Category: Chinese

The Many Names of The Nianfo

The nianfo (念佛) is widely recited across many cultures and languages by people who follow the Pure Land Buddhist tradition. In Japanese it is called the nembutsu (念仏), and that is the name I most often use on this blog. In Korean it is the yeombul (염불), and in Vietnamese it is the niệm phật. Just as the name differs by language, the phrase itself has changed pronunciation as it is adopted in other cultures and languages, just like the sutras did.

Let’s look at examples.

The original form of the nianfo (as far as I can tell) comes from Sanskrit language in India. In Sanskrit, “nianfo” was buddhānusmṛti (buddhānussati in Pāli language). The venerable site Visible Mantra states that it was recited like so:1

namo’mitābhāyabuddhāya

In the Siddham script, still used in some esoteric practices, this is written as:

𑖡𑖦𑖺𑖦𑖰𑖝𑖯𑖥𑖯𑖧𑖤𑖲𑖟𑖿𑖠𑖯𑖧

From here, Buddhism was gradually imported into China from India (a fascinating story in and of itself), and because Chinese language and Sanskrit are so different, this was no easy task. Nevertheless, the buddhānusmṛti was translated as nianfo (念佛) and written as:

南無阿彌陀佛

This was how the Chinese at the time approximated the sound of the Sanskrit phrase. In modern, Simplified Chinese characters this looks like:

南无阿弥陀佛

But how does one read these characteres? That’s a fun question to answer.

You see, Chinese has many dialects because of geography, regional differences, and migration of people. Thus, even though Chinese characters are written the same (with only modest regional differences), the way they are read and pronounced varies. Thanks to Wiktionary, I found a helpful list to illustrate:

Dialect or writing systemPronunciation
Mandarin, Pinyin systemNāmó Ēmítuófó or
Námó Ēmítuófó
Mandarin, Zhuyin (Bopomofo) systemㄋㄚ ㄇㄛˊ ㄜ ㄇㄧˊ ㄊㄨㄛˊ ㄈㄛˊ, or
ㄋㄚˊ ㄇㄛˊ ㄜ ㄇㄧˊ ㄊㄨㄛˊ ㄈㄛˊ
Cantonese, Jyutping systemnaam4 mo4 o1 mei4 to4 fat6
naam4 mo4 o1 nei4-1 to4 fat6
naa1 mo4 o1 mei4 to4 fat6, or
naa1 mo4 o1 nei4-1 to4 fat6
Hakka, Sixian or Phak-fa-su systemNà-mò Ô-mì-thò-fu̍t
Nà-mò Ô-nî-thò-fu̍t
Nà-mò Â-mì-thò-fu̍t
Eastern Min, BUC system
Nàng-mò̤-ŏ̤-mì-tò̤-hŭk
Puxian Min, Pouseng Ping’ing systemna2 mo2 or1 bi2 tor2 hoh7, or
na2 mo2 or1 bi2 tor2 huoh7
Southern Min (a.k.a. Hokkien), Peh-oe-ji systemLâm-bû O-bí-tô-hu̍t
Lâm-bû-oo-mì-tôo-hu̍t

Of these dialects, I am only familiar with Mandarin and (to a much lesser extent) Hokkien, so I can only trust the others based on Wikipedia.

Anyhow, China was a powerful, dynamic culture at the time, and it had a profound influence on its smaller neighbors such as the Korean peninsula, Japan, and northern Vietnam (a.k.a. Dai Viet). Just as the neighbors of the Romans (including the Byzantines) absorbed Roman culture, the neighbors of China did the same even though the languages were very different.

Thus, the nembutsu in these languages became:

LanguageHow to Recite
JapaneseKanji: 南無阿弥陀仏
Romaji: Namu Amida Butsu
KoreanHanja: 南無阿彌陀佛
Hangul: 나무아미타불
Romanization: Namu Amita Bul
VietnameseChữ Hán: 南無阿彌陀佛
Quốc ngữ: Nam mô A-di-đà Phật2

What about Tibetan Buddhism? I am really unfamiliar with that tradition, so I might be wrong here, but my understanding is that Tibetan veneration of Amida Buddha stems from a different tradition, so instead of the nianfo, they recite appropriate mantras instead. Beyond that, I don’t know.

Anyhow, this is a brief look at how a simple Sanskrit phrase has evolved into so many traditions and ways to express veneration to the Buddha of Infinite Light. Thanks for reading!

𑖡𑖦𑖺𑖦𑖰𑖝𑖯𑖥𑖯𑖧𑖤𑖲𑖟𑖿𑖠𑖯𑖧
南無阿彌陀佛
Namu Amida Butsu

P.S. Another post despite my intended rest. The time off really has helped, so it’s been well worth it, but now I am eager to write again. 😌

1 As I’ve written before, writing Sanskrit in the more modern Devanagari script is kind of pointless since Sanskrit was never written in that until late in history, long after Buddhism in India was gone. Sanskrit does not have a native script either, so the Roman Alphabet is as god as any.

2 Brushing off my college Vietnamese, this is pronounced as “Nam-moe Ah-zee-dah-fut”.

Taiwanese and the Roman Alphabet

Lately, my exploration of the Hokkien language of Chinese, in particular as it is spoken in Taiwan, continues. The amount of educational resources for Taiwanese Hokkien is far less than Mandarin since it is more of a “street language” than an official language, but I have been able to find some excellent material thanks to my Taiwanese-speaking friend.

One of the first challenges of learning Taiwanese Hokkien is how to read it. Taiwanese Chinese uses traditional Chinese characters compared to mainland China which uses a simplified character set.1 So the word for “doctor” in mainland, simplified Chinese is 医生, while in Taiwan it’s 醫生.

But even the Romanized form of Taiwanese, meaning Taiwanese expressed using the Roman alphabet, is complicated and has some history.

The original Romanization system and still popular today is Pe̍h-ōe-jī (白話字, “pay-way-jee”) which is also “church Romanization” because it was developed by Christian missionaries in the 19th century. Having studied Vietnamese in college for two years, another writing system that was originally developed by Western missionaries, Peh-oe-ji and Vietnamese script look pretty similar to me. You can see how the missionaries were thinking at the time, and how their own language influenced their Romanization efforts.

Anyhow, Peh-oe-ji is still widely used, and many text books still use it. However, it also shows its age, and can be hard for modern 21st century English speakers to learn. Plus, has some obvious cultural baggage, so the government of Taiwan has tried to develop a different Romanization system.

The first effort, Taiwanese Language Phonetic Alphabet (TLPA) tried to modernize the system and replace some of the complicated diacritics and spellings to something easier. This made TLPA far easier to type, but it never quite caught on. People were so used to Peh-oe-ji that they stuck with it.

A second effort, called Tâi-lô (臺羅, “dye-luh”) represents a compromise between the two: streamlined like TLPA, but retains some older spellings like Peh-oe-ji.

For example, let’s look at the character 平 meaning “flat”. In Peh-oe-ji, it’s written as pên while in Tai-lo it’s pênn. The first one, with the tiny “n” superscript, means that it’s a nasal vowel sound. So, it sounds like English word “buh”, but more nasally. In the Tai-lo system, it’s expressed with a double-n.

Another example is 錢 meaning “money”. In Peh-oe-ji, it’s written as chîn while in Tai-lo it’s written as tsînn. The second one feels more “what you see is what you get” to me, even if the nasal ending takes some getting used to.

Plus, there are eight different tones used in Taiwanese Hokkien compared to four in Mandarin (or five in Vietnamese). Thus, you can get different words from just saying “i” differently:

  • 醫 i
  • 與 í
  • 衣 ì
  • 台 î
  • 易 ī

To help illustrate this more, let’s compare the first 10 numbers in Taiwanese and how they’re romanized in one system or another. If you want to hear how they are pronounced, check out this podcast episode. I also included Mandarin Chinese and Japanese for fun comparison.

NumberChinesePeh-oe-jiTai-loMandarinJapanese
1一chi̍ttsi̍tyīichi
2二nn̄gnn̄gèrni
3三sansannsānsan
4四sìsìsìshi
5五gō’gōowǔgo
6六la̍kla̍kliùroku
7七cchittshitqīshichi
8八pehpehbāhachi
9九káukáujiǔkyu
10十cha̍ptsa̍pshíju

Interestingly, the podcast I listen to uses Tai-lo, but the textbook I bought uses Peh-oe-ji, so there really is no clear-cut consensus for Romanizing Taiwanese.

What’s really interesting is how native Taiwan people manage all this. Taiwanese people natively use Chinese characters of course, but they juggle the Mandarin reads of those characters with other dialects (Hokkien, Hakka, etc). To help with this, Taiwan developed its own syllabary system called Bopomofo to help young students learn how to pronounce Chinese characters. Additionally, Romanized words are often used alongside this in a system called Hàn-lô (漢羅, lit. “Chinese-Roman”). My textbook explains that it’s not unusual to see a sentence like so:

聽–leh! 我 kā 你 ê 錢 khǹg tī hia.

Listen! I put the money over there.

Page 29, “Taiwense Grammar” by Phillip T. Lin

According to the book this is often used in situations where certain Chinese characters are used by Taiwanese (not Mandarin) and might be a hassle to look up or type.

Anyhow that’s a brief look at Taiwanese and how people have tried to express Taiwanese language using the Roman Alphabet. Thanks for reading!

P.S. featured photo for this post is the skyline of Taipei, capital of Taiwan. Photo by 毛貓大少爺, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

P.P.S. Today will also be a double-post. Hope you enjoy!

1 Modern Japanese kanji is somewhere in the middle: some characters are simplified, some not. I am unclear why it developed this way.

Hokkien: the Forgotten Chinese Dialect

This is not something I usually post about, but after my recent post about Ando Momofuku, I learned some fascinating things about Chinese language and wanted to share with a wider audience. In high school, I took two years of Chinese language and was an enthusiastic student. We learned the Mandarin dialect, though our teacher was from Taiwan, and we never really explored other dialetcs.

However, over the years, I’ve met various overseas Chinese who don’t speak Mandarin-dialect Chinese as a first language, and instead know Cantonese, Toisan, Taiwanese and so on. The history of Chinese languages and its various dialects is complicated. Fascinating, but far too much to cover here and I am not expert. In fact, it’s fair to say that all these dialects aren’t really dialects, but more like a language family, in the same was as Latin to French, Italian and Spanish, or Sanskrit to Hindi, Bengali, and Marathi, etc.

But I did want to cover a particular dialect that’s actually pretty widespread and influential, but not well-known: Hokkien (福建話, hoh-kee-en), sometimes also called Minnan or Bân-lâm (閩南) among other names. In Mandarin, this dialect is called Fújiànhuà (“Fujian speech”). So, we might think of Hokkien as Fujian-dialect Chinese, although as this video explains, that’s not 100% accurate:

It helps to think of Hokkien as one form of “Southern Chinese” vs. Mandarin “Northern Chinese”. This is a very rough comparison, but helps illustrate the history behind the two dialects. Hokkien is one of many, many dialects in southern China, where mountainous geography kept many communities isolated from one another over time. Meanwhile, Mandarin has its origins in northern plains of China, which also happens to be where most Imperial capitals resided in Chinese history, hence it had more influence and prestige.

Another thing to note is that the vast majority of the Chinese characters used are the same regardless of dialect, but they are read and pronounced differently depending on the dialect:

But out of all the fascinating dialects in Southern China, why am I writing about Hokkien? Two reasons.

