This is a draft version of a chapter planned for my study on the communal side of the Vinaya, called Seeking the Roots. I began researching sīmās when we were planning how to make ours here at Santi Forest Monastery. I long suspected that there was politics at work in between the lines of the complications and controversies over sīmās, and when I eventually found the evidence I needed for this in the Sri Lankan Chronicles I became more interested and decided that the theme of political influence on Buddhist monastic culture made this research an important example to include in Seeking the Roots.  At Santi we determined our sīmā last year (2549) around the whole monastery and as ticīvaravippavāsa, and further determined the Moneyya Cave as our Uposatha Hall. We used four rocks and one mountain as markers, the mountain is in the national park on the other side of a creek, but the creek is small and there is a place we could always cross. We avoided having to get the consent of the monks at another monastery in the same village by doing the sanghakamma in an area of the proposed sīmā in the national park which was unambiguously wilderness by any standard. The markers which are in the monastery will be labelled with a ceramic tile with a Pāli inscription and all the markers were mapped and recorded with a GPS. Only the controversial aspects of sīmās are discussed here, not the basic method of making one, in my opinion the Vinaya itself should be enough for that.

Sīmānujānanā – The original allowance for a Sīmā

 

Then a bhikkhu said – “The Blessed One has formulated ‘an act of Uposatha for those who are in harmony’. In what way is there harmony; is it to the extent of one monastery or the whole earth?”

The Blessed One said this: “I allow, bhikkhus, ‘harmony’ in this way - to the extent of one monastery.”[1]…

Then a bhikkhu said: “The Blessed One has formulated ‘harmony to the extent of one monastery’, in what way is there ‘one monastery’?”

The Blessed One said this: “I allow you, bhikkhus, to agree upon a boundary (sīmā).”[2]

 

These two passages express the essential original purpose of a sīmā: to simplify the assessment of the criterion of saṅghasammukhatā and prevent doubts by eliminating ambiguity. It’s ironic to compare this with the way later traditions around the agreement upon sīmā have made the concept seem so complicated that often monks would prefer to use a default gāma- or arañña-sīmā despite the ambiguity they involve rather than formally agree on a baddha-sīmā, which is completely the opposite effect to what the Blessed One clearly intended.

These passages also make it clear that the Blessed One intended for a sīmā to be the size of one whole monastery or residence, to take in all the bhikkhus who actually live together and affect each other.

This is quite relevant to the ‘presence of the saṅgha’ (saṅghasammukhatā) as a factor of the ‘in the presence procedure’ (sammukha-vinaya). Since sīmās these days are usually tiny, a group of bhikkhus intending to do a kamma privately without having to have all the bhikkhus present could technically evade the Vinaya by going into a small sīmā within a monastery. This is a loophole, and all one can say is that to abuse this technicality would clearly not be in the spirit of the Vinaya. It is quite obvious from the two passages above about how sīmās came to be allowed that they were originally intended to cover at least one whole monastery.

The use of a khaṇḍa-sīmā seems to originate from the commentaries,[3] it is also found in the texts of some of the other early schools [CHUNG and Kieffer-Pülz]. (A khaṇḍasīmā is a small boundary set inside a large one with enough markers that they do not mix and with a buffer zone between them.) As it is clearly not original, we have to ask whether it is in agreement with the essential purpose of the original allowance for a sīmā. To me it seems clear that it is not, for the same reason as I gave above against small sīmās much less than the size of the monastery.

Harmony and Communion

Next, it would be sensible to review exactly what the terms ‘an act of Uposatha for those who are in harmony’ and ‘harmony’ mean? The first phrase is extremely precise, because it brings together the two nuances of the technical term ‘harmony’ in one phrase: ‘those who are in harmony’ means those who agree on Dhamma as Dhamma and Vinaya as Vinaya etc.[4] and thereby choose to live together and do a single Uposatha (“samāna-saṁvāsā ek’uposathā”), and at the same time incorporates the other more abstract nuance of ‘harmony’ as the factor of completeness of the assembly. The first usage is primary, the second is derived.

The concept of ‘saṁvāsa’ or communion also needs reviewing: is the common traditional interpretation valid in terms of the original Vinaya? Here is the main source:

On that occasion bhikkhus who were followers of a suspended bhikkhu did the Uposatha within the sīmā, they did acts of the saṅgha. The bhikkhus who had suspended the suspended bhikkhu having gone into the sīmā also did the Uposatha; they did acts of the saṅgha. Then one of the bhikkhus who had suspended the suspended bhikkhu approached the Blessed One, having approached and bowed down he sat to one side, and sitting to one side he said to the Blessed One: “Bhante, bhikkhus who are followers of a suspended bhikkhu do the Uposatha within the sīmā, they do acts of the saṅgha. We, having gone into the sīmā, also do the Uposatha and do acts of the saṅgha.”

“If, bhikkhu, those bhikkhus who are followers of one suspended shall do the Uposatha within the sīmā, shall do acts of the saṅgha, according to the motion and announcement formulated by me, then their acts will come to be legally valid, unshakeable and fit to stand. If, bhikkhu, those bhikkhus who suspended the suspended one shall do the Uposatha within that sīmā, according to the motion and announcement formulated by me, then your acts will also come to be legally valid, unshakeable and fit to stand.

There are these two grounds of different-communion, bhikkhus, - either by oneself one makes oneself of different communion or a harmonious saṅgha suspends one for not seeing an offence or for not relinquishing a wrong view. These are the two grounds for becoming different-communion.

There are thse two grounds of becoming same-communion, bhikkhus, - either by oneself one makes oneself same-communion or a harmonious saṅgha revokes the suspension for not seeing and offence or not relinquishing a wrong view. These are the two grounds for becoming same-communion.”[5]

The traditional usage of the concept of nāna-saṁvāsa is usually that the Abbot, or perhaps the Abbot in consultation with the resident monks, decides whether or not an incoming monk is to be regarded as samāna-saṁvāsa or nāna-saṁvāsa. This does not agree with either basis. It might be seen as relatively similar to the first possibility: attanā vā attānanti – by oneself one makes oneself of different or same communion. (The Samantapāsādikā seems to interpret this as individual conscientious objection.[6])

However, there is a substantial difference between an individual right to conscientiously object and an individual deciding to make another individual or even a group nāna-saṁvāsa. Even if a complete saṅgha decided unanimously to treat an individual incoming monk as nāna-saṁvāsa it would not be according to Vinaya. This is because the principles for suspending a bhikkhu and properly making him nāna-saṁvāsa have not been fulfilled: in particular the sammukhāvinaya and paṭiññātakaraṇaṁ procedures. A proper suspension (or pātimokkhaṭṭhapana, cancellation of pātimokkha) can only be done after first making a formal accusation, having done the formal authorisation by the Saṅgha for the interrogator and the accused to ask and answer questions about Vinaya in the midst of the Saṅgha. Then, an act of suspension can only be done against a bhikkhu if he acknowledges having done x or holding view y but refuses to see x as an offence or y as a wrong view, or ‘sees’ but refuses to make amends. These two bases are the ones usually mentioned in short phrasings, but one can be properly suspended for any of the four downfalls: sīlavipatti, ācāravipatti, ājīvavipatti or diṭṭhivipatti.[7] Thus it is clear that the traditional concept of an individual or even a Saṅgha making another bhikkhu nānasaṁvāsa ‘informally’ is invalid and wrong.

We cannot rightly assume that a bhikkhu from outside our clique is ‘nānasaṁvāsa’, this is not consistent with the usage of the term in the Vinaya, and further it is very dubious in terms of Dhamma. The closest the Vinaya comes to support for an assumption of nānasaṁvāsa is this:

…Here, bhikkhus, incoming bhikkhus see resident bhikkhus of same communion. They get the view that they are of different communion. Having the view that they are of different communion, they do not ask, without having asked they do the Uposatha as one – a dukkaṭa offence. They ask, having asked they resolve it, having resolved it they do the Uposatha separately – a dukkaṭa offence. They ask, having asked they resolve it, having resolved it they do the Uposatha as one – no offence.[8]

However, the resident bhikkhus’ assumption here about the incoming bhikkhus does not actually make them nānasaṁvāsa, and if the resident bhikkhus are aware that they are not really nānasaṁvāsa, i.e. that there are no grounds for it, then there is a dukkaṭa offence in excluding them. On the other hand, if they’re aware that there are grounds for nānasaṁvāsa unresolved and they go ahead anyway, also dukkaṭa.

The ideal way to deal with a case where one suspects there might be a basis for nānasaṁvāsa with another bhikkhu(s) is to ask him about it and try to resolve it. If one can’t resolve it, then there are several options:

                    i.      Interrogate him before Pātimokkha, make a formal accusation and then propose a motion to suspend him.

                  ii.      Or, interrogate and formally accuse him but then simply cancel his Pātimokkha which one can do as an individual.

                iii.      If one has attempted to propose a suspension but unanimity cannot be gained, one has to make oneself nānasaṁvāsa as a conscientious objector and leave the assembly (not necessarily the whole sīmā), but there is no offence in communing with him to the extent of eating together.[9]

                iv.      Warn him in advance what it would involve if he attempted to join the Pātimokkha and suggest that he simply stays outside the sīmā.

The fourth option is obviously the easiest, but it’s not ideal because it doesn’t attempt to resolve the basis of the problem. I think it should only be used as a last resort when resolution seems impossible for whatever reason.[10] It also ought to be clearly and firmly noted that exclusion is not the essential purpose of a samānasaṁvāsasīmā, but rather the opposite. Nānasaṁvāsa (different communion because they don’t agree) and asaṁvāsa (not in communion because of pārājika) are quite different categories which must be kept separate: a nānasaṁvāsako bhikkhu would still be saṁvāso not asaṁvāso.

The context of the passage about two grounds for nānasaṁvāsa above is the story of the Schism at Kosambi in which one Saṅgha suspended a conscientious and learned monk who honestly but mistakenly believed that he had committed no offence, and because of his good qualities he easily gained a faction of monks who supported him and the result was a schism. The passage also makes it explicit that if a monk is really nāna-saṁvāsa then by definition it is irrelevant whether he is in the same sīmā or not, since “the Blessed One has allowed an act of Uposatha for those who are in harmony”. Next comes the question of what kinds of sīmā there are and what they mean.

Default and Agreed Sīmās

Default Boundaries

“When a sīmā has not been agreed, bhikkhus, when a sīmā has not been established, that village or town which one dwells in dependence on, the village boundary of that village, or the town boundary of that town, that therein is [the area of] same-communion and a single Uposatha.

All rivers, bhikkhus, are not a boundary, all oceans are not a boundary, and all natural lakes are not a boundary. In a river, bhikkhus, an ocean or a natural lake, the area of a medium man’s water splash all around, that therein is [the area of] same-communion and a single Uposatha.”[11]

Agreed Boundaries

Continuing on from the second passage in the first quote:

“…I allow, bhikkhus, to agree upon a boundary. And thus, bhikkhus, is it to be agreed upon: First the markers are to be announced (kittetabbā) - a mountain marker, a rock marker, a wood marker, a tree marker, a road marker, a termite-mound marker, a river marker or a water marker. Having announced the markers, it is to be announced (ñāpetabbo) by a learned and competent bhikkhu to the Saṅgha:

‘May the Saṅgha, bhante, listen to me. As far as those markers that have been determined all around, if the Saṅgha is ready, it should agree on a boundary of common-communion, of a single Uposatha, with those markers. This is the motion.

May the Saṅgha, bhante, listen to me. As far as those markers that have been determined all around, the Saṅgha agrees on a boundary of common-communion, of a single Uposatha, with those markers. He to whom the agreement on a boundary for common-communion, for a single Uposatha, with those markers, is agreeable, should remain silent. He to whom it is not agreeable should speak.

Agreed by the Saṅgha is a boundary of common-communion, of a single Uposatha, with those markers. This is agreeable to the Saṅgha, therefore it is silent. Thus do I record it.’ ”[12]

For details of the other motions to agree upon a previously determined boundary as also an area of not being separated from the three robes, and to agree upon a meeting place for the Uposatha, see the attached document Sīmā Ceremony.

Discussion

The first passage defines two kinds of default boundaries: village and wilderness. It also says that the area within a natural body of water is not a boundary but goes on to describe a concept of a limit to the area in which unanimity is required strikingly similar to the concept of a sīmā boundary. This suggests an influence from a contemporary civil legal system. The commentary later actually called such a ‘sīmā-like non-sīmā’ in water straightforwardly an ‘udakukkhepa-sīmā’.

The concept of a wilderness is defined by exclusion as what is ‘not a village’ (agāmake). So the precise meaning of both arañña-sīmā and gāma-sīmā depends on how one defines “the village-boundary of a village”. Here is probably the earliest passage referring to the concept of a village boundary, from the Gaṇaka-Moggallāna Sutta, MN 108:

“There are, brāhmin, the training rules formulated for the bhikkhus by the Blessed One, the One who Knows, the One who Sees, the Worthy One, the Fully Awakened One, and the Pātimokkha was recited by him. So on the Uposatha day as many of us as live dependent on one village-field* we all assemble in one place, having assembled we invite one who is able to recite it. When he is reciting, if a bhikkhu has committed an offence we deal with him/ make him make amends according to the Dhamma, according to the Instructions. It is not the venerable ones who deal with us, it is the Dhamma that deals with us.”[13]

The term ‘gāma-khettaṁ’ literally translated as ‘village-field’ could mean simply  ‘village with its fields’, or ‘khettaṁ’ could imply the later technical definition of a gāmasīmā or village boundary. I think that given the context the latter is much more likely.

Far from getting into complicated comparisons of civil administration districts, land ownership and comparison of technicalities in modern and ancient legal systems, this passage suggests essentially the same idea as the original allowance for a formally agreed boundary: as many bhikkhus as are living together and affecting each other, and staying within a reasonable walking distance of a meeting should do Uposatha together normally, unless there is a serious problem with the basis of their harmony in Dhamma. Three yojanas is probably about twenty four kilometres, so if they agreed on a meeting place roughly in the middle that would mean the furthest bhikkhus would have to walk twelve kilometres to and from the meeting, which is quite far but not at all impossible if they are young and healthy, and of course they could live closer if they were not.

For a comprehensive discussion of the half a dozen different explicit and implicit definitions of the distinction between ‘village’ and ‘wilderness’ in different contexts, see Submission to the Bhikkhunī Subcommittee, Bhikkhu Santi, August 2547, p6-8. Here I would just like to explain further the comment I made before that “the five-hundred bow lengths definition … is always used in contexts of danger in the Suttavibhaṅga (cp. eg. bhikkhus’ NP29[14]). This is also the definition we decided was applicable in case of distinguishing a default arañña-sīmā and a gāma-sīmā.” These are the reasons why we decided it was the most applicable definition in this context:

    i.      Nissaggiya-pācittiya twenty nine allows a bhikkhu living in a dangerous and risky wilderness to keep a certain one of his three robes in a village for safekeeping for six nights at most, more than that is a nissaggiya-pācittiya offence. The definition of a ‘wilderness’ dwelling in this context is five-hundred bow lengths, which equals about one kilometre.

  ii.      A formally agreed boundary can be up to three yojanas in diameter, and such a boundary (only) can later be determined as ‘ticīvaravippavāsa’. The purpose of the latter allowance is also to protect the robes from the danger of theft; and this is emphasised by the reformulation to exclude village and the precints of a village.[15]

iii.      Further, the idea of a ‘village-boundary’ in both descriptions in the Vinaya itself is the area in which bhikkhus are dependent on one village for alms, so by contrast, ‘wilderness’ should be considered an area which is not close enough to any particular village to be said to be ‘dependent on a certain village’. In other suttas^[16] the ideal monastery is one not too far or too close from the village, quiet but convenient to go for alms. This begs the question of whether this describes a ‘village’ or a ‘wilderness’ dwelling, it appears to me to be more likely as a description of a village dwelling, and hence a wilderness dwelling would be one quite far from a village, not one “convenient for coming and going”.

This interpretation would make anywhere within one kilometre of a house (since “even one house is a village”[17]) ‘village’ for the purposes of determining the point at which a default village-boundary ends and a default wilderness-boundary may occur.

When a sīmā has not formally been agreed upon this would also be how to determine the way to not be separated from the three robes.

The interpretation of ‘multi-kula’ presented by Ajahn Brahm, as I understand it, is that it refers to the monks in one monastery, and whether they are all samāna-saṁvāsa or some are nāna-saṁvāsa. This is not the only interpretation, or even the most likely. Ven. Ñāṇadīpa comments on BMC I, 1994 ed., p.174 §2 & p.176 §2:

‘Multi-kula’: this shows that this interpretation of ‘hatthapāsa (above marked §) is not correct because the robes would be exposed to dangers within the caravan. If the caravan is ‘of one family’ then the whole caravan, and the area around it, is safe from thieves. If the caravan is ‘of many families’ then one can not trust it and must keep the robe where one can personally take care of it. This is the point in differentiating ekakula and nānākula. Towns and cities of course are never ekakula (only gāma is mentioned in the Vibh.). [Ven. A. explained in a personal conversation that even nowadays in the area where he lives there are small villages where only one tended family clan lives. In such a village social control is quite strong and the saddhā towards the monk(s) living dependent on the village is usually from the whole family/ clan. If there are more than one family/ clan in a village then there might be families with less, or no, saddhā and members of these families might steal from the monks (transcriber’s addition)]. ‘Hatthapāsa’ usually means at close distance from one’s body, lit. what one can reach with one’s hand. Sri Lankan monks generally take it that way. I think that the words ‘hatthapāsā vā na vijahatabbaṁ’ mean: ‘or else (if one has any doubt) one should not leave hatthapāsa (then no offence can arise).

This interpretation clearly fits the context much better. There is a usage of ‘parakulesu’ which seems to make a slightly similar point in the Campakkhandhaka.[18] Another possibility is, supposing that nānakula and parakula are being used to make the same point, that they might refer to whether the village is composed entirely of the monk’s own family.[19] If this were so, then his robes would be more likely to be safe than near a village of strangers’ families.

The commentary’s and subcommentaries’ comments on sīmās are definitely not justifiable by the Vinaya. The fact that their comments have made baddhasīmās seem so impractically complicated and frought with dangers that monks are scared to use them should be enough to establish that they are not worthy of the credulity extended to them.

The Vinaya itself only makes two stipulations about large sīmās:

Then the group of six bhikkhus, thinking ‘the Blessed One has allowed an agreement on a boundary’, agreed on extremely huge boundaries: four yojanas, five yojanas and six yojanas. Bhikkhus coming to the Uposatha came while the Pātimokkha was being recited, they came just afterwards, they stayed a night on the way. The Blessed One said this: “An extremely huge boundary, bhikkhus, is not to be agreed on; one of four, five or six yojanas. Whoever should so agree, an offence of dukkaṭa. I allow, bhikkhus, to agree upon a boundary of three yojanas at most.”

Then the group of six bhikkhus agreed upon a boundary on opposite sides of a river. Bhikkhus coming to the Uposatha were washed away, their bowls were washed away, their robes were washed away. The Blessed One said this: A boundary on opposite sides of a river is not to be agreed upon. Whoever so agrees, an offence of dukkaṭa. I allow, bhikkhus, when there is a regular boat or a permanent[20] bridge, to agree on such a boundary on opposite sides of a river.[21]

Both of these are obviously just about the practicalities of bhikkhus being able to get to the Uposatha and back within a day and in safety. There is never anywhere in the Vinaya any mention of the ownership of land that is included within any kind of sīmā being relevant at all.

Therefore, if we jettison the commentaries’ absurdities, the result is simple: we can agree on a sīmā anywhere as long as it does not contain a river which it could be dangerous to cross. In the vibhaṅga to Bhikkhunī Saṅghādisesa three the same term ‘opposite bank of a river’ is explained as one where a bhikkhunī’s lower robe is made wet and which covers the three circles (two knees and the waist):[22] i.e. it means a major river, not just a little stream.

Mixing boundaries and buffer zones

One of the points where the commentaries have a riot is over the issue of agreeing on a boundary which includes or comes ambiguously close to another agreed boundary. The intention of the Buddha was evidently practical as usual:

Then the group of six bhikkhus mixed sīmā with sīmā. The Blessed One said this: “Those, bhikkhus, who agreed on their sīmā first, their acts are valid, unshaken, fit to stand. Those, bhikkhus, who agreed on their sīmā after, their acts are invalid, shaken and unfit to stand. A sīmā is not to be mixed with a sīmā. Whoever should so mix it, an offence of dukkaṭa.”

Then the group of six set sīmā right next to sīma. The Blessed One said this: “Those, bhikkhus, who agreed on their sīmā first, their acts are valid, unshaken, fit to stand. Those, bhikkhus, who agreed on their sīmā after their acts are invalid, shaken and unfit to stand. A sīmā is not to be set right next to [another] sīmā. Whoever should so set it right next to, an offence of dukkaṭa. I allow, bhikkhus, by those agreeing on a sīmā, having excepted a between sīmās area, to agree upon a sīmā.”[23]

The Samantapāsādikā states:

‘They mixed boundary with boundary’: with their own boundary they mixed the tied-off boundary of others. ‘If in the eastern quarter of the old Vihāra there is a mango tree and a rose apple tree.’* The branches of the two trees were intertwined with each other, a portion of the mango tree in the eastern quarter was in the branches of the rose apple tree. Having announced the boundary of the Vihāra with the rose apple tree at the end, and having announced the mango tree by which the sīmā was bound, then later, having made the end of the boundary of their vihāra the mango tree in the eastern quarter of the (old) vihāra, and announced the rose apple tree, they bound it, and boundary was mixed with boundary. Thus the group of six did, therefore it was said: “they mixed boundary with boundary.”

‘They set sīmā right next to sīmā’: they set their own sīmā right next to the sīmā of others. Having made the tied-off sīmā of others their own, or its area, the end of their own sīmā, they bound it. ‘Having excepted an area in between  boundaries to agree a boundary’: Herein if the earlier Vihāra have not agreed upon a boundary, the precincts of the boundary are to be excepted. If it has been agreed, from the last point an in between area the measure to be excepted is a hand. Also, in the Kurundi the measure is a vidatthi, but in the Mahāpaccari it is said that a measure of four finger breadths is valid. Also, if one tree is the marker of two boundaries, then it leads to increasing doubts about the sīmās; therefore it is not to be done.[24]

The first paragraph doesn’t actually say that the intermingled branches of the tree invalidated the sīmā because the two areas were not separated or not distinct, it seems to be just a narrative detail, and the second paragraph only says that ‘it leads to increasing doubts’, it doesn’t commit to whether the doubts are valid or not. The point it’s making is that the new Vihāra in the east (i.e. the Jetavanavihāra) used a marker within the boundary of the old Mahāvihāra to determine their own boundary, thus mixing the boundaries, and so theirs was invalid. The idea of non-seperateness probably comes from the much later controversy over the Amarapuranikāya’s ordination platform in lake Mādugaṅga in 1845. It might have been read back into the interpretation of this passage, as Aj. Geoff suggests,[25] but that is not warranted by the evidence here.

Sīmā Controversies, Commentarial Complications thereof, and their Political Roots

In the passage above, the commentary’s comment on how the group of six monks mixed sīmā with sīmā seem suspicious for several reasons:

1.      The story of the two trees, in the eastern direction of ‘the old Vihāra’ (Vihāra in later Pāli means a whole monastery rather than a single building) sounds extremely over-specific for a stock “Then the group of six monks…” template origin story.

2.       One phrase is strangely presented as a quote: “If in the eastern quarter of the old Vihāra there is a mango tree and a rose apple tree.” Perhaps from the chronicles?

The issue of the validity of sīmās has for a long time been the most highly politicised point in Vinaya, or perhaps in the whole of Theravāda Buddhism. The later phase in particular of controversies over sīmās (i.e. 13^thC onwards) is well summarised in: “The concept of sīmā: its origin and  development”, of Buddhist Monastic Discipline: A study of its origin and development in relation to the Sutta and Vinaya Piṭakas  by Jotiya Dhirasekera (now Ven. Dhammavihāri). If the reader is not familiar with that work, I would request he reads it first before continuing with this.

The points about sīmās which I call ‘bizarre’ I have actually collected from my reading of secondary sources like BMC. Unfortunately BMC never gives any references, so one has to either accept it on trust or not. I have not yet spent the monstrous amount of time it would take to locate all of these points in the commentaries, subcommentaries and later texts myself; many of the medieval texts about sīmā controversies are not included in the VRI edition. I do not therefore know for sure where these points really come from, except that they’re definitely not found explicitly in the Vinaya itself. The points I am interested in refuting are:

1.      That a sīmā once made is eternal: even if no-one uses it anymore and there are no visible remains of the markers, and even if it was made in a past Buddha era. This is the reason why it is traditional in Thailand to go around the area to be determined as a new sīmā removing any possible old sīmās.

If this were true, then how would they ever have managed to make sīmās up to three yojanas wide, in India of all places, the birth place of all Buddhas? Obviously, in the Vinaya a sīmā is simply a practical, conceptual boundary. A conceptual boundary only really exists in the minds of the people using it: so when no one knows about it anymore, it is no more. Alternatively, its demise could be measured at the point when the markers are no longer visible. Otherwise, what would the markers be for? I suspect some influence from Brāhmanism, especially on this point. Apparently there are many references to ‘vastu’ (basis or place) and occasionally ‘sīmā’ in the Vedas and Brāhmaṇas, both meaning a consecrated area for rituals and sacrifices. I am not able to read Vedic Sanskrit, but I am continuing to pursue an answer from a Vedic scholar. An influence is also not unlikely from the conflict between the Mahāvihāra and Jetavanavihāra (see below) and how this affected the retrospective writing of the Mahāvaṁsa, and how the sīmā of the Mahāvihāra was presented as of such cosmic importance that there was an earthquake when it was completed, and when Mahinda Thera sprinkled flowers on eight bodies of water through which the boundary passed each time there was an earthquake too. A sīmā of such cosmic mythical significance could easily come to be perceived as an eternal ultimate reality too.

2.       The interpretation of ‘gāmasīmā’ as referring to local, civil administrative boundaries.

The practical difficulty with this interpretation is that administrative boundaries are purely arbitrary and concentric, so one can arbitrarily choose or doubt endlessly whether to consider it as the village, parish, district or county boundary. I believe it is only based in the commentarial tradition.

This point actually does not deserve the description ‘bizarre’: it’s quite reasonable as a possibility, but I object to it on two grounds: (i) it is not justified by the early Suttas and Vinaya, and (ii) it is impractical. As I quoted above, in the Suttas and Vinaya a ‘gāmasīmā’ seems to be measured simply by “as many bhikkhus as dwell dependent on a certain village”, and there is nothing to say that it means a civil administrative boundary: that’s only in the commentaries. Further, there is the one kilometre or ‘suttanta’[26] definition of ‘gāma’ vs. ‘arañña’ which is most applicable to the context, and agrees well with the Gaṇaka-Moggallāna sutta passage above. Apparently Aj. Geoff says that there would not be any wilderness in Europe these days because all land is owned by someone or other, and he bases this on a conjectural etymology of ‘arañña’ as ‘a+rājat’- “a place not subject to a king’s rule”. It looks unlikely if one is not familiar with Pāli, but actually there is a form in Pāli ‘rañña’ derived from rāja. However, there are several problems with this: first, it has never been proposed before in any of the ancient texts or commentaries as far as I know; secondly, there is a much less problematic etymology:

Arañña (nt.) [Vedic araṇya; from araṇa, remote, + ya. In the Rig V. araṇya still means remoteness (opp. to amā, at home). In the Ath V. it has come to mean wilderness or forest. Connected with ārād and āre, remote, far from]. forest D i.71; M[27]

And thirdly, it doesn’t agree with local legal systems: there is no evidence that ‘wilderness’ areas were considered outside the King’s jurisdiction in ancient India, and there is some evidence to the contrary; further, in modern Asian countries all land even that owned (on one level) by individuals is owned on a higher level by the King.[28]

Although for quite different reasons, I mostly agree with Aj. Geoff’s reported conclusion to the extent that I think there would be hardly any monasteries these days which could unambiguously claim to be arañña. I consider the definition of the gāma-/ arañña- distinction called ‘suttanta’ the most sensible. This would consequently mean that most monasteries even though very quiet and full of trees would not be arañña because they are not so wild and remote as to be ‘considered risky and dangerous’ (sasaṅkasammate sappaṭibhaye).

3.      The notion that a place merely being called a ‘forest monastery’ makes it arañña for the purposes of distinguishing default gāma- from arañña-.

This is just a bahn nork assumption! The distinction has to be assessed on the basis of one of the half dozen definitions in terms of physical distance from a house (or perhaps the administrative district if you accept the commentary’s interpretation). The claim to be a ‘forest monastery’ is irrelevant.

4.      That if a formally determined sīmā is wrongly determined or invalidated then all acts in that area are necessarily invalid.

It would be a more reasonable interpretation of the source[29] that if the determination of the sīmā is invalid then there is still a default (i.e. abaddha) sīmā there. Whether or not it matters whether there are other bhikkhus in the actual sīmā who are not actually present if one perceives the assembly as complete is a complex matter, because there seems to be a contradiction between different passages in the Vinaya on this point: A passage in the Uposathakkhandhaka, copied probably as a template in the Pavāraṇakkhandhaka, states that if a Saṅgha perceives the act as according to Dhamma and Vinaya (dhammasaññino vinayasaññino) and the assembly as complete (samaggasaññino), and if the number of bhikkhus who are not actually present is less than the number who are present, then the act is valid and there is no offence for the reciters.[30] However, passages at the end of the Campakkhandhaka[31] and in the Kammavagga[32] chapter of the Parivāra seem to say the opposite. If it came to a choice between these passages, I would definetly guess that the Uposathakkhandhaka passage is more likely to be authentic. The Campakkhandhaka has large multiple permutation series at the end with little connection to the story, and the Kammavaggo also looks like one of the later chapters of the Parivāra.[33] Since the Uposatha and Pavāraṇā are given the most thorough treatment among saṅghakammas in the Vinaya, it would be sensible to extrapolate from their treatment to all saṅghakammas. The validity of a sīmā basically boils down to the validity of the assembly, at least in its original purpose. So if the factor of the completeness of assembly is flexible and saññavimokkha[34] as in the Uposathakkhandhaka, then there is little need to worry about sīmās, unless there is a possibility of there being a larger number of bhikkhus not present than present unbeknownst to the assembly.

For the same reason, one would not need to worry about a few monks flying overhead in an aeroplane, or going underneath the sīmā in the Channel Tunnel! Besides, the traditional interpretation that the depth of a sīmā is from the magma of the earth to the top of the atmosphere is quaint, but it is not found in the Vinaya.[35] It is only a later interpretation and it has become impractical now, and further it doesn’t really agree with the strictly practical intent of the original allowance by the Buddha. I strongly suspect that the motivation for this interpretation was not just abstract speculation but actually the incident in the Mahāvihāra vs. Jetavanavihāra sīmā conflict when seven Mahāvihāravāsin monks hid in a cellar (i.e. underground) in order to invalidate the hostile act of sīmāsamūhanana  by the Jetavanavihāravāsins (see below for details). I would suggest that for all normal purposes the depth and height of a sīmā should be considered to be just the earth’s surface, however much it goes up and down but not below ground or in the air.  Considering the extreme circumstances of the conflict over the Mahāvihāra’s sīmā, I think we could reasonably say that the Jetavanavihāravāsins’ attempt to destroy their rival’s sīmā would be invalid for a less technical reason and one which we can be sure the Buddha would not allow: that they had the resident monks driven out of the sīmā by threats and force so that they would not be present to object!

5.      The idea of discrete separation of the sīmā.

The focus of the 1845 sīmā controversy was that the Udakukkhepa Sīmā of the Amarapuranikāya was connected to the mainland by a bridge, which had been added sometime after its consecration. The question was whether this connection to the mainland made it ‘land’ rather than an area ‘in natural lake’, which of course has the smallest sīmā-like boundary (though not technically a ‘sīmā’)[36] and which was praised by the Samantapāsādikā as ‘suitable by its very nature for the performance of all Saṅghakamma’.[37]

In this original example, the question seems not too unreasonable. However, after the controversy, the principle seems to have been taken to such an extreme that the Vinaya Mukha reports:

If a tree causes overlapping, why has no one mentioned electricity wires – I suppose because trees are “things” but electricity poles and wires aren’t. [And continuing in a foot note:] It has been heard that in Burma the electricity wires are disconnected if a saṅghakamma will be performed. This leads one to think of the air which flows into the sīmā. Should this too be disconnected?[38]

If one takes the principle of disconnection to it’s rational conclusion, then only a sīmā with a doughnut ring of absolute pure vacuum around it extending from the magma of the earth until the top of the atmosphere could be a valid sīmā. Since an absolute pure vacuum is in principle impossible as long as the second law of thermodynamics holds, one wonders how Sāriputta would have managed to make a sīmā all the way around Rājagaha?[39] I suppose he must have used his psychic powers to create the absolute vacuum required, just like Moses split the Red Sea, because of course he would have been able to defy the second law of thermodynamics as he was an Aggasāvaka!

The Sīmā created by Ven. Sāriputta all around Rājagaha clearly could not have meant that the Saṅgha claimed ownership over all of Rājagaha, or that there were no other boundaries of any kind intersecting. A sīmā has a specific purpose, it is only a conceptual boundary.

The worldview of Burmese Abhidhammika commentators would have tended to perceive realities as absolutely discrete or not realities at all. This kind of philosophy which creates absolute distinctions which are not empirically justified is utterly incompatible with the early Suttas and Vinaya.

6.      That an udakukkhepasīmā can be artificial.

I’ve heard of water boundaries being made in artificial lakes. However, the source in the Vinaya lists: rivers, oceans and natural lakes. A river is usually natural, there are other terms for an artificial canal (nāvyā, or niddhamana), and the jāta- in jātassaro definitely means a natural lake. I don’t know whether this matters or not, I would be inclined to interpret it flexibly according to perception, but on the other hand the passage³⁶ seems to be formulated in the context of a contemporary civil legal system in which natural bodies of water were probably ‘Nomansland’ for crop irrigation reasons. (I think I remember reading that in old Sri Lanka the water in a waterway became the property of whoever’s land it flowed through and he had to buy it from the previous land owner, the amount of water remaining which a farmer could sell on to the next farmer would depend on how efficiently he channelled it through his fields: a clever system!) I’m not sure therefore whether it should matter whether a lake is natural or not, but it’s definitely not as unambiguous as those who make artificial udakukkhepasīmā hope.

7.      The fallacy that ownership over the land has any relevance whatsoever to any kind of sīmā.

Again, how could they ever have made a three yojana wide sīmā around Rājagaha if a prerequisite was that the Saṅgha must own all the land first? This is just a category mistake. In the Mahāvaṁsa King Devanampiya marks out a furrow where he proposes for Mahinda Thera to have the Saṅgha mark the sīmā. Probably this was taken as a precedent, and it’s a very nice tradition, but it was not meant to be a regulation. As I understand it, land ownership has absolutely nothing to do with sīmās.

8.       The use of the term or idea that a sīmā is not only a ‘agreed’ or ‘conventioned’ place but in some sense a ‘consecrated’ place.

The Vinaya account makes not the slightest implication that a sīmā is a ‘sacred’ space. It’s a nice idea in a way, but we ought to be aware that it is extraneous to avoid distorting our approach to sīmās.

9.      That when ‘pointing out’ the markers (“paṭhamaṁ nimittā kittetabbā”) this must be done in a very particular way: first, that it means actually going to the markers to point them out, and that a prominent layperson must do the replies (which are stipulated by the comy.) e.g. “a stone, bhante”, and that the group must return to the first marker to complete the tying off of the boundary.

The account in the Vinaya itself does not even mention physically going to the markers to announce them, and considering the maximum size allowed (~24 km diameter), it seems quite likely that originally it would have meant merely announcing ‘that tree over there’, ‘that mountain’, ‘that rock, the one next to the blah-blah, does everyone know the one? Right, that one.’ etc. The tradition that a prominent layperson must be involved in replying about the markers is not located even in the commentary, it seems to be derived from the fallacy over ownership. The idea of ‘tying off the final marker’ again is not located in the Vinaya or, I think, even the commentary. It belies a rather ‘magical’ idea of the nature and purpose of a sīmā.

10.  That the notion of a boundary for the Vassa residence must be coterminous with the samānasaṁvāsasīmā.

The idea of Vassa residence in the Vinaya does not specify in what sense one must greet dawnrise in the same ‘dwelling’. It has been interpreted as in the same monastery in the Thai forest tradition and as the same individual dwelling in the Sri Lankan forest tradition. The idea of using the samānasaṁvāsa boundary to define the area in which one spends the rains is practically fine, but it has no explicit basis in the Vinaya, and probably not even the commentaries. This is another extraneous idea that we should recognise as essentially irrelevant to avoid confusing things.

11.  This last point is more like an oversight than an interpretation: Before an agreed boundary has been made, there is a default boundary, and as argued above, in most cases it would be a default village boundary. If the saṅghakamma for agreeing on the baddhasīmā is to be done in an area which would by default be gāmasīmā,[40] and there are other monks there, (incl. monks in a city temple who would probably become nānasaṁvāsa by suspension if a resolution was attempted but are not actually nānasaṁvāsa yet) then we would have to invite them or bring their consent. If this were not done, then the act would probably be invalidated by the assembly being incomplete.

In this situation, it is hard to imagine how a new baddhasīmā, for example, in modern Bangkok could possibly be validly agreed in a particular monastery because it is almost inconceivable how one could either gather all the bhikkhus in the capital or collect their consent. This seems very serious. However, please bear in mind the point above about the two apparently contradictory statements in the Vinaya about whether the factor of validity of the assembly ought to be considered in an absolute way or in a slightly flexible and saññavimokkha way. If the two passages are indeed contradictory, and if the one in the Uposathakkhandhaka is more authentic, then this would mean that as long as bhikkhus assembled in a technically invalid sīmā perceive their assembly as complete (samaggasaññino) (and the number who are not actually present who should be is less than those present), then the act would still be valid.

Besides the technical aspect, this oversight is also interesting for what it implies about the traditional attitude to sīmās and authority in Asia, particularly Thailand. I’ve heard that in popular perception in Thailand a sīmā would be considered invalid if it had not received permission from the ecclesiastical and civil hierarchs, i.e. the Chao Khana Ampur and the Nai Ampur. According to Vinaya, as long as the Chao Khana Ampur is not in the default sīmā yet not present or without having sent his consent, then his permission is irrelevant, and the Nai Ampur’s permission is utterly irrelevant because he is an anupasampanna. However, the consent of other bhikkhus present – even one ordained that very day – is crucial. This is an interesting example of the contrast between traditional perceptions and the culture of the original Vinaya.

