經律異相 10
English (machine translation) 10
- Language
- English
10.1
Compiled by the Liang dynasty śramaṇas Sengmin, Baochang, and others
10.2
Nengren (Śākyamuni) as Śakra Saves a Former Friend, [Story] 1
Nengren as a Courtesan Transforms to Become a King and Feeds Birds and Beasts with Sweet Food, [Story] 2
Śākya as King Sarvadā Cuts His Flesh to Ransom a Falcon, [Story] 3
Mañjuśrī as a Youth Transforms the Maiden Gold Head, [Story] 4
Sarvasudarśana as the Son of Blind Parents Is Shot by a King on a Hunt, [Story] 5
Kuangye and Others Assume Peculiar Forms to Transform Different Kinds of Beings, [Story] 6
Vasu as a Ṛṣi Delivers 6,200,000 Merchants, [Story] 7
As a Cakravartin King, Making Vows and Giving Alms, [Story] 8
As a King, Giving His Eyes to a Sick Person, [Story] 9
As a King, Punishing a Brahmacārin's Crime, [Story] 10
As a King, Renouncing the Realm, City, Wife, and Children, [Story] 11
As a King, Transforming and Rescuing from Danger and Distress, [Story] 12
As Prince Lotus (Padma), Giving His Marrow to a Sick Person, [Story] 13
As a Royal Prince, Drawing His Blood to Give to a Sick Person, [Story] 14
10.3
Nengren (Śākyamuni) as Śakra Saves a Former Friend, [Story] 1
10.4
When the Bodhisattva was Śakra, king of the gods, his mind was fixed on the marks of suffering, emptiness, and non-self. When seated he engaged in contemplation; when wandering he instructed and transformed others. Pitying the foolish and cherishing the wise, his vigorous exertion never ceased. Seeing that a friend from a past life had taken the body of a woman, had become the wife of a man of wealthy clan, and, deluded by wealth and sensual desires, was unaware of impermanence while living in the marketplace and minding her shop, Śakra transformed himself into a merchant. The woman invited him to sit down. The merchant stared intently at her and smiled; the woman thought it strange. To one side was a boy shaking a rattle-drum and leaping about in play; the merchant smiled again. There was a person whose father was sick, and the son offered a sacrifice of an ox; the merchant smiled yet again. There was a woman holding a baby boy, and the boy scratched his mother's cheeks so that blood flowed down her neck; the merchant smiled once more. The wife from the wealthy clan asked: “You stand before me smiling incessantly. Just now when I slapped the boy, why did you laugh at me?” The merchant replied: “You were my good friend; have you forgotten me now?” The woman was despondent and grew even more displeased, thinking the merchant's words strange. The merchant said further: “The reason I smiled when you slapped the boy is that the boy was your former father; his conscious spirit has now become your son. In the space of a single lifetime, you fail to recognize your own father; how much more so across a long time! As for the boy shaking the rattle-drum, in his previous life he was originally an ox; when the ox died, it returned to become a son to its master. The family used that ox's hide to make the skin of this drum. The boy now shakes and beats it, not recognizing his former body. As for using an ox to sacrifice in hopes that the father's illness will be cured, it is just like swallowing potent poison to treat a disease: the father will end up being an ox and being slaughtered for successive lifetimes, while this sacrificed ox will in turn receive a human body. As for the boy who scratched his mother's face, the boy was originally a minor wife, while the mother was the principal wife. Female jealousy always inflicted harsh cruelty [upon the concubine]; the concubine harbored resentment and grudge, and when her life ended she became the son of the principal wife. He scratches her face and harms her body, and she dares not resent him for it! The mind has no constancy; former hatred turns into present love—what permanence could there be? When one does not know even a single lifetime, how much less multiple kalpas! A sūtra says: ‘One who obstructs oneself with physical beauty is blind to the Great Way; one who is devoted to corrupt sounds will not hear the voice of the Buddha.’ It was for this reason that I smiled. The glories of the world are like lightning, vanishing in the twinkling of an eye. You ought to realize impermanence and not join company with the foolish. Revere virtue and the six pāramitās! I shall now return to my dwelling; on a later day I will certainly come to your gate.” When he finished speaking, he disappeared. The woman returned home dejected; purifying her mind, she respectfully looked out [for him]. Later, [he] indeed appeared at the gate, ugly in appearance and wearing tattered clothes, saying: “My friend is inside; you call her to come out!” The gatekeeper went in and reported, explaining his appearance in full. The woman came out and said: “You are not my friend!” Śakra smiled and said: “Having changed my shape and altered my garments, you still fail to recognize me; how much more so across different lifetimes?” He repeated: “Exert yourself in serving the Buddha! An era with a Buddha is difficult to encounter; monks of exalted conduct are difficult to obtain the opportunity to support. Life is within a breath; do not fall into worldly delusions!” When his words ended, he vanished. The entire country rejoiced and sighed in admiration, each upholding the exalted and wondrous practice of the six pāramitās. The Buddha told Śāriputra: “The woman was Maitreya, and Śakra, king of the gods, was myself.” (Extracted from the Sūtra on Maitreya Becoming a Female Body).
