釋迦譜 4.24

4.24

The Sūtra on Māyā states: When the Buddha attained parinirvāṇa, the five signs of decay appeared on Lady Māyā in heaven: first, the flowers on her head withered; second, sweat flowed from beneath her armpits; third, the radiance atop her crown went out; fourth, her eyes blinked repeatedly; fifth, she took no delight in her original seat. Furthermore, on that night she had five great ominous dreams: first, Mount Sumeru collapsed and the waters of the four seas dried up; second, rākṣasas ran amok gouging out human eyes; third, the gods lost their jeweled crowns and their bodies had no radiance; fourth, the jewel-banner toppled and the wish-fulfilling jewel was lost; fifth, a lion gnawed her body with pain like that of a knife cut. Having had these dreams, she immediately awoke with a start: 'This is not auspicious. Formerly, when I was in the palace of King Śuddhodana, I had a rare dream while sleeping during the day: I saw a devaputra with a body of golden color riding a white king of elephants, followed by devaputras playing wondrous music, contemplating the essence of the sun; he entered my right side, and my body and mind felt safe and joyful. Straightaway I was pregnant with Prince Siddhārtha to illuminate the world. Now these five dreams are extremely terrifying; they must be the omens of my son entering nirvāṇa.' At that time, after Aniruddha had placed the Tathāgata's body in the coffin, he ascended to the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven and informed Māyā in verse. When Māyā heard it, she fainted and fell to the ground. Only after a long while did she revive; tearing at her hair, she wept and said: 'Last night I had dreams and knew there were strange omens. The Buddha has indeed passed away. Before long he will be cremated. How bitter it is that the eye of the world has been extinguished!' She then descended from the sky with her retinue, headed toward the twin trees, and seeing the Buddha's coffin from afar, she fainted with grief, unable to bear it. Water was sprinkled on her face, and only then did she revive. She stepped forward to the coffin, bowed her head, wept, and spoke these words: 'Together throughout immeasurable kalpas in the past, we were mother and son for a long time, never parting. Yet now, suddenly, there will be no time to see each other again. Alas, how bitter it is, the merit of sentient beings is exhausted!' Thereupon, she scattered various kinds of heavenly flowers over the coffin. Lady Māyā glanced and saw the Tathāgata's saṅghāṭī robe, bowl, and tin staff; holding them with her right hand, she threw herself to the ground like a great mountain collapsing, wailing in utter grief, and said: 'My son held and wore these to bring merit and salvation to gods and humans. Now these things are empty and without an owner. Alas, how painful!' The fourfold assembly grieved and their tears fell like rain; through the power of Śakra, they turned into a flowing river. At that time, by his divine power, the World-Honoured One caused all the coffin lids to open on their own. He then arose from within the coffin with joined palms, like a king of lions just emerging from its cave with an attitude of springing forth. From the pores of his body he emitted a thousand rays of light; in each ray of light there were a thousand transformation Buddhas, all joining their palms toward Māyā, inquiring after his mother in a pure, gentle voice: 'You have wearily condescended to descend from afar to this Jambudvīpa. Such is the nature of all conditioned phenomena; please do not weep.' At that time, seeing the Buddha arise and hearing him speak in verse, Ānanda wept and sobbed, restraining himself with great effort, and then addressed the Buddha: 'Future sentient beings will surely ask me what the Buddha said on the verge of his extinction. How should I answer?' The Buddha told Ānanda: 'You should reply: "After the World-Honoured One had entered nirvāṇa, Lady Māyā descended. For the sake of future unfilial beings, the Tathāgata emerged from the golden coffin with joined palms to inquire after her, and spoke the verses above. Therefore, this sūtra is named The Sūtra of the Meeting of Mother and Son on the Verge of the Buddha's Nirvāṇa." Keep it thus in mind.' Having spoken these words, he bade farewell to his mother and straightway closed the coffin. The trichiliocosm quaked everywhere; the great assembly of the eight classes wailed and lamented, their voices shaking heaven and earth. Lady Māyā asked Ānanda: 'When my son Siddhārtha was on the verge of extinction, what instructions did he leave?' Ānanda replied: 'In the middle of the night, the World-Honoured One briefly spoke instructions and admonitions for the bhikṣus. Furthermore, he entrusted the twelve-part scriptures he had spoken to the venerable Mahākāśyapa, and finally instructed me to assist in propagating them.' When Mahāmāyā heard these words, her sorrow grew even deeper. She then asked Ānanda: 'Since you attended the Buddha in the past, have you heard the World-Honoured One say when the Tathāgata's