付法藏因緣傳 3.2

3.2

The venerable Ānanda entrusted the Dharma to Śāṇakavāsin and told him: "Formerly, when the World-Honored One was traveling in the country of Mathurā, he turned to me and gave his command, saying: 'In this country there will be an elder named Gupta, whose son will be called Upagupta. In the method of dhyāna he will be the foremost. Although he will not have the physical marks, he will transform and save [beings] just like me. After my extinction he will bring about great benefit; the countless sentient beings taught and transformed by him will all attain liberation and become arhats. You should later deliver him and cause him to go forth from the household life. When you are about to enter nirvāṇa, entrust the Dharma-treasury to him.'" When Śāṇakavāsin was approaching nirvāṇa, he told Upagupta: "The Buddha entrusted the true Dharma to Mahākāśyapa; Kāśyapa next entrusted it to my master Ānanda; Ānanda bequeathed the Dharma to me; and now that I am about to pass into extinction, I entrust it to you. You should exert yourself vigorously to protect and uphold the eye of the world." Upagupta said: "I respectfully accept your instruction." Thereupon he expounded and made clear the unsurpassable wondrous Dharma, broadly proclaiming the true teaching to rescue all living beings. His virtue was profound and vast, difficult to measure. In the past he had long cultivated unsurpassable, supreme practices; even when born as a beast, he constantly transformed sentient beings, crushing and subduing the non-Buddhists, establishing the great banner of Dharma, and sheltering all under the cloud of loving-kindness and compassion. Merits such as these shall now be briefly explained.

Formerly, the Bhagavat was dwelling in the country of Śrāvastī, in the park of Anāthapiṇḍada. At that time, Upagupta was a Nirgrantha named Satyaka. His wisdom was profound and wondrous, his skill in debate peerless. He conceived deep arrogance and strode proudly throughout the world, binding his belly with copper plates and bearing a blazing fire atop his head, saying: "My wisdom is so full that I fear it will burst forth; for this reason I bind myself with plates. The world is dark and dim, seeing nothing; I wish to illuminate its blindness with my radiance." Hearing that the Buddha, the World-Honored One, was staying in the country of Śrāvastī, he wished to visit him to contend in eloquence. Someone told him: "If you see the Buddha, your wisdom will surely diminish and your light will naturally be extinguished." He then went to where the Buddha was and said to him: "Gautama, I wish to go forth from the household life. If my wisdom is equal to that of Śāriputra, my mind will be content and joyful; if I fall short of him, I shall return home." The World-Honored One told him: "Even if you were to accumulate hundreds of thousands of myriads of bodies, desiring to match Śāriputra, there is no such possibility." Having heard this, the brāhmaṇa took his leave of the Buddha and withdrew. Not long after he had left, the Buddha told the great assembly: "One hundred years after my extinction, this man will at that time attain the path of the arhat, possessing the threefold vision, the six supernormal knowledges, and fully endowed with the eight liberations. The lamp of his wisdom will shine uniquely, broadly transforming sentient beings, and those delivered by him will be countless." When the assembly heard this, they marveled at its rarity.

Furthermore, in a past life nayutas of kalpas ago, on Mount Urumuṇḍa, there was a pratyekabuddha together with five hundred of his kind. A community of ṛṣis also dwelt on the side of the mountain, while five hundred macaques lived on another side. At that time, the king of the macaques produced great faith and deeply cultivated the roots of goodness; he constantly gathered flowers and fruit to offer to the pratyekabuddhas. On another occasion, the assembly of pratyekabuddhas sat upright in subtle contemplation and entered into samādhi; the macaque imitated them, sitting cross-legged. Later, when the pratyekabuddhas all entered into nirvāṇa, the macaque offered flowers, but none [of the pratyekabuddhas] took notice of them; he pulled at their robes and pushed them, yet they remained motionless. He then knew they had entered extinction, and felt deep sorrow and anguish. Going to the other side of the mountain, he saw the ṛṣis practicing severe austerities: sleeping on thorns, standing on one foot or hanging upside down, scorching their bodies with the five fires, and leaping off cliffs to build fires. The macaque immediately gathered their ashes and thorns, cast away the filth, pulled down their feet to let them stretch out, and sat cross-legged before them. The ṛṣis, seeing this, were astonished at his actions, and promptly imitated the macaque by sitting upright and focusing their mindfulness; awakening by themselves without a master, they became pratyekabuddhas. They then thought: "Now that we have attained the path, it is due to this macaque." They immediately made offerings to him with incense and flowers. The king of the macaques at that time was Upagupta. Even when he was an animal, he could already awaken others; his intent was extremely clever, endowed with sharp wisdom and eloquence.