In the main section on sīmās in the commentary, which is at: Sp. vol.5 pp.1035-1056, when skim-reading I only identified point two.[41] The other ideas I suspect are post-commentarial.

Political Background

(Anuradhapura Archaeological Survey. Reproduced from p.160 of The Archaeology of Early Historic South Asia: The Emergence of Cities and States; F.R . Allchin, 1995.) 

The bizarre fact that such an abstruse issue as sīmās, with what became their innumerable formalistic, technical details, has became such a hot political topic for almost two millenia in Theravāda only begins to make sense when one realises that attempts (probably repeated) to destroy the sīmā of the Mahāvihāra were pivotal in the political and religious history of Sri Lanka in the last chapter of the Mahāvaṁsa and the first chapter of the Cūlavaṁsa. With so much royal political intrigue, and power struggles between the three main Vihāras and between Theravāda and Mahāyāna in the capital, for  seven hundred years before the composition of the Samantapāsādikā, it is not at all suprising that the Samantapāsādikā, at the turning point when the Mahāvihāra begun to win the power struggle against Mahāyāna, Sanskrit and the two newer Vihāras in the old capital, Anurādhapura, should be a little less than impartial, reasoned and practical on the question of sīmās! To expect impartial, sensible comments on sīmās from commentaries written in this period of Sri Lankan history (or indeed after) would be like expecting a balanced, impartial account of the legal validity of Palestinian borders from a spokesman for one of the Zionist paramilitary forces!

In the Sri Lankan chronicles there are quite continous conflicts[42] between the Mahāvihāra, the Abhayagirivihāra and the Jetavanavihāra, and the most prominent focus of their conflicts is: the attempt by Saṅghamitta Thera of the Abhayagirivihāra and Tissa Thera[43] who founded the Jetavanavihāra to destroy the Mahāvihāra’s sīmā with the support of King Mahāsena. The Sri Lankan Chronicles are extremely long, and written in extremely ornate, prolix late Pāli verse. I am afraid it would be a major undertaking to trace all the links between the commentaries and the Chronicles. So I beg to offer merely a summary of some points I’ve noticed so far with a few quotes. There is a very free translation of the Mahāvaṁsa[44] and Cūlavaṁsa[45] by Wilhelm Geiger. The translation is so free that it merely summarises the verses in prose, and Geiger obviously found the sections on sīmās particularly boring because he leaves out most of the details. I have made revised translations of some of the relevant passages and attached them in an appendix: Passages from the Pāli Chronicles about Conflicts over Sīmās.

In chapter 15 concerning the founding of the Mahāvihāra, verses 180-213 of the Mahāvaṁsa relate how King Devānampiya Tissa, after donating the Mahāvihāra, asked the Elder Mahinda whether the Sāsanā was well established in the Island yet. The Elder replied ‘not yet’, and told the King of the need to make a sīmā for the Uposatha. The King then marked out the boundary with a  plough: starting at the bank of the river, going around the city in a circle and back to the river again. The Elder placed thirty two markers[46] and completed the tying off of the boundary that very day. When the boundary of the Mahāvihāra was completed the earth shook.

The markers are listed in the Mahāvaṁsa and also apparently the Mahābodhivaṁsa,[47] but I have not yet obtained a copy of the latter to compare them. The first marker was a stone ford (pāsāṇatittha) according to both, most likely the one seen on the archaeological survey of old Anurādhapura above, and uses some rocks (e.g. the second: Kuddavāṭakapāsāṇa), quite a lot of trees (eg. Mahānīpa tree), which would go some way to explaining how Mahinda could have completed it in a single day, at least one lake (the Marutta-pokkharaṇī) and also apparently the gate of the Vijayārāma. The reference to using a gate as a sīmānimitta is interesting, because in other Vinaya recensions there are more, and in one less, kinds of markers allowed.[48]^,[49] I could not identify that any of the trees used as markers in the eastern quarter was a mango tree, but an expert in Pāli names of trees might. If one of the markers listed for the eastern direction were a mango tree, it would mean that the Samantapāsādikā’s explanation of the origin story above would match perfectly the historical context of the conflict between the Mahāvihāra and the Jetavanavihāra.

The mythical significance of this episode derives from the fact that the King’s question refers back to the reason for convening the First, Second and Third Councils, which are narrated in the first few chapters of the Mahāvaṁsa, also the well known phrase in the introduction to the Samantapāsādikā about the First Council:

“…When he was seated thus the Venerable Mahā Kassapa Thera addressed the bhikkhus: ‘Friends, which should we recite first, the Dhamma or the Vinaya?’ The bhikkhus said:

‘Bhante Mahā Kassapa, Vinaya is the life-force of the Buddha’s religion, as long as the Vinaya stands the religion will stand, therefore let us recite the Vinaya first.’[50]

Since in all likelihood this is a mythical account rather than literal history, and considering that the Mahāvaṁsa was probably compiled around the time of the Samantapāsādikā,[51] we should consider the possibility that the function of this episode is to emphasise the cosmic importance of the sīmā of the Mahāvihāra which the Jetavanavihāravāsins most evily tried to destroy. I suggested above that the difference in the way in which it is recorded that the Jetavanavihāravāsins and their supporters tried to destroy the Mahāvihāra’s sīmā (i.e. in the Chronicles compared to the Samantapāsādikā passage quoted above), in no way implies that only one or the other may be true and the other false. More likely, they would have tried various skulduggerous means to try to terminate the lineage of the Mahāvihāra by destroying their ordination sīmā: so it is quite possible that they tried both overlapping the boundaries, which wasn’t a serious  threat because the Mahāvihāra monks knew that it was invalid anyway, and later also tried to abolish it when they thought all the Mahāvihāra monks had been driven out by King Mahāsena; but little did they know, some were still hiding in the cellar in order to invalidate their sīmāsamūhanana ceremony![52]

The implication of this story is that the Jetavanavihāra monks would have thought that the Mahāvihāra was abolished and their new sīmā was valid, but really their sīmā was invalid and therefore all of their ordinations. Remember that this was written in retrospect about the founding of their closest rival at an insecure time which later turned out to be pivotal in the near-millenium long power struggle, so probably the intention is to cast aspersion on the validity of their rival’s ordinations: a not uncommon practice, in spite of the fact that it would be an offence under Pācittiya seventy seven.[53]

The campaigns of Saṅghamitta Thera, a vetullavādin (Mahayānist), against the Mahāvihāra are mentioned in Mhvs.36.110ff., and 37.2 ff. The beginning of Chap.37 relates how Saṅghamitta persuaded the King to establish a fine of one hundred pieces of money for anyone who should give alms to the Mahāvihārin monks. The Mahāvihāravāsin monks fled to the Southern Highlands (Malaya and Rohaṇa). The Mahāvihāra was empty of bhikkhus for nine years. Saṅghamitta Thera of the Abhayagirivihāra is implicated in the plot to destroy the Mahāvihāra’s sīmā in chap.37 v.55 of the Mahāvaṁsa (i.e. the first chapter of the Cūlavaṁsa, see note 17). Another Tissa Thera is supposed to have founded the Jetavanavihāra in the Jotivana garden within the eastern quarter of the Mahāvihāra’s sīmā. He was accused of an offence with the most extreme basis (antimavatthunā), i.e. a pārājika,[54] and found guilty by the King’s minister against the King’s wishes. A minister, probably the same, Meghavaṇṇ’ābhaya, became a rebel and raised an army from the South. The King came out to do battle with him, but the minister approached him alone in the night with a meal. They ate together like the old friends they were, and then the King asked him why he had become a rebel. He said because the King had allowed the Mahāvihāra to be dismantled by Saṅghamitta Thera. Then the King agreed to restore the Mahāvihāra. Once he had lost the King’s support, the Queen arranged for the assassination of the evil Saṅghamitta. After this, of course, it became obviously politically dangerous for a King to support the Mahāyānist monasteries in the capital over the conservative Mahāvihāra which had popular support in the countryside. This is most likely the main reason why the Mahāvihāra’s fortunes seem to have improved continuously from this point on.

Thus, we can conclude that the bizarre, complicated and impractical nature of the traditional comments and interpretations of sīmās derive more from Sri Lankan political intrigues than from the Vinaya. This should certainly be enough to dismiss anxiety over following all their foibles and fetishes, and allow us to go back to the original, simple pragmatic instructions in the Vinaya itself.

I have attempted to compare the Chinese translation of the Abhayagirivihāra’s version of the Samantapāsādikā.[55] It seems that a large section including the place where I would expect to find the corresponding comment has been lost or displaced. If it were available, I would expect to find that the corresponding comment would either be quite long, vituperative and implicitly referring to the same conflict from a ‘victim’s perspective’, or it might preserve the old preconflict version.

The Burmese contribution[56] still requires some explanation though. The main Burmese involvement with controversies over sīmās was in two periods: Chapaṭa Thera’s Ṭīkā to the Sīmālaṅkara of a certain Sri Lankan Vācissara Thera in 1170; and in the controversy over the Udakukkhepa Sīmā  in Mādugaṅga lake at Balapitimodara in Ceylon, 1845. Both periods were long after the Mahāvihāra had gained the upper hand over the other two Vihāras in Anurādhapura and had written their victor’s perspective in between the lines of the commentaries.

It seems to me the most likely reason is just that the Burmese merely didn’t realise the historical context of the Sri Lankan commentaries’ statements on sīmās and so took them all far too literally and as self-authorising, and made rational extrapolations from them in spite of how impractical the results were (reductio ad absurdum of a different kind!).

The Mahābodhivaṁsa’s account of at least the first marker is consistent with the Mahāvaṁsa (vv.208-9), in that it was a stone ford (pāsāṇatittha) on the Kadamba river, shown flowing north-south on the eastern edge of the map above. The only ford which is shown in the archaeological survey above[57] is to the north east of the citadel. According to the Mahāvaṁsa the sīmā went around the city and the Mahāvihāra (aka. the Thūpārāma), taking in the Jotivana or Nandana garden, which was donated by King Devānampiya to the Saṅgha led by Mahinda Thera, and then went by the name Mahāmeghavanārama (Great Cloud Wood Monastery). It was the same Jotivana where the evil Tissa Thera founded the Jetavanavihāra, and hence struggled with the Mahāvihāra to establish their own sīmā. Thus the archaeological and literary evidence agrees. If or when the monks of the Jetavanavihāra remained in harmony with the monks of the Mahāvihāra then of course they could do Uposatha, ordinations, etc. together, but after the Jetavanavihāra accepted vetullavāda (Mahāyāna) they could not since it would be “adhammena samaggaṁ uposathakammaṁ”.[58] Hence the furiosity of the conflict over the sīmā, and the extreme politicisation of sīmās in Theravāda ever since.

Further Reading:

These are some articles I have come across references to and which are about Sīmās in some way, but I have not yet been able to obtain:

 

Kieffer-Pülz: Sīmā. Vorschriften zur Regelung der buddhistischen Gemeindegrenze in älteren buddhistischen Texten, Berlin 1992 (Monographien zur indischen Ar­chäologie, Kunst und Philologie, 8), 473 S. ISBN: 3496004355

“The meaning of māḷa(ka)/māla(ka) in Pali,”  Langue, style et structure dans le monde indien, Centenaire de Louis Renou. Actes du Colloque international (Paris, 25-27 janvier 1996), ed. Nalini Balbir, Georges-Jean Pinault und Jean Fe­zas, Paris 1996, 285-325.

“Nāgas Ordained and Sīmās Connected. The Importance of the Vimativinodanīṭīikā for Vinaya Studies", Untersuchungen zur buddhistischen Literatur, 2. Folge. Gustav Roth zum 80. Geburtstag gewidmet, ed. Heinz Bechert, Sven Bretfeld und Petra Kieffer‑Pülz, Göttingen 1997 (Sanskrit-Wörterbuch der buddhistischen Texte aus den Turfan-Funden, Beiheft 8), 239-253.

“Rules for the sīmā regulation in the Vinaya and its commentaries and their application in Thailand", Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 20, 2 (1997), 141-153.

“A Legal Judgement Regarding a Sīmā Controversy: Ñeyyadhamma's Sīmāvivāda-vinicchayakathā,” Facets of Indian Culture. Gustav Roth Felicitation Volume, ed. C. P. Sinha, Patna 1998, 210-218.

“Ceremonial Boundaries in the Buddhist Monastic Tradition in Sri Lanka,” Wilhelm Geiger and the Study of the History and Culture of Sri Lanka, ed. Ulrich Everding und Asanga Tilakaratne, Colombo 1999, 43-90.

I have this one:

Jin-Il CHUNG and Petra Kieffer-Pülz: “The karmavācanas for the determination of sīmā and ticīvareṇa avippavāsa”, Dharmadūta. Mélanges offerts au Vénérable Thích Huyên Vi à l'occasion de son soixante dixième anniversaire, OD. Bhikkhu T. Dhammaratana and Bhikkhu Pasadika, Paris: Librairie You Feng 1997, 13-56.

http://www.payer.de/mahavamsa/chronik15.htm A site in German with translations, notes and maps, but I can’t read German.