tions. The undeniable clarity of his translations allowed his audi-
ence to glimpse the fundamental message of the ancient texts
he quoted. Amazingly, he translated Pãli better than the accom-
plished scholars, though he had never studied Pãli in any formal
way. No sooner had he mentioned a Pãli phrase than, without
even a pause, he had translated it as well in a quick, fluent style
that defied belief. For instance, when citing passages from the
Dhamma-cakka-pavattana Sutta or the Mahã Samãya Sutta during
the course of his talks, he gave fast, simultaneous translations
worthy of a tenth grade Pãli scholar.^2 I say the tenth grade because
I have heard ninth grade Pãli scholars translate and they tend
to be slow and plodding. They deliberate quite a long time over
each passage and even then they are not very sure of their trans-
lations.
Not only was Ãcariya Mun quick, he also was boldly con-
fident of the truth of his words. Having clearly experienced the
truth of their essential meaning himself, he was certain of his
translations. Pãli verses arose spontaneously in his heart, which
he then elaborated on in a way that differed somewhat from clas-
sical interpretations. For example, vãtã rukkhã na pabbato, which
he translated as: “gale force winds can uproot whole trees, yet
they can’t move a mountain of stone.” This is an example of one
Dhamma verse that arose spontaneously in his heart, along with
the translation, while he was giving a talk to the monks.
What I just wrote about the ninth and tenth grades of Pãli
scholarship shouldn’t be taken too seriously. It is merely a figure
of speech used by monks in the forest tradition – no offense is
intended. We forest monks tend to act a bit like monkeys that
have grown accustomed to living in the wild: even if they are
jacob rumans
(Jacob Rumans)
#1