分別功德論 3

English (machine translation) 3

Language: English

3.1

Translator's name lost; appended to the records of the Later Han.

"The Buddha told the monks" refers to the Buddha's great compassion: wishing to make his disciples fully understand the meaning of mindfulness of the Buddha, just as a father gives binding admonitions to his children and grandchildren wishing them to reach perfection without cessation, so that they will single-mindedly and diligently be mindful of the Buddha, observing the Tathāgata's physical form without their eyes ever leaving it—just as Ānanda observed the Buddha insatiably, his mind mindful without cease. At that time, a carbuncle grew on Ānanda's back, and the Buddha ordered Jīvaka to treat Ānanda's affliction. Jīvaka addressed the Buddha: "I dare not touch Ānanda's back with my hands." The Buddha told Jīvaka: "Just treat it and have no doubt. I myself will preach the Dharma to Ānanda to make him feel no pain." The Tathāgata had Ānanda gaze intently at the Buddha's marks and signs, and the Buddha explained to him: "The Tathāgata's body is of the vajra nature, indestructible, accomplished by three thousand two hundred merits." Ānanda's eyes gazed untiringly, his ears listened unsated, and his mind's contemplation did not scatter. At that time, Jīvaka incised the carbuncle on Ānanda's back and applied ointment. The Buddha asked Ānanda: "Do you feel pain on your back?" He replied: "I do not feel it." That he did not feel pain was due to mindfulness of the Buddha.

3.3

Accomplished by the ten powers and four fearlessnesses. In the past, an elder took his slave to pay homage to a stūpa, saying: "Namo to the World-Honoured One of the Ten Powers." The slave, paying homage behind him, said: "Namo to the Tathāgata of the Eleven Powers." The elder said: "The Tathāgata has precisely ten powers; why do you say eleven powers?" The slave said: "What harm is there in eleven powers? Just do not say nine powers. Saying eleven powers adds one more power; what fault is there in that?" The master fell silent and returned. He asked the Dharma masters: "How many powers does the Tathāgata have?" They replied: "Sometimes it is three powers, sometimes ten powers, and sometimes countless." Speaking from this, they are not limited to ten. The elder then went forth to study the Way, and emancipated the slave to be the master of the household. To say four is not a deficiency; to say countless is not a superfluity; it responds to the time and accords with beings, having no fixed standard.

