付法藏因緣傳 6
English (machine translation) 6
- Language
- English
6.1
Translated by Kiṅkara, Tripiṭaka master from the Western Regions, together with Tanyao under the Northern Wei
6.2
When the Bodhisattva Nāgārjuna was about to depart this world, he told his great disciple Kāṇadeva: "Good man, listen. The Buddha, with great compassion pitying living beings, expounded the flavour of ambrosia to benefit future generations. It was transmitted successively down to me. Now, as I wish to depart this world, I entrust it to you. You must disseminate it and wholeheartedly receive and uphold it." Deva reverently assented: "I will uphold the Venerable One's teaching." Thereupon he proclaimed the true treasure of the Dharma, defeating divergent schools with the power of his wisdom. His vast knowledge and extensive reading, as well as his talent and eloquence, were supreme. Renowned throughout the world, he walked alone above all realms. Originally he had been born in the land of South India into a brāhmaṇa clan, noble and eminent. Because he gave away his eye to a deity, he ended up with only one eye, and for this reason he was named Kāṇadeva. His wisdom was profound and far-reaching, his acumen shining from within. Looking back and observing himself, he felt no shame in his heart. Yet because his words were not yet believed and accepted by people, and the transforming influence of the Way was not spreading, he grieved and worried day and night. In that country there was a deity whose image was cast in gold, standing sixty feet high, and whom all called the Great Īśvara. To those who made vows, he caused immediate recompense to be obtained. Deva went to the temple asking to enter and pay homage. The temple keeper said: "The celestial image is most spiritual. Anyone who sees it dares not gaze directly at it, and moreover is made to recoil and lose his wits for a hundred days. You should only approach the gate to make your prayer. What more do you seek that you wish to see him?" Deva answered: "If the deity is truly like this, then I wish to see him. If he were not like this, he would not be what I desire." When the people of that time heard this, they all marvelled at his intention, and several tens of millions of people followed him into the temple. When Deva arrived, he bowed his head in homage. The deity moved his eyes and looked at him with an angry glare. Deva said: "The deity is indeed spiritual. Yet viewing him now, he is exceedingly base and inferior. Now, one who is a deity ought to subdue the various kinds [of beings] by means of spiritual power, yet you borrow gold and crystal as adornment. Deluding the people and creatures—how utterly petty!" He then climbed a high ladder and gouged out the deity's eye. At that time, all the onlookers felt doubt: "The majesty and virtue of the Great Īśvara is high and vast. How could he be desecrated and humiliated by this petty brāhmaṇa? Could it be that that deity's reputation exceeds his reality?" Then Deva instructed the crowd, saying: "The deity's spiritual brilliance is far and great; it was an immediate circumstance to test me. Because I deeply understood the thoughts in his mind, I climbed the mound of gold and extracted the crystal jewel, so that all might understand that a spiritual power that is pure does not rely on physical form. Since I was not arrogant, how could the deity be humiliated?" Having spoken these words, he left the temple. That very night he sought out all offerings, and at dawn the next day he reverently made sacrifice to the deity. Kāṇadeva's reputation and virtue were long-established, and his wisdom communed with the divine; whatever words he uttered were met with an unfailing response. In the space of one night, the implements of offering were fully prepared. The Great Īśvara assumed a body of flesh, several tens of feet high, with his left eye withered and hollowed. He walked slowly and calmly, coming to take his seat. Looking all around at the delicacies, he marvelled that such had never occurred before, praising his power of virtue that could bring such about, and told him: "Excellent, Great Being! You have deeply fathomed my mind and made offerings with wisdom. You are now truly one who reveres and believes in me. The people of the world are foolish; they apprehend only my physical form and present food out of fear, thus slandering me. Now you have made an offering of food, complete with fine flavours; it would be proper for my left eye to be bestowed upon me. If you can give it to me, that will be a truly supreme gift." Deva answered: "Splendid, I accept your teaching." He then took out his eye with his left hand and gave it to him. By the divine power of the deity, as soon as an eye was taken out, another grew in its place. The deity demanded them without ceasing, and Deva took out several tens of thousands of eyes. The deity praised him, saying: "Excellent, young brāhmaṇa! This is truly a supreme gift. Whatever vow you wish to seek, I will surely fulfil your desire." At that time Deva said to the deity: "I seek