10.5
2. Śākyamuni, in the Body of a Courtesan, Transforming His Body to Become a King and Giving Food to Birds and Beasts
10.6
In a past age, in the kingdom of Upāravat, the five grains ripened in abundance and the populace was numerous. In that kingdom was a king named Pāla. Prior to this, there was a courtesan whose appearance was captivating and beautiful. Coming by chance to another household, she encountered a woman who had just given birth to a boy and was about to eat her own child. The courtesan questioned her, and she answered: “I am starving.” The courtesan said: “Just wait while I seek food for you.” She answered: “My hunger is acute; before you can step outside the gate, I will starve to death. How can I wait for you?” The courtesan reflected: “If I take the child away, the mother will starve to death; if I leave it, she will eat it. I must ensure both are saved.” The courtesan cut off both her breasts and gave them to her to eat, and the mother ate them. The courtesan asked: “Are you sated yet?” She answered: “I am already sated.” The courtesan returned home. A man came to the courtesan's house, and upon seeing her, he said: “Who cut off your breasts?” Compassion arose in him, and lust no longer arose. The man asked: “Sister, you should display this utmost sincerity for my sake.” The courtesan said: “If my sincerity was genuine, let my breasts be restored as before!” Instantly, both breasts were restored as before. Śakra Devānām Indra, seeing the merit of this courtesan's giving, feared she would seize his seat. Transforming into a brāhmaṇa, he went to her house. The courtesan filled a golden bowl with food and offered it to the brāhmaṇa. At that time, the brāhmaṇa stepped back and refused to accept it. The woman asked: “Man of the Way, why do you not accept it?” He replied: “I have no need for food. I heard that you gave your breasts in charity; is that truly so or not?” She replied: “It is truly so.” The brāhmaṇa said: “When you gave your breasts in charity, did your mind feel any regret?” The woman said: “If I gave my breasts in charity with utmost sincerity and my mind had no deviation, let my body be transformed into that of a man!” As soon as she finished speaking, she was transformed. At that time, the king of Upāravat had ruled the kingdom for fifty years; his lifespan came to an end and he died. The ministers and courtiers on all sides heard that the courtesan had transformed into a man and reflected: “It is proper that we establish him as king.” Together they invited and enthroned him. After being enthroned, he took joy in giving; whatever people needed, he supplied to all of them. He taught the entire world to observe the eightfold purification precepts. Governed in this manner, the people of the kingdom were joyful, and their lifespans were lengthened. The king then reflected: “Although I have practiced giving, I have not yet given my own body; giving one's body is truly difficult.” Then the king smeared his body with ghee and fragrance, entered a secluded mountain, and lay down upon a rock. Hundreds of birds all came and ate him alive. After his life ended, he was born into a brāhmaṇa household, upright, handsome, and pleasing. When he grew up, he slipped away to go to the marketplace; seeing merchants and impoverished beggars, he grieved for them, saying: “If these people were made rich and happy, they would not engage in trade.” Hurrying to report to his parents, he begged to become a śramaṇa. His parents would not permit it, so he did not eat for five days. When his relatives and acquaintances arrived, they all tried to reason with and advise him, but the youth did not respond. The relatives persuaded his parents, urging them to allow him to study the Way. Looking at each other, the parents wept in sorrow and granted permission. The son provided offerings to his parents for six or seven days, then circumambulated them three times, paid homage, and departed. Arriving in a grove of trees, he saw two men of the Way who had attained the five supernormal powers, sitting in the open and contemplating the Way, engaging in diligent and bitter austerities for the sake of living beings. The youth thereupon sat beneath the grove of trees; through meditative contemplation and ascetic practice, he immediately attained the five supernormal powers, surpassing the two men of the Way in vigorous zeal. The rule of the men of the Way was that only when tree fruits fell by themselves would they take and eat them, not picking them from the trees. As the men of the Way walked together seeking wild fruits and melons, they saw a pregnant tigress. The youth who was a man of the Way said to the other two men of the Way: “Before long, this tigress will give birth. Having been starved for days, I fear she will eat her own cubs. Who can give their body to feed her?” Maitreya said: “I will give my body to feed her.” Just as they returned from gathering fruits, they saw that the tigress had already given birth; she was exceedingly hungry and was about to eat her cubs. The youth who was a man of the Way said to the other two: “The tigress has already given birth and is lactating; starving, she is about to eat her cubs. Who can give their body to relieve her suffering from hunger? Let us go together to the place where the tigress is.” The tigress opened her eyes and gaped her mouth toward the two men of the Way; the men of the Way became terrified and flew into the empty sky. One of them said: “Is your utmost sincerity like this? You just said you would feed your body to the tiger; why do you now fly away?” Tears of sorrow flowed from one of the men of the Way. Looking around to the left and right, there was nothing at all. The youth who was a man of the Way then took a sharp knife, stabbed his arm to make blood flow, doing so in seven places; the blood entered the tiger's mouth, and she drank it. He then threw himself before the tiger, feeding his body to the tiger. The Buddha told Ānanda: “If you wish to know: the courtesan of that time, the one enthroned as king, and the brāhmaṇa's son who threw down his body to feed the tiger were all myself. The men of the Way of that time were the two bodhisattvas Kāśyapa and Maitreya. Because of my diligent and vigorous practice in giving my body over sixty kalpas, I bypassed nine kalpas and attained Buddhahood before Maitreya.” (Extracted from the Sūtra on the Three Transformations in Previous Lives).
