付法藏因緣傳 1.3

1.3

Formerly, for the sake of sentient beings, the Bhagavat sought the supreme path throughout immeasurable kalpas. He accomplished all kinds of difficult and austere practices, relinquishing his beloved body, head, eyes, marrow, brain, kingdoms, cities, wife, children, palaces, ministers, and concubines. He cast himself from cliffs, threw himself into fires, and had his body sliced and cut. At times, for the sake of a single four-line verse, he flayed his skin for paper, broke his bones for pens, and used his blood for ink to write it out in offering, inquiring of and studying under wise teachers, receiving [teachings] from the Buddhas. Grieving for living beings, he toiled modestly to accumulate merit. Practicing myriad virtuous deeds, he made vast vows, as fully recounted in the five hundred Jātaka tales. When his original training was complete and he was on the verge of attaining correct awakening, he sat cross-legged beneath the Bodhi tree. The Māra of the sixth heaven felt deep sorrow and malice, thinking, “If he attains the path, he will surely surpass me.” He then led his official retinue of eighteen trillion to the foot of the king of trees, saying to the Bodhisattva, “You should quickly arise right now and return to your palace. If you do not, I will seize your feet and hurl you beyond the great ocean.” At that time, like a lion king, the Bodhisattva’s mind was without fear or dread. He declared, “Pāpīyas, you once made an offering to a single Pratyekabuddha and observed the eight-precept fast; through this merit, you became a heavenly king. Yet throughout asaṃkhyeya kalpas, I have fully accomplished difficult and austere practices. On the great earth, there is not even a space the size of the tip of a needle that was not a place where I practiced austerities in the past. Even if Māra’s hosts were as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, they could not shake a single hair of mine. How could you now hope to hurl my body beyond the great ocean?” Māra said again, “That I became lord of heaven by giving to a Pratyekabuddha in the past—this matter is clear. Now as for what you have said, what proof is there?” Thereupon the Bodhisattva extended his hand and pointed to the ground, saying, “This deity knows me.” At that time, the earth deity leapt forth from the diamond circle, joined her palms, and addressed him, “It is truly as the Honored One has taught. Since this earth has existed, I have been its deity. On this earth, there is not even a space the size of the tip of a needle that was not a place of the Bodhisattva’s past practice.” Hearing these words, Māra tumbled and fell. Having defeated the army of Māra, [the Bodhisattva] attained the supreme, correct awakening. His three knowledges shone uniquely, and his six supernormal knowledges were unhindered. Endowed with great compassion and inexhaustible eloquence, whatever he expounded, everyone believed and received. He proclaimed the subtle, wondrous Dharma to rescue and deliver living beings. Just as whatever a diamond strikes is smashed and destroyed, so too is the Tathāgata’s teaching: it can destroy the afflictions and fetters of living beings. Wandering throughout countries, villages, and towns, he extracted the poisonous thorns of the multitudes with the pure Dharma, subdued non-Buddhists, erected the banner of supreme victory, closed the gates to the evil destinies, and opened the path to nirvāṇa. As his condition for transforming [beings] was nearing its end and he was about to enter extinction, he addressed his great disciple Mahākāśyapa: “You should now know that for immeasurable asaṃkhyeya kalpas, for the sake of sentient beings, I diligently practiced austerities, with single-minded focus seeking the supreme, unsurpassed Dharma. My past vows have now been fulfilled. Kāśyapa, you should know that just as dense clouds fill the world and shower sweet rain so that sprouts grow, so too does the unsurpassed rain of the Dharma enable sentient beings to increase the seeds of good roots. For this reason, the Buddhas constantly guard, respect, praise, bow to, and make offerings to it. As I am now about to enter parinirvāṇa, I entrust this profound Dharma to you. Hereafter, you should reverently comply with my intention, widely propagating and circulating it so that it is never cut off.” Kāśyapa addressed [the Buddha], “Excellent! I accept your instruction. I shall uphold the true Dharma in this way, so that future generations will equally receive its benefit. May the World-Honored One have no anxiety about this.” Therefore, after the Tathāgata entered extinction, Mahākāśyapa subsequently proclaimed the correct teaching, compiled the Buddha’s Dharma-treasury, and transformed sentient beings, such that those he delivered never regressed. That great Kāśyapa’s wisdom was profound and vast, his reputation was universally heard, and his merits were complete. I shall now recount his practice and vows accordingly. Long ago in the past, after Vipaśyin Buddha had transformed sentient beings, he entered parinirvāṇa. The fourfold assembly of disciples all felt grief and longing. Collecting the śarīra, they erected a seven-jeweled stupa, its mast ornaments exceptionally wondrous and fine. At that time, within that stupa was an image of the Tathāgata, and on its face the golden color was slightly damaged in places. At that time, there was a poor woman who went about begging. Having obtained a golden bead, she felt joy in her heart and wished to make a gold leaf to repair the face of the image. At that time, Kāśyapa was a goldsmith. The woman took it to him and engaged him to repair it. When the goldsmith heard it was for merit, he gladly worked on it. After the polishing and ornamentation were completed and it had been used to repair the face of the image, they made a joint vow: “May the two of us always be husband and wife, our bodies of genuine golden color, constantly experiencing supreme joy.” By this causal condition, for ninety-one kalpas their bodies were of genuine golden color, and they were born among humans and devas enjoying boundless bliss. Lastly, he was reborn in the seventh Brahmā heaven. At that time in Magadha, there was a brāhmaṇa named Nyagrodha. In past lives he had long cultivated supreme deeds; he possessed superior talent, broad erudition, and profound wisdom. He had abundant wealth and treasures, immense and boundless: gold, silver, lapis lazuli, mother-of-pearl, jade, cattle, sheep, fields, residences, slaves, and carriages, a thousand times superior to those of the king of Magadha. At that time, King Bimbisāra had one thousand gold plows. Fearing that being equal to the king would incur offenses, that brāhmaṇa had one less, possessing only nine hundred ninety-nine. In his house there was fine cotton cloth, the lowest quality of which was worth a hundred thousand ounces of gold. When struck with an iron nail seven feet into the ground, the cloth was not pierced or torn, remaining just as before. Such was his wealth through the power of merit. Although he was rich in wealth and treasures, he had no son. Considering that he was old and decayed and the time of his death was approaching, with no one to entrust the storehouses of goods to, he went to pray to a tree deity beside his house for the sake of seeking a son. After years had passed, there was no sign or response at all. At that time, [Nyag]rodha became extremely angry and said to the tree deity, “I have served you for years now, yet I have not seen you grant a single blessing in response. Now I will serve you with utmost sincerity for seven days. If there is still no sign of efficacy, I will surely burn and chop you down.” Hearing this, the tree deity became very sorrowful and terrified, and reported this matter in detail to the Four Heavenly Kings. Thereupon the Four Kings went and reported it to Śakra. Śakra observed that within Jambudvīpa there was no person of merit capable of becoming his son, so he immediately went to Brahmā and widely proclaimed the above matter. At that time, Brahmā, viewing with the divine eye, saw that there was a Brahmā deva whose life was about to come to an end, and told him, “If your spirit is to descend, you should be born in the house of that brāhmaṇa in the realm of Jambudvīpa.” The Brahmā deva replied, “The ways of brāhmaṇas are full of evil and wrong views. I cannot become his son now.” Brahmā said again, “That brāhmaṇa has great authority and virtue; no ordinary person in Jambudvīpa is capable of being reborn there. If you are born there, I will protect you and never allow you to enter into wrong views.” The Brahmā deva said, “Yes, I reverently obey the noble command.” Thereupon Śakra told this matter to the tree deity. Delighted, the tree deity immediately went to his house and said to the brāhmaṇa, “Do not harbor hatred toward me anymore. Seven days from now, your wish will be fulfilled.” When the seven days were up, his wife realized she was pregnant. After full ten months, she gave birth to a boy. His features were upright and handsome, his body was of genuine golden color, and his brilliant radiance shone for one yojana. A physiognomist divined: “This child has past merit and great authority and virtue; his aspirations are pure and far-reaching, and he does not covet worldly affairs. He will surely leave home and attain the fruit of non-attachment.” Although young in years, his mind and thoughts were pure; he practiced loving-kindness and gave generously, had few desires and was content, and constantly contemplated worldly pleasures as impermanent, perilous, and fragile, never giving rise even momentarily to thoughts of affection or craving. At that time, seeing him like this, his parents were very distressed and said to each other, “When this boy was born, the physiognomist divined that he would surely leave home. Now what means can we devise to cut off his intention?” Reflecting again, [they thought], “In the world, what one can become attached to is only beautiful form. We should select a fair and good match for him to cut off his intention.” When he reached the age of fifteen, they wished to betroth a wife to him. Hearing of this, Kāśyapa felt deep distress and said to his parents, “My aspirations are pure; I have no need for a wife.” This happened three times, but his parents would not listen. Thereupon Kāśyapa, knowing that the matter was unavoidable, devised a skillful plan and told his parents, “If you can obtain for me a golden woman whose beauty surpasses the world, only then will I open my mind to accept her. If you cannot obtain one, I will never marry.” At that time, because they respectfully cared for him, his parents did not oppose his words. They immediately summoned various brāhmaṇas and dispatched them to travel through the realms: “If there is a woman whose body is of genuine golden color, dignified, and extraordinary, betroth her for me.” The brāhmaṇas then conferred together and cast gold into a human form of extraordinary appearance. Together they carried it on a litter and toured the villages, proclaiming with a loud voice, “If any woman sees this golden deity and bows down in offering, in the future she will surely attain subtle wisdom and a body of genuine golden color.” Hearing this, all the women came out to bow in reverence. At that time, there was a woman whose facial features were magnificent, her body purple-golden, her nature gentle and compliant, and her wisdom profound. She was precisely the woman with the golden bead from the past. Owing to that past supreme condition, she possessed this wondrous body. Her resolve was firm, and she alone did not go outside. All the women asked her why she did not go out. She replied to them, “Sisters, my mind is at leisure and quiet, and I do not desire other wishes; therefore I do not go out.” At that time, the women forced her to go and view the golden deity. This woman’s radiant light and graceful appearance completely overshadowed the golden deity so that [its radiance] was no longer visible. The brāhmaṇas immediately betrothed her [to him], and [the families] agreed, setting a date to complete the marriage. Hearing of this, that woman was also very distressed. Her resolve could not be followed, and she was married off. When the two faced each other, each of their intentions was pure and serene. Although husband and wife, they had no desire whatsoever. Together they established an agreement, saying, “We should now each have separate rooms and not disturb or approach each other.” When the parents learned of this matter, they immediately ordered people to remove one room, forcing them to share the same quarters, and emptied the room, placing only a single bed inside. Thereupon Kāśyapa made another agreement with his wife: “In this room now, there is only one bed; by principle, the two of us cannot sleep together. If I rest in sleep, you should do caṅkrama; if you lie down to sleep, I should do caṅkrama.” Later, in the middle of the night, it was Kāśyapa’s turn to walk. His wife was sleeping at the time, her hand hanging down before the bed. From outside, a venomous snake entered through the door, intending to bite his wife. With compassion, Kāśyapa immediately stepped forward slowly, wrapped his hand in his robe, and lifted [her hand] onto the bed. His wife was startled awake and rebuked him, saying, “Now, as a gentleman, how can you lack resolve like this? We made a vow together agreeing not to approach each other; now for what reason did you secretly lift my hand?” Kāśyapa replied, “I did not approach you with thoughts of lust. A snake entered from outside, aiming to bite you. Fearing that you would be harmed, I merely lifted your hand.” The venomous snake was still there, and he immediately showed it to her. His wife then understood. Thereupon the husband and wife developed a deep aversion to the realms of existence and took no pleasure in them, just as a person who has washed clean takes no pleasure in dirt and dust. They went to their parents seeking to leave home. Having received permission, they became śramaṇas, pure and adhering to simplicity, doing nothing and having no desires, diligently cultivating austerities in quiet seclusion. Thereupon Kāśyapa made this vow: “Whosoever in the world has become an arhat, to all of them I take refuge.” Having spoken these words, all the precepts and the deportment of leaving home were fully completed. When the Tathāgata attained all-knowledge and proclaimed the wondrous Dharma in Rājagṛha, Kāśyapa, wearing rag robes, came to the Buddha’s place, bowed his head in reverence, stood with palms joined, and said to the Buddha, “World-Honored One, I now take refuge in the unsurpassed coolness. May you compassionately accept me and permit me among the lowest ranks.” The World-Honored One praised him, saying, “Welcome, Kāśyapa!” and immediately shared half his seat, bidding him to sit down. Kāśyapa said to the Buddha, “I am a disciple of the Tathāgata’s final ranks; having been looked upon with favor and offered half the seat, I dare not comply with the command.” At that time, the assembly all felt doubt, saying, “What extraordinary virtue does this old śramaṇa have, that the Heavenly Honored One shares his seat and bids him [sit]? This person's superiority is known only to the Buddha.” Thereupon the Tathāgata, knowing the thoughts in the minds of the assembly and wishing to resolve their doubts, proclaimed Kāśyapa’s profound and vast practice. The World-Honored One further said, “All the great loving-kindness, great compassion, four dhyānas, samādhis, and immeasurable merits with which I adorn myself—the monk Kāśyapa is also like this. Furthermore, long ago in the past, there was a holy king named Mandhātṛ, whose superior talent surpassed the world and whose wisdom was peerless. At that time, Śakra, admiring his virtue, sent a seven-jeweled chariot to the palace gates to welcome the king. Riding the heavenly chariot, [the king] flew through the sky and went there. The heavenly lord came out to welcome him and sat together with him. After enjoying each other’s company, he sent the king back to his palace.” The Buddha told the monks, “The heavenly lord of that time is now Kāśyapa, and King Mandhātṛ was myself. In the past, Kāśyapa offered me a seat of birth-and-death to sit together; therefore today, having attained the unsurpassed path, I repay his original merit with the seat of the true Dharma.” At that time, the World-Honored One taught the Dharma appropriately to Kāśyapa, instructing, encouraging, and delighting him. Just as clean, white cotton cloth easily takes dye, he immediately attained arhatship upon his seat, with the threefold vision, six supernormal knowledges, and complete eight liberations. With superior talent and vigor, his appearance and demeanor were calm and dignified. He constantly sat opposite the Tathāgata expounding the Dharma, and at that time the devas and humans considered him a teacher of the World-Honored One. Thereupon Kāśyapa took leave of the Tathāgata and went to the Pippala cave on Gṛdhrakūṭa Mountain. That mountain had many flowing springs and bathing ponds; the forests were lush, and flowers and fruits were abundant; hundreds of beasts gathered, and auspicious birds soared and cried; gold, silver, and lapis lazuli were strewn over the ground. Kāśyapa performed caṅkrama and meditated there, expounding the wondrous Dharma and delivering sentient beings. Later, when the World-Honored One was on the verge of entering nirvāṇa, he emitted a supreme light and the great earth shook. [Kāśyapa] then thought, “Could it be that the Tathāgata wishes to enter nirvāṇa and is manifesting these signs?” He immediately entered samādhi and observed with the divine eye, seeing the World-Honored One beside the Hiraṇyavatī River abandoning his lifespan with his entire body. Having observed this, he was grieved and unhappy: “How swift is the Tathāgata’s nirvāṇa! The eye of the world is extinguished, and unwholesomeness will increase.” Then, surrounded before and behind by his retinue, he headed toward the city of Kuśinagara to pay homage to the World-Honored One. On the road ahead, he saw a brāhmaṇa holding a māndārava flower in his right hand. Kāśyapa asked him, “Where have you come from? Do you know our teacher?” He replied, “I know him. He entered parinirvāṇa seven days ago. All humans and devas made great offerings. I obtained this flower from there.” When the monks heard these words, they were all deeply grieved and threw themselves to the ground, wailing and sobbing with tears falling like rain. They all said, “Alas! Impermanence has such great power, able to destroy such a mass of jewel-like merit, drying up the ocean of Dharma and toppling the banner of Dharma! The world is in darkness, having forever lost its great light. All sentient beings have nothing to venerate; the evil destinies will increase, and devas and humans will decrease. How extraordinary is impermanence, deeply to be reviled! Just like a flash of lightning, by principle it does not stay long. Impermanence is swift and difficult to rely upon. It can destroy prime youth, physical appearance, strength, and lifespan, obliterating all the joys and affections of the world. Fools rely upon it, but the wise do not!” Thereupon Kāśyapa and the monks proceeded forward to between the twin trees, circumambulated the coffin three times, bowed their heads in reverence, and spoke verses.