clear knowledge, not relying on anything external. My only regret is that no one believes and accepts my teaching. I wish only that my words will surely spread in the future." The deity said: "Very good!" and then arose and withdrew. Thereupon Deva went to Nāgārjuna, shaved his hair and beard, and received the rules of renunciation. Traveling about, he propagated the transformation and widely saved living beings. The king of South India ruled over all the lands. Harbouring an arrogant mind, he trusted and used heterodox ways, not allowing a single Śākyan monk to be seen, and the people of the country far and wide all accepted his influence. Deva thought: "If the tree's trunk is not felled, its branches are difficult to bring down. If the ruler of men is not transformed, how can the Way be disseminated?" The political law of that country was that the royal house disbursed money to hire people for the night guard. At that time Deva answered the levy to become a soldier, bearing a halberd and riding at the fore. Disciplining the troops with majesty, virtue, kindness, and benevolence, all took joy in his governance. The king praised his dedication and asked: "What sort of person is this attendant?" They answered: "This person answered the levy, yet he neither eats his rations nor takes wages. In service he is respectful and cautious, and by nature he loves quiet reflection. We do not yet understand his mind, or what he seeks and desires." The king immediately summoned him and asked him fully about his intention. He answered: "Great King, I am a wise man, skilled in debate. I wish to seek a test before the king." The king then granted it, erecting a debate seat for him. At that time Deva established three theses: "Among all holy ones, the Buddha is the most extraordinary; among all teachings, the Buddha-Dharma is incomparable; and as a field of merit to save the world, the Saṅgha is foremost. If debaters from the eight directions can refute these words, I will cut off my head to apologize for my defeat. Why is that? To fail to establish a principle clearly is foolishness; a head such as this is not something I would begrudge." Debaters from the eight directions all gathered like clouds, and each also said: "If I am defeated, I will cut off my head to apologize; a foolish head is not something I hold dear." Deva told them: "The Dharma I cultivate is humane and gives life to all things. As a condition, if you are inferior, your hair will be shaved and you will become my disciples; your heads will not be severed." Having established this agreement, they debated the principles together. Those among the non-Buddhists whose sentiment and wisdom were shallow were immediately defeated and choked upon a single word. Those with superior wisdom lasted up to two days, but their words and reasoning both ran out. Their hair was shaved and all were ordained. At that time there was a disciple of a non-Buddhist, fierce, stubborn, and devoid of wisdom, who was ashamed of his master's defeat. Although his body followed the multitude, resentment and rage harboured within his mind. With venom blazing fiercely, he bit his knife and swore to himself: "His mouth conquered my master; my knife will subdue you!" Having spoken these words, grasping a sharp knife, he constantly watched day and night for an opportunity. At that time Deva was staying in a secluded forest, composing the Śataka Śāstra to refute erroneous views. His disciples were scattered under the trees, contemplating. The Bodhisattva Deva arose from samādhi to do caṅkrama. The disciple of the non-Buddhist went to his place and held the knife to confront him: "In the past you used wisdom to subdue my master; now I will use a knife to rip open your belly!" He immediately tore it open, and his five viscera spilled out, yet his life had not yet ceased. Pitying his madness and folly, Deva told him: "I have robes and a bowl at my seat; you may take them and quickly go up the mountain. If those among my disciples who have not yet attained the Way happen to meet you, they will certainly seize you, or send you to the king, causing you no small distress. The body and reputation are the root of many afflictions; now, deluded, your feelings of attachment to them are deep. Therefore, you should protect yourself well." At that time, among the disciples, those who arrived first saw their master and let out a sorrowful cry. Gathering all the disciples, they rushed together like clouds, terrified and wailing, rolling on the ground. Among them, some ran about wildly, dividing up to intercept the vital roads. At that time Deva said to the multitude: "All phenomena are inherently empty, without self and without what belongs to self. There is neither one who can harm nor one who receives [harm]. Who is kin and who is foe? Who is the tormentor? You are now covered by folly, generating false views in vain and planting unwholesome roots. What that man harmed was my past retribution; it did not kill me." Thereupon he released his body, casting it off like a cicada's