10.7
3. Śākya, in the Body of King Sarvadā, Cutting His Flesh to Ransom a Dove
10.8
In the past, the Bodhisattva Śākya was a great king named Sarvadā. He gave extensively to all living beings, indulging whatever they sought, and compassionately relieved distress and peril. The heavenly deities, spirits, and dragons all said in agreement: “The exalted position of heavenly Śakra is never occupied by a permanent person; when one's conduct is recognized as lofty, and their benevolence, wisdom, and merit are eminent, upon death they become Śakra.” Fearing that the king would seize his heavenly throne, Śakra went to test him to verify whether he was genuine or false. Śakra manifested himself and commanded a border king, saying: “Now that human king's moistening benevolence is overflowing, and his blessed virtue is majestic; I fear his aspiring mind will seize my divine throne.” Thereupon Śakra transformed into a hawk, and the border king became a dove. The dove hastened beneath the king's feet, terrified, and said: “Great King, have pity! My life is at an end!” The king said: “Do not fear, I will now preserve your life.” The hawk arrived closely following behind and said: “My dove just came here. The dove is my food; I request the king return it to me.” The king said: “The dove came to save its life; from beginning to end I will not go back on my word. If you just want meat, I will give you a hundred times its weight.” The hawk said: “I wish only to have the dove; I have no use for other meat.” The king said: “With what thing can I make you release the dove and depart in joy?” The hawk said: “If the king's benevolent kindness truly pities living beings, cut the king's own flesh to exchange for the dove, and I shall gladly accept it.” The king was then exceedingly joyful. He cut flesh from his own thigh and weighed it against the dove to make it equal to the dove. The dove became even heavier, so that the flesh of his body was cut until exhausted, yet it still could not equal [the dove], causing immeasurable pain from the wounds. With benevolent endurance, the king further commanded his close ministers, saying: “Kill me and weigh my marrow to make it equal to the dove! I uphold the Buddha's weighty precepts to rescue living beings from danger and distress. Although there are myriad afflictions, they are like a gentle breeze; how could they shake Mount Tai?” The hawk saw into the king's mind, and each resumed their original bodies. Bowing their heads to the ground, they said: “What does the Great King aspire to, that you undergo such torment and suffering?” [The king] said: “I do not aspire to become heavenly Śakra, nor a flying emperor. I observe living beings submerged in blindness and darkness, not seeing the Three Venerable Ones, indulging in evil and calamities, and throwing themselves into the hell of no choice. Grieving for them, I vow to seek Buddhahood, to pull out and rescue living beings and bring them to nirvāṇa.” The heavenly Śakra said in astonishment: “In my foolishness I thought the Great King wished to seize my throne; because of this I disturbed you. How can this be remedied?” The king said: “May the wounds on my body heal and be restored as before, and may my resolve to always practice giving remain!” Śakra had a divine physician apply miraculous medicine; the wounds healed immediately, and his complexion and strength surpassed what they were before. Śakra bowed his head, circumambulated the king three times, and departed in joy. (Extracted from the first fascicle of the Compendium on Crossing Over the Limitless).
10.9
4. Mañjuśrī, in the Body of a Youth, Transforming the Superior Woman with the Golden-Light Head
10.10
When the Buddha was wandering in Rājagṛha, there was a wanton woman named Utpalavarṇā (Superior Golden-Radiant Head), upright and extraordinarily fine, of the colour of purple-sheened gold. The king, crown prince, ministers, and elders all conceived lustful attachments to her; wherever she went, they would approach and follow her, with men and women, young and old, all chasing after her. Later, on another day, Utpalavarṇā went to the market to buy goods with the son of the elder Bhayaśruta, in order to present offerings and prepare delicious food to visit the pleasure garden together. At that time, Mañjuśrī emerged from his quiet chamber, giving rise to great compassion and pitying sentient beings: "What person can be exhorted and transformed to give rise to the Great Vehicle?" He saw Utpalavarṇā and the son of the elder Bhayaśruta riding together in one carriage on their way to the pleasure garden, and thought she should be transformed. Mañjuśrī immediately transformed his body into that of a youth, handsome and exceedingly exquisite, whose countenance surpassed that of the gods, bringing joy to all who saw him. The clothes he wore shone for forty yojanas. Observing the path where the wanton woman was travelling, he stood ahead of her. The carriage, horses, and garments of the elder's son and Utpalavarṇā, compared to those of Mañjuśrī, were like a heap of ink beside a radiant pearl. When Utpalavarṇā saw that Mañjuśrī's appearance was handsome and marvelous like that of a god, and that the radiance of his body was brilliantly blazing and difficult to match, she coveted his dazzling garments. She thought to herself: "Now I wish to abandon this elder's son, step down from the carriage, leave him behind, and amuse myself with this [youth] to obtain these clothes." As soon as she had this thought, Mañjuśrī established his awesome spiritual power to calm her thoughts. A heavenly king, transformed into a man, said to the woman: "Stop, stop! Why give rise to such wanton thoughts? And why? Such a person as this has no interest in sensual desires." The woman said: "Why?" The heavenly king replied: "This person is named the Bodhisattva Mañjuśrī. He is able to satisfy the wishes of all people. Seeing what sentient beings seek in their hearts, he does not go against their intentions." The woman thought to herself: "According to what I have just heard, he will certainly give me these wonderful clothes." She stepped down from the carriage and said: "Benevolent one, I pray you will bestow these clothes upon me as a gift." Mañjuśrī replied: "Elder sister, if you can give rise to the mind of unexcelled, true, and correct enlightenment, I will then bestow the clothes upon you." The woman said: "Indeed!" She immediately gave rise to the unexcelled mind of enlightenment and upheld the five precepts. (Extracted from the Sūtra of the Chapter on the Dharma-Gate of the Great Pure One.)
10.11
5. Sarvadā (All-Wondrous Vision) Becomes the Son of Blind Parents and Is Shot by a King Hunting
10.12
In a past age, in the country of Jiayi, there was an elder who had no son. Both husband and wife had lost their sight. In their hearts, they wished to enter the mountains to seek the supreme assurance, cultivating pure resolve and delighting with faith in seclusion. At that time, there was a bodhisattva named Sarvadarśin, who thought to himself: 'These people have aroused a subtle and wonderful aspiration, but their eyes are blind. If they enter the mountains, they will certainly suffer harm.' When the bodhisattva's life ended, he vowed to be born in the elder's household, and was named Śyāma. He was supremely filial, benevolent, and compassionate, practicing the ten wholesome deeds. Day and night he vigorously served his parents, just as people serve heaven. When he had passed ten years of age, Śyāma knelt long and addressed his parents: 'Originally you aroused a great aspiration, wishing to enter the deep mountains to seek the intention of tranquil, supreme, true reality. How could you cut off your original vow on account of a son? People in the world are impermanent, with a hundred vicissitudes; life is not metal or stone, and when retribution arrives, it knows no set time. I wish that, in accordance with your original intent, you should take advantage of this opportune time to enter the mountains in purity. I myself shall provide for you, never missing the proper seasons.' His parents then entered the mountains. Śyāma gave all the wealth in their household in charity to the poor throughout the kingdom, and then entered the mountains together with his parents. Having arrived in the mountains, Śyāma made a hut of reeds and set out mats and bedding, which were neither cold nor hot and always suitable. After they had been in the mountains for one year, the various fruits were abundant and sweet to eat; spring waters gushed forth, clear and cool; the lotus blossoms in the ponds were luminous with five colors; the sandalwood and assorted trees were twice as fragrant as usual; birds of various kinds made musical sounds; lions, brown bears, black bears, tigers, wolves, and venomous beasts turned toward one another with compassionate hearts, no longer with any intention to harm; they ate grass and fed on fruit, giving rise to no fear. Śyāma was so supremely filial and compassionate that when he trod upon the earth, he feared causing it pain. The heavenly gods and mountain deities constantly assumed human form to console and comfort him day and night. Śyāma wore deerskin clothing, carrying a pitcher to fetch water; the elaphures, deer, and flocks of birds also went there to drink, not fearing one another. At that time, the king of Jiayi entered the mountains on a hunt. Seeing a flock of birds and deer by the water, the king drew his bow and shot at them. The arrow mistakenly struck Śyāma in the chest. Struck by the poisoned arrow, Śyāma raised his voice and cried out loudly: 'Who has shot and killed three men of the Way with a single arrow?' Hearing a human voice, the king immediately dismounted from his horse and went before Śyāma. Śyāma said to the king: 'Elephants die on account of their tusks, rhinoceroses perish on account of their horns, kingfishers die for their feathers, and elaphures and deer die for their skins and meat. On account of what do I now die?' The king asked Śyāma: 'What kind of person are you, wearing deerskin clothing no different from birds and beasts?' Śyāma said: 'I am a person of your majesty's realm. Together with my blind parents, I came here to practice the Way for more than twenty years, and we have never been wrongly harmed by tigers, wolves, or venomous creatures. Now, instead, I have been shot and killed by the king.' At that very moment, a violent wind abruptly arose in the mountains, blowing down and breaking the trees. A hundred birds cried sorrowfully; lions, brown bears, black bears, and fleeing beasts all wailed loudly. The sun lost its bright luster, the flowing springs dried up, the various blossoms withered and died, and thunder and lightning shook the earth. At that time, the blind parents were startled, arose, and said to each other: 'Śyāma went to fetch water and has not returned for a long time. Could it be that he has been harmed by venomous creatures? The cries of beasts and flying birds are wailing unlike ordinary times; wind arises from all four directions, breaking trees. There must surely be some disaster.' At that time, the king was terrified and deeply reproached himself: 'What I have done is abominable! I was originally shooting at deer, but the arrow mistakenly struck him. To shoot and kill a man of the Way carries an exceedingly heavy crime; for greedily craving a little meat, I shall suffer severe calamity. I now offer all the treasures, storehouses, palaces, courtesans, hamlets, suburbs, and walled cities of my whole realm to save your life!' The king then came forward and pulled with his hand to extract the arrow from Śyāma's chest, but it was deep and could not be drawn out. Flying birds and running beasts gathered like clouds from the four directions, wailing and shaking the mountain. The king grew even more terrified; his three hundred and sixty joints all trembled. Śyāma said to the king: 'It is not the king's fault; it was brought about by my own past misdeeds. I do not begrudge my bodily life. I only pity my blind parents: they are already old and frail, and both their eyes are blind. Once they are without me, they will surely perish with no one to look after them. For this reason, I am distressed and afflicted; it is not merely on account of the poison's pain.' The king said once more: 'I would rather enter Niraya and suffer punishment for a hundred kalpas if it would allow Śyāma to live!' He knelt long toward Śyāma and repented his transgression: 'If you pass away, I shall not return to my kingdom, but stay in the mountains to provide for your parents just as when you were alive. Do not worry about this. Let all the devas, nāgas, and spirits bear witness that I shall not breach this vow!' Hearing the king's vow, though struck by the poisoned arrow, Śyāma felt joy and delight in his mind, and held no resentment though he were to die. 'I entrust my parents to the great king. By providing for men of the Way, your present-life offenses will be extinguished and you will attain immeasurable merit.' The king said: 'Tell me where your parents are before you die, so that they may know.' Śyāma then pointed and said: 'Walking from here, not far from this place, you will see a grass hut; my parents dwell in it. Great King, go slowly; do not let my parents be terrified. With skillful means, make them understand. On my behalf, apologize to my parents: impermanence has now arrived, and I must proceed to the afterlife. I do not begrudge my life, but only think of my parents, old of age and blind in both eyes. Once they are without me, they will have nothing to rely upon. Because of this, I am agonized and feel bitter cruelty. Death is one's natural lot, brought about by past misdeeds, from which none can escape. Now, before my parents, I repent all the evil deeds I have committed since countless kalpas ago. May my offenses be extinguished and merit arise from this! I vow to meet with my parents life after life and never be separated from them. I pray that my parents live out their full lifespans without grief or calamity, and that devas, nāgas, ghosts, and spirits constantly follow to protect them, so that disasters and harms are extinguished.' The king then took several men and went to the parents' place. After the king had departed, Śyāma suddenly breathed his last. Birds and beasts wailed, circling Śyāma's corpse and licking the blood from his chest with their mouths. The blind parents, hearing these sounds, became even more frightened. As the king walked quickly, rustling the grass and trees, there was the distinct sound of someone approaching. The parents said in alarm: 'Who is this? It is not my son's footsteps.' The king said: 'I am the king of Jiayi. Having heard that there are men of the Way practicing the Way in the mountains, I have come to make offerings.' The parents said: 'Welcome, Great King! It has wearied your majesty to deign to come far into the wild grasslands. Is your majesty well in body? Are the palaces, ladies, crown prince, officials, and people of the realm all well and at peace? Are the wind and rain harmonious, the five grains abundant, and neighboring countries free from mutual aggression?' The king replied to the men of the Way: 'By the grace of the men of the Way, all are safe and peaceful.' The king inquired after the blind parents: 'Coming to stay in the mountains, you have toiled and labored. Among the trees, do flying birds and running beasts ever harm the men of the Way? Amid the cold and heat in the mountains, are you at ease and peaceful in accordance with the seasons?' The blind parents said: 'By the great king's profound grace, we are always at ease. We have a filial son named Śyāma, who constantly gathers fruits and spring water for us, always in abundance. In the mountains, wind and rain are harmonious, and we lack nothing. We have grass mats to sit upon and fruits to eat. Śyāma went to fetch water and will soon return.' Hearing this, the king felt heartbroken, tears fell, and he said: 'I am vile and abominable. Entering the mountains to hunt, I saw a herd of deer by the water, drew my bow, and shot at them. The arrow mistakenly struck Śyāma, so I have come to tell you.' Hearing this, the parents threw themselves down, as if a great mountain had collapsed, shaking the very earth. The king then stepped forward to support and raise them. The parents wailed, looking up to heaven, and spoke: 'Our son was filial and compassionate; treading upon the earth, he feared causing it pain. What crime did he commit that you shot and killed him? Earlier, when the wind arose in the trees and a hundred birds cried mournfully, we suspected our son had died.' The parents wept and wailed. The father said: 'Stop. A person's life must end; it cannot be averted. Now let us ask the king: Where was Śyāma shot, and is he currently dead or alive?' The king recounted Śyāma's words, and the parents were overcome with grief: 'Once we are without our son, both of us will likewise die. We beg the king to lead the two of us to his corpse.' The king then led the blind parents to the corpse. The father embraced his feet and the mother embraced his head, crying out loudly to heaven. The mother then licked the wound on Śyāma's chest with her tongue, [praying:] 'May the poison enter my mouth! I am already old and my eyes cannot see; let my body take my son's place! Let Śyāma live and me die; in dying, I shall have no regret. If Śyāma was so supremely filial that heaven and earth know it, let the arrow be drawn out, the poison removed, and Śyāma live again!' Thereupon, the seat of the lord of the second heaven, Trāyastriṃśa, shook. Seeing with his divine eye the two men of the Way embracing their son and wailing, it was heard even up to the fourth