3.4

Mindfulness of the Dharma means [progressing] from desire to desirelessness, from desire to the path, from the contaminated (āsrava) to the uncontaminated (anāsrava), and from the conditioned to the unconditioned. How is this known to be so? Formerly, the World-Honoured One was teaching and transforming [beings] in the kingdom of King Udayana. At that time, he preached the Dharma above in the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven for his mother Māyā, returning after ninety days and descending north of the city of Kāśī. At that time, the nun Utpalavarṇā thought in her heart that she wished to be the first to see the Buddha alone. At that time, the kings of various states had not seen the Buddha for ninety days; all harboured feelings of thirst and longing and assembled together like clouds. [The nun thought:] "I am a nun and should not be in the midst of this clamorous crowd. I must contrive a method to get ahead." Thereupon she magically transformed herself into a wheel-turning sage king (cakravartin), with an entourage conforming to the rules of a sage king. Seeing the sage king, the lesser kings all scattered and fled. The nun then returned to her original form, saw the Buddha, bowed down, and paid her respects. When the kings came to see the Buddha and no longer saw the sage king, they realised it was the nun's transformation and said to the nun, "Was what we saw just now a deception of this kind?" At that time, Utpalavarṇā thought in her heart, considering herself the very first to see the Buddha. The Buddha told Utpalavarṇā, "You claim yourself to be the first to see the Buddha, but there was someone who preceded you." "I wonder who it was?" The Buddha said, "It was Subhūti, in the eastern mountains of the city of Rājagṛha, mending his robes there. A deva told him, 'The Buddha has already descended.' Subhūti said, 'As a disciple, it is proper for me to go pay homage and ask after him.' But he reflected to himself: 'Where does the Buddha abide? Is the golden color the Buddha? But gold has no limits.' The Buddha has said: 'All phenomena are empty and non-existent. If one understands the twelve causes as empty—neither created nor made, neither person nor being, without life-principle and not a life-principle—that is seeing the Dharma. Seeing the Dharma as without life-principle, as not a life-principle, is seeing me.' Thereupon he pressed his palms together, rose, called out 'Vandāmi!', and right then sat back down to mend his robes. From this it is said that Subhūti preceded you in seeing the Buddha." The Buddha is the lord of all phenomena; to comprehend the emptiness of phenomena is mindfulness of the Dharma. Mindfulness of the Saṅgha refers to the assembly of noble sages. Ordinary assemblies are of several kinds; the ninety-five kinds of non-Buddhist traditions also each have their own assemblies, some harmonious and some divergent, and they also protect themselves with moral disciplines. Some practise meditative concentration (dhyāna), and some regard non-conceptualisation as the ultimate refinement, each trusting in what they serve and considering themselves true. Yet they do not attain the true noble eightfold path; therefore they cannot reach nirvāṇa. Although they may have the five supernormal knowledges, stay their lifespans, or prolong kalpas in non-conceptualisation, none escape birth and death. Only the noble Saṅgha of the Tathāgata, the persons of the four pairs and eight stages, are no longer swept away by the four torrents (ogha) or sought out by the nine abodes [of beings]. Therefore a sūtra says: "Among the ninety-six kinds of monastic assemblies, the Buddha's Saṅgha is the truest." The fourfold assembly of the Tathāgata are all equally of the Śākya clan, just as the four Gaṅgā rivers each have their five hundred tributaries, yet all merge into the great ocean to become of a single taste. The assembly is also like this: whether of kṣatriya clan, brāhmaṇa clan, gṛhapati clan, or householder clan, those among the four castes who leave the household life to learn [the Dharma] all equally become of the Śākya clan as one surname, without having various distinct names. Because of this, what it encompasses is ever more vast, and its meaning ever deeper. The monastic Saṅgha contains the Three Vehicles: the arhat Saṅgha arises from within it, the solitary awakened ones (pratyekabuddha) are also within it, and the Mahāyāna Saṅgha is also within it; therefore it is called a fine and auspicious field of merit. In aiding and benefiting sentient beings within the three realms, none surpasses this excellent, beautiful ground. Although the Tathāgata has attained complete awakening, he always turns to the monastic Saṅgha to repent, because the ground of the Saṅgha is weighty. None of the Buddhas and solitary awakened disciples of the three periods of time fail to attain extinction through the Saṅgha, just as the monk Brahmadatta relied upon the noble Saṅgha to be completely delivered.

3.5

Mindfulness of morality (śīla) refers to practising pure morality and being endowed with all the rules of deportment. It is just like a potter conditioning and preparing clay, awaiting various requests for vessels: large, small, square, or round, each suiting what is desired. Morality is also like this: if one vows to be born in heaven, one receives blessings in the three realms; if one wishes to sever the fetters and seek the path, one's wish is granted as desired. It is like an auspicious vase: according to what a person desires, upon taking it they obtain it. Taking morality as the basis, one concurrently practises the thirty-seven factors of awakening and the various samādhis, severs the seven underlying tendencies (anuśaya) and nine fetters (saṃyojana), and advances to accomplish nirvāṇa. This is likened to clay made into a vessel, which can no longer be destroyed.

3.6

Mindfulness of giving (dāna) refers to giving having two aspects: giving with an owner, and giving without an owner. Again there are two kinds of giving: the first is called bestowing, and the second is called relinquishing. Again there are two kinds of giving: the first is material goods, and the second is the Dharma. Bestowing is giving with an owner; relinquishing is giving without an owner. Relinquishing is relinquishing the fetters; bestowing is the other person receiving material goods or Dharma. The reason why giving leads to nirvāṇa is that when one bestows material goods or Dharma upon people, if the mind does not hope for repayment and does not calculate self and other, because the three aspects are unhindered, it is identical with the unconditioned. If one can relinquish the fetters, that too is nirvāṇa. That relinquishing and bestowing both lead to nirvāṇa is like an elephant pursuing a champion [warrior], advancing or retreating: as for obtaining meat, if he advances he breaks the army, and if he retreats he loses himself, yet eating meat is certain.

3.7

Mindfulness of devas refers to three kinds of devas: elevated devas, born devas, and pure devas (viśuddhideva). What are elevated devas? They refer to the wheel-turning sage kings, who are elevated by the multitude. The reason they are called devas is that because the sage kings have the ten wholesome actions to teach the world, causing people all to be born in heaven, being above ordinary humans they are therefore called devas. Some say: 'A sage king surpasses the Buddha. Why is this said? When a sage king governs the people of the world, none fall into the three wretched destinies; but when a Buddha appears in the world, the three wretched destinies are not severed. In this regard he is superior.' Or again, others say: 'The Buddha surpasses a sage king. The reason he is said to be superior is that a sage king teaches the world with the ten wholesome actions, not exceeding humans and devas; but when the Buddha appears to teach the world, one can attain nirvāṇa. In this regard he is superior.' What are born devas? From the Four Heavenly Kings up to the twenty-eight heavens, all who receive blessings are born devas. The reason they are called born devas is that revolving ceaselessly, they do not leave birth and death; hence they are called born devas. What are pure devas? They refer to the three persons: Buddhas, solitary awakened ones, and śrāvakas, who have all exhausted fetters and tendencies, transcended the three realms, and are pure and free of desire; hence they are called pure devas. The eight Śuddhāvāsa heavens surpass born and elevated [devas], but do not reach pure [devas], occupying the middle between them. They are what is admired in mindfulness of devas. There is also a principle by which one can attain nirvāṇa by relying on mindfulness of born and elevated [devas]. How so? In the city of Śrāvastī there was a lay believer and his wife who had no children or nephews. The two of them were vigorous, their minds mindful of the Three Jewels. Then the wife died early, and was immediately born in the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven as a goddess, beautiful beyond compare, with few equals in heaven. The woman thought to herself, 'Who is fit to be my husband?' Viewing the world with the divine eye, she saw that her former husband had left the household life to learn the path; advanced in age and of dull intellect, he was solely faithful, constantly taking the sweeping of stūpas and temples as his practice. Seeing his diligence, he should by rights be born in heaven and must become my husband again. At that time, sitting at night in a quiet room in contemplation, [the monk] suddenly saw a light; finding it extraordinary, he raised his head, looked up, and saw a goddess. He asked where she came from and why. The goddess answered, saying: 'I come from up in the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven. Formerly I was your wife, and now I am a goddess. In heaven there is none fit to be my husband; observing your vigour, you should become my husband again, and therefore I have come to make my intention known.' Having spoken, she suddenly disappeared and returned to heaven. From then on, the old monk redoubled his vigour, and furthermore repaired and renovated old temples. Day and night without laxity, accumulating merits, his blessed virtue became ever more superior, so that he was due to be born in the fourth, the Tuṣita Heaven. The goddess again observed him with the divine eye and saw that he was due to be born in the fourth heaven. She came again and said to him: 'The vigour you have accumulated has already surpassed my realm; I can no longer have you as a husband.' Having spoken, she went back. The monk redoubled his vigour even more than before: by day he walked in meditation, and by night he sat in dhyāna; his mind became ever clearer as he contemplated the Four Noble Truths, and before long he attained arhatship. This is what is meant by attaining nirvāṇa through mindfulness of devas.

3.8

Mindfulness of resting (upaśama) refers to attaining concentration. Resting is of two kinds: worldly resting and resting in the path. Worldly resting is like being exhausted from walking and working, and pausing briefly to rest; hence it is called worldly resting. Resting in the path refers to a person of meditative concentration. How is this known to be so? Formerly there was a monk named Samāgama, who sat in meditation to concentrate his mind near a great highway. At that time, five hundred carts passed by with an immense clamour, yet in stillness he heard nothing. Then thunder crashed and lightning struck, and shortly after the earth shook violently, yet he heard nothing at all. Many travellers passed by, dust settling upon his robes and accumulating over time. A person came and, seeing this monk sitting upright and motionless, asked, 'With dust settling upon your robes, were you completely unaware?' The monk awoke from his concentration and shook off the dust. [The person] asked, 'Were you asleep just now?' He said, 'No.' [The person] asked again, 'If you were not asleep, just now carts passed by, thunder struck, and the earth shook. In stillness you were not startled; what was the reason for this?' He replied, 'At that time I had entered the samādhi of resting; therefore I heard nothing at all.' From this it is said: when one attains the concentration of resting, even if heaven and earth overturn and collapse, it does not alter one's resolve; hence it is called the concentration of resting.

3.9

Mindfulness of respiration (ānāpāna) refers to stilling the restless wandering [of the mind] while seated. The paths tending toward the Way are not of a single track; the ways of awakening each have their respective places. How is this known to be so? Formerly, Śāriputra made offerings to one billion four hundred million Buddhas and heard the Dharma from the Buddhas, yet never synthesised and practised ānāpāna. When he came to the time of Śākyamuni, it was only from the monk Aśvajit that he first comprehended the Dharma of emptiness and thereupon saw the traces of the path. The Buddha fully expounded wisdom to him, his contaminants were exhausted and fetters untied, and now he is foremost in wisdom. It was not through ānāpāna that he attained nirvāṇa. Maudgalyāyana formerly made offerings to Buddhas for thirty kalpas and cultivated the Mahāyāna practice without being able to complete it; encountering the World-Honoured One, he withdrew to seize the exhaustion of contaminants. From the past until now, he never practised ānāpāna. The monk Kāśyapa formerly made offerings to thirty thousand Tathāgatas and likewise never practised ānāpāna; he was destined to become a pratyekabuddha, but now has withdrawn to become an arhat. The monk Aśvajit formerly also made offerings to seven Buddhas and likewise did not practise ānāpāna, yet now he too has exhausted his contaminants. Ānanda formerly made offerings to twenty thousand Tathāgatas, inquiring and receiving teachings of the Dharma from those Buddhas, and likewise did not practise ānāpāna. Only Rāhula and Mahākapphiṇa have constantly practised ānāpāna from ancient times, and now they too have reached the path. From this it is said that the paths tending toward the Way are not of a single track. As for ānāpāna, one knows the breath as long or short, cold or warm, slow or fast; proceeding from coarse to subtle, one gradually governs chaotic thoughts until finally arriving at the wondrous. Some awaken through the breath, some through analytical comprehension, some through dhūta ascetic restraint, some through extensive learning and strong memory, some through ṛddhi discerning subtleties, and some through model discipline and instruction—what is called different paths leading to the same destination.

3.10

Mindfulness of the body means discerning the four great elements and understanding the five aggregates as being all the same, like an illusion or a dream. How is it known that mindfulness of the body allows one to reach nirvāṇa? Formerly, one hundred years after the Buddha had passed away, there was King Aśoka, who ruled Jambudvīpa, with eighty-four thousand ministers, consorts, elephants, and horses each. At that time, the king was touring his realm, and he saw that King Yama had eighteen hells, where there were also official ministers who interrogated and punished guilty prisoners. The king asked his attendants, “What kind of person is this?” They replied, “This is the king of the dead, who is in charge of discerning good and evil.” The king said, “Even the king of the dead can build hells to punish guilty people. Am I, a king of the living, unable to build a hell?” He asked his ministers, “Who can construct a hell?” The ministers replied, “Only an extremely wicked person could construct a hell.” The king ordered his ministers to search for an evil person. A minister then went in search and saw a man sitting on the ground weaving coarse woolen cloth. Beside him were a bow and arrows as well as a fishhook, and he was also feeding sparrows with poisoned rice, weaving cloth while fishing, shooting birds, and catching sparrows all at once. The minister returned and reported the situation to the king, saying that an evil person was indeed like this. The king said, “This person is extremely wicked; he will surely be able to manage the affairs of a hell.” The king sent someone to summon him, saying, “The king wishes to see you.” The evil man said, “I am a lowly person without knowledge. What would the king use me for?” The messenger said, “The king specifically wants you to manage the affairs of a hell.” The man then returned home. He had an elderly mother at home and told her, “The king has summoned me.” The mother said to her son, “Why has the king summoned you?” The son said, “The king wishes to make me manage the affairs of a hell.” The mother said, “If you leave, how will I survive?” The mother then embraced her son’s feet and would not let go. The son, determined to go, immediately drew a knife and slashed his mother, killing her before departing to the king’s place. The king asked, “Your mother would not let you go; how were you able to come?” He replied, “I killed my mother and came.” The king said, “Truly an evil person! He will surely be able to manage the affairs of a hell.” He then entrusted this person with constructing a hell city, installing cauldrons of boiling liquid and forests of sword-trees. He then appointed this person as the king of the hell, establishing officials and assistants for him, each with their own duties, just like King Yama. The king made a compact and ordered: “If anyone enters this city, regardless of whether they are noble or base, seize and punish them immediately.” The king also said, “Even if I myself should enter, do not allow me to leave either.” At that time, an old monk named Subodhaka was regularly begging for food. Coming outside the gate of this city, he saw fine flowers and incense, thought there were people inside, and immediately entered the city. He saw only people being punished, became terrified, and wished to turn back and leave. The hell wardens would not allow him to leave and wanted to take him to the boiling cauldron. The śramaṇa begged, “Grant me a brief reprieve until midday.” A moment later, a man and a woman who had committed sexual misconduct were brought in to be punished. They were placed in a mortar and pestle and pounded, and in an instant turned to foam. Seeing this, the śramaṇa initially recalled the Buddha’s words: “The human body is like a mass of foam. How true are these words!” A moment later, it turned white again, and he further reflected that the human body is like a heap of white ash, undergoing manifold transformations. It is like an illusion, like a phantom; when thoroughly examined, it is unreal. He was instantly enlightened, his outflows were exhausted, and his fetters were severed. The hell wardens again urged him into the boiling cauldron, at which the monk smiled. The hell wardens became furious and had four men grasp him under his arms and throw him upside down into the cauldron. Instantly the boiling liquid turned cold, and the monk transformed into a thousand-petaled lotus flower, sitting cross-legged within the lotus flower. The hell wardens were astonished and reported to King Aśoka, “Now there is a strange event in the hell. We request the king to deign to come and see.” The king said, “I previously had an agreement: even if I were to enter, I must not be allowed to leave. How could I enter now?” The official told the king, “Just enter; there will be no harm.” The king then followed him in. Seeing the śramaṇa sitting upon the lotus flower, he asked, “Who are you?” He replied, “I am a śramaṇa.” The śramaṇa said to the king, “You are a foolish man.” The king said, “Why do you call me a foolish man?” The śramaṇa said, “Originally, when you were a boy, you offered a handful of earth to the Buddha. The Buddha accepted it and gave a blessing, saying: ‘Later you shall rule over Jambudvīpa as an iron-wheel-turning king named Aśoka, and in a single day you shall erect eighty-four thousand stupas.’ Is this hell a stupa?” The king was instantly awakened, came forward to repent, and took Subodhaka as his master. Thereupon he dismantled the hell, cultivated merit, and erected eighty-four thousand stupas and shrines. Thus it is said that through mindfulness of the body one attains nirvāṇa; this is its meaning.

3.11

How does mindfulness of death allow one to reach nirvāṇa? Formerly, King Aśoka practiced the Dharma with vigorous energy, constantly providing the four necessities to a sangha of five hundred monks within the palace without lack, while also supplying outside five hundred āraṇyakas who begged for food, and sending five hundred people with provisions to make offerings to them. Furthermore, at the four city gates he gave to the poor and destitute. As the offerings continued for a long time, the wealth and treasures gradually diminished. At that time, his younger brother, named Sugātra, did not believe in the Three Jewels. The minister Yaśa and the queen Śubhācārā likewise did not believe. The three were of one mind in being troubled by the king, repeatedly admonishing him: “Making offerings to śramaṇas exhausts the state’s wealth for nothing. What is the use of doing this?” The king said, “You had better guard your mouth. When a man lives in the world, the reason his body is beheaded is due to his evil words.” Sugātra said to the king, “These śramaṇas are all young; fine delicacies indulge their palates, and their lustful desires burn fiercely. Yet they dwell in the inner palace among women—how can they be trusted?” The king replied, “The śramaṇas restrain their physical forms and defend themselves with the Dharma, exercising temperance over their bodies and maintaining the precepts; they are not bent by sensual lust.” Later, Sugātra went out hunting and saw a herd of deer with a human among them. He spread a net, captured the herd, and took the person. He asked, “Who are you?” The person said, “When I was eight years old, I lost my parents and fled into the mountains, where I was suckled by deer, right up to the present.” He further asked, “When the deer had no milk, what did you eat?” The person said, “I followed the deer, eating grass and leaves to sustain my life.” He further asked, “Do you have any lustful desire?” He replied, “I do.” He then brought him back and reported the situation to the king, saying, “This grass-eating man’s body is emaciated, yet he still has lustful desire. How much more so these śramaṇas, who indulge their palates with food and drink and whose bodies are fat and robust—how could they be without lustful desire?” The king thought to himself: “By what expedient means can I convert this younger brother?” He then devised an expedient plot, pretending to go on a tour, assembling a great host of troops, and formally departing. The king secretly returned inside and concealed himself from sight. The king had previously discussed with his ministers: “After I go out, elevate him to be king.” The ministers then urged him to try on the royal robes, but he pretended to refuse. The ministers said, “Just do it, and we shall put them on you.” He then put on the heavenly crown and royal robes, and all shouted “Ten thousand years!”, attending him on the left and right in the manner of a cakravartin. King Aśoka, seeing that his position was established, came in from outside and said, “How is it, Great King?” The brother, seeing the king, was ashamed and terrified, not knowing where to turn. King Aśoka said, “I went out for a short tour, so why did you all do such a thing? Is my iron wheel not present? Why are you so reckless? I could kill you in an instant.” He then ordered the ministers to seize and shackle him, but secretly sent a messenger to tell a śramaṇa: “Keep this intention well in mind, and come to plead for his rescue.” [The king said to his brother:] “I was just about to kill you. Considering that you have been king for only a short time and have not yet been able to indulge yourself, I will now grant you seven days to be king according to my royal law, with ministers and attendants, palace ladies and courtesans, and food and drink presented to you. After indulging yourself for seven days, you shall face the ultimate punishment.” It was carried out just as instructed, yet though the seven days elapsed, he had no heart to enjoy himself. A śramaṇa came to plead, holding an alms bowl and carrying a staff as he arrived at the royal palace gate. The king asked, “What does the śramaṇa desire?” He replied, “I wish to beg for the condemned man.” The king said, “This guilty man deserves death; he cannot be begged for, śramaṇa!” The śramaṇa repeated, “Just grant the request; the śramaṇa will make him study the Path.” The king said, “Ask this man whether he can study the Path or not.” The śramaṇa then asked, “I now beg for you to become a śrāmaṇera. Can you do it?” He replied, “Even if made a slave I would still not refuse, how much less a śrāmaṇera!” The king said, “Being a śramaṇa is difficult; can you truly do it? The rule of a śramaṇa is to wear coarse robes, eat bad food, barely sustain bodily life, and simply practice the Path. You are accustomed to pleasure; how can you endure such asceticism?” He replied, “I was facing death; how could I not endure asceticism?” The king said, “If you can endure it, let him beg for food for seven days.” The king ordered the inner palace: “When Sugātra comes to beg, give him the most wretched food, leftover, foul, and stinking.” He then made him wear ragged clothes and visit the various quarters; everywhere he begged for food, he received wretched food. Because his desire to escape death was so strong, he willingly ate the wretched food. When the seven days were complete, the king saw that he had no regret or resentment and allowed him to enter the Path: “You always said, ‘The śramaṇas are idle and pleased, full of passions and difficult to trust.’ The food you begged was still within my palace, and so it was still refined. When śramaṇas beg for food, it is even worse than this. When their food is like this, how could they have lustful desires?” He then entrusted him to Subuddhi to become a śramaṇa. The king sent an emissary to accompany him to Aśmaratha, where in that city he practiced various meditations, sometimes among the graves, sometimes beneath trees. Once, while observing corpses in a cemetery, at night he saw a preta beating a corpse. He asked, “Why are you beating this corpse?” The preta said, “It was on account of this corpse that I am troubled like this, and therefore I beat it.” The śramaṇa said, “Why do you not beat your mind? What benefit will beating this corpse bring?” In a short while, a deity came and scattered heavenly māndārava flowers upon the corpse. The śramaṇa asked again, “Why are you scattering flowers upon this foul corpse?” The deity replied, “It was because of this corpse that I was born in heaven. This corpse was my good friend, so I came to scatter flowers to repay its past kindness.” The śramaṇa said, “Why do you not scatter flowers upon your mind, instead scattering flowers upon this foul corpse? The root of good and evil is entirely created by the mind; do you now abandon the root and grasp at the branches?” At that time, Sugātra thought to himself: “I was saved from death to life, and by this cause and condition I shall attain liberation.” Thereupon, contemplating the body and being mindful of death, reflecting and discerning, he understood impermanence, suffering, emptiness, and non-self, immediately attaining the state of an arhat. Thus it is said that one who is mindful of death also reaches nirvāṇa.

3.12

Treatise Distinguishing Merits, Fascicle Three

Linked texts (1)

分別功德論 — Classical Chinese