As we have read in the preceding post, in order to facilitate trade with the Far East and points south, the Macedonian Pharaoh Ptolemy Philadelphus laboriously reactivated the old canal system linking Lake Mareotis at Alexandria with the Nile River, and the river in turn with the Red Sea. This immense engineering and construction project occupied Ptolemy for years. When the new Egyptian canal system was finally complete, towards the middle of the third century BCE, Ptolemy probably had a huge celebration, a Ptolemaion to end all Ptolemaiai, a three-day celebration of the new canal. And the crowning event of that incomparable celebration were very special gifts from the great Emperor Ashoka of faraway India.

In fact, we know from his stone edicts that Ashoka sent monks and attendant Buddhist literature to the entire known world, and in all directions: Egypt, Greece, Syria (the Seleucids), Bactria, Cambodia, Sri Lanka, and other regions whose names we no longer recognize (see edicts 5 and 13).

[NOTE: The following recreation of events uses considerable authorial license. No one today was there, and so we can’t know for sure how the Buddhst sutras came to the West. The following is one possibility…]

The preparation

At Emperor Ashoka’s third century BCE capital, Pataliputra on the Ganges (not far from where the Buddha roamed), the Buddhist missions to foreign lands were carefully planned in conjunction with the religious establishment (Pali: sangha). For Ptolemy’s library in Alexandria, the entire Buddhist canon (well over one hundred manuscripts) would have been freshly copied out on palm leaves and bound into ‘books’—a task requiring twenty Indian scribes over a month to execute.

The greatest challenge, however, was finding willing Buddhist monks to go on these improbable missions to faraway lands, missions into the complete unknown with no likelihood of return. Ships were small, and Emperor Ashoka would have selected about six monks for his Buddhist mission to Egypt. Each monk was physically fit and travel-worthy, experienced but not old, and (above all) accomplished in the Dharma (teaching)—able to represent the best that Buddhism can offer. In a sense, each monk would represent the Buddha himself.

The ability to memorize sutras and to recite them by heart was a key test of a monk’s proficiency. The lead monk would have had the entire canon memorized—every single Buddhist scripture that was also committed to writing. This is not hyperbole, for such command of memory has been recorded in the Buddhist tradition for millenia and is also well documented in ancient times. The other monks, however, would probably each have memorized selected sutras (discourses of the Buddha). Each would have been capable of teaching those without aid and would have been able to write them down anew if necessary. Of course, the most important sutras were memorized by all the monks, including for example the Kamala Sutra (on finding one’s own way, also known as the Kesaputiyasutta), the Metta Sutra (on loving the entire cosmos), and the famous Fire Sermon (on purifying the six senses).

The arrival

Alexandria was the most cosmopolitan city in the world at the time, more prestigious than Rome (whose greatness was yet in the future). No doubt Ashoka planned a specially impressive embassy for the extravagant and curious Ptolemy, an embassy that befitted the holy sutras he was sending West.

We can imagine the event on a fine day 2,270 years ago. Six Buddhist monks trained in austerity, self-control, mindfulness, and silence arrived by canal in Alexandria, Egypt, after a grueling half-year voyage. Accompanying them was their precious cargo—trunks loaded with Buddhist palm leaf manuscripts.

Awaiting their arrival at dockside, with more than ordinary pomp, the Ptolemaieia would have been in full swing—perhaps already in its second or third day. Pharaoh Ptolemy II Philadelphus, a larger-than-life character who liked a good party, was surrounded by his court, feasting on the dais and regaling the crowd with free food, wine, and an endless series of colorful processions including acrobats, dancers, exotic performers, drummers, pipers, other musicians, fire-breathers, contortionists, jugglers, leashed and caged elephants, bears, lions, tigers, giraffes, peacocks, gorillas, sundry captives, and anything else that could keep the crowd entertained for three days.

We can imagine…

A call suddenly rang out: “A ship is coming! A ship is coming!” It was a boy running through the procession and up to the dais. He pointed to the south and breathlessly informed the Pharaoh, “A ship is coming!”

The rumor excitedly filtered through the crowd: “A ship is coming!”

Ptolemy rose, clapped his hands three times and raised his arms. With a loud voice he commanded the crowd, “Clear the dock! Make way for the ship from my friend Ashoka, Emperor of India and of all the East!” However, the excited crowd didn’t seem to be listening. Loud drumming, incoherent dancing, and general revelry continued as before.

Ptolemy turned to his adjutant. “This is not what I want. We need more respect for our illustrious visitors. Confiscate all wine and beer. And do it now!” The adjutant directed several squads of soldiers to infiltrate the crowd and remove jugs of intoxicants. “And if anybody doesn’t like it,” the Pharaoh added at the top of his voice, “just throw him in the canal!”

His favorite mistress Bilistiche turned to him with a smile. “Well, you can’t blame them. After all, they’ve been waiting for this three whole days.”

The Pharaoh had already received word from Ashoka. He knew that a special shipment of Buddhists and religious texts was arriving, and that the monks and interpreter on board had been hand-picked by the Indian emperor. “Treat them kindly and modestly,” Ashoka had written. “But above all, listen to them.”

Ptolemy was irritated as he surveyed the general mayhem and realized that the boisterous welcome at dockside did not fit a solemn religious event. He turned again to a second adjutant and sharply ordered, “Clear the way to the dock. Put down the red carpet. Line it on both sides with soldiers.”

“Yes, your Divinity.”

The ongoing procession was still passing and added to the confusion as soldiers attempted to clear a way to the dock. Slaves rolled out a thin red carpet from the dais to the water’s edge. Members of the palace guard took up positions on both sides of the red carpet. The procession, now cut in two, backed up against the soldiers and yells could be heard from afar: “Hey, what’s the problem up there, you schmucks? Clear the way!” In the confusion a gorilla fell into the canal, and a rogue peacock ran onto the dais and right past the Pharaoh.

When the trireme nosed around the bend the incoherent drumming assumed a rhythmic, steady beat. Pipers took up a rehearsed welcome song. The formalities did not quiet the half-drunken crowd but excited it even more. People forgot to tend their animals and crowded closer to the dock. A group of dancing girls started gyrating and singing, twirling around with timbrels and ribbons. The Pharaoh signaled to his adjutant to stop them, but the women quickly melted into the crowd as the soldiers approached. Ptolemy turned to Bilistiche. “What a mess!” he muttered.

She looked at him with an eyebrow raised and then back at the crowd. “It’s life,” she said with an understanding shrug.

The ship pulled up to the dock. The oarsmen retracted their oars, ropesmen on shore fastened the boat to land and attached the gangplank. The crowd clapped in rhythm to the drums, and the girls had resumed dancing in a different area. Ptolemy stood stoically on the dais, arms folded, and resolved to maintain his dignity.

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a bald head appeared above the gangplank. It was a calm face, welcoming with a benign smile, the eyes cast downwards. Then the monk’s torso appeared, one shoulder bare and the other covered by the fringe of a saffron robe. A handsome middle-aged man soon stood motionless at the top of the gangplank, his palms clasped together in an angelic pose. He towered over the crowd and seemed to be miraculously suspended in mid-air.

The crowd quietened, the dancing stopped, and the drumming came to a halt. An eerie hush suddenly came over the crowd both near and far. This was the fabled “Buddha-calm,” long esteemed in India. All eyes were fixed on the strange saffron-robed being who calmly looked down. The Pharaoh stiffened.

Palms together, the bald monk slowly and deliberately descended the gangplank. When he placed one foot on dry ground, and then the other, the crowd erupted in a welcoming shout. The monk kneeled and touched his forehead to the ground. He remained in that position for what seemed like a long time as the crowd quieted once again. Then he stood up, turned, and faced the boat. The crowd gasped as a second monk appeared, then a third, and then a fourth.

Each monk carried a box in his arms as a mother would cradle a baby. The second monk descended the gangplank, gave his box to the lead monk, kneeled, and similarly touched his forehead to the ground.

The Pharaoh descended the dais and approached the lead monk. With palms upturned he solemnly held out his hands as one might indeed receive a baby. The monk ceremoniously placed the first box of precious palm leaf manuscripts into the monarch’s hands.

“Thank you,” the Pharaoh said. “Thank you for coming so far for a mere wretch like me.”

Ptolemy solemnly handed to box to an adjutant. Several more monks appeared from the boat, each with a box of manuscripts, and each gave his box to the Pharoah who in turn entrusted them to his adjutants. Finally, the last monk appeared from the boat. After kneeling and touching his forehead to the ground, he rose and addressed the Pharaoh. “I am an interpreter. We come with warmest greetings from our Emperor Ashoka and bring you the teachings of the Buddha. May those teachings serve for the healing and the enlightenment of all the world. We are now in your gracious hands. Do with us what you will.”

← Previous                    Next →