heaven, Tuṣita, and all the heavenly palaces shook. Śakra, Brahmā, and the Four Heavenly Kings immediately came down before Śyāma from the Fourth Heavenly King['s realm] in the time it takes a person to bend or stretch an arm. They poured divine medicine into Śyāma's mouth. When the medicine entered Śyāma's mouth, the arrow drew itself out, and he was revived as before. The parents were startled and overjoyed; seeing that Śyāma had died and lived again, both of their pairs of eyes were opened. Flying birds and wild beasts were all greatly delighted; the wind ceased, the clouds dispersed, and the sun shone with renewed brightness. Spring water gushed forth, flowers of five colors bloomed, and the trees flourished twice as much as usual. The king was overjoyed beyond measure. He paid homage to Śakra, lord of the devas, and bowed to the parents and their son Śyāma, wishing to offer the wealth of his kingdom to the men of the Way. Śyāma said: 'If the king wishes to repay this kindness, let the king return, comfort the people, and have them all uphold the precepts. Great King, do not hunt and slay beasts again. In the present life your body will not be at peace, and when your lifespan ends, you will enter Niraya. When people dwell in the world, affection and love are fleeting; separation is long, and cannot be preserved forever. The king has past merit and has now become a king; do not become reckless simply because you have attained sovereignty.' The king reproached himself: 'From this day forth, I shall act according to Śyāma's teaching.' His several hundred followers were all overjoyed and upheld the five precepts. Upon his return, the king ordered that throughout the realm, anyone who had blind parents like Śyāma's should provide for them and not abandon them; those who violated this would be subjected to severe punishment. Thereupon, because Śyāma had lived, the people in the realm taught one another, both high and low, to uphold and practice the five precepts and the ten wholesome deeds; upon death, they were born in heaven, and none entered the three bad destinations. The Buddha told Ānanda: 'Śyāma in that past life was myself. The blind father was my present father, King Śuddhodana. The blind mother was the queen, Lady Māyā. The king of Jiayi was Ānanda. The king of the devas, Śakra, was Maitreya. What caused me quickly to attain the assurance of the supreme, true Way was entirely the grace of my parents' loving-kindness and my providing for them. Rising from death to life moved the devas, nāgas, ghosts, and spirits; the parents' grace is heavy, and this was brought about by a filial son. Now attaining Buddhahood and also delivering the people of my kingdom are both due to the virtue of filiality.' (Extracted from the Sūtra on Śyāma)
10.13
6. Transforming diverse kinds through distinctive forms in the wilderness and other places
10.14
At that time, the bodhisattva Wild Forest appeared in the body of a ghost; the bodhisattva Saṃjñi appeared in the body of a deer; the bodhisattva Torch of Wisdom appeared in the body of a monkey; the bodhisattva Free from Attachment appeared in the body of a ram; and the bodhisattva Exhaustion of Outflows appeared in the body of a goose king. In this manner, five hundred bodhisattvas each manifested and assumed various bodies. From all their bodies came forth a great fragrance and radiance, and each bodhisattva held a bright lamp in his hand, wishing to make offerings to the Buddhas of the ten directions. At that time, the bodhisattva Doubtful Mind looked upon the five hundred beings and immediately recognized that they were all bodhisattvas. He said to the Wild Forest Ghost: "Good son, for what reason do you manifest such bodies to make offerings to the Buddhas?" The Wild Forest Ghost said: "Good son, ninety-one kalpas in the distant past there was a Buddha, a Bhagavat named Vipaśyin. At that time, I and these others shared the same parents, were brothers together, upheld the five precepts, and generated the bodhicitta, desiring to tame all sentient beings. We also made offerings to Śikhin, Viśvabhū, and Krakucchanda Buddhas. Before that Buddha, the Great Being Saṃjñi made a great vow: 'May I, in future lives, use the body of a ghost or spirit to teach and transform sentient beings! If there are wicked and evil ghosts, I shall expound the three vehicles to tame them, and only then attain the path of awakening.' There were also twelve thousand great ghosts who made a great vow in this world to tame sentient beings. Furthermore, they made a great vow: 'If there are evil ghosts who wish to destroy the true Dharma, I shall discipline them.' For this reason, I assume such a ghostly body to tame, teach, and transform them, causing them to abide in the three vehicles. If there are sentient beings who have distanced themselves from wholesome dharmas and engaged in unwholesome actions of body, speech, and mind, their bodies have already been born in the three wretched realms, or have received ghostly bodies on account of mixed wholesome and unwholesome karma; thus evil ghosts are numerous and wholesome ghosts are few. Desiring to tame them, I currently assume this body. I also cause kṣatriyas, brāhmaṇas, vaiśyas, and śūdras to be free from evil thoughts. Good son, there is a Vajra Mallet Dhāraṇī that prevents all evil ghosts from doing evil to those four castes, and even causes birds and beasts to generate wholesome thoughts, distancing them from all evil and terrors. Having made a great vow, I wish to speak this dhāraṇī." (Extracted from the Mahāsaṃnipāta Sūtra, fascicle 21).
10.15
7. Assuming the Body of the Ṛṣi Vasu to Save 6.2 Million Merchants
10.16
Formerly, when the Buddha was in Tuṣita Heaven, the ṛṣi Vasu was in Jambudvīpa. Constantly serving as a caravan leader with 6.2 million merchants, he entered the sea to gather jewels. Boarding a large ship, they were about to return to their home country when midway they met with the perils of a makara fish, great winds and waves, and yakṣas. At that moment, each of the 6.2 million men made a pledge to Maheśvara that each would sacrifice a beast. Having escaped the four perils and returned to their home country, each prepared a sheep and wished to proceed to the celestial shrine. Then Vasu silently thought: 'How can I now allow these merchants to perform unwholesome deeds? I must devise an expedient means.' Thereupon he transformed himself into two men: one a monk who had gone forth from home, and the other a lay brāhmaṇa. At that time, the brāhmaṇa proclaimed among the crowd: 'The lord of heaven, along with 6.2 million people, wishes to go to the celestial shrine.' Then the monk, midway on the road, saw this brāhmaṇa from afar and asked: 'Where do you and this great assembly intend to go?' The householder said: 'I am going to the celestial temple to seek great benefit.' The monk replied: 'I observe that you are seeking great ruin. How could it be great benefit? Contention will not cease.' Then the people asked the brāhmaṇa: 'What kind of man is this with such an appearance?' The brāhmaṇa said: 'This is called a monk.' The people asked: 'What does the monk say?' He replied: 'Killing living beings to sacrifice to heaven brings great sin.' The people said: 'What use are the words of this foolish monk? Let us hasten to the celestial shrine to obtain great benefit.' Then the brāhmaṇa said: 'Our great master is now at the celestial shrine and understands all things; we may go together and question him.' They all said: 'Excellent!' The monk, the brāhmaṇa, and the people arrived at the great ṛṣi's dwelling. Then the monk asked the great ṛṣi: 'Does killing living beings to sacrifice to heaven result in rebirth in heaven or entry into hell?' The great ṛṣi answered: 'What a foolish monk! Killing living beings to sacrifice to heaven will certainly plunge one into hell.' Vasu said: 'Not so.' The monk said: 'If one does not fall, you shall bear witness to it.' Thereupon Vasu immediately sank into the Avīci hell. When the people saw this, they cried: 'Alas, what a calamity that such a thing should happen! Even the great ṛṣi's wisdom has now been extinguished; how much more so could we avoid entering hell?' Then the people each released their sheep and fled in the four directions. Going into the mountains, they sought out ṛṣis, and having found ṛṣis, they received the teachings of the ṛṣis. After twenty-one years, each ended his life and was reborn in Jambudvīpa. At that time, I descended from Tuṣita Heaven and was born in Jambudvīpa into the household of King Śuddhodana. The 6.2 million people were born in the country of Śrāvastī, obtaining human bodies. Formerly, when I first arrived in Śrāvastī, I subdued those 6.2 million people, causing them to go forth from home and generate the bodhicitta; these were indeed those merchants of the past. Good son, the ṛṣi Vasu possessed such supernatural power that he transformed those people and led them to my presence." (Extracted from the Fangdeng tuoluoni jing, fascicle 1).
10.17
8. Assuming the Body of a Cakravartin to Make Vows and Practice Generosity
10.18
In the past, in the eastern Jambudvīpa, there was a bodhisattva named Rūpala. Due to the power of his vows, he was born therein and became a wheel-turning sage king ruling the four continents, known as Pure like Space. He addressed all sentient beings, establishing them in the ten wholesome deeds and the three vehicles. At that time, he gave everything away without distinction. Because the beggars were countless, the rare treasures were insufficient. He then asked his ministers: 'From where do such rare treasures originate?' The ministers replied: 'Although the nāga kings have them, they are offered only to sage kings.' In the age of the five turbidities, when defilements are thick and heavy and the human lifespan is one hundred years, he would certainly attain anuttarasamyaksaṃbodhi. Becoming a great nāga king, he manifested various treasuries of jewels. In choosing various evil worlds, in every place throughout the four continents, he took birth seven times in each continent, and in each birth manifested immeasurable hundreds of thousands of millions of nayutas of treasuries of rare treasures. In this sequence, he pervaded the ten directions. In the evil age of the five turbidities, hundreds of thousands of millions of devas and humans rained flowers in the sky, praised him, and lauded him as fulfilling all wishes; the great assembly heard the voice. For King Pure like Space, the devas gave the name Giver of All. At that time, people respectively begged the king for his queen, court maidens, and children; the king gave all of them away. There was a beggar named Blue Radiance who, observing the canine precepts, begged the king for Jambudvīpa. The king joyfully gave it to him, anointed his head with fragrant water, and had him succeed to the sage king's throne. Furthermore, the people were led to serve this king. The king's lifespan was no different [from before]: 'When I attain the Buddha path, I shall give him a prophecy of being bound to one more birth.' A brāhmaṇa named Ruci begged for his two feet; a brāhmaṇa named Tooth begged for his two eyes; a brāhmaṇa named Pure and Firm begged for his two ears; a Nirgrantha ascetic named Concept begged for his male organ; and a brāhmaṇa named Honey Flavor begged for his two hands. Thereupon he severed or gouged them all and bestowed them on the spot. Then all the lesser kings and ministers said: 'How pitiful, what a foolish man! Why cut yourself up? What are the remaining pieces of flesh worth? Carry him out and place him in the wilderness, so that insects, beasts, vultures, and eagles may all come and eat him.' [The king vowed:] 'If what I aspire to is fulfilled, may this body become a great mountain of flesh, so that all blood-drinking and flesh-eating creatures may come here and drink and eat at will, and my body may grow ever larger! By the power of the vow regarding the tongue I have renounced, may I obtain a broad and long tongue in future lives!' At that time, when my life ended in Jambudvīpa, by the power of my past vows I was born as a nāga king named Manifesting Treasuries of Jewels. On the very night of my birth, I manifested hundreds of thousands of millions of nayutas of various kinds of treasuries of jewels, personally proclaiming the order: 'Equipped with all rare treasures up to mani pearls, use them as you wish; fully practice the ten wholesome deeds, and generate the supreme bodhicitta!' In this way, I assumed bodies seven times, and in each life the lifespan was seventy-seven thousand million nayutas of hundreds of thousands of years; the immeasurable treasuries of jewels were likewise so." (Extracted from the Sūtra on Choosing Various Evil Worlds in the Future).
10.19
9. Assuming the Body of a King to Give His Eyes to a Sick Man
10.20
The Buddha said to the Venerable Ānanda: "In the past, there was a king named Sunlight and Moonlight, handsome and pleasing, with majestic supernatural dignity. Coming out from his palace, he saw a blind man on the road, destitute and starving, begging along the path. Approaching the king, he said to the king: 'The king alone is noble, secure, and joyful; I alone am poor, and blind to boot.' The king took pity on him and said to the blind man: 'What medicine can cure your ailment?' The blind man replied: 'Only obtaining the king's eyes can heal my eyes.' Then the king took out his own two eyes and gave them to the blind man, his mind pure and clear, without a single thought of regret. The king Moonlight was none other than myself. The Buddha said: 'The weight of Mount Sumeru can still be measured in catties, but my giving of eyes cannot be calculated.'" (Extracted from the Sūtra on Maitreya's Question on Past Vows).
10.21
10. Assuming the Body of a King to Punish a Brahmacārin's Transgression
10.22
Formerly, the bodhisattva was a great king. He took refuge in the Three Venerated Ones and fully observed the ten wholesome deeds. Weapons were never deployed, and there were no prisons. Wind and rain came in their proper seasons, grain was plentiful, and the people were prosperous. Frivolous and trivial writings were completely renounced throughout the kingdom, and there was no one who did not recite the true transformation of the six perfections. At that time, there was a brahmacārin who maintained quiet and tranquil conduct, living peacefully in the mountain forests without mingling with worldly folk. Thirsty at night, he walked about looking for a drink and by mistake took water from a lotus pond cultivated by the people of the kingdom. After drinking, he came to his senses, went to the palace, and reported himself as having committed theft: 'I only pray that the Great King punish my offense according to the law.' The king said: 'This is natural water, not an object of real value; what offense is there?' He replied: 'I drank without asking; is that not theft? I pray the king decide on it.' The king said: 'State affairs are pressing; please wait in the garden.' The crown prince had him placed deep within the garden. Overwhelmed by state affairs, the king forgot about him for six days. Suddenly waking to it, he said: 'Where is the brahmacārin? Call him quickly!' Keeping his precepts, the brahmacārin had been hungry and thirsty for six days; his body emaciated and weakened, he fell to the ground when trying to stand. Seeing this, the king wept and said: 'My fault is grievous!' The queen laughed at it. The king sent someone to bathe him, provided a feast, personally served him, and bowed his head in repentance. From then on, samsāra turned boundlessly until the time when, approaching the attainment of buddhahood, he fasted for six years. The Buddha told the monks: 'The king of that time was myself; the queen was Gopā; and the crown prince was Rāhula. Because the king forgot the practitioner of the Way and made him starve for six days, he suffered retribution by starving for six years before it ceased. Because the king served him personally after six days, the retribution ended and the Way was achieved after six years. Gopā laughed at it; hence she was pregnant with Rāhula for six years in severe illness. Because the crown prince placed the brahmacārin deep within the garden, he remained for six years in the dark womb.'" (Extracted from the Que wang jing [Sūtra of the Sparrow King]).
10.23
11. Assuming the Body of a King to Renounce His Kingdom, Wife, and Children
10.24
In the past, the bodhisattva was a great king. He governed the people with benevolence, going on inspection tours month after month. For the poor, destitute, widows, widowers, and the sick, he provided medicine and gruel. Whenever he went out on an inspection tour, