雜譬喻經 1.40

1.40

In a foreign country, there would occasionally be evil rain. If it fell into the water of rivers, lakes, streams, wells, and city moats, and people drank this water, it would make them mad and intoxicated, only clearing after seven days. At that time, there was a king of great wisdom who was skilled at examining omens. When the clouds of evil rain arose, the king already knew of it, so he covered a well so that the rain would not enter. Then the hundreds of officials and ministers drank the water of the evil rain, and the whole court went mad, stripping off their clothes and running naked, smearing mud on their heads, and sitting in the king's hall. Only the king alone was not mad, wearing the clothes he usually wore, his heavenly crown, and necklaces, and sitting on his original couch. None of the ministers realised they were mad; instead, they regarded the king as exceedingly mad, saying: "Why is he alone dressed like that?" Everyone said to one another: "This is no small matter; we should deliberate together on what to do about it." The king feared that the ministers wished to rebel, and in apprehension he said to the ministers: "I have a good medicine that can cure this illness. Please wait a moment for me to take the medicine, and I will come out in a short while." The king then went into the palace, took off the clothes he wore, smeared mud on his face, and returned shortly. When all the ministers saw this, they were all overjoyed, thinking that this was how it should normally be, not realising their own madness. After seven days, the ministers woke up and became greatly ashamed, each putting on clothes and caps and coming to court. The king sat naked as before, and the ministers were all astonished and asked: "The king is always of great wisdom; why are you like this?" The king answered the ministers: "My mind is always settled and does not alter. Because you were mad, you conversely called me mad. It was for this reason that I acted like that; it was not my true mind." The Tathāgata is also like this: because sentient beings drink the water of ignorance and are all constantly mad, if they hear the Great Sage constantly preaching that dharmas are neither born nor extinguished, of a single characteristic and signless, they will certainly regard the Great Sage's words as madness. Therefore, the Tathāgata accords with sentient beings, manifesting teaching that dharmas are wholesome or unwholesome, conditioned or unconditioned.