shell, and passed away. Before Kāṇadeva relinquished his body, he told the Venerable Rāhula: "The Buddha, the Bhagavat, in order to cross living beings over, expounded the wondrous Dharma to benefit future generations. It was entrusted successively down to me. When I have passed away, it should be given to you. You must protect and uphold the jewel-treasury of profound sūtras, so that all living beings may universally receive benefit." Rāhula said: "Splendid, I accept your teaching." Later, he set forth and expounded the profound sūtras and wondrous Dharma, using the power of his wisdom to destroy heterodox ways. Hearing the Dharma preached three times, he was able to retain it all. Nāgārjuna, Deva, and this Great Being all had renowned virtue and their good fame was heard together. At that time, there was a brāhmaṇa, intelligent and unusually perceptive, skilled in debate. He composed a book of names of spirits that was exceedingly difficult to understand, whose words and phrases were extensive, amounting to one hundred thousand verses. He recited it in praise for the three Great Beings. Nāgārjuna, upon hearing it once, immediately attained understanding and was well able to remember and retain it as if he had recited and practiced it of old. Deva, not yet understanding it, had it expounded for him again, and having heard it a second time, he too clearly understood it. The Bodhisattva Deva further extensively differentiated and expounded its verses and phrases for Rāhula, and upon hearing it, Rāhula's mind opened to comprehension. Then the brāhmaṇa was greatly astonished: "The talent and wisdom of these monks is such that reading this book of mine, they quickly mastered it, and are well able to analyze it as if it were an old study!" He immediately submitted in faith and corrected his erroneous mind. That Rāhula was intelligent like this, and possessed skillful means to teach and transform living beings. Afterward, he entrusted the Dharma to the Venerable Saṅghanandi, causing him to disseminate it and benefit living beings. Saṅghanandi possessed great merit and virtue; his wisdom was profound, and he cultivated the bodhisattva conduct. Adorning himself with firm vows, he surpassed the realm of śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas. Once there was an arhat who had laid down the heavy burden and was complete in all virtues. Saṅghanandi, wishing to test him, recited a verse to question him:
6.3
"Born within the lineage of the turning wheel,
Neither a Buddha nor an arhat,
Not receiving existence in future lives,
Nor yet a pratyekabuddha."
6.4
"The bhadanta should observe carefully: what kind of thing is that which was spoken of above?" Then the arhat entered samādhi and contemplated deeply, but could not understand it. Then, by his supernatural power, he divided his body and flew to the Tuṣita heaven, to the dwelling of Maitreya, and proclaimed the matter in full, requesting a resolution to his doubt. Then Maitreya told that arhat: "In the world, a lump of mud is placed upon a wheel, moulded and fired to make earthenware. Does such earthenware, like the holy ones, reach future lives?" Then that arhat immediately attained understanding, returned to Jambudvīpa, and proclaimed this matter. Saṅghanandi said to him: "Bhadanta, this must have been expounded to you by the Bodhisattva Maitreya before you could understand it." Such was his wisdom, supernatural powers, and transformations; his saving of living beings was immeasurable. Having finished what was to be done, when he was about to relinquish his body, he went beneath a tree, took hold of a branch with his fingers, and immediately gave up his lifespan, remaining leaning on this tree. The arhats wished to move his corpse to place it in a level spot and heap firewood to cremate it, but like Mount Sumeru it could not be moved, and even exhausting their supernatural powers produced no change. Thereupon, again, they combined the strength of great white elephants to push it, but could not move it even by the space of a mustard seed. They then heaped fragrant wood and cremated him underneath it. The fire blazed fiercely and burned his body completely, yet the tree became even more lush and suffered no withering or damage at all. The assembly of that time all saw this and sighed that such had never occurred before. They collected his śarīra and erected a stūpa to make offerings. After Saṅghanandi relinquished his body, there was an arhat named Saṅghayaśas, who next received the entrustment to spread the Dharma-eye, extensively transforming living beings and rescuing them from all suffering and distress. He had great wisdom, and his words were clear and eloquent. Formerly, though he had gone forth, he had not yet realized stream-entry. Traveling by the great sea, he saw a palace adorned with the seven jewels, exceedingly bright and splendid. Saṅghayaśas, seeing that the time had arrived, went to that palace and spoke a verse to beg for food:
6.5
"Hunger is the foremost illness;
Conditioned existence is the foremost suffering.
One who knows the Dharma in this way
Can attain the path to nirvāṇa."
6.6
At that time, the master of the house came out to welcome him. He spread out rugs and cushions and invited him inside to sit down. Saṅghayaśas saw two pretas inside the house, naked, black, and emaciated, starved and exhausted. Their bodies and heads were shackled, each tied to a bed. There was also a bowl filled with fragrant rice, with a pitcher containing water placed beside it. Then the master took this food and offered it to the monk, saying: “Bhadanta, take care not to give this food to these pretas.” The monk, seeing their starvation and distress, then gave them a little rice. Having received the food, the spirits immediately vomited pus and blood, which flowed all over the ground and soiled the palace. Surprised, the monk asked him: “For what reason do these spirits undergo such retribution for their misdeeds?” The master replied: “In a past life, one of these spirits was my son, and the other was my daughter-in-law. When I formerly practiced generosity and performed merits, that couple was constantly harboring anger and stinginess. Though I admonished them many times, they would not accept it at all. Thereupon I made a vow, saying: ‘For such evil karma you will surely incur bad retribution! When you undergo your punishment, I shall watch you.’ Because of this cause and condition, they suffer this distress.” / Walking forward a little further, he reached another dwelling. The halls and pavilions were adorned with various wondrous things, filled with an assembly of monks walking in caṅkrama and meditating in dhyāna. When the time came, the mallet was struck to assemble for the meal. Just as the meal was about to finish, the delicacies turned into pus and blood. They then struck and hurled their bowls at one another, smashing their heads and faces. Blood flowed, soiling their bodies, and they cried out: “Why were we stingy with food, so that now we suffer this agony?” Saṅghayaśas stepped forward and asked them the reason. They answered: “Āyusmat, in our previous lives at the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, we dwelt together in one place. When visiting monks arrived, we all grew angry, hid and begrudged food and drink, and would not share it with them. Because of this cause, we now suffer this agony.” / Thus the venerable Saṅghayaśas traveled across the great ocean, observing everywhere. He saw five hundred hells in all. He thereupon gave rise to revulsion, deeply detesting the three realms of existence and reproaching the five desires. Overcome with dread, he thought: “The karma created in the world never perishes. Like a shadow following a form, who can escape it? I must now seek deliverance by skillful means.” Through the earnestness of his contemplation, he attained the path of the arhat, with the six supernormal knowledges unobstructed and the threefold vision clear and penetrating. / In a mountain forest there were five hundred ṛṣis diligently cultivating ascetic practices, aspiring to the blessings of Brahmā. Saṅghayaśas went to their place and proclaimed three verses for them, praising the Buddha, Dharma, and Saṅgha. All five hundred ṛṣis attained stream-entry. Having thus extensively performed the Buddha's work and completed his converting of beings, the venerable one entered nirvāṇa. They gathered his śarīra and erected a stūpa to make offerings. / Before Saṅghayaśas passed into extinction, he entrusted the Dharma to Kumāralāta, saying to him: “The Buddha entrusted the true Dharma to Mahākāśyapa, and thus it was handed down until it reached me. Now, being about to enter nirvāṇa, I take it and entrust it to you. You should sincerely and diligently guard and preserve it.” Kumāralāta answered: “I receive your instruction.” / Thereupon he successively proclaimed the treasure-trove of the profound Dharma. His merits were profound and far-reaching; he made a great, vast vow to practice the bodhisattva path. His wisdom and eloquence were like the great ocean. In his youth, he already had fame, and the people of his state revered him. “Kumāralāta” means “Youth” (Tongzi) in the language of Qin. In his youth, he had a fine reputation. For what reason was he called “Fine Reputation”? An elder, traveling abroad on business, deposited two jars of gold with a relative and friend. One jar of gold was large, and the second was small. He told his relative and friend: “I wish to go abroad and leave these in your care. If my son desires either, you must surely give it to him.” Later, the elder's son went to ask for the gold. The relative and friend then returned the smaller one to him. The son became furious and refused to take the gold. Consequently, they brought the case before the magistrate, fully stating their intentions to seek a verdict. None of the judges could decide it. At that time Kumāralāta was still a youth. Playing along the road, he heard their dispute and said: “The son has obtained the gold; why toil in bitter strife? His father originally said to grant whatever the son desired. Now that he prefers the large one, it naturally belongs to him by principle.” The judges then followed his words. Thereupon his fame spread far and wide, and so he was called the “Youth of Fine Reputation.” / He left the household to study the path, his talent and wisdom surpassing the worldly. He reached a realm where the people were mostly stubborn and foolish; although they heard the Dharma teachings, they did not believe or accept them. Kumāralāta said to them: “You may now assemble ten thousand riders on iron-armored horses and have them ride past me.” In accordance with his words, they made full preparations. After Kumāralāta glanced at them for only an instant, he fully distinguished the names of the men, the colors of the horses, their clothing, and their appearances, reciting them all without a single error. Only then did the people of that realm submit with faith. He composed various sūtras and treatises, traveling and converting the world. Having completed what was to be done, he relinquished his life. / When Kumāralāta was on the verge of death, he addressed a monk named Jayata: “Āyusmat, you should know that just as a person crossing the ocean must rely on a boat or raft, so it is with sentient beings: wishing to leave the three realms, they must cultivate wholesome dharmas before they can escape. Therefore, I now wish to entrust the Dharma to you. You should study it well and bring benefit to humans and devas.” Jayata said: “Excellent! I receive your instruction.” He then expounded the profound Dharma, widely converting the world. / That Jayata had great merit. He was vigorous and courageous, diligently practicing austerities. He kept the prohibitive precepts well, without any fault. He was the final Vinaya master prophesied by the World-Honored One. / Once, there was a monk among the assembly whose sister-in-law came to the monastery bringing food to feed him. Flaring with lustful fire, they engaged in sexual intercourse. Having broken the grave precept, he immediately repented and reproached himself, giving rise to extreme shame and remorse: “Being exceedingly foolish, I committed this evil deed. I am certainly no longer a Śramaṇa or son of the Śākya.” He placed all his robes and bowl on a three-pronged staff, traveled everywhere, and cried out in a loud voice: “I am a sinful man; I should no longer wear the dyed robes of the Buddha's Dharma! My transgression is so heavy that I must enter hell. Where can I find rescue and protection?” Then Jayata spoke to the monk: “If you can now comply with my words, I shall cause your sin to be eradicated immediately.” The monk rejoiced and said: “I receive your instruction.” / Then Jayata, through his supernormal power, magically produced a fiery pit whose flames blazed fiercely, and instructed the monk to cast himself into it. At that time, to eradicate his sin, the monk threw his whole body into the great fiery pit. At that moment, the fierce flames turned into a clear stream, reaching only to his knees and causing him no harm at all. Then Jayata said to the monk: “Because of your wholesome mind and sincere repentance, all your sins are now destroyed.” He then preached the Dharma for him, and he attained the path of the arhat. For this reason, the world all called him the “Pure Precept-Keeper.” / At another time, leading his disciples, he traveled toward the city of Takṣaśilā. Upon arriving at that city, Jayata's expression grew sorrowful and his brow furrowed. The disciples wondered and asked their master the reason. He replied: “Wait a while; I shall explain it later.” / Advancing a little further along the road, they saw a crow. At that moment, the venerable one smiled with joy. The disciples asked their master again: “We pray that out of pity you will explain the cause and condition.” / Then Jayata told the assembly: “When I first arrived at the city, under the gate I saw a child of a preta, starved and emaciated, who came forward and said to me: ‘After my mother gave birth to me, she went into the city to seek food. Since we parted, full five hundred years have passed. Starved and destitute, my life will not last much longer. If you, Venerable One, enter the city and see my mother, please describe in full to her my hardships.’ / As soon as I entered the city, I saw the mother, and I described in full her son's starvation. Then the mother preta came forward and said to me: ‘Since entering the city, five hundred years have passed, yet I have never been able to obtain even a single person's phlegm or spittle. Why? Because having newly given birth, my strength was exhausted; even if I got a little spittle, other spirits would bully and snatch it from me. Only today did I happen upon one person's spittle; with no other spirits nearby, I managed to get it. I wish to go out of the city to share it with my son to eat, but under the gate there are many powerful spirits; fearing they will snatch it, I dare not go out. I pray only that the Venerable One will have pity and take me out of the city to meet my son.’ / At that time, I led the mother preta out of the city and let her eat with her son. I then asked her: ‘How long has it been since you were born?’ The spirit replied to me: ‘I have seen this city form and disintegrate seven times; the land was prosperous and joyful, its people thriving, and then I saw it ruined and completely destroyed without a trace.’ Hearing her words, I sighed deeply over how long and boundless the suffering of saṃsāra is. For this reason, my expression grew sorrowful and my brow furrowed. / As for the cause and condition of that crow, listen carefully, and I shall explain: Ninety-one kalpas ago in the past, Vipaśyin Buddha was in the world teaching and converting. At that time, I was the son of an elder; my mind was disgusted with the five desires, and I constantly thought of leaving the household. If I had become a Śramaṇa at that time, I would surely have severed all fetters and attained the path of the arhat. But my parents would not comply with my wish, forcibly arranging a marriage to cut off my intention. Not wishing to disobey their command, I took a wife. Having married, I wished to leave the household again. My parents said: ‘We arranged a marriage for you precisely to seek an heir. If you produce a son, only then will we let you go.’ I soon complied with their instruction, united with her, and had a boy. When he was six years old, the parents instructed the child: ‘If your father goes out wishing to become a Śramaṇa, you must embrace his feet and say to him: “If father abandons me, who will raise me? You must kill me first before you can go!”’ Then the child acted as his grandparents had taught, weeping and embracing me with great grief and attachment. At that time, out of affection and attachment, I said to the child: ‘For your sake, I shall no longer leave the household.’ / Because of that child, I failed to attain realization of the path, and for ninety-one kalpas I transmigrated through birth and death, never encountering him in the five paths of rebirth. Now, observing with the eye of the path, that crow was the son born to me in a previous life. Pitying his ignorance and long stay in saṃsāra, for this reason I smiled.” / Thus the venerable one was skilled at preaching the essentials of the Dharma, traveling and converting the world through the power of his eloquence. Having completed what was to be done, he entered parinirvāṇa. / When the venerable Jayata was about to pass into extinction, he addressed a monk named Vasubandhu: “Listen carefully now! Formerly, the Teacher of Gods and Humans, throughout immeasurable kalpas, diligently practiced austerities for the sake of the supreme, wondrous Dharma; now it has been fulfilled to benefit and bring peace to sentient beings. Having received the entrustment, I have guarded and upheld it with a sincere mind. Now I wish to commit it to you; you should deeply bear it in mind.” Vasubandhu said: “I receive your instruction.” / From then on, he propagated and illuminated the sūtra collection, adorning himself with such merits as the power of extensive learning, wisdom, and eloquence. Skilled at understanding the meaning of all sūtras, he explained and expounded them, widely converting sentient beings. Having completed what was to be done, he relinquished his life-faculties. / Next, it was entrusted to a monk named Manorhita, ordering him to spread the unsurpassed, supreme Dharma. That Manorhita had superior wisdom, had few desires, knew contentment, diligently practiced austerities, and his words were pithy and wondrous, pleasing to all minds. He was well able to comprehend the meaning of the Tripiṭaka, and brought great benefit to South India. / At that time there was a venerable one named Yaśas, whose eloquence and wisdom were sharp and penetrating, profound and vast; his merits were equal to those of Manorhita, and he too could comprehend the meaning of the Tripiṭaka. His renown spread abroad, and all revered him. Once, Manorhita went to North India. The venerable Yaśas said to him: “In the two Indian realms south of the Ganges, people hold many wrong views, but their intellects are sharp and eloquent. Āyusmat, you are well versed in treatises on phonology and debate; you may travel and convert in that land, while I shall bring benefit and peace to sentient beings here.” Manorhita then acted according to his words, going to the two Indian realms, where he widely proclaimed the treatise on the selflessness of the skandhas, subduing all heretical and wrong views. Having accomplished what was to be done, he relinquished his body and passed away. / After this, there was next a venerable one named Haklenayaśas who appeared in the world. Receiving the entrusted Dharma, he proclaimed and spread it widely. His blessings and merits were profound and far-reaching, his talent and insight vast and comprehensive, converting those bewildered in the world and guiding them toward the correct path. Having completed what was to be done, he then relinquished his body. / There was also a monk named Siṃha, who performed great Buddha-work in the kingdom of Kaśmīra. At that time, the king of that country was named Mihirakula. His wrong views were rampant, and his mind held no reverence or faith. In Kaśmīra, he destroyed stūpas and monasteries, and murdered monks. He then cut off Siṃha's head with a sharp sword. From his neck there was no blood, only milk flowing forth. With this, the succession of those entrusted with the Dharma came to an end. / Such Dharma is a great, bright lamp, capable of illuminating the darkness of worldly ignorance. Therefore, the worthy and holy ones above all carried it on their heads, received, kept, and guarded it, entrusting it to one another and constantly turning the wheel of the Dharma, producing great benefit for sentient beings, blocking the evil paths and opening the way to human and heavenly rebirths. When it finally arrived at the end, this Dharma declined and was destroyed; the worthy and holy ones disappeared, and none could establish it. The world grew dark and benighted, permanently losing the great light. Creating evil karma and practicing the ten unwholesome actions, at the end of their lives most fall into the three evil paths and eight difficulties. / Therefore, the wise should observe: The unsurpassed, supreme Dharma possesses great merits, wondrous, profound, and inconceivable. Just as a merchant wishing to cross the ocean must board a ship before he can cross, so it is with all sentient beings: wishing to escape the ocean of birth and death in the three realms, they must rely on the ship of the Dharma before they can attain deliverance. The Dharma is a cooling refreshment that eliminates the fever of afflictions; the Dharma is a wondrous medicine that can cure the sickness of fetters. It is the true good friend of sentient beings, bringing great benefit and rescuing them from all distress. / Why? The nature of all sentient beings has no fixed character; following what they absorb and habituate themselves to, they generate good or bad karma. If one associates with non-Buddhists of wrong views and receives their instructions, one will transmigrate forever without limit; this is not called a good friend. If someone can generate faith and reverence, draw near to the worthy and holy ones, and listen to and accept the wondrous Dharma, by the cause and condition of the merit of listening to this Dharma, they will emerge from the mire of desires and receive the most supreme joy. Therefore, this person is called a good friend; one should diligently draw near and make offerings to them, for they can surely cause people to leave the suffering of the three evil paths. / As in the past, the King of Pāṭaliputra had a white elephant, brave and strong in strength, able to destroy foes and enemies. When there were criminals, he had the elephant trample them to death. Later, the elephant stable was burned by fire and moved to another place near a monastery. Hearing a monk recite the Dharma verses: “Doing good leads to birth in heaven; doing evil leads to falling into the abyss,” its mind became gentle and gave rise to thoughts of loving-kindness and compassion. Later, when criminals were delivered to it, it would not kill them at all, but merely sniffed them with its trunk, licked them, and walked away. Seeing this, the king was terrified, and summoned his wise ministers to deliberate on the matter. Then a minister said to the king: “The place where this elephant was tied was close to a monastery; it must have heard the wondrous Dharma, and that is why it is so. Now you may move and tie it near a slaughterhouse; when it beholds the slaughter, its evil mind will flare up.” The king followed his plan and tied the elephant at the slaughterhouse. Seeing the slaughter, flaying, and dismemberment, the elephant's evil mind grew fierce and its cruelty increased greatly. / By this you should know that the nature of sentient beings is not fixed. Why? Even beasts, hearing the Dharma, give rise to compassion, and seeing slaughter, turn to cruelty; how much more so with humans—how could they not absorb habits and produce good or bad karma? Therefore, the wise should realize: Wrong views and evil teachings bring much harm; cast them off, abandon them, and diligently apply skillful means. Draw near to the holy Dharma, uphold and spread it, and regard it as the Great Master. By the cause and condition of this wondrous merit, one will forever transcend the suffering of the three evil paths, cross the ocean of birth and death, and receive the joy of nirvāṇa. / Furthermore, this Dharma is the complete cause and condition for attaining the benefits of the path; therefore it is also called the true good friend. As Ānanda formerly addressed the Buddha: “World-Honored One, a good friend is half the cause and condition for attaining the benefits of the path.” The Buddha said: “Not so! A good friend is the complete cause and condition for attaining the path. Ānanda, you should know: In this Jambudvīpa, with the exception of Mahākāśyapa, Śāriputra, and their like, if other sentient beings do not meet me, they will constantly transmigrate without any period of liberation. Therefore I say: A good friend can bring great benefit.” / For this reason, you should know that the Buddha's Dharma is the most venerable, the most wondrous, and without superior, accomplished through immeasurable merits. Therefore, when the World-Honored One first achieved correct enlightenment, sitting upright beneath the king of trees, he contemplated: “If all the world had no father, mother, teachers, or elders, being solitary, exposed, and forever without support, upon whom should I now rely and stand?” He further thought: “The Buddhas of the past, future, and present all take the supreme Dharma as their model and teacher. I, too, should follow the Buddhas of the three periods of time and take the profound, wondrous, and supreme Dharma as my teacher.” For this reason, the Buddha constantly revere such wondrous Dharma, wholeheartedly bowing down to it and diligently guarding it. You should know that this Dharma is extremely rare; therefore, the wise should uphold it. / Furthermore, in the past there was a brāhmaṇa who possessed many human skulls, and went to Pāṭaliputra hawking them everywhere. After a long time, no one bought them. He became furious and shouted in a loud voice: “If the people in this city do not buy the skulls from me, I will spread an evil reputation about you, saying that you are all foolish, ignorant, and dull!” Then the upāsakas in the city, hearing these words and fearing his slander, took money and went to buy them from him. They probed the ears with a copper chopstick: if it passed completely through, they paid a high price; if it passed halfway through, they paid a lower price; if it did not pass through at all, they gave no price whatsoever. Then the brāhmaṇa asked the upāsakas: “My skulls are all alike; why are the prices different?” The upāsakas said: “The skulls that were fully penetrated belonged to people who, when alive, heard and accepted the wondrous Dharma; their wisdom was lofty and superior, and because we value this, we gave a high price. Those that penetrated halfway, although they heard the wondrous Dharma, had not fully discerned it; for this reason we gave you a low price. As for those that did not pass through at all, those people never heard the Dharma in the past; for this reason we gave you no price.” Then the upāsakas took these skulls, went outside the city, and erected stūpas to make offerings to them. When their lives ended, they were all born in heaven. / By this cause and condition you should know that the wondrous Dharma possesses great merit and can establish people. Why? If these upāsakas, merely by erecting stūpas for the skulls of people who heard the Dharma, were still born in heaven, how much more so for those who sincerely listen to and accept this Dharma, and make offerings to and revere those who uphold the sūtras? The reward of this blessing is extremely difficult to exhaust; in the future they will surely attain the unsurpassed path. Therefore, all who wish to attain unsurpassed peace and joy, and to perform great benefit in converting sentient beings, should uphold such supreme Dharma.
6.7
Account of the Transmission of the Dharma-treasury, Fascicle Six
Linked texts (1)
- 付法藏因緣傳 — Classical Chinese