In “The Feminine Concept of Surrender in Vaiava Discourse,” E. H. Rick Jarow examines the complex of meanings that attend to the linkage of the feminine and the soteriological concept of “surrender” in devotional traditions attached to the worship of Viu. Vaiava devotional (bhakti) theologies, from the A¯ lv¯ars to ¯ Rmnuja, Madhvcrya, and on, promote the centrality of “surrender” as essential for the realization of divine love. Such surrender has, moreover, been consistently linked with the “feminine,” either through mood (bhva) or as a devotional sensibility displayed by such paradigmatic female figures as the pativrat (the wife devoted to her lord) or the maidservants of the divine cowherd, Ka. Problems with this position, however, have long been cited by various critical schools that see the propagation of the female devotional sentiment as a linchpin of ruling-class ideologies of hierarchy and subordination. The ethos of self-surrender has been tied in with everything from the dismissal of the corporeal world as my, to the setting up of unbridgeable dichotomies between the transcendent and mundane spheres, to India’s loss of power and sovereignty. This essay looks at both sides of the surrender issue, beginning with an examination of the basic etymologies for surrender in seminal Vaiava texts, and then exploring the “semantics of surrender” through key personalities in devotional literatures. The exploration of the phenomenology of self-surrender eventually comes to the particular bhakti understanding of the inner being as female. Looking into various possibilities as to why a man wants to be a woman before God, this essay seeks to mediate between so-called insider and outsider positions on self-surrender.
The final essay, “Gandhi’s Reconstruction of the Feminine: Toward an Indigenous Hermeneutics” by Veena R. Howard, analyzes the methodology Mohandas Gandhi used to integrate traditional models and modern goals for the freedom of Hindu women. It examines his use and reinterpretation of Hindu mythical characters and stories in securing women’s rights, in seeking to empower them, and in constructing his vision of the Feminine. The essay explores, for example, how Gandhi succeeded in making St, traditionally revered as the model for female sacrifice and subordination, into an example of feminine autonomy and womanly participation in public life. The essay raises several questions about the applicability of Gandhi’s methodology to current issues among Indian Hindus: Can Gandhi’s methodology serve as a hermeneutic for addressing the complex framework of feminine and gender issues? Can it be applied to address the ever-existing tension between traditionally defined roles for women and public roles traditionally monopolized by men? Can Gandhi’s construct of the feminine play a role in empowering women in a globalized world?
CONCLUSION
The academic study of religion is embedded in a world that is increasingly pluralistic, and we live in an age of escalating global interaction. The mutual understanding and respect demanded by our present situation are both aided by, and dependent on, the perception of the “Other” not only as object, but as subject; and not only as subject, but as subject with which we are in conversation. This cannot be achieved solely by the use of what I have referred to here as a hermeneutics of alterity. An exclusive adherence to conventional parameters of investigative engagement cannot lead the way to constructive engagement and creative deliberation grounded in intersubjectivity.
Conversely, the demands of credible scholarship and the need for fostering a constructive approach are both served when conventional parameters are viewed not as boundaries but as starting points, and when scholarship is complemented by a conscious, engaged hermeneutics of intersubjectivity that includes description but also creates room for constructive philosophical reflection.
REFERENCES
Gadamer, Hans-Georg. 2000. “Subjectivity and Intersubjectivity; Subject and Person.” In Continental Philosophy Review 33/3 (July): 284.
Glynn, Simon. 1998. “Identity, Intersubjectivity and Communicative Action.” Paper presented at the Twentieth World Congress of Philosophy, Boston, MA.
Gross, Rita. 1998. Soaring and Settling: Buddhist Perspectives on Social and Theological Issues. New York, NY: Continuum Publishing.
Johnson, Mark. 1993. Moral Imagination: Implications of Cognitive Science for Ethics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Ricoeur, Paul. 1981. Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences: Essays on Language, Action and Interpretation. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Ruether, Rosemary R. 1992. Gaia and God: An Ecofeminist Theology of Earth Healing. New York, NY: Harper Collins.
