the rains (AN 4: 70). However, it may also happen that the cloud-devas are simply distracted by play and become heedless (AN-a 5: 197) because they are, after all, beings of the plane of sense desire. As this is said to be among the causes of failure of the rains which the prognosticators (nemitta) do not know and cannot see, it may explain why weather forecasts are so often wrong!
3:5:5 THE TERRESTRIAL SAGGAS
Above the bhummadevas in the celestial hierarchy are the devas who live in their own special realms, known as saggas. In translation, these are often called the “sensual heavens” but just as in the case of translating niraya as “hell,” the English words carry unwarranted cultural baggage. A sagga differs from the heaven of theistic religions in at least two important respects: First,
the principle that there is no immortality in the Buddhist cosmos applies. Devas living in the saggas have very long life-spans by human standards, but when their kamma runs out they decease from that place and are reborn elsewhere. A sagga is not a final destination, but just one among many possible stations of transient rebirth. Second, the saggas are not even the highest possible position among these stations of rebirth. Above them are the planes of form and the formless, to be discussed later. And all of these are part of conditioned existence, that is to say saṃsāra, subject to imperfection and impermanence.
There are six hierarchically arranged saggas altogether. All are considered part of the kāmabhūmi, the plane of sense desire. The two lowest of these still have some physical connection with the earth as they are located on Mt Sineru, the great mountain at the centre of the world: the Cātumahārājika Sagga (“Realm of the Four Great Kings”) half-way up the slope, and Tāvatiṃsa (“Realm of the Thirty-Three”) at its summit. These realms have more interaction with the human realm than do any of the higher heavens. They also have considerable connections with each other: the Four Great Kings are the vassals of the Thirty-Three and serve, among other functions, as the first line of defence against the war-like asuras who are perpetually at war with these gods. There is considerably more descriptive literature to be found about these realms, particularly Tāvatiṃsa, than about any others. Usually when the texts refer simply to sagga it is Tāvatiṃsa that is implied.
3:5:6 CĀTUMAHĀRĀJIKA REALM OF THE FOUR GREAT KINGS
The Cātumahārājika (lit. “Four Great Kings”) Realm is presided over by four powerful devas who each preside over one of the four cardinal directions. These are known as the cattāro mahārājā (“Four Great Kings”) and are the protectors of the world. Each one is also the ruler of one race of beings who serve as his army and his retinue. The Four Great Kings are:
The Buddhist Cosmos Page 39