The first reason is that the influence of Hokkien is surprisingly wide. It’s a very common dialect spoken across Southeast Asia. One of my long-time friends is Indonesian Chinese, and he told me that many people use it in Indonesia, and explained how Hokkien terms often get mixed in Indonesian conversational speech (which is natively Malay, not Chinese). This video below is a fascinating explanation of how Hokkien spread, and has continued to thrive across Southeast Asia.

Hokkien is also an important language in Taiwan. Mandarin became one of the national languages after the Nationalists fled there after 1950, but Hokkien (via Taiwanese) is very widespread too. I have a childhood friend who’s a second-generation Taiwanese-American, and he grew up learning both Mandarin (for practical reasons, every Chinese person knows at least some Mandarin), but also Taiwanese language. When his father passed away last year, I attended the funeral,1 and it was the first time I ever heard Hokkien spoken since most of the attendees were fellow Taiwanese people, and the eulogy was spoken in Taiwanese. Taiwanese is a form of Hokkien, probably the most widely spoken.

So, it’s used far more often than one might expect. But if you didn’t know how to distinguish Hokkien from Mandarain from Cantonese, you might easily miss it.

The second reason I am talking about this might surprise you.

Hokkien has a big influence on Japanese language, because that’s where all the on-yomi (“Chinese readings”) of Kanji come from, not Mandarin.

It’s easier to see when you actually compare words in Japanese, Hokkien, and Mandarin.

A common word in Japanese is 感謝 (かんしゃ, kansha) meaning “gratitude” or to be thankful. In Mandarin this is pronounced as gǎn xiè. That sounds fairly close. But in Hokkien it’s gam sia, (“gum shyah”) which sounds even closer.

Another example is the character 我 (“wa” or “ga”) in Japanese and is used for things like “self”, “mine”, “our”, etc. In Mandarin this is pronounced as wǒ, but in Hokkien it’s wa or gwá. Again, this sounds closer to Japanese than Mandarin does.

If you are curious to learn some basic Hokkien words, this is a nice video below, though it does not include Chinese characters (Romanization only):

This video is a fun, light-hearted comparison between Hokkien and other dialects by someone trying to learn Hokkien but who grew up learning Cantonese instead.

Side note, I asked my Taiwanese friend about how well he could understand other southern dialects. To him, Teochew was fairly easy to follow, but Cantonese was 50-50 for him: sometimes he could pick up what was being said, other times he could not.

Anyhow, that’s a very brief look at Hokkien by someone who’s obviously not Chinese, but fascinating by its influence across Asia. I hope to write more about Hokkien as I learn more, but I am quickly discovering how limited resources are. The only dictionary I could find was from 1922 and used for missionary work. Clearly, more research needs to be done, but I am happy to see younger generation Chinese making all these helpful Youtube videos to share information rather than Westerners doing it.

P.S. Featured photo is the city of Quanzhou (“chwan-joe”, 泉州), birthplace of Hokkien.

1 His parents had always been kind to me in school, and patient when I practiced my Chinese language skills with them.

Introducing the Heart Sutra

Recently, I wrote a brief introduction to the Buddhist canon, the sutras. Sutras come in many shapes and forms, but I want to focus on one of the most famous, and most popular to recite: The Heart Sutra.

A sutra book from Japan showing the Heart Sutra, preserved in old Chinese, but with Japanese pronunciation guides.

The full name of this sutra is the Heart of the Perfection of Wisdom Sutra (般若波羅蜜多心經), and was one in a series of “perfection of wisdom sutras” that were published starting around 2nd century BCE. Starting with the “Perfection of Wisdom in 8,000 Verses Sutra“, the authors made longer and longer versions, culminating to a 25,000 verse version of hte same sutra. Then, they started making shorter versions, getting down to the Diamond Sutra, and finally the Heart Sutra.

Or, so the theory goes.

The Heart Sutra is believed to distill the essence or “heart” of the Perfection of Wisdom teachings to its smallest, most essential version. More on that soon. This version is very short, can be read in 1-2 minutes, and is pretty cryptic. Because it is so short, it is easy to learn and memorize, and thus easy to recite. Its utility for everyday Buddhists is among the reasons it has such lasting popularity. I have a copy of a translation of the 8,000 verse sutra,1 and while it is interesting, it is a tome. It is not practical for most Buddhists to read such a tome, so you can imagine why the Heart Sutra was composed, and why it is so much more popular.

But that gets to an interesting question: who composed it? This is a surprisingly difficult question to answer.

The traditional assumption was that it was composed in India, using Sanskrit language, and then brought to China like most other Buddhist sutras. And yet, a scholar named Dr. Jan Nattier proposed an interesting theory that the Heart Sutra in particular was composed in China, not India, and that it was translated back to Sanskrit, not from it, by our favorite wandering monk Xuan-zang when he visited India. There is considerable debate about this, and valid arguments for one or the other, but it’s an interesting idea that some plucky Chinese monk found a clever way to distill the Perfection of Wisdom teachings into a more bite-sized form.

That said, one of the interesting features of the Heart Sutra is that it does contain a genuine Sanskrit mantra at the end (a trend that continues with later Buddhist texts) in the Siddham script:

𑖐𑖝𑖸 𑖐𑖝𑖸 𑖢𑖯𑖨𑖐𑖝𑖸 𑖢𑖯𑖨𑖭𑖽𑖐𑖝𑖸 𑖤𑖺𑖠𑖰𑖭𑖿𑖪𑖯𑖮𑖯
ga te ga te pā ra ga te pā ra saṃ ga te bo dhi svā hā

For various reasons, this mantra was written in Chinese characters that approximated the pronunciation of the Sanskrit:

𑖐𑖝𑖸 𑖐𑖝𑖸 𑖢𑖯𑖨𑖐𑖝𑖸 𑖢𑖯𑖨𑖭𑖽𑖐𑖝𑖸 𑖤𑖺𑖠𑖰𑖭𑖿𑖪𑖯𑖮𑖯
羯諦 羯諦 波羅羯諦 波羅僧羯諦 菩提薩婆訶

So, what is the teaching of the Heart Sutra?