When the time came for Śāṇakavāsin to entrust the Dharma to him, he observed whether Gupta had fathered a son. Entering meditative concentration to contemplate, he knew he had not yet appeared in the world. He went with the monks to Gupta's house, and eventually, reducing his company, went alone by himself. Gupta asked: "Why are you alone with no companions?" He replied: "Elder, I have no wealth or salary; only those with faith who have gone forth accompany me." Gupta said again: "I enjoy worldly life and cannot go forth from the household. If I have a son later, I shall offer him to you." Śāṇakavāsin replied: "Excellent." Later a son was born, named Aśvagupta. When he grew older, [the venerable one] went to ask for him, but Gupta replied: "I have only one son; in principle I cannot give him to you. If another is born, I will certainly offer him to you." Later another son was born, named Nandagupta. When [the venerable one] went to ask for him, [Gupta] replied: "Venerable one, I now rely on these two sons to manage my livelihoods: the younger one protects, and the elder amasses the family business. In this way we can attain great wealth. For this reason I cannot give him to you. If a third is born, I shall then offer him to you." Śāṇakavāsin knew that these two sons had no karmic affinity with the path, so he did not persistently go to seek them.

Later a son was born whose countenance was upright and handsome; he was named Upagupta. He was gentle and compliant, by nature fond of kindness and pity, intelligent, eloquent, and vast-minded. At the age of twelve he was skilled at trading in the marketplace; whenever buyers came, he would always give them extra. Śāṇakavāsin, observing whether he had been born, knew that Upagupta had already appeared in the world. He immediately went to his place and asked him: "Now as you enter the market, is your mind pure or impure?" Upagupta asked: "What is meant by a pure mind and an impure mind?" He replied: "If the mind is united with greed and delusion, it is called impure; if it is not united with them, it is called pure." Gradually, using skillful means, he taught him to focus his mindfulness: whenever an unwholesome thought arose, he should put down a black pebble; whenever a wholesome thought arose, he should put down a white pebble. Thereupon, in accordance with the teaching, he gathered his mindfulness without distraction. At every arising of good or evil, he threw down a pebble. At first, the black ones were far more numerous and the white ones were few. Gradually practicing and training, the white and black became equal. When seven days were fulfilled, his mind became increasingly pure; the black pebbles were completely gone, and there were only white ones. Śāṇakavāsin thought: "Now this wholesome mind has been fully perfected; observing that the time for the path has arrived, I can expound the Dharma for him." He then proclaimed the four noble truths for him, and on that very spot [Upagupta] attained the fruit of srotāpanna.

At that time, in the city of Mathurā, there was a courtesan named Vāsavadattā, full of depraved seductiveness, bewitching arts, and deceitful flatteries. She sent a messenger to the market to purchase exquisite flowers. The messenger promptly went to Upagupta's place, obtained a great quantity of fine flowers, and presented them to Vāsavadattā. The woman was astonished at the abundance of flowers and asked the messenger: "Did you perhaps steal these flowers?" The messenger replied: "I did not steal them; I bought them in the market. There is a man named Upagupta who is humane, compassionate, broad-minded, and by nature fond of fairness. For this reason I obtained many flowers. Furthermore, this man's appearance is exquisitely handsome; if my lady were to see him, she would have no regrets even in death." Vāsavadattā then sent a person to invite him, but Upagupta refused completely; though she entreatingly pleaded with him, he never altered his resolve.

A son of an elder stayed the night with the courtesan. It happened that a merchant came from afar carrying great treasures and sought intimacy with the woman. At that time, the woman, coveting his treasures, killed the elder's son and buried him inside her house. The family relatives searched everywhere for him, reached the courtesan's house, and dug him out of the ground. They reported this matter fully to the king of the country, who immediately seized the courtesan, severed her hands and feet, cut off her ears and nose, and cast her away among the graves. Upagupta thought: "She originally invited me on account of her blooming beauty; for that reason I refrained from going. Now, for the sake of liberation, it is fitting that I go to transform her." He then took an attendant and went to where the courtesan was. Vāsavadattā said: "Originally, I was delicate and wondrous, with a captivating countenance, but at that time when I invited you, you would not grace me with a visit. Now that I am mutilated and ruined, what is the use of coming?" He answered: "Sister, I came in order to contemplate your true reality, not out of desire. Formerly, you used beauty to deceive and delude sentient beings, and foolish ordinary persons falsely gave rise to inverted thoughts. Now you yourself ought to contemplate this form attentively: it is impermanent, fragile, and dangerous, just like a mass of foam, covered with a thin skin and outwardly showing adornment, but with sinews and bones linked together, full of impure mucus and saliva. It is like a painted jar filled with stinking filth; fools do not realize it and give rise to deep attachment, whereas the wise understand it and never take delight in it. Though outwardly adorned with incense, flowers, baths, and clothing, inside it is truly impure. The profound vastness of the great ocean can have its drops counted, but the faults and perils of this body are very hard to fathom. For this reason the Buddhas constantly reproached it, never for a single moment producing thoughts of desiring or enjoying it." The courtesan's mind was gradually awakened at that time, and she conceived deep reverent faith in the Buddha's Dharma. She said: "Humane one, what you say is true and real; I pray only that you will explain it to me extensively." Upagupta then expounded for her: "All conditioned things are an accumulation of many sufferings, like a boil, like a sore, like an arrow piercing the heart. Birth, old age, sickness, and death revolve without bound; they are impermanent, perishable, unstable, and quickly decaying, like a condemned prisoner whose death is not far off; like a prison house in which no one takes delight; like fruit beside the road that is pelted by all. This body is loathsome and must eventually return to destruction, eagerly devoured by crows, magpies, foxes, and wolves; blown by the wind and scorched by the sun, it turns blue, putrid, and foul; hair, teeth, and bones lie scattered about in disorder. How could such a body be loved or desired? You ought to diligently apply skillful means to seek liberation." The courtesan attained understanding, acquiring the pure Dharma-eye, and upon the end of her life was reborn in the Trāyastriṃśa heaven. Upagupta, through contemplating the suffering, emptiness, and impermanence of all phenomena, immediately achieved the fruit of anāgāmin.

Śāṇakavāsin again went to Gupta and said to him: "You originally had an agreement to give me your son. Now that he is grown, can you give him to me?" Because Upagupta was naturally skilled in business, [Gupta] coveted him so much that he was again unwilling to give him up. The venerable one said: "The Buddha prophesied that this person, one hundred years after [his extinction], would perform great Buddha-deeds and bring benefit to sentient beings. You should open your heart and give me this son." When Gupta heard this, he permitted him to go forth from the household. Śāṇakavāsin took him to the monastery, caused him to go forth, and conferred the full precepts upon him. When the karmavācanā was concluded, he attained the path of the arhat, endowed with the threefold vision, the six supernormal knowledges, and complete in the eight liberations; he was skilled in words, and his exposition was inexhaustible.

He thought to himself: "I have now beheld the Dharma-body, but have not yet seen the Tathāgata's physical form with its marks and signs." Having thought this, he gave rise to deep sorrowful yearning. At that time there was an old bhikṣuṇī, one hundred and twenty years of age, who had once seen the Tathāgata. Upagupta, knowing that she had seen the Buddha, wished to go to her place. He immediately sent a messenger to tell the bhikṣuṇī: "The venerable Upagupta wishes to come see you." At that time the bhikṣuṇī filled a bowl to the brim with oil and placed it behind the door leaf. When Upagupta arrived at her dwelling, as he was entering the room, he spilled a few drops of oil. After exchanging greetings, they sat down. He asked: "Elder sister, when the World-Honored One was in the world, what were the deportment and conduct of the bhikṣus like?" The bhikṣuṇī said: "Formerly, when the Buddha was in the world, the group-of-six bhikṣus were the most crude and reckless, yet when they entered this room, they never spilled a single drop of water. Bhadanta, your wisdom is now lofty and supreme, and the people of the world call you the 'Buddha without marks'; yet when you entered my room, you spilled a few drops of oil. Judging from this, the people when the Buddha was present were truly marvelous." When Upagupta heard these words, he deeply reproached himself and felt extreme shame. The bhikṣuṇī said: "Bhadanta should not give rise to shame or regret. As the Buddha said: 'After my extinction, sentient beings on the first day will be superior to those on the second day; the people on the third day will be still baser and lowlier.' In this way, merits gradually decline and decay, stupidity and darkness grow, and wholesome dharmas become weak and diminished. How much more so now, when bhadanta is a hundred years removed from the Buddha! Even though you committed an act lacking in deportment, it was entirely fitting; why should it be considered strange?" At that time Upagupta asked her: "Sister, what was it like when you saw the Tathāgata?" The bhikṣuṇī said: "Formerly, when the Buddha was in the world, I was twenty years old and about to be married. I lost a golden hairpin that fell into the deep grass. I searched for it but could not find it; I then used a lamp to search everywhere, but grew exhausted without catching any glimpse of it. Just then, the Tathāgata happened to pass by; his golden radiance was as dazzling as a hundred thousand suns, and the dark places were all made brightly luminous, so that even the finest things were completely revealed. I immediately saw my hairpin and picked it up. For this reason I was able to see the Buddha." When Upagupta heard this matter, his sorrowful yearning doubled, and he sighed at its unprecedented wonder.

Śāṇakavāsin then told him: "The Buddha prophesied that a hundred years after [his extinction], you would be foremost in sitting in meditation and would extensively transform sentient beings. Now is the right time; you should bring benefit to them and cause all living beings to drink the taste of amṛta." Upagupta said: "I respectfully accept your instruction." In the country of Mathurā, he gathered a great assembly like a half-moon seating, and preached the Dharma for them: namely, discourses on generosity, discourses on morality, discourses on rebirth in heaven, explaining that desires are impure and that renunciation is supreme. Māra Pāpīyas then became sorrowful and frightened, thinking: "Upagupta has gathered a great assembly; he will certainly teach them to escape my realm. I must now go and ruin the minds of his assembly." When [Upagupta] was preaching the Dharma, [Māra] rained down genuine gold and treasures, or rained down flowers and necklaces of bright, pure luster; he manifested a white elephant adorned with the seven treasures, or appeared as an exceptionally beautiful woman. The entire assembly looked and watched, having no mind to listen to the Dharma. During three days of expounding the profound flavor of the Dharma, not a single person attained the path. The demon king was delighted and congratulated himself deeply. Upagupta immediately entered samādhi, contemplating and considering who had done this. The demon king also placed a garland of pearls and flowers around his neck. The venerable one, observing, knew it was the work of Māra, and thought: "The evil demon is jealous and corrupt, ruining the true Dharma. Why did the Tathāgata not subdue him?" He then contemplated the Buddha's intention, which was to have him transform him. He then took three corpses—namely, a snake, a dog, and a human—transformed them into a flower garland, and influenced Māra to come, saying to him: "You gave me a garland, showing great generosity; now I return this to repay you." Māra was overjoyed, stretched out his neck, and received it. When it reached his neck, it turned back into dead corpses, with worms and maggots about to crawl forth, stinking, rotting, and unbearable to approach. Seeing this, Māra felt deep revulsion and disgust, and said to Upagupta: "Why have you tied these dead corpses around my neck?" The venerable one answered: "A bhikṣu should not be adorned with a flower garland; you maliciously put it on me, and now I have put rotten corpses back on you. It is entirely fitting; you should not be angry." Māra used his supernormal power, wishing to remove the corpses, but they were unshakeable like Mount Sumeru. Feeling great rage, he sprang into the sky, begging the hosts of gods to untie the dead corpses. The gods all said: "This was done by a great sage; how could we lowly ones be able to remove it?" He went again to King Brahmā, begging to be freed from the binding of the corpses. King Brahmā answered: "This is the supernormal power wrought by a disciple of the Ten Powers; how could I, ordinary and base, untie it? Even the fierce wind of the kalpa-conflagration could not loosen the binding of these dead corpses. One might sooner suspend Mount Sumeru by a lotus fiber than untie these corpses; there is no such possibility. Just as one who falls to the ground must rely on the ground to rise again, if you take refuge in Upagupta, the binding of these dead corpses may perhaps be undone." At that time, Pāpīyas accepted King Brahmā's instruction, cast aside his pride, and gave rise to deep reverent faith. He went to the venerable one's place, threw his five limbs to the ground, and said: "Bhadanta, when the Buddha first attained the path and sat beneath the king of trees, I led my hosts to press upon and surround him; my harassments and disturbances of him were countless, yet he never uttered a single harsh word to slight or humiliate me. His great compassion was profound and vast like Mount Sumeru. You are an arhat, lacking the power of compassion and patience, and have humiliated me before gods and humans." Upagupta replied: "Pāpīyas, you are greatly foolish and without wisdom, comparing the person of a hearer (śrāvaka) to the Tathāgata! You seek to equate a mustard seed with Mount Sumeru, the glow of a firefly with the brilliance of the sun and moon, and water in a cow's footprint with the capacity of the great ocean. The Tathāgata's great compassion is something the two vehicles do not possess; for this reason he did not retaliate against you. Now I am narrow and base, lacking a mind of compassion and patience, and for this reason I humiliated you. Furthermore, the Tathāgata wished for me to subdue you later, so that through this you might conceive reverent faith in the Buddha, and by virtue of this wholesome mind not fall into the three evil destinies, washing away the defilements and destroying all sinful karmas." Hearing this, the demon felt great joy; his body hairs bristled and he gave rise to a thought of rare wonder. He said: "Humane one, through you I have given rise to reverent faith, and you have brought great benefit to me. Please now untie these three corpses for me." The venerable one answered: "Do not harass the true Dharma any more; only then will I untie them for you." Māra said: "I accept your instruction." The venerable one further said: "I was not able to see the Tathāgata's physical body; you once beheld it, so you should manifest it for me." Māra said: "Humane one, when I manifest the Buddha's body, do not prostrate to me." Upagupta said: "It shall be as you say." He then untied the three kinds of corpses. Māra entered the forest and transformed his shape to resemble the Buddha, with the thirty-two marks and eighty minor signs, his appearance marvelous like a mass of molten gold, radiant and shining, his demeanor dignified and serene. He transformed [other figures] into bhikṣus surrounding him front and back, walking forth from the forest like the king of geese. Seeing him, Upagupta was overjoyed, and attentively contemplating him, spoke in verse: