The Buddhist Logic of Distress (Saṃvega): An Exploration of Early Abhidharma Sources

Abstract

In the early Buddhist discourses, distressing experiences like fear and disgust are evaluated in contradictory modes. These upsetting emotions are considered both a detriment and an advantage for those seeking liberation from suffering. This ambivalence is reflective of the classical Buddhist conception of distress. The earliest scholastic Buddhist texts (i.e., Abhidharma sources) have sought to resolve the ambivalence surrounding this conception. The Abhidharma texts thus explain precisely how, when, where and for whom distress can prove favorable. By tracing this intellectual endeavor, I examine in this article the systematic and philosophical treatments of distress (saṃvega) in early Buddhist scholasticism. I outline the reasons for considering the experience of distress to be beneficial, unveiling the religious framework within which distress is rendered positive and even essential. My central claim is that early Abhidharma sources conceive of distress as a potential source of energy that facilitates one’s progress on the religious path and determines how rapidly one can understand the truth.

1. Introduction

Therapy of emotions was prominent in the ancient religious traditions of India.1 Buddhism is a prime example of this, as it features an incredibly rich philosophical and contemplative method designed to regulate and even eradicate emotions for the sake of overcoming the condition of suffering. One intriguing principle that emerged in early Buddhism establishes that the process of eliminating pain and suffering involves experiencing distress in a positive way.2 This principle is tied to the comprehension that one’s most distressing emotions can serve as a catalyst that drives one to zealously train for the ultimate form of liberation.

The early Buddhist scriptures thus contrive a picture of the religious path in which various emotionally distressing experiences play a significant role in one’s spiritual progress. Fear, dismay, terror, disgust, and anxiety are all rendered vital to the demanding pursuit of nirvana. These distressing emotions can propel one to urgently practice the Dharma and increase the level of intensity and fervor necessary for advancing on the long and challenging Buddhist path.

In the vast corpus of early Buddhist discourses (sūtras), we find a complex and ambiguous notion of distress that leaves many unanswered questions regarding the meaning, purpose, and significance of this emotional phenomenon. Buddhist Abhidharma philosophy, which emerged a few centuries later,3 contains more analytical and systematic treatments of the experience of distress. The Abhidharma texts address the precise role of distress in the Buddha’s teaching, the causes and effects of experiencing the feeling of distress, the relationship between distress and other key Buddhist terms, and the value of being deeply disturbed by the reality of impermanence and suffering disclosed by the Buddha. Thus, I contend in this article that early Abhidharma sources introduce us to the logic of distress, revealing how classical Buddhist thinkers conceived of certain upsetting emotions as conducive to emancipation from suffering.

Modern scholarship has made significant strides in studying the conception of distress and the role of emotions like fear and disgust in classical Buddhism. This is exemplified in the work of Coomaraswamy (1943); Tagami (1973); Ṭhānissaro (1997); Brekke (2002); Heim (2003); Giustarini (2012); Evmenenko (2012); Acri (2015); Brons (2016); Walker (2018); Nguyen (2019); Finnigan (2021); Liang and Morseth (2021); A. Bhikkhu (2022); and Feinberg (2023).4 This body of scholarship focuses primarily on early Buddhist discourses extant in Indic languages.5 It offers several different frameworks for interpreting the Buddhist conception of distress, including the Theravāda saṃvega-pasāda scheme, Indian rasa theory, moral psychology, philosophy of mind, and existential phenomenology. The current study contributes to the scholarship on this subject matter by expanding the scope of the materials examined and introducing the Abhidharma framework to this discussion. In the following pages, I examine distress in early scholastic Buddhist texts available in Pāli, Sanskrit, and Chinese, exploring how Abhidharma thinkers analyze and understand this emotional phenomenon. More specifically, I focus on several textual occurrences of distress (saṃvega) in early Abhidharma sources.6 These texts reveal how Buddhist scholiasts dealt with the tension between the soteriological goal of overcoming fear, grief, and despair, and the idea that these disquieting emotional states can be useful and even essential for the pursuit of nirvana. My main claim is that early Abhidharma materials render distress as a potential source of vitality that facilitates one’s ability to progress on the religious path and determines how rapidly one can understand the truth and face mortality.

In a broader sense, I demonstrate in this study how the Buddhist scholastic mission of analyzing distress through a religious prism ends up producing a novel philosophical notion of this phenomenon. Remarkably, the Abhidharma thinkers were able to situate the experience of distress in a logical system that accounts for the different aspects of the Buddhist path. While the commitment to a certain religious framework often severely compromises the rigor and depth of a philosophical analysis, the Abhidharma investigation of distress panned out differently. The motivations and presuppositions of the early Buddhist scholiasts directly contributed to constructing a complex concept of distress, one that can challenge some of the prevalent modern interpretations of this emotional phenomenon as a form of psychopathology.

2. The Terminology and Ambiguity of Distress

The primary indigenous term I focus on in my study of the Buddhist logic of distress is saṃvega (distress or agitation).7 This Buddhist term captures the pivotal role assigned to distress in classical Buddhist thought. In the earliest strata of Buddhist texts, the semantic range of the word saṃvega is quite extensive and often ambiguous. This is most apparent in the different meanings saṃvega carries and the varying degrees of significance assigned to this distressing experience. For example, in the early discourses, saṃvega refers to an array of emotional phenomena ranging from terror to melancholy.8 On some occasions, this term denotes a familiar feeling of fear provoked by a threatening force. On other occasions, it stands for a rare transformative experience of existential angst that accompanies the true realization of one’s mortality.9 An additional aspect of saṃvega in the early discourses that reflects its diverse and elusive nature is the attribution of this emotion to different types of beings. Gods, humans, and animals are all faced with saṃvega, and this tantalizing experience typically impels them to take drastic actions. Saṃvega also affects sentient beings at different stages on the religious path. In the Pāli canon, for instance, those who hear the Buddha’s teaching for the first time may experience the overwhelming shock of saṃvega that is meant to encourage them to take refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha. Yet saṃvega is also incorporated into more advanced Buddhist practices mentioned in the Pāli suttas. Cultivating mindfulness of the body is designed to induce saṃvega, and meditating while isolated in the forest also frequently elicits this uneasy feeling.10

The range, diversity, and ambiguity of saṃvega in early Buddhist scriptures are part of its theoretical appeal. Nonetheless, the Abhidharma sources take it upon themselves to remove some of the tensions associated with saṃvega and limit, to some extent, the range of this ambiguous concept. More specifically, the early Abhidharma materials are committed to examining saṃvega through a functional lens, highlighting how, when, where, and for whom this feeling of distress can prove beneficial. In contrast to this strong focus on the functionality of saṃvega, these scholastic sources have relatively little to say about what saṃvega is, and they mostly refrain from classifying it as a particular kind of phenomenon (dharma). While saṃvega is not explicitly designated in any technical list of Abhidharma phenomena,11 the early Abhidharma accounts of saṃvega undoubtedly contributed to the prevalent understanding of it as a specialized Buddhist term.

3. An Abhidharma Definition of Distress

In the early Buddhist discourses, there is no clear attempt to define distress, which is part of what creates the ambiguity surrounding the term saṃvega. The Abhidharma literature, however, offers a canonical definition of distress. In the Pāli canon’s Abhidhamma Basket, the single occurrence of the term saṃvega appears in a seminal text called the Dhammasaṅgaṇī,12 which provides the following definition of distress:

Distress (saṃvega) refers to fear of birth, fear of old age, fear of sickness, and fear of death.13

Distress is essentially taken here to mean fear (bhaya). While the semantic range of saṃvega does not entirely overlap with bhaya, this canonical Abhidharma text chooses to define saṃvega by glossing it with bhaya, a similar and more common emotion term in early Buddhist texts.14 Yet, according to this passage, saṃvegic distress is no ordinary form of fear. It is fear of birth, old age, sickness, and death. That is to say, it is fear of the basic conditions of existing in saṃsāra. I would therefore simply summarize this Abhidharma definition of distress as “fear of saṃsāric existence”.

The Dhammasaṅgaṇī’s concise definition of distress invokes the Buddhist notion of saṃvega as appropriate or wholesome fear. This definition should be considered within the context of the ambivalent relationship towards fear in classical Buddhist thought. (Brekke 2002; Giustarini 2012; and Finnigan 2021). On the one hand, fear is regarded as a burden and a major source of suffering one wishes to be free from. On the other hand, fear is deemed essential and useful, for only after one considers the basic conditions of existing in the world to be a great danger, one acquires the motivation and resolve needed to embark on the difficult path to liberation. Saṃvega and other Indic words derived from the root saṃ-vij are used in the early Buddhist discourses to denote both good and bad forms of fear.15 However, the early Abhidharma literature wishes to establish saṃvega solely as a positive kind of fear. This is especially apparent in the Mahāvibhāṣa, where the following question is raised: “What is the difference between distress (yan 厭, saṃvega) and fear (bu 怖, bhaya)?”16 The text’s main explanation is that saṃvegic distress is good while common fear is either bad or neutral. Such is the case since the upsetting experience of distress plants a good seed that might later blossom and bear spiritual fruits, while the more ordinary feeling of fear is basically a mental disturbance that has no clear soteriological upside.17

In addition to its definition of saṃvega, the Dhammasaṅgaṇī also provides an initial list of the basic conditions that give rise to this experience of distress.

The conditions apt to cause distress (saṃvejaniya) are birth, old age, sickness, and death.18

Buddhaghosa picks up on this Abhidharma quest of delineating the particular conditions or objects19 that elicit saṃvegic distress. Yet Buddhaghosa does not consider this quest to be solely about assessing more precisely the grounds for provoking this stirring emotion. In his philosophical and exegetical writings, Buddhaghosa seems equally concerned with the matter of when one should experience distress and for what purpose.

At the time when the mind is insipid due to slowness in applying knowledge or because of failure to attain the bliss of calmness, [one] causes [it] to be distressed by concentrating on the eight objects of distress (saṃvega). The eight objects of distress are birth, old age, sickness, and death–that makes four. The suffering of hell is the fifth. [The next three are] the suffering rooted in saṃsāric past, the suffering rooted in saṃsāric future, [and] with respect to the present, there is the suffering rooted in the search for nutriment.20

Buddhaghosa expands the canonical list of conditions that cause saṃvegic distress to include eight objects. In so doing, he adds four objects to the previous list, among which hell is the one most frequently mentioned in classical Buddhist literature. The vivid depictions of hell are considered an incredibly effective means for evoking the feeling of saṃvega, as they are believed to deeply disturb even those who remain indifferent to the Buddha’s core teachings.21 As a whole, this passage is emblematic of the Abhidharma functional view of distress. We find here a clear purpose, reasoning, and justification for eliciting distress, namely, providing a jolt to the mind of the practitioner who has become sluggish or lethargic. It is also noteworthy that Buddhaghosa does not subscribe here to the definition of saṃvega as a form of fear. This is not surprising considering that on other occasions, he characterizes saṃvega as an experience that entails feelings of disenchantment, dismay, or disgust at the misery of the world.22

Moreover, Buddhaghosa addresses the potential favorable effects of experiencing distress by expounding on the relationship between saṃvega and striving (Skt. pradhāna, Pāli padhāna). In the Dhammasaṅgaṇī, there is a reference to a canonical formula stating that “for the one who is distressed, there is proper striving”.23 Picking up on this formula, Buddhaghosa articulates the role of distress in generating the energy required for reaching spiritual attainments.

Energy is the state of the one who is energetic. Its characteristic is effort. Its function is to support co-arising states. Its manifestation is the state of not descending. On account of the [canonical] saying: “distressed, one strives properly”,24 [we know that] its proximate cause is distress (saṃvega) or its proximate cause is the object initiating energy. [If energy is] properly initiated, it should be recognized as the root of all attainments.25

According to Buddhaghosa, a primary effect of experiencing saṃvega is energy (Skt. vīrya, Pāli vīriya). The statements made here about the Abhidharma conception of energy are beyond the scope of this study. Yet it suffices to say that Buddhaghosa underscores the significance of energy by singling it as “the root of all attainments”. The characterization of distress as initiating or generating energy is particularly revealing. Following the Dhammasaṅgaṇī, for instance, if we render the feeling of saṃvega as a form of fear, it becomes apparent now that this is an incentivizing mode of fear, not a paralyzing one. English phrases such as “frozen with fear” or “frightened like a deer caught in headlights” express the capacity of fear to deactivate the one who is afraid. In contrast, saṃvegic distress is a form of “active fear”26 that drives one to transform his or her own current state of affairs by means of action.

The activating feature of experiencing saṃvega resonates with the earliest uses of the root saṃ-vij in Vedic literature, where it alludes to the distressed state of helpless animals fleeing in terror from a fearsome predator.27 In the Buddhist context, this primal feeling of distress is construed as a galvanizing force that may serve the one pursuing the religious path. In particular, the experience of saṃvega generates a high level of fervor, motivating one to exert the necessary effort needed to plow through the difficult practice of Buddhist monasticism. In this regard, the Abhidharma conception of saṃvega is not only committed to analyzing this distressing emotion through a functional lens, but also to thinking about it in practical terms. Aside from the broader role assigned to distress as an initiator of the energy needed to constantly strive for liberation, we shall see now that it also plays more specific roles in various ascetic practices laid out in the early Abhidharma sources.

4. Distress in Practice

The role of saṃvega in the context of Buddhist practice raises a structural question, namely, is the feeling of distress meant to energize and facilitate one’s practice, or, are certain religious practices designed to elicit distress and dismay towards the reality of impermanence and suffering?28 The answers to both sides of this question is affirmative since the Buddhist logic of distress includes a kind of feedback loop. For example, one may meditate on a skeleton to provoke saṃvega, and in turn, the distressing emotion produced by that contemplative exercise should serve as an impetus to deepen one’s practice and commitment to the religious path.29

In Vasubandhu’s Abhidharmakośa-bhāṣya (henceforth AKB), saṃvegic distress is mentioned in connection with the eightfold scheme constituting the Buddhist practice of fasting (upavāsa). The first five members of this scheme deal with morality and heedfulness, while the last three concern specific ascetic vows (vratas), namely, “abstaining from (6) high beds, (7) music etc., and (8) meals outside of the proper time”. The AKB describes these ascetic vows as “favorable to and in conformity with disgust of or desire for emancipation from [cyclic existence] (saṃvega)”.30 Notably, the text links saṃvega solely to the ascetic vows, and in fact, Vasubandhu claims that part of the justification for upholding these vows stems from their conformity with saṃvegic distress.

Furthermore, I find it noteworthy that the translation of saṃvega quoted here, initially offered by La Vallee Poussin, provides the reader with two different options for understanding what saṃvega means in this context. The first is “disgust of cyclic existence”, and the second is “desire for emancipation from cyclic existence”.31 One can easily recognize the thread connecting these translations to the aforementioned Abhidharma definition of saṃvega as “fear of saṃsāric existence;” however, there are also important nuances invoked by these translations that are worth addressing. For starters, the interpretation of saṃvega as “desire for emancipation” is often associated with the medieval Jain philosopher Hemacandra. (Acri 2015, pp. 205–6).32 From a hermeneutical standpoint, regarding saṃvega as “desire for emancipation from cyclic existence” entails looking at the other side of the coin of saṃvega as “fear of saṃsāric existence”. The rationale here is that the one who fears saṃsāra may also be considered the one who desires to be free from this mode of cyclic existence. As for the interpretation of saṃvega as a feeling of being disgusted with saṃsāra, unpacking this requires further examining how the AKB characterizes the relationship between saṃvega and the practice of upholding the ascetic vow of eating only at the proper time.

When one observes the rule of eating at the proper time [i.e., the eighth member of the restraint of the fast], when one avoids eating outside of the proper time, {13 a} mindfulness of the obligations of the fast remains present and disgust [of cyclic existence] (saṃvega) is produced. In the absence of the eighth member, mindfulness and disgust would be missing.33

According to this passage, observing the strict rules concerning the proper time for eating is conducive to eliciting saṃvegic distress. In Xuanzang’s translation of this passage into Chinese, he takes it to mean that the one upholding the rules of fasting “can give rise to disgust (yanli 厭離, saṃvega) with regard to the world”.34 Saṃvega expresses here a change in attitude towards the world as a whole. It conveys a pervasive mood of disenchantment or frustration with the way things are. Distress is regarded in this context as an existential stance rather than a psychological state. The logic of this AKB passage touches on the causal relation between restraining one’s own sensual conduct and learning to see the world as permeated by lust and sensuality. More precisely, this passage highlights the relationship between restricting one’s intake of food and perceiving the human condition as characterized by craving and misery.

In this quote from the AKB, we also find a common pairing in Buddhist thought involving saṃvega and mindfulness (Skt. smṛti, Pāli sati). A specific link is made here between remaining mindful of the obligation of the fast and experiencing deep disdain towards saṃsāric existence. In other Abhidharma accounts of ascetic practices, saṃvegic distress is alternatively accompanied by mindfulness of death (Skt. maraṇa-smṛti, Pāli maraṇa-sati). For instance, Buddhaghosa offers a detailed explanation of the Buddhist charnel-ground-dweller’s practice,35 in which he lists saṃvega among the rewards of ritualistically living in a place where dead bodies are being burned.

The benefits [of the charnel-ground-dweller’s practice] are attaining mindfulness of death, living attentively, recognizing the mark of impurity, dispelling sensual passions, consistently seeing the body’s true nature, abounding in distress (saṃvega), giving up the vanity of health, withstanding fear and dread, commanding the respect of non-human beings, and living according to [principles] such as having moderate needs.36

Saṃvegic distress appears here in a list containing some of the fruits of Buddhist asceticism. The combination of saṃvega with these different spiritual rewards opens various possibilities for construing the meaning of this elusive concept. For example, saṃvega may be understood here as a form of existential angst accompanying the mindfulness of death, or, it could be taken as a feeling of revulsion that comes with the perception of the body as foul.

Yet what I find most significant about this textual occurrence of saṃvega is the use of the phrase: “abounding in saṃvega” or “having plenty of distress” (saṃvega-bahulatā). This phrase is representative of the Abhidharma evaluation of different religious practitioners according to the degree and volume of their distress. Within this evaluative framework, saṃvega refers to the level of urgency required for taking on the Buddhist path and, more specifically, the intense fervor needed to succeed in meditation practice. The AKB includes the following example of using the term saṃvega in this particular sense.

One who produces the stages of fundamental meditation (mauladhyāna) with penetrative aspect (nirvedha) invariably sees the noble truth in this very life, because he has intense fervor (saṃvega).37

The intensity of one’s distress can determine the efficacy of one’s meditation training as well as the length of time required for a contemplative practice to bear fruit. In this short passage from the AKB, the idea is that one’s extreme degree of saṃvega can indicate that one will see the truth in this lifetime. The level of one’s saṃvegic distress determines how fast one will understand the nature of reality. Gokhale points out that measuring the intensity and volume of saṃvega relates to a broader Buddhist scholastic scheme which divides different aspects of one’s practice into three categories: mild, middling, or strong.38 This threefold classification scheme is used in the AKB and Abhidharmasamuccaya to assess both the firmness of the practitioner’s disposition and the intensity of the practice itself.39 In this context, saṃvega does not stand for a specific type of distressing experience that plays a pivotal role in one’s spiritual progress. Instead, it refers more generally to the tenacity and resolve necessary to thrive in the practice of Buddhism writ large. With this example, we encounter the broad Abhidharma use of saṃvega to address the urgency and vigor of a Buddhist practitioner.40

5. The Buddha’s Reasons for Eliciting Distress

The Buddhist scholastic tradition also alludes to saṃvegic distress when addressing the rationale behind the Buddha’s decision to begin his teaching of the Dharma with a focus on suffering (Skt. duḥkha, Pāli dukkha). Abhidharma sources, for example, use the concept of saṃvega to explain the sequential logic governing the Buddha’s famous teaching of the four noble truths. Buddhaghosa presents this exegetical matter in the following way:

The truth of suffering is explained first since it is easily understood because it is coarse as well as common to all sentient beings. The truth of the origin [of suffering] immediately follows to show its cause. Next comes the truth of the cessation [of suffering] to make it known that cessation of the cause brings about the cessation of the fruit. Finally comes the truth of the path to show the means for attaining that [complete cessation of suffering].

Alternatively, [the Buddha] spoke of suffering first to elicit distress (saṃvega) from sentient beings who are tangled in the enjoyment and comfort of existence. Immediately following that, [he spoke] of the origin to make it known that [suffering] does not come naturally unmade, nor is it created by God, etc. Instead, it comes from this [self-inflicted cause]. Then, because of the state of being overwhelmed by [the truth of] suffering which has a cause, [the Buddha spoke] to those whose minds are distressed and seek to escape suffering about cessation for the sake of offering solace through the teaching on escaping [suffering]. Finally, [he spoke of] the path leading to cessation [of suffering] for the sake of the attainment of cessation.41

Buddhaghosa explains in the first passage presented here that the Buddha began his teaching with a focus on suffering because the truth of suffering is self-evident and familiar, in one way or another, to all sentient beings. Following that, the order of the three ensuing truths is predicated on a causal logic. The reality of suffering is followed by an analysis of the causes and conditions that bring it into being, and the cessation of that reality is presented as the result of bringing these causes and conditions to a halt by following the Buddha’s path.

The second passage quoted here, which is more important for the purposes of this study, uses an affective logic to illuminate the sequence in which the Buddha taught the four noble truths. According to this line of reasoning, the Buddha opened with the truth of suffering to elicit a feeling of distress from the masses caught up in the pleasures of life. The Buddha’s initial focus on the reality of old age, sickness, and death is therefore meant to emotionally stir or shake up those who, in their temporary comfort, remain oblivious to the pervasiveness of suffering. Next, Buddhaghosa suggests that the Buddha spoke about the truth of the origin of suffering to deliver an even stronger emotional blow and deepen the initial feeling of distress elicited by the first truth. The Buddha illuminates with the second truth that our suffering is not naturally or cosmically predetermined; on the contrary, it is caused by our own making. The Buddhist poet and philosopher Aśvaghoṣa elegantly encapsulates this claim in the space of a single verse.

The reason for this suffering during one’s active life in the world is not a God, not nature, not time, not the inherent nature of things, not predestination, not accident, but the hosts of faults such as desire.42

The Buddha’s assertion that we are solely responsible for our misery (due to our ignorance and craving) is considered even more disturbing than his initial claim concerning the omnipresence of suffering. The overwhelming feeling of saṃvega here involves coming to terms with one’s own responsibility for the condition of suffering itself. At this pivotal point in the course of teaching the four noble truths, Buddhaghosa explains that the Buddha offered consolation with the third and fourth truths to those appropriately distressed by the reality of self-inflicted suffering. Wishing to steer them away from nihilistic despair, the Buddha finally spoke of the possibility of liberation and the path leading to it.43

The Mahāvibhāṣa adds that not only the Buddha’s teaching is designed to provoke a strong feeling of distress but also the event of his nirvana. In this Abhidharma text, the following exegetical question is raised: “Why did the Buddha enter nirvana in the middle of the night?”44 The Mahāvibhāṣa provides several different answers, the most poetic among them speaks of the Buddha’s intention to elicit saṃvega.

One explanation [for why the Buddha entered nirvana at night] is that he wished to cause a large host [of beings] to greatly fear (yanbu 厭怖, saṃvega) the darkness of saṃsāra. Thus, during the night of the eighth day of the Kārttika month’s bright fortnight, the Buddha entered nirvana. At the time, the moon dipped into the mountain peaks. Just as the Buddha [attained] perfect enlightenment [in seclusion], the moon was secretly absorbed in the great mountain of nirvana. At that moment, two forms of darkness occurred simultaneously—material darkness and the darkness of ignorance. When many large hosts [of beings] witnessed this event, it immediately gave rise to [their] great fear of saṃsāra. This is why the Buddha entered nirvana during the night.45

The general point made here about the impact the Buddha’s moment of awakening had on sentient beings all across the cosmos is a common trope in Buddhist literature.46 What makes this passage particularly intriguing, nevertheless, is the idea that the Buddha deliberately entered nirvana at night while he was alone to expose the terrifying darkness of saṃsāra. When the Buddha thus entered nirvana and the moon was concealed behind the mountain peaks, a distressing darkness occurred that operated on both a physical and metaphysical level. For a short period of time, the ultimate sources of light (the moon) and knowledge (the Buddha) were in hiding, causing sentient beings to feel the full gamut of saṃvegic distress towards the darkness that is saṃsāra.

The emphasis on the intense responses elicited by the Buddha’s nirvana and his teaching of the Dharma speaks to the Buddhist tradition’s investment in the idea that distressing emotions play a crucial role in understanding reality. Before one even begins to fathom the intricacies of the Buddha’s radical view on the nature of things, one is expected to first inhabit the proper mood or state of mind that can support such a dramatic epistemic leap. Saṃvega emerges as a central Buddhist concept conveying the notion of grounding one’s understanding of the world in a distressing feeling. The early Abhidharma literature, in particular, uses the term saṃvega to map out the different upsetting emotional experiences the Buddha intended to provoke with his actions and words.

6. The Distress of the Gods

One of the illustrious accounts of saṃvega in early Buddhist scripture appears in the Lion Sutta.47 At the heart of this discourse, we find an analogy between the fear and distress of the animals that hear the lion’s roar and the terror of the gods who hear the Buddha’s teaching for the first time.48 The Lion Sutta’s account of the gods’ distress, in particular, is worth examining since different scholastic and exegetical Buddhist texts comment on its significance.

When the gods, monks, who are long-living, beautiful, abundantly happy, and [accustomed to staying] for long periods of time in heavenly palaces hear the Tathāgata’s teaching of the Dharma, for the most part, they are faced with fear, distress (saṃvega), and trembling. [These gods proclaim:] “It appears that truly we are impermanent, yet we considered ourselves permanent; it appears that truly we are unstable, yet we considered ourselves stable; it appears that truly we are non-eternal, yet we considered ourselves eternal”.49

Buddhaghosa explains that the gods who are shocked by the Buddha’s teaching on impermanence are exemplary of a larger problem that is endemic to sentient beings, namely, the predominant tendency of clinging to life.50 In this regard, the gods are not invoked here as an exceptional case of divine beings who are stunned by the disclosure of their inevitable demise. On the contrary, the example of the gods is meant to reveal the common proclivity to misperceive the transient nature of existence, which humans share with these divine beings.

Nonetheless, the particular case of the gods who face their mortality is a powerful one. Buddhaghosa thus takes it upon himself to seriously think about these fearful gods and question what their unique situation can reveal about the human condition. In so doing, Buddhaghosa links the Lion Sutta’s account of the gods’ distress to the canonical description of the gods who are struck by the fear of death (maraṇa-bhaya) upon noticing the five early signs of their inevitable demise. In the Abhidharma tradition, the death-fearing gods who witness these first signs of decay are depicted as follows:

Clothes become sullied, flower garlands [begin to] wither, sweat comes out of the armpits, disfiguration appears on the body, and a god can no longer remain still in his divine throne. After these five early signs have arisen, seeing them [the gods] think, “the heavens, alas, will become empty”.51

The first exegetical move Buddhaghosa makes by linking the account of the distressed gods from the Lion Sutta to this description of the death-fearing gods clarifies that saṃvegic distress is more than a terrified response to the Buddha’s teaching on impermanence. For Buddhaghosa, saṃvega is a term covering the broader spectrum of anxious emotions one experiences when facing mortality.

The signs that alert the gods to their inevitable demise are mundane events that occur to us in our everyday lives; however, for the most part, we tend to take these events lightly. In this regard, the example of the gods is meant to disclose that while the fleeting nature of things appears to us every time we see a wilting flower or a fading piece of cloth, unlike the death-fearing gods, we do not immediately bring to mind our own demise when encountering these marks of transience. The proclivity of clinging to life, which Buddhaghosa raises in contrast to the gods’ distress, is rendered as a form of ignorance or denial of the looming presence of death. The concept of saṃvega here is tied to the feeling that death is constantly approaching, unveiling itself with every passing moment.

Moreover, in this passage, after the gods perceive the signs foreshadowing their demise, they make a statement that is noteworthy. The fear of the gods is not verbally expressed as a simple concern for their own fate, but as a proclamation regarding the fate of the heavenly realms in which they dwell. Having seen the signs of transience, the gods are disturbed since they believe that after they pass away, the heavens will remain empty (Pāli suñña, Skt. śūnya). Following the gods’ statement concerning the heavens becoming vacant, the Abhidharma text immediately explains that later, the gods learned that because of the great merit produced by the Buddha, the heavens will eventually be filled again by the many earthly beings who will benefit from the Dharma. Apparently, this realization was enough to quell the gods’ initial shock.52 And yet, the idea that the gods’ distress pertains also to the fate of the realms in which they dwell is noteworthy. It seems the interpretation of saṃvega as “fear of death” is used here not merely to express the distress one experiences with respect to one’s own mortality, but also to convey the deep concern one might feel about how the world will be after one is gone.53 With this application of saṃvega, we come full circle as we encounter a version of the Abhidharma definition of distress as fear of saṃsāric existence with which we started this exploration. However, in this case, saṃvegic distress functions specifically as a type of cosmological fear pertaining to the intricate machinations of karma and the cycle of rebirth

7. Conclusions

The main question regarding distress that early Abhidharma sources reflect on concerns its soteriological purpose. Why is it necessary to experience fear, agitation, disgust, or urgency in the process of learning to see reality for what it is? One prevailing answer to this question that classical Buddhist texts provide underscores the need for existential shock. Saṃvega emerges as the principal Buddhist concept denoting a distressing event that can pull one out of the ordinary way of being in the world and reshape one’s entire outlook and approach to life. The paradigmatic example of this form of existential shock is found in the life story of the Buddha, where Prince Siddhārtha experiences the emotional force of saṃvega after encountering old age, sickness, and death for the first time. The early Buddhist discourses invoke this notion of saṃvegic distress and, more particularly, the need for undergoing existential shock.54 As I have shown in this article, certain Abhidharma texts that directly comment on fragments from the early discourses also highlight the significance of experiencing emotional and existential distress when coming to terms with the reality of impermanence and suffering disclosed by the Buddha.55

However, early Abhidharma sources provide an additional answer to the question concerning the soteriological purpose of distress, which I would characterize as more practical and technical. This answer expresses the idea that different distressing events can generate the energy needed to persistently engage in the religious practice of Buddhism. The experience of saṃvegic distress, in this respect, has the specific function of uplifting the lethargic mind of the meditator who has grown weary.56 Building on this understanding of distress as a source of vitality, some Abhidharma texts do not even refer to saṃvega as a disturbing event but simply as a technical term that points to the level of urgency and vigor that determines how quickly a Buddhist practitioner will see the truth and attain nirvana.

It is worth clarifying that there is no conflict between eliciting existential shock and providing a jolt to the sluggish mind (i.e., the two main objectives associated with saṃvega). Perhaps these are simply two ways of speaking about the same phenomenon. Nevertheless, the practical understanding of distress in early Abhidharma literature mostly veers away from the transformative role assigned to it in the life story of the Buddha. To put it differently, in the early Buddhist discourses (and narrative literature), the experience of deep distress is primarily considered a potential turning point in one’s existential and spiritual life trajectory. On the other hand, in the Abhidharma literature, distress is mainly deemed a possible source of energy that is vital for overcoming the struggles of monastic life.

Finally, the intellectual mission of deciphering the logic of distress is itself exemplary of the Abhidharma tradition. The early scholastic Buddhist thinkers raised hard questions involving the role distress plays in the Buddhist path, and addressed various issues regarding the way distress is implemented in the canonical teachings and religious practices. It is impossible to reduce the diversity of ideas and observations on distress in early Abhidharma sources into a single claim. Nonetheless, there is one distinguishing characteristic of the entire Abhidharma treatment of saṃvega, namely, the consistent evaluation of it as purely beneficial. Despite the ambivalent attitude towards distress in classical Buddhist thought, and the fact that saṃvega is specifically glossed with terms (like bhaya) that may have a positive or negative valence depending on context, the Abhidharma sources are crystal clear about the positive soteriological value of saṃvegic distress. Thus, the Abhidharma analysis of saṃvega, which looks into its causes and effects as well as its application in Buddhist doctrine and practice, is heavily bent on showing how distress can be conducive to liberation from suffering. What I call the Buddhist logic of distress, therefore, boils down to examining and explaining exactly how distress can fit and function within a holistic Buddhist view of the religious path.