As I eluded to earlier, the Heart Sutra is the most condensed version of the Perfection of Wisdom teachings, or prajñā-pāramitā in Sanskrit. This was a teaching that provided an important foundation for Mahayana Buddhism (everything from Tibet to Japan). “Perfection of Wisdom” is hard to explain. But, roughly speaking you can think of it as the fundamental understanding of existence, which is sitting right in front of your face, but not obvious until you see it. Like the first time you noticed a small crack in the wall. Once you see it, you don’t “unsee” it.

But instead, the Perfection of Wisdom is about undoing the filters in one’s own mind, so you can see the world unvarnished. That’s easy to say, but extremely tricky to sincerely accomplish. Hence the extraordinary accomplishments of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas.

The Heart Sutra talks a lot about “not this”, and “not that”, and like other similar sutras (e.g. the Diamond Sutra, another of the series), this is to try and undo the filters of one’s own mind. But, on its surface, the Heart Sutra is cryptic and vague. Yet, because it is so pithy, and so over time bits of it start to sink in, or something that didn’t make sense in the past finally clicks.

So, if you do pick up a copy of the Heart Sutra, don’t worry if it doesn’t really make sense. Recite it from time to time,2 study it with help sutras guides (there are many) and make it a part of your Buddhist life, regardless of what tradition you follow.

For a such tiny, little composition, it’s a pretty neat contribution to Buddhism.

1 Purchased years ago at Powell’s City of Books in Portland, OR. One of the best bookstores, and well worth a visit if you go there.

2 Some people recite in their native language, others recite in one or more “liturgical” languages. It doesn’t really matter. Pick something you can stick with. You can change it later.

Measure Words in Japanese

a path leading to a Japanese shrine, with stone lanterns to one side in a row.

Authors’s note: shifting gears a bit as I clear out the blog backlog. 😆

“Measure words” or “counting words” are an interesting phenomenon found in many East Asian languages, but less so in Indo-European languages. This leads to some challenges with counting things.

In English, we might say “one sheet of paper” or “two sticks of incense” or “a box of nails”. But we wouldn’t say “three things of fish”. We say “three fish”, or “three chickens” or “two cows”. People too: two senators, one customer, or three employees. So the use of counting words in English is limited. From what I recall of Classical languages such as Greek, Latin and Sanskrit, it doesn’t exist at all.1 In Japanese, there are counting words for all of them, and some of these counting words can be pretty obscure.

Let’s look at some examples, but first, let’s review basic numbers from one to five:

NumberJapanese WordHiraganaKanji
1Ichi
(ee-chee)		いち一
2Ni
(nee)		に二
3San
(sahn)		さん三
4Shi, Yon
(yohn)		し、よん四
5Go
(goh)		ご五

Four is a special case since there two words for “four”, but for counting stuff, the word “yon” is used.

Anyway, let’s start with good entry-level counting words. For paper, and other flat things like it Japanese counts them with the word “mai” (枚), so counting sheets of paper looks like so (using Kanji):

  1. 一枚 – ichi mai (one sheet)
  2. 二枚 – ni mai (two sheets)
  3. 三枚 – san mai (three sheets)
  4. 四枚 – yon mai (four sheets)
  5. 五枚 – go mai (five sheets)

By the way, it is PERFECTLY normal to use Arabic Numerals for counting too, especially for numbers beyond three.

  • 1枚 – ichi mai (one sheet)
  • 2枚 – ni mai (two sheets)
  • 3枚 – san mai (three sheets)
  • 4枚 – yon mai (four sheets)
  • 5枚 – go mai (five sheets)

Anyhow, the important thing to understand grammatically speaking, is that counting words like this are treated like adverbs, and adverbs in Japanese IMMEDIATELY precede the verb they modify, as in this sentence:

紙を二枚使ったよ。

かみをにまいつかったよ。

kami wo nimai tsukatta yo. “I used two sheets paper”.

In this case, the counting word “ni mai” comes right before the verb to use (使った). It took me a long time to realize this. I kept using the incorrect grammar of nimai no kami wo tsukatta. This is wrong, but is more similar to English, hence my mistake. DO NOT DO THIS. Put the counting word just before the verb and you’ll sound a lot better.

Anyhow, mai is a nice easy counting word and frequently used. Another common counting word is “hon” (本) used for long things, bottles, sticks, and so on:

  1. 一本 – ip-pon (one stick)
  2. 二本 – ni hon (two sticks)
  3. 三本 – san bon (three sticks)
  4. 四本 – yon hon (four sticks)
  5. 五本 – go hon (five sticks)

Wait a minute. Some of them aren’t pronounced as “hon”. Japanese, like many languages, has a grammatical feature called “Sandhi”3 where certain sounds change to make them smoother. English has lots of Sandhi rules, Japanese has relatively few, but one rule is that the “h” sound sometimes becomes a “b” or “p” sound in some cases: n + h = nb, for example. Another rule is that the “chi” or “tsu” sound sometimes becomes a small “tsu”.

Unfortunately, Japanese has a lot of little use-cases like this for counting. There’s no easy way to say this: you just have to memorize these oddities. Most of them make sense when you say them out loud because they evolved to be smoother for native speakers.

But I digress. We’ve learned mai (枚) and hon (本).

Let’s move onto people. This one is particularly tricky:

  1. 一人 – hitori (one person)
  2. 二人 – futari (two people)
  3. 三人 – san nin (three people)
  4. 四人 – yo nin not yon-nin (four people)
  5. 五人 – go nin (five people)

Here, some of the words are complete different, and don’t fit a pattern. This is a somewhat extreme example, but it shows how some common-use cases just don’t always follow a pattern. There are times when you just have to memorize how to count something.

Similarly, for “things” (generic), there is a similar way to count:

  1. 一つ – hitotsu (a thing)
  2. 二つ – futatsu (two things)
  3. 三つ – mittsu (three things)
  4. 四つ – yottsu (four things)
  5. 五つ – itsutsu (five things)

When all else fails, use the generic counter above (except on people!). There are many situations where that is sufficient. If you happen to know the correct, more specific counting word, use that instead.

Anyhow, let’s get back to specific counters. For animals, things get interesting because there are multiple counting words. To list a few that we saw at the top of this post:

  • hiki (匹) – small animals and fish: ip-piki, ni hiki, san biki, yon hiki …
  • wa (羽)- birds and rabbits: ichi wa, ni wa, san wa, yon wa …
  • tō (頭) – large, or hoofed animals: it-tō, ni tō, san tō, yon tō …

So, two cows would be ni tō, while three chickens would be san wa, and three fishes would be san biki.

Let’s talk a bit about rarer counting words.

Tofugu has a great comprehensive list of all the counting words, and some of these are obscure even for Japanese people, but there’s a few worth calling out because they do come up.

You might think that chopsticks are counting using hon as we saw above, but it has its own counting word: “zen” (膳). A single pair of chopsticks is ichi zen (一膳), two pairs are ni zen (二膳), and so on. This counting word is ALSO used for bowls of rice, or bowls of beef and such.

Another example is “chō” (丁). The counting word is used for things like bowls of ramen and kitchen knives, among others. If you wanted to ask for three bowls of ramen, you could say:

ラーメンを3丁下さい。

ラーメンをさんちょうください。

Ra-men wo san-chō kudasai

This one is a bit obscure, but like “zen” (膳) it does come up from time to time, so it’s good to be aware of it.

As I alluded to earlier, this is not a comprehensive list. There are many counting words ranging from very common to very obscure, some even that day to day Japanese might not always know. There are a couple takeaways from this to be aware of as a language student:

  1. counting words behave like adverbs, which in Japanese means that they immediately precede the verb.
  2. some counting words have pronunciation that varies, in order to make smoother sounds. Some are just not pronounced the way you’d expected. You just have to know these, and memorize them.
  3. It is not necessary to know them all. Knowing the most common ones is a good start, and over time you might learn the obscure ones through experience.

Good luck and happy counting!

1 IIRC, numbers behaved like adjectives, so they would describe “two cows” as duas vaccas, since the adjective “two” must agree in case, number and (grammatical) gender with “cows”. English has very minimal inflection like this, so we just don’t do it. The Sanskrit version, btw, is dvau gavau because it still has a “dual” case between singular and plural. Ancient Greek dropped dual not long after Homeric Greek, I think. Sanskrit is thus a super old language, even compared to Greek/Latin because it retains some truly ancient grammar patterns.

2 Originally from the “Sandhi” rules in Sanskrit. Sanskrit has a complex series of rules for sound-changes, and linguists borrowed the term to describe the same phenomenon in other langauges. Sanskrit has a lot of rules, Japanese has relatively few.

Take Two: What Is the Nembutsu?

For months, I’ve had on my to-do list to go and fix up the Wikipedia article about the nembutsu (or nian-fo in Chinese). I had started contributing to that article way back in 2006 shortly after I first got interested in Pure Land Buddhism, and occasionally update or add details. The article was flagged for some quality control issues recently, and I decided to help clean it up.

Some of my early contributions in Wikipedia way back in the day… can’t believe it’s been 18 years.

As I began to write some updates to the article, though, and trying to distill what the nembutsu is within the Pure Land tradition, I realized that this is a really tough question. There’s centuries of interpretations, layers of culture, and divergent viewpoints. I tried to summarize this in an older article, but after reading over that article, I realized that I didn’t quite hit the mark there either.

So, let’s try this again.

Pure Land Buddhism is a large, broad, organic tradition within Mahayana Buddhism (an even bigger tradition). It is not centrally-organized, but follows many trends and traditions across many places and time periods. However, these traditions all have a couple things in common:

  1. Reverence toward the Buddha of Infinite Light (a.k.a. Amitabha Buddha, Amida, Emituofo, etc.). The nature of who or what Amitabha Buddha is is open to interpretation though.
  2. Aspiration to be reborn (as in one’s next life) in the Pure Land of Amitabha Buddha. There have been many ways to interpret what exactly this means, but I am sticking to the most simple, literal interpretation for now.

In any case, these two things are what make the “Cult of Amitabha” what it is. By “cult” I mean the more traditional, academic definition, not the modern, negative definition. Amitabha is to Mahayana Buddhism, what the Virgin Mary is to Catholicism.

Every Pure Land tradition across Buddhist history is mostly focused on #2: how to get to the Pure Land. The early Pure Land Sutras spend much time describing how great Amitabha Buddha is, and how getting to the Pure Land is so beneficial towards one’s practice, but differ somewhat on how get reborn there.

One early sutra, the Pratyutpanna Sutra is one of the first to mention Amitabha and the Pure Land at all, but it very strongly emphasizes a meditative approach, in order to achieve a kind of samadhi. According to Charles B Jones, being reborn in the Pure Land wasn’t even mentioned in this sutra, nor Amitabha’s origin story. It was a purely meditate text. Nonetheless, this sutra was highly favored by the early Chinese Pure Land Buddhists, namely the White Lotus Society started in the 5th century by Lushan Huiyuan.

The main textual source for being reborn in the Pure Land is from the Immeasurable Life Sutra, also called the Larger [Sukhavati Vyuha] Sutra. This is where we see the famous 48 vows of the Buddha, including the most important, the 18th vow (highlights added):

設我得佛。十方衆生至心信樂。欲生我國乃至十念。若不生者不取正覺。唯除五逆誹謗正法

(18) If, when I attain Buddhahood, sentient beings in the lands of the ten quarters who sincerely and joyfully entrust themselves to me, desire to be born in my land, and call my Name, even ten times, should not be born there, may I not attain perfect Enlightenment. Excluded, however, are those who commit the five gravest offences and abuse the right Dharma.

translation by Rev. Hisao Inagaki

This is where things get interesting, in my opinion.

The Chinese character 念 (niàn) was used to translate the Buddhist-Sanskrit term Buddhānusmṛti or “recollection of the Buddha”. But, according to Jones, the Chinese character 念 had multiple nuances in Chinese:

  • To mentally focus on something.
  • A moment in time.
  • Reciting the Confucian Classics aloud.

And in fact each one of these interpretations can be applied to the nembutsu (Chinese niànfó) because it means niàn (念) of the Buddha (fó, 佛).

But which is it: concentration, a moment of recollection, or verbal recitation?

Most of the early Chinese Buddhist teachers like Tanluan, Daochuo and Shandao all promoted a mix: usually visualization was the superior method, but verbal recitation was a fallback for people who couldn’t dedicate themselves to visualization-meditation and ritual. The earliest Buddhist teachers mostly emphasized the visualization-meditation approach, but by Shandao’s time (7th century) the verbal recitation was deemed the most effective method.

Later, in Japan, the monk Genshin (not to be confused with the game…) summarizes these various methods in his 10th century work, the Ojoyoshu. It was a high quality work and even praised by Chinese monks when it was sent over as part of Japan’s diplomatic missions. But Genshin came to the same basic conclusion: the nembutsu can be any one of the three.

Finally we get to Buddhist teachers like Honen (12th century), who taught that the verbal recitation was the only viable choice. Honen praised past methods, but his target audience was a mostly illiterate population, as well as monks whose monastic institutions had largely declined into corruption and empty ritual. So, for such people, better to rely on Amitabha Buddha’s compassion and recite the verbal nembutsu wholeheartedly.

Multi-lingual sign at the temple of Chion-in in Kyoto, Japan where Honen’s mausoleum rests.

This approach isn’t that different from the Chinese approach which varied by teacher or patriarch but through Shandao’s influence had a parallel development. Some teachers emphasized the efficacy of simply reciting the nembutsu (much like Honen), others added the importance of concentration while reciting the nembutsu.

However, turning back to the Larger Sutra, let’s go back to the 48 vows. The 19th and 20th vows state:

(19) If, when I attain Buddhahood, sentient beings in the lands of the ten quarters, who awaken aspiration for Enlightenment, do various meritorious deeds and sincerely desire to be born in my land, should not, at their death, see me appear before them surrounded by a multitude of sages, may I not attain perfect Enlightenment.

(20) If, when I attain Buddhahood, sentient beings in the lands of the ten quarters who, having heard my Name, concentrate their thoughts on my land, plant roots of virtue, and sincerely transfer their merits towards my land with a desire to be born there, should not eventually fulfill their aspiration, may I not attain perfect Enlightenment.

So, taken together, the 18-20th vows cover the various interpretations of 念 we discussed above. All of them are included in Amitabha’s vows to bring across anyone who desires to be reborn there. The common theme is sincerity (至心 zhì xīn). If you look at the original Chinese text, all three include “sincerity”.

Further, when asked about how many times one should recite the nembutsu, Honen replied:1

“….believe that you can attain ojo [往生, rebirth in the Pure Land] by one repetition [of the nembutsu], and yet go on practicing it your whole life long.”

So, let’s get down to business: what is the nembutsu / niànfó ?

Based on the evidence above, I believe that the nembutsu is any of these Buddhist practices described above, taken under a sincere aspiration to be reborn in the Pure Land. It’s about bending one’s efforts and aspirations toward the Pure Land.

If you are calculating how to be reborn, or if your heart’s not 100% into it, then it may be a waste of effort.

Instead, if you feel unsure, study the Buddhist doctrines, get to know the Pure Land sutras, read about past teachers and if you feel fired up about, recite the nembutsu, or do whatever moves you. You will just know when. The more you put into it, the more you get out of it too.

Amitabha’s light shines upon all beings, like moonlight, and if you feel inspired by it, just know that you’re already halfway to the Pure Land.

Namu Amida Butsu

1 The site is long gone, sadly, but the Wayback Machine has an archive of the site. The updated Japanese-only site is here.

Chinese versus Japanese Character Readings

Way back in high school, like most American kids, I had to study things like Spanish, French, etc. I took German for two years in high school, but I didn’t find it very interesting, and I didn’t like my teacher very much. So, I never put in much effort. Later, one of my friends told me that we offered Mandarin Chinese at my high school, and I was just beginning my “teenage weeb phase”, so I was definitely curious.1

Our teacher, Mrs. Wu, was a very nice elderly teacher, even though she was in over her head dealing with a bunch of teenagers. Still, exploring something exotic like Chinese language really interested 16-year old me, and I was a pretty motivated student. I tried to learn both Traditional Chinese characters (used in Taiwan) and Simplified characters (Chinese mainland). My best friend at the time was Taiwanese-American, and I used to practice with his immigrant parents.

Anyhow, long story short, once I got into college, I focused on other priorities, and gradually, I forgot my Chinese studies.

Lately, I have been dabbling in Duolingo and learning Chinese again. I forget why, but I guess it’s partly fueled by nostalgia, but also because I already know how to read many Chinese characters through my studies of Japanese.

It’s been fascinating to see how Japanese kanji (Japanese-imported Chinese characters), and modern Chinese characters overlap and yet differ. The important thing to bear in mind is that Japan (like other neighboring countries), imported Chinese characters at an earlier stage in history, and over centuries the usage, pronuncaition and such have all diverged.