true Dharma will be extinguished?' Ānanda wept and answered: 'In the past, I heard the World-Honoured One speak of the future extinction of the Dharma, saying that after his nirvāṇa, Mahākāśyapa and Ānanda would compile the treasury of the Dharma. When that matter was entirely completed, Mahākāśyapa would enter the cessation-meditation at Wolf-Track Mountain (Kukkuṭapāda). I would also attain the fruit of realization, and subsequently enter parinirvāṇa in turn. The true Dharma would then be entrusted to Upagupta, who would be skilled in expounding the essentials of the Dharma like Pūrṇa, saving a great host of people. He would further persuade and convert King Aśoka to gain firm, correct faith in the Buddha's Dharma, and to extensively erect eighty-four thousand stupas with the Buddha's relics. After two hundred years, the bhikṣu Śīlananda would skillfully expound the essentials of the Dharma, saving 1.2 billion people in Jambudvīpa. After three hundred years, the bhikṣu Blue-Lotus-Eyes would skillfully expound the essentials of the Dharma, saving fifty million people. After four hundred years, the bhikṣu Cow-Mouth would skillfully expound the essentials of the Dharma, saving ten thousand people. After five hundred years, the bhikṣu Ratnadeva would skillfully expound the essentials of the Dharma, saving twenty thousand people, and eighty thousand sentient beings would arouse the aspiration for anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi; with this, the true Dharma would come to an end. After six hundred years, the ninety-six kinds of heterodox paths would arise in competition with wrong views and destroy the Buddha's Dharma; there would be a bhikṣu named Aśvaghoṣa who would skillfully expound the essentials of the Dharma, subduing all those of heterodox paths. After seven hundred years, there would be a bhikṣu named Nāgārjuna who would skillfully expound the essentials of the Dharma, toppling the banner of wrong views and lighting the torch of the true Dharma. After eight hundred years, the bhikṣus would take pleasure in fine clothing, indulging in laxity and play; among hundreds of thousands of people, there might be only one or two who would attain the fruits of the path. After nine hundred years, male slaves would become śramaṇas and female slaves would become bhikṣuṇīs. After one thousand years, when the bhikṣus heard of the meditation on impurity and ānāpāna, they would be angry and unwilling to practice them; among countless bhikṣus, only one or two would contemplate in correct absorption. After eleven hundred years, the bhikṣus would act like worldly people, arranging marriages and acting as matchmakers, slandering the Vinaya in the great assembly. After twelve hundred years, these bhikṣus and bhikṣuṇīs would practice non-celibate conduct; if they had children, the boys would become bhikṣus and the girls would become bhikṣuṇīs. After thirteen hundred years, the kāṣāya robes would turn white and would not take dye. After fourteen hundred years, the fourfold assembly at that time would be like hunters, fond of killing living beings and selling the property of the Three Jewels. After fifteen hundred years, in the country of Kauśāmbī, there would be a Tripiṭaka bhikṣu who was skilled in expounding the essentials of the Dharma, with a retinue of five hundred, and an arhat bhikṣu who well maintained moral discipline, with a retinue of five hundred. At the time of the poṣadha, the arhat bhikṣu ascended the high seat and expounded the pure Dharma, saying: "This is what should be done; this is what should not be done." The disciples of that Tripiṭaka bhikṣu answered the arhat: "You yourself are impure in body and speech; how can you turn around and speak such coarse words?" The arhat replied: "I have long purified the actions of my body, speech, and mind, free from all faults." When the disciples of the Tripiṭaka heard these words, they became doubly enraged, and right on the seat they killed that arhat. At that time, the disciples of the arhat said these words: "What our master spoke conformed to the principles of the Dharma; why did you murder our upādhyāya?" They straightway took sharp knives and killed that Tripiṭaka master. None among the gods, dragons, and the eight classes was not distressed and grief-stricken. The evil demon Pāpīyas and the hosts of heterodox paths leaped with joy, vying with each other to destroy stupas and monasteries and murder bhikṣus; all the scriptural treasuries were swept away and moved to the country of Kuśinagara, where the dragon king Anavatapta took them all into the sea. Thereupon the Buddha's Dharma was completely extinguished.' When Mahāmāyā heard these words, she wept in anguish and told Ānanda: 'Since the Tathāgata's bequeathed instructions have entrusted the true Dharma to you and Mahākāśyapa, you should vigorously protect, maintain, and recite it. I cannot bear to see the time of the Tathāgata's cremation.' She then paid homage to the Buddha's coffin, circumambulated it seven times to the right, and, weeping and wailing, returned to heaven.