P A R T I
Theological Reflection
C H A P T E R 1
Sat, Suttee, and Svitr
Arvind Sharma
INTRODUCTION
The ideal of Indian womanhood has often been conveyed through the highly evocative expression “Sat-Svitr.” The figures of Sat and Svitr constitute paradigmatic norms of Hindu womanhood and therefore deserve close semiotic analysis. Sat is viewed as an incarnation of the Mahdev, the Great Goddess, and the princess Svitr is the legendary heroine of the love story of Svitr and Satyavn in the epic Mahbhrata.
One must first recognize that Sat and Svitr are often mentioned in the same breath and therefore must be seen as constituting not just a parity, not just a pair, but something more: a continuum—and that too, an ascending continuum. The point here is that Sat killed herself for the sake of her divine husband, iva (much to his distress), while Svitr did one better—she did not give up her own life but rather saved the life of the husband himself. Perhaps the progressive idealization represented by them becomes clearer if we bring the anglicized term Suttee into the picture, as the woman who burns herself on the pyre with her husband. Many scholars have noted the fact that the Sat, from whom “Suttee” gets its name, did not mount the pyre of her husband but rather killed herself, while he was alive, in protest against his humiliation. So now we have a woman who cannot bear to see her husband insulted, such is her devotion to him, even when he is alive. Then there is the Suttee who cannot bear to be separated from her husband and burns herself on the pyre with him; finally there is Svitr, who accompanies her dead husband, remaining herself alive, and rescues him from the jaws of death.
Thus, from one point of view, one might argue that Sat, who burns herself to death while her husband is still alive, is probably a moral notch above the wife who only burns herself with her deceased husband. However, from another point of view, Sat leaves her husband on his own, while the Suttee accompanies him even in death, and Svitr not only accompanies him but brings him back. Hence if sensitivity to a husband’s honor is the yardstick, then perhaps Sat could be placed above the Suttee, but if devoted companionship for life is the gold standard of womanly virtue, then one can identify a rising moral arc as one moves from Sat, to Suttee, to Svitr. Thus Sat, Suttee, and Svitr, in this reckoning, represent a seamless intensifying ideal of Hindu womanhood, in which a wife’s position is by her husband’s side in every circumstance.
However, this cannot simply be construed as the Hindu version of “stand by your man” regardless of his weaknesses, because: (i) in each of the aforementioned circumstances, whether it is Satï, the Suttee, or Sâvitrï, the husband is blameless; and (ii) the wife’s role is an assertive one (if not aggressive). The wife is not merely a clinging vine standing by her man, but is acting as defender of his honor (Satï); his companion-protector—through her prayers and piety—in the afterlife (the Suttee); or his heroic rescuer (Sâvitrï).
SâVITRï AS A COUNTERMODEL TO SATï
I would now like to revisit this scene to argue that, in some ways, Sâvitrï presents a countermodel to Satï, and maybe the fact that she is mentioned after Satï in the popular expression Satï-Sâvitrï indicates that she represents a higher model, which is discontinuous rather than continuous with that of Satï. The point, simply put, would be that Sâvitrï stands apart in her devotion to her husband, because she does not kill herself (like Satï and the Suttee) but brings him back to life.
My argument possesses both a general and a specific di
mension. Let me begin with the general. The normal value pattern in a patriarchal Hindu household is one in which while the birth of a daughter is not unwelcome, that of a son is preferred. It is also a pattern in which the husband for the daughter is selected by the parents, who give her away in marriage. And it is also a pattern in which while a woman is not expected to burn herself with the husband who predeceases her, she is glorified if she does so. It has not been sufficiently realized that although hailed as the supreme exemplar of Hindu womanhood, Sâvitrï, in her life, did not conform to any of these roles. I translate here the relevant text from the Mahãbhãrata that deals with her birth. It runs as follows:
Yudhisthira said: O Great Sage! I grieve not for myself, nor for my brothers, nor for the loss of kingdom, as much as I do for Draupadï. We were saved by her when harassed by evil people during the gambling match. Then she was forcibly abducted by Jayadratha from the forest. Has any woman been seen or heard of formerly as devoted to her husband and as great as Draupadï?
Mãrkandeya said: King Yudhisthira! Listen to the glory of women of distinguished background and how such distinction was attained by Princess Sâvitrï. There ruled in the country of Madra a pious king, devoted entirely to virtue, who respected Brahmins and those who sought his refuge; who was true to his word, and who had subdued his senses. [This king] was a sacrificer, a liberal donor, competent, loved by his urban and rural subjects, ever engaged in securing the good of all. His name was Avapati. With advancing age, he began to feel depressed and undertook severe austerities for the sake of obtaining progeny. He ate little at appointed times, remained chaste, and subdued his senses. That best of kings offered oblations a hundred thousand times with the Svitr mantra, and ate sparingly only every sixth watch. He spent eighteen years observing this vow. Goddess Svitr, pleased with him at the completion of the eighteenth year, revealed herself to the king, stepping out of the fire-altar with much delight. The boon-giving goddess then spoke to the king as follows: “O King, I am pleased with your chastity, purity, restraint, self-control, and complete devotion to me. O Avapati, king of Madra, ask for any boon you want. You should never falter in doing the right thing.” Avapati said: “I virtuously adopted this course for the sake of obtaining progeny. O goddess, may I have many sons who will extend my lineage. If you are pleased with me, O goddess, then this is what I choose as my wish. The Brahmins tell me that to continue one’s line is one’s supreme duty.” Svitr said: “I have already spoken to Brahm on your behalf for a son, knowing well your desire. By the grace of the self-created Creator, O gentle one, a brilliant daughter will soon be born to you. You should not say anything on this account under any circumstances, for pleased with you I say so in place of Brahm.”
Mrkandeya said: “So be it”: the king acknowledged the words of Svitr, and implored again “Let it be so soon.” Then Svitr disappeared and the king returned to his palace. The king, well-pleased, continued to live in the kingdom, ruling over his subjects virtuously.1
The king and queen pray for a son, and a daughter is born to them instead. And the king is asked by the goddess not “to say anything on this account under any circumstances,” regarding this change of sex! And the king goes away well pleased. This is the first case of value inversion, which I argue, characterizes much of Svitr’s life.
We continue with Svitr’s story, and I would now like to argue that her name itself seems to represent a case of value inversion. The narrative in the Mahbhrata proceeds as follows:
After some time had passed, the devout eldest queen became pregnant. O best of Bharatas, the seed grew in the queen, the princess from Mlava, the way the moon waxes in the bright fortnight. Come time she gave birth to a daughter whose eyes were like lotuses, and the delighted king performed the rites for her. She was the affectionate gift of goddess Svitr she was obtained by offering oblations to Svitr, so the king and the Brahmins named her Svitr.
That she is named Svitr seems innocent enough, but let us consider the fact that there are numerous hymns in the Vedas, “the most sacred being the verse (known as Gyatr as well as Svitr) addressed to the Sun (Savit) as the supreme generative force. It consists of a short prayer or mantra ([RgVeda], III.62.10), translated by Wilson as: ‘We meditate on that excellent light of the divine Sun, may he illuminate our mind,’ repeated by every ‘twice-born’ man at his morning and evening devotions. Its repetition is forbidden to menials and to women” (Stutley and Stutley, 1977: 97; emphasis added).
It is true that women in India are given names such as rut or Svitr, notwithstanding the irony that they don’t have access to what their names denote. I would like to highlight the possibility here that in the case of Svitr it may be a deliberate irony, given the antecedent and subsequent facts about her personal life.
The narrative then moves on as she grows from a child into a young woman, or as the epic puts it:
The princess grew up like goddess Laksm in human form, and in due time the girl became an adolescent. When people saw her, who was like a golden statue as it were, with a slim waist and broad hips—they thought that they were seeing a divine maiden. She had eyes like lotus leaves and she shone forth with brilliance, but no one would marry her; they were intimidated by her brilliance.
They are so intimidated by her brilliance that the father asks her to choose her own husband, another point of value inversion in terms of the tradition. The epic describes the situations as follows:
Then she fasted, washed the head ritually, worshipped the gods, made offering in the fire, and made the Brahmins recite duly on an auspicious lunar day. Then she collected the remaining flowers and approached her high-souled father, like Laksm incarnate. After bowing at her father’s feet and offering the remaining flowers, she stood beside her father with folded hands. The king felt sore distressed at seeing his divinely beautiful daughter in the prime of youth, yet without a suitor.
The King said: My daughter! It is time to give you away in marriage, but no one listens to me. Choose a husband worthy of yourself on your own.2 Present the man you wish to marry to me, and, after making inquiries, I shall give you away. Choose what you want. As I have heard in the books of law recited by Brahmins, so you too, blessed one, hear from me as I spell it out: a father who does not give his daughter away in marriage, a husband who does not approach his wife, and a son who abandons the mother after her husband has died—all are reprehensible. Lose no time in searching for a husband after having heard me speak thus. Act in such a way that I may not be reproached by the gods.
Mrkandeya said: Having spoken thus to the daughter, he deputed his old ministers to accompany her in her travels and urged her: “Proceed.” She, confident but bashful, saluted her father’s feet and, acknowledging her father’s orders, set out without hesitation. She traveled to the attractive hermitages of the royal sages, seated on a golden chariot, surrounded by aged ministers. There she saluted the feet of all the worthies distinguished by age and went through all the forests systematically. She traveled through many a region, distributing largesse in all the holy places among the prominent Brahmins.
O descendant of Bharata! Now the king of Madra was sitting in the assembly hall, conversing with the divine sage Nrada who was visiting him, when Svitr returned to her father’s palace, along with the ministers, after having visited all the places of pilgrimage and the hermitages. Upon seeing her father seated along with Nrada, she bowed with her head at the feet of both of them.
Nrada said: Where has your daughter been, O king, and where is she coming from? Why have you not given away the young girl to a husband in marriage?
Avapati said: It was for this very purpose that I had sent her and she has returned. O divine sage! Hear now what she has to say about the husband she has chosen for herself.
Mrkandeya said: She, being urged by her father to “describe in detail” and acknowledging the words of the divine sage, spoke as follows: “There is a devout katriya lva king, known as Dyumatsena, who later on turned blind. After he had lost his eyes a
nd while his son was still a child, he was deprived of his kingdom by a former enemy who was a neighbor, when he found the opportunity. He left for the forest along with his wife, accompanied by the dear child. Residing in the great forest, he performed severe austerities, observing great vows. His former son has grown up in the hermitage. [His son] Satyavn is the right match for me. I have chosen him as my husband in my heart.”
So traditionally boys are preferred to girls, but the king’s prodigious piet y is rewarded by a girl. Then she is given a name of a mantra that traditionally only boys recite and further, contrary to tradition, she selects a hu sband for her self. When sage Nrada points out that the young man she has chosen for a husband will die in a year, she does not budge and overrules her father:
The King said: O Svitr, fair lady, go and choose someone else. This one shortcoming of his makes short work of all his virtues. As the venerable Nrada has said, who is honored even by the gods: his short life will end in a year when he will cast off his body.
Svitr said: Only once is property divided, only once is a daughter given away in marriage, only once does one say “I give,” these three acts are performed only once. I have chosen my husband once for all—be he long-lived or short-lived, with or without virtue. I shall not choose another. I have made up my mind, then expressed my resolution with words, and I shall follow it up with action. My resolute mind is my authority.
Svitr, hailed as the ideal type of woman in the tradition, keeps going against tradition, like a kite rising against the wind.
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