Take this easy sentence in Chinese:

All of these Chinese characters are used in Japanese, and without any prompts, I can read this and get the gist of what its saying, but there’s some notable divergences.

These Chinese sentence above is:

日本菜和中国菜
rì běn caì hé zhōng guó caì

A Japanese equivalent might be:

日本料理と中国料理
nihon ryōri to chūgoku ryōri

A few interesting things to note.

  • The character 菜 is used in modern Chinese to mean food in general, but in Japanese it means vegetables. So the usage has diverged. I noticed that Chinese
  • The country names, 中国 and 日本 are used by both languages, but the pronunciation has also diverged considerably. 中国 is pronounced zhōng guó in Chinese, and chūgoku in Japanese. You can kind of hear the similarities, but also the pronunciation has diverged for centuries.
  • The character 和 (hé) is used in Chinese to mean “and”, but in Japanese a system of particles is used instead. Interestingly, 和 is used in Japanese, for example the old name of Japan was Yamato (大和) or modern words like heiwa (平和, “peace”). The pronunciation is wa, so it has diverged as well.

On thing I haven’t really delved into is the native Japanese readings for Chinese characters. Chinese characters are a foreign, imported writing system to Japan, so native words sound completely different even when written with Chinese characters. The word for 中国 (chūgoku) derives from Chinese, but 中 by itself is pronounced as naka (“middle”) which is a native Japanese word (not imported).

Anyhow, this is just a quick overview of how two entirely different languages both adopted the same writing system, but have diverged over time. If you add in languages like Vietnamese and Korean that also adopted Chinese characters, the picture is even more fascinating.

P.S. Through Duolingo, I learned that the Chinese word for hamburger is hàn-bǎo-bāo.

Chinese has to import foreign words using Chinese characters that at least kind of sound like the original. Japanese uses a second syllabary system, katakana, to approximate the same thing, although in the past Chinese characters were used as well. Hence, America is usually written as amerika アメリカ, but in more formal settings it is called beikoku 米国 (compare the pronunciation with Chinese měi guó).

1 The fact that my high school even offered Chinese language at that time (1990’s America) is pretty unusual, but I am grateful for the option. Also, thank you Mrs Wu if you ever happen to read this.

Liturgical Language and Start-up Buddhism

Warning: this is a rant post.

Although I have happily taken up with a local Soto Zen group in my area, one of the first challenges I’ve noticed is that the group is probably 99% white, and have little or no knowledge of Japanese culture or language, despite the tradition they’ve inherited. This came into stark view when one the teachers, a very nice elderly man, proudly showed some Zen calligraphy that his teacher had composed for him. I could read it, but when I explained how it’s read in Japanese, he simply gave me a confused look.

Further, another peculiarity is that we almost always recite Buddhist liturgy in English. Hearing the Four Bodhisattva Vows chanted in English frankly feels a bit odd to me, though I have gotten used to it. Teachers also frequently mispronounce basic Japanese-Buddhist terms, which is a bit grating for a language student myself.

But then I started thinking about it: am I right to criticize the lack of grounded tradition, or am I just being a Japan-snob? Am I just nit-picking a bunch of minor things while ignoring the positives?

First, I admit I am a giant Buddhist-Japan nerd. I’ve devoted a significant chunk of my life to these two subjects, written more than one blog about it over the span of 15 years, read countless books and updated more than a few articles on Wikipedia. So, my perception of things may be rather skewed. It’s like one of those snobs in a sushi restaurant who insists that “it tasted better in Tokyo”. That’s me sometimes. I have to occasionally stop and remind myself “dude, you’re a huge nerd”.

Further, the Buddha in his own time, taught his disciples in the vernacular languages of the time (Pāli being a kind of lingua franca back then) and encouraged his disciples to continue teaching in whatever local languages were suitable. There was no “holy language” or “liturgical language” in the early Buddhist community. In fact the Buddhist teachings weren’t preserved in Sanskrit, by this point a literary language in India, until centuries later.

So, reciting Buddhist liturgy such as the Heart Sutra or the Four Bodhisattvas in English, even when it sounds a bit clunky, is both practical for disciples in the US, and less intimidating for new students. Expecting students especially new students, to know what Sino-Japanese (Classical Chinese preserved with Japanese pronunciation) is is admittedly unrealistic.

I suppose this is like liturgical language in Christianity. A pious person might wish to read the words of Jesus in the Bible in the original Koine Greek. A lot of Christians wouldn’t necessarily devote the time to do this, but they still go on to be pious, god-fearing Christians. Different people express their faith in different ways.

In the same way, I consider myself a pious Buddhist, so for me, studying and reciting the sutras as they are best preserved, in Classical Chinese, makes sense. Maybe it’s not for other people though. So, when you think about it, who am I judge other Buddhists based on their grasp of other languages?

Still, in spite of all this, the one thing that continues to bother me is the lack of appreciation for, and shallow understanding of, the tradition that we white Buddhists have inherited. When I read Xuanzang’s lament about the state of Buddhism in China at the time in the 8th century, and the need to go all the way India to bring more teachings and knowledge, I empathize with this.

From one shore to another. Speaking of shores…

Buddhist immigrant communities here have maintained a continuous, unbroken tradition from the beginning, passing from generation to generation, in spite of discrimination and challenges adapting to a new culture. By contrast, a lot of start-up Buddhist communities in the US feel somehow half-baked: people trying to imitate “how things are done in Asia”, but there are just some things that can’t be transmitted through books sold at Barnes and Noble. Sometimes those “cultural accretions” that white Buddhists gripe about in their quest for “pristine Buddhism” exist for perfectly good reasons, and enrich the tradition, not detract from it. The problem is when white Buddhists don’t understand something and just write it off as unnecessary. I used to do this too when I first met my wife, now I see things pretty differently.

I was prompted to write about this after an acquaintance told me recently that they used to go to the same community “for the meditation”, and had since moved on to transcendental meditation. That was disappointing thing to hear, and makes me question her motives in the first place. It’s frustrating to hear things like this.

Then again, when I am in Japan and I visit a famous historical site, knowing the history of it, and the dramatic events that happened there, and yet others shrug it off, it frustrates me too. So, sometimes I really think this is just a bunch of snobbery and all in my head.

However, setting aside my self-centered and selfish feelings on the subject, I do think that’s important to keep sharing information, translating things as best as I can, and bridging the cultural gaps. If Buddhism continues to prosper in the West, and beyond, then things will look very different from now, and hopefully more mature (not to mention diverse) too. The little seeds we plant now can have big effects for others we will never see.

P.S. The second chapter of the Lotus Sutra has a verse related to this:

[Even] If persons with confused and distracted minds
should enter a memorial tower
and [only] once exclaim, “Hail to the Buddha!”
Then all have attained the Buddha way.

Translation by Burton Watson

The Challenges of Romanizing Chinese Language

Recently, I was reading a couple old-school fantasy novels set in the Forgotten Realms setting of Dungeons and Dragons: Horselords and Dragonwall. These novels, part of the Empires trilogy, revolve around a fantasy re-telling of the Mongol invasion of Song-Dynasty China.

Dragonwall, in particular, centered on the fictional land of Shou Lung, an analog to Imperial China, and introduced a lot of aspects of Chinese culture, such as Chinese military weapons and armor. The challenge was that these were not always explained and so, I found myself wondering what this sword was, or that piece of armor.

For example, a type of Chinese sword called a chien was frequently mentioned but I had trouble visualizing what it was, so I tried to use Wikipedia. There, the sword is listed as jian, not chien.

Which spelling is correct? In a way, both. In a way, neither.

Welcome to the challenges of expressing Chinese language using the Roman alphabet!

In native Chinese, the jian/chien is written as 劍 or 剑 in Simplified Chinese. . A native speaker probably can read this and know exactly what it means, how it is pronounced, etc. If you are a native English speaker, though, and don’t know Chinese, how do you write 劍/剑 in a way that other native English speakers can understand?

This is a surprisingly tricky issue, and not just limited to Chinese-English. Transliterating words in one language to another is always tricky.

Anyhow, there have been a few attempts to solve this issue of transliterating Chinese to English over the years, and Wikipedia has a very extensive article on the subject, but today we’ll focus on the two most common: Wade-Giles and Pinyin.

Wade-Giles Romanization

Wade-Giles is the older of the two systems, and was the most popular system until the late 20th century, and as a system it is vaguely based on the system used for writing Ancient Greek using the Latin alphabet. Since Ancient Greek had the notion of “rough breathing” as opposed to “smooth breathing” (there was no distinct letter “H” in Greek), apostrophes were used to help distinguish them.

In the same way, letters in Chinese such as “ch” and “j” were distinguished using an apostrophe. Thus “ch’ien” and “chien” would be different. The first uses the English “ch” sound (as in “chop”), while the second uses a “j” sound (as in “jot”). Another example is “t’” versus “t”, as in t’ong versus tong. The first is a hard “t” sound, the second is more like “d”.

If this seems confusing, believe me, it is. Another confusion happens with vowels. The letter “u” is pronounced more like “oh”, whereas “ü” is more like “oo”. Thus, using an example from Wikipedia, the word “k’ung” is pronounced as “kohng”, and “yü” as “yoo”.

Wade-Giles had been the de-facto system for so long, that a lot of English literature that uses Chinese names and words (including my D&D novels above) continues to use it even though it’s frankly pretty antiquated. Wade-Giles is easier to learn upfront because it looks more like natural English, but it uses a confusing system to represent Chinese sounds, and therefore it’s easier misread. Just remember sounds with apostrophes versus sounds without is confusing enough.

Hanyu Pinyin

The other system that’s increasingly in use, and frankly better in my opinion, is the Hanyu Pinyin (or “pinyin”) system. This system requires more work upfront, but provides a more consistent experience because what you see is what you get.

For example, each consonant sound is expressed only one, distinct way. In the “ch’” versus “ch”, pinyin expresses these as “ch” and “j” which is definitely more intuitive. Similarly, “t” versus “d” is pretty straightforward.

Vowels are where pinyin becomes tricky because Latin has only 5 letters to express vowel sounds, and Chinese (just like English) has a lot more than 5 vowel sounds. Unlike ancient Latin which differentiated “I” (as in “fish”) versus “Ī” (as in “ring”), English lost the diacritics and so the sounds just double-up on the same letters.

To work around this, Pinyin uses consonant-vowel combinations to make this work. “Chi” expresses the sound “chih” which rhymes with “fish”. By contrast, “Qi” expresses the sound “chee” as in “cheese”. In the same way “zhi” sounds like “jury” without the y, and “ji” sounds like “jee” as in “jeans”.

The vowel “e” is tricky too since it sounds like “uh” as in “done”. So the surname Cheng does not rhyme with “send”, it rhymes with “sung”.

So, whereas Wade-Giles relies on consonants and apostrophes to express sounds, Pinyin relies on consonant-vowel combinations.

Conclusion

Both systems, like every other attempt at romanization, are imperfect efforts. This is not a fault of the creators of these systems though: transliterating languages is always tricky.

However, of the two systems, I find Pinyin more intuitive overall once you get past the initial hurdles. You don’t have to worry about apostrophes, and most consonants are just more intuitive to read.

Unfortunately, due to cultural inertia, you’ll still find Chinese words expressed through the Wade-Giles system in all sorts of unexpected places.

P.S. if you think Chinese romanization is confusing, wait until you see Korean romanization.

P.P.S. If you’re wondering how good the books are, that’s a subject for an upcoming post. 😏