付法藏因緣傳 2.2

2.2

When Mahākāśyapa was nearing nirvāṇa, he entrusted the supreme Dharma to Ānanda, speaking these words: "Elder, you should know: formerly the Bhagavat entrusted the Dharma to me. I am now old and decrepit, and am about to enter nirvāṇa. The supreme eye of the world I now wish to entrust to you. You must diligently guard and protect this Dharma." Ānanda said, "Yes, I respectfully accept your instruction." Thereupon Ānanda proclaimed the wonderful Dharma and transformed living beings. In past lives he had possessed great merit, his wisdom was deep and vast, and his learning extensive and penetrating. Praised by the Buddha as foremost in retention (dhāraṇī), he was fully able to hear and receive the Dharma-treasury of all Buddhas, just as the great ocean receives the hundred rivers. His renown was lofty and far-reaching, known to all. Such merit cannot be exhausted. I shall now set forth its causes and conditions. In ancient times, an asaṃkhyeya of kalpas ago, at the time of Dīpaṃkara Tathāgata, there was a śramaṇa who kept a śrāmaṇera. He constantly had him recite [texts], admonishing and commanding him day and night without rest or cease. If his recitation fell short even slightly, he would immediately scold him. At that time, this śrāmaṇera begged food on behalf of his master. If he lingered even slightly and did not fulfill his quota of recitation, he would be severely reviled by his master. Thereupon the śrāmaṇera was greatly distressed; begging food for his master, he would recite as he walked. At that time, an elder was surprised by this and questioned him. The śrāmaṇera answered, saying, "My master is stern and strict, requiring me to recite and practice. If I linger while begging food, I cannot fulfill my quota. For this reason, I recite whenever I walk." The elder answered, saying, "Do not be worried or distressed. From now on, I shall constantly provide for you; you should diligently recite and practice the scriptures." Then this śrāmaṇera no longer went begging, but recited single-mindedly. From that time on, his recitation was always sufficient. At that time, the śrāmaṇera was the World-Honored One, and the elder who gave food was Ānanda. Because of this auspicious condition, the monk Ānanda possessed deep and wonderful wisdom, strong memory in retention, and learning so vast and broad that it cannot be measured. When the Bhagavat attained the unsurpassed Way, he proclaimed the wonderful Dharma and transformed living beings. Thereupon Ānanda reflected to himself: "The world is a prison that cannot be loved or enjoyed. The five desires are like phantoms, without any solid reality; they are exceedingly terrifying and vile, worse than poisonous serpents. Prime vigor, strength, and fair countenance are all ravaged by old age and sickness. Impermanence is swift as a raging torrent, swallowing and destroying all gatherings of love and affection. The kings of old, possessed of majestic virtue and sovereignty, were blown down and destroyed by the wind of impermanence. Grief, sorrow, decline, and distress—all sufferings follow one another in succession. The rākṣasī of affection constantly deceives living beings. How can I escape this peril?" He also thought: "The Tathāgata, the World-Honored One, has divine wisdom that transcends the world. Originally from the Śākya clan, he went forth from household life to learn the Way. I should now go and become his disciple." He immediately went to the Buddha's place, pleaded piteously, and asked to go forth. The Buddha said, "Welcome!" and he became a śramaṇa. At that time the Tathāgata preached the Dharma for him—namely, discourses on giving, discourses on morality, and discourses on birth in heaven—and that desires are impure and that leaving them is the supreme good. Ānanda's mind was immediately opened and he became a srotāpanna. Later, when the Buddha was considering having an attendant, Kauṇḍinya at that time went to the Buddha's place and asked to be his attendant. The Buddha said, "Kauṇḍinya, you are old and advanced in years and need someone to look after you; how could you serve as my attendant?" In this way, the five hundred great disciples all went to the Buddha's place and asked to be his attendant, but none were permitted; bowing to the Buddha, they withdrew. At that time, Maudgalyāyana, using his knowledge of others' minds, saw that the Tathāgata's mind was set upon Ānanda, like the sun at its first rising casting its light upon the western wall. Together with the monks, he told Ānanda, "The Buddha needs you, venerable one, to be his attendant. You should swiftly go and pay homage to the Supreme Awakened One." Ānanda said, "The Tathāgata's majestic virtue is like a great dragon. I am defiled and weak, and dare not accept this command." The monks said, "Ānanda, you should know that the World-Honored One's mind is devoted solely to you, venerable one. You should swiftly pay homage; you must not delay long." Ānanda respectfully consented, and thereupon made three requests: "May the Tathāgata's old robes not be given to me; may any leftover food be bestowed upon others; and may the timing of approaching [the Buddha] be at my own discretion. If these three requests are granted, then I shall receive the instruction." Then the monks went to the World-Honored One's place, prostrated themselves in homage, and reported the above matters in full. The Tathāgata praised him, saying, "Excellent, Ānanda! He possesses great wisdom and knows well what is timely and appropriate. Not only today, but in the distant past it was also thus. Listen well, all of you; I shall proclaim it. Long ago, in an asaṃkhyeya of kalpas past, there was a king who ruled the world and dwelt in the city of Vāśī. In this city was a brāhmaṇa named Kurudha. Intelligent and well-versed, his natural talent transcended the world; the people and householders of the kingdom all revered him. He was abundant in wealth and treasures—hundreds of thousands of myriads of koṭis—yet, having no son to succeed him, he was constantly grieved. He prayed to the deities for twelve years. His principal wife then became pregnant; when the months and days were fulfilled, she gave birth to a boy, whose body was purple-golden and whose appearance was upright and handsome. A physiognomist divined: 'This child has meritorious virtue.' They then gave him the name Mahādāna ('Great Giving'). As he grew older, he asked his father for permission to go out on an excursion. His father then ordered the roads to be adorned and swept, incense burned, flowers scattered, and various musical entertainment performed. Mahādāna then went outside to tour and view. On the road ahead he saw a beggar wearing ragged clothes, speaking in a humble voice and pleading for pity. Mahādāna asked, 'Why are you like this?' The beggar answered, 'I was originally destitute and alone, pressed by sickness and suffering. Driven by the urgency of life and body, I therefore beg.' Hearing this, Mahādāna sighed in sorrow: 'How pitiable are the kinds of living beings! Ignorance obstructs their minds, and they sink into the five desires. Harassed and harmed by old age, sickness, and death, yet within this they find easy and carefree joy. Not cultivating good karma, they suffer this evil fruit. How strange! It is a great peril, exceedingly terrifying!' Moving forward a little further, he saw butchers and hunters trapping birds with nets, and tilling the soil and fishing, causing widespread slaughter and harm. Mahādāna asked, 'Why are you like this?' The people answered, 'Since the time of our grandfathers and fathers, we have always engaged in this occupation. We rely on this to sustain life and also to provide the king's corvée. If we abandon it one day, we will immediately fall into poverty.' Hearing this, Mahādāna felt even deeper grief and sorrow. He then reflected to himself and gave rise to great compassion: 'Alas! Living beings are foolish and lack the eye of wisdom. Having long accumulated sinful karma, they are destitute, emaciated, and weak, dwelling in great darkness, exceedingly terrifying. Now they again create such evil karma, killing living beings and severing other lives dear [to them]. Evil karma increases and non-virtue thrives; revolving in the five destinies, how can they find a way out? I should now use skillful means to rescue and protect them, bringing coolness to the burning distress of birth and death.' Having had this thought, he entered the great ocean and went to the palace of the dragon king to seek the wish-fulfilling jewel (cintāmaṇi). He saw a golden city of dazzling radiance, surrounded by poisonous serpents so that it could not be approached. He immediately entered the samādhi of loving-kindness, stepped over them, and passed. The dragon king came out to welcome him, bowed in reverence, and after exchanging greetings of comfort, they entered the palace together. [The dragon king] asked, 'Venerable one, for what purpose have you come here?' Mahādāna answered, 'Because of poverty, the people of Jambudvīpa cause extreme slaughter and harm, and at the end of their lives they will surely be born in the three evil destinies. Pitying them, I have traversed dangers to come here, seeking the wish-fulfilling jewel in order to deliver them from their suffering. May you be pleased to bestow it, so as to benefit living beings.' The dragon king said, 'Splendid! I shall not oppose your teaching. I ask only that you stay for a short while and preach the Dharma for me.' Mahādāna consented and stayed for four months, explaining the names, origins, and ends of all dharmas, and sequentially expounding the meaning and phrasing. With an earnest mind, the dragon king listened, received, and contemplated them; his inquiries about Mahādāna's daily life were always timely and appropriate, and the timing of approaching him was left to his own discretion. When the four months had passed, Mahādāna took his leave. The dragon took the jewel from his topknot and gave it to him, and made this vow: 'The great being's loving-kindness and compassion are exceedingly broad and vast; you will surely attain spontaneous, correct awakening. May I become your foremost disciple in learning!' Thereupon Mahādāna used the wish-fulfilling jewel to rain down the seven precious things. All the people of Jambudvīpa were at peace and happy; they practiced the ten virtues, and at the end of their lives they were born in heaven. Monks, you should know: at that time, Mahādāna was myself, and the dragon king of that time was Ānanda. Even among dragon kings he knew what was timely and appropriate, how much more so now could he not be thoroughly versed? Thereupon Ānanda served as the Tathāgata's attendant, being well able to comply and adapt; he retained what he heard of the Dharma-treasury without the slightest loss. When the World-Honored One was in the Grove of Twin Trees nearing parinirvāṇa, he asked Kauṇḍinya where Ānanda was. [Kauṇḍinya] replied, 'He is now outside the Śāla Grove, being harassed by the hosts of Māra, deep in the net of wrong views and experiencing great suffering and distress. Except for the Buddha, the Tathāgata, no one can rescue and protect him.' Mañjuśrī said to the Buddha, 'World-Honored One, in this great assembly there are bodhisattvas who, through immeasurable kalpas, have given rise to the bodhi-mind, long cultivated vows and practices, and attained non-retrogression. Such as these are well able to uphold the Dharma-treasury of all Buddhas. For what reason do you ask where Ānanda is?' The Buddha told Mañjuśrī, 'The monk Ānanda has served me for a long time without the slightest fault. He is fully endowed with what is inconceivable; the Dharma he has heard he is well able to uphold, just like pouring water from one vessel into another. He is looked up to in common by all living beings; therefore I ask where Ānanda is. He is now twelve yojanas away from this assembly, harassed by the hosts of Māra. Take my spell and go there to release him.' Mañjuśrī immediately went to the place of Māra and uttered the dhāraṇī. When Māra heard this, he released Ānanda at once. Together with Mañjuśrī, he came to the Buddha's place, prostrated himself in homage, and sat to one side. At that time, in the middle of the latter part of the night, the World-Honored One entered parinirvāṇa. All the devas and humans made great offerings; wrapping him in fine muslin, they cremated him (jhāpita). When these matters were entirely concluded, Mahākāśyapa and all the arhats wished to assemble the eye of the world at Rājagṛha. Ānanda was at that time still in the stage of learning (śaikṣa); because his outflows were not yet exhausted, he did not take part among the noble assembly. At that time, there was a monk named Vajjiputta who enlightened him with a verse: