ARTICLE - Constantly Reimagining The Ineffable

In the aftermath of the Buddha's death, his followers were divided amongst themselves on how they should memorialise him. The Buddha believed his legacy was his teachings. If they were going to honour his life they could do nothing better than fully practice them.

The contentiousness was focused around the Buddha's relics. Who from the broad range of disciples would be allowed to have a relic and to construct a stupa to house them in? Because the demand was high, it was clear not everyone could have one. There followed a rather shameful tussle, literally a power struggle, within the strong factions that existed within Buddhism - monks and lay practitioners, the poor and the rich, the spiritually literal and the more metaphorically minded.

This proved to be just the beginning of two and a half thousand years of debate over, not just how you could inwardly imagine the Buddha, but outwardly represent the state of an Enlightened being. Making any image of the historical Buddha might completely misrepresent what he was, who had been born in Lumbini in the 5th or 6th century BC. As time progressed and there were no people living that could remember the Buddha, how were you to communicate what a Buddha, what an Enlightened person was like?

Relic containing commemorative stupas set the precedent. Stupas became a primary way to represent the Buddha. A spiritually inflected elemental symbolism being introduced into its architectural structure. Stupa's were the first real attempt, post the Buddha's death to grapple with the question - how do you represent not just the historical Buddha, but Buddhahood itself, of Enlightenment as a quality within the universe to which you could aspire? The first response was paradoxically the best one - to make it abstract. 

Venerating the historical Buddha was clearly not what The Buddha wanted, becoming the focus of a personality cult ran counter to his teachings. Hence during the first century after his death, there are no representational figurative images. The Buddha was to be suggested not by presence, but by absence - the empty throne - the Buddha's footprints - a riderless horse - the bodhi tree - the Dharmachakra wheel. You were visually being urged to sit where he sat, walk the way he walked, follow what he taught. Its as though the imagery was speaking to you, and saying -Look he's not here anymore, what are you going to do? Go away and practice wholeheartedly. 

And maybe this would have been how it would have stayed, had not Alexander the Great briefly conquered parts of the north western edges of the Indian sub continent. The influence of Greek Hellenistic art on representations of The Buddha, with its realistic emphasis on the spiritual imagination, cannot be underestimated. The classic Rupa form and styling, of The Buddha dressed in artfully pleated clothes and top knot, comes completely to define how an Enlightened being was to be represented. 

There would not be another comparable representational shift in Buddhism until the emergence of the Mahayana in the 1st century BC and later Vajrayana 5th-8th century CE. When folk stylings drawn from ethnic Hinduism and later exotic Tibetan and Chinese influences, vastly expanded Buddhist imagery, its archetypal symbolism, Cosmic Buddhas, Mandalas, various peaceful and wrathful forms of Bodhisattvas, alchemical spirits, demons and nymphs. You name it, it was all given visual form. 

The Buddha's archetypal form had always been multi-faceted, simultaneously historical, symbolic and cosmic. All Buddhist imagery, however we couch them, remain inaccurate facades behind which the ineffable state of Enlightenment resides. Imagery acting as a means through which to connect with the state of Enlightenment, as simple conduits, orientating us towards where the ineffable may be. Beyond any concept, mental construct or visualisation we may hold of it.

Buddhism is not unusual in having this initial tendency toward aniconism, to not allow representations of its founder, of God, or of an Enlightened person. This is common among many religions, whether theistic or non-theistic. Islam, Judaism, Christianity and Taoism all hold differing levels of antipathy towards the representation of God or whatever it is they consider transcendent and ineffable. At some point words, imagery and metaphor all fail them, they become as though struck dumb. In some, making an image of God or divinity becomes itself a sinful act, punishable by death.

Christianity, emerging as it did out of Judaism, undoubtedly inherited its disapproval of graven images. Idolatry being frowned upon. In the years immediately after the crucifixion, its unlikely any image of Jesus was produced. There is certainly no mention of it, and none have been found. The focus, as in Buddhism, was on promulgating and inculcating his teachings in new disciples, in new places. Symbolism in the form of the fish and the cross provided a unique sense of identity, of Christian unity in the often harsh circumstances of persecution, where you were obliged to be secretive about your faith.

As currently understood, its not until the 2nd century that specifically Christian imagery begins to be found. Even if that sometimes is based upon a very strange amalgam of Christian and Pagan beliefs. What is portrayed with regularity in this period are particular illustrated scenes from the life of Jesus, and this maybe because these were used as a teaching aid. Specifically Christian iconography, as we understand it, does not really begin to blossom until the early 3rd century BCE, just prior to Constantine making Christianity the Holy Roman Empire's established religion. Constantine's adoption of it, certainly turbo charges the production of church imagery. Images of Jesus, his family, disciples, saints and piously devoted rulers start to appear. God's presence, if indicated, is through visual symbolism, a radiating explosion of lines, from which the holy spirit in the form of a dove sometimes emerges. By the Renaissance, God can be explicitly portrayed by Michelangelo as your archetypal white bearded man, as a person just like us. But this is all prior to The Protestant Reformation where the prohibition on graven imagery reasserts itself.

These ups and downs in the use of imagery within Christianity all fall within the cataphatic tradition, that promotes positive encouraging statements, affirming and confirming beliefs. There is a law of attraction, that art can visualise the divine presence, extol a person's sainthood and portray good works as an inspiration to others. That the painted figure of the Virgin Mary can literally form an intercession between you, Jesus, and through him with God. But behind this there has also been the apophatic tradition, where Christian mysticism frequently finds a home. This says, that all visual imagery and the metaphors that are used to speak about the qualities of God in the cataphatic tradition, are false presentations of what the ineffable nature of God is. That God is essentially unknowable via the use of our minds eye. God's true nature is hidden beyond all this imagery, beyond what the power of the imagination can describe in words or visually. And finding union with this unnameable apophatic God is actually the real purpose of the Christian life of devotion, prayer and practice. Though the ineffable is beyond being described, portrayed or implied through metaphor - beyond our imaginative intellect - it can be 'known.'

It appears to be part of human nature to need literalistic imagery. This can help guide and connect us with religious practices and goals, providing a sense of purpose and direction in our spiritual life. In a Buddhist parable from the Lotus Sutra, The Magic City, a group of pilgrims are undergoing an arduous journey to the Magic City, only their guide appears to know in what direction it is. Many of these travellers have moments of huge doubt, some struggle, rebel or fall by the wayside. When the remaining travellers get to where the guide said the Magic City would be, they find nothing. The guide tells them he lied to them in order that they would stick with him on the journey. There is no Magic City. The moral being, that how we imagine what our religious goals are, will only take us so far. Beyond which continuing to be goal orientated becomes an obstacle, an impediment to making further progress.

Imagery then, could be seen as 'the necessary lie', a skilful means, that helps you aspire to move towards objectives that are greater than you can currently envisage. When you are travelling towards where the ineffable is said to be, its helpful to believe you know where you are going. We forget that we do need to constantly reimagine what the ineffable looks like to us. Even if, ultimately, where you are heading is unreachable or unknowable through ideas of making progress, of tangible goals, of actually physically travelling anywhere.