Tracing back to the 12th century, the Jonang school first took shape through early masters like Yumo Mikyö Dorje, but it really hit its stride under Dolpopa Sherab Gyaltsen (1292–1361). Famous for championing the zhentong view—“empty of other” phenomena yet alive with buddha-nature—this approach carved its own niche alongside the dominant Sakya, Kagyu, and later Gelug traditions.

By the 14th century, vast complexes such as the Jonang headquarters at Zhanang and Dagkar Monastery in Tsang became beacons for students seeking an esoteric twist on Madhyamaka philosophy. Dolpopa’s writings brim with poetic flair, depicting ultimate reality not as a void but as a luminous ground. Word spread, and Jonang’s blend of tantric ritual, intricate philosophical debate, and contemplative silence resonated far and wide.

The 17th century brought storm clouds: as the Gelugpa under the Fifth Dalai Lama consolidated power, around 60 Jonang monasteries were absorbed or converted. Official doctrine declared Jonang’s zhentong stance heretical, pushing the tradition under the radar. Yet in remote corners of Amdo, dedicated lineages quietly preserved their texts and lineages among nomadic communities. It’s a bit like a rare flower stubbornly blooming in a hidden valley.

Fast-forward to modern times, and Jonang’s comeback reads like a page-turner. Since the late 20th century, monks and lay practitioners have revived practices in both Tibet and exile. A 2023 feature in the New York Times spotlighted the teenage tulku of Tsangwa Monastery, sparking fresh global curiosity. Online dharma platforms now offer zhentong-focused lectures, and last year’s World Parliament of Religions included a panel on Jonang’s unique vision of buddha-nature.

This tradition’s journey from regal heights, through near-erasure, to renewed interest today shows how ideas rooted in compassion and wisdom can survive adversity—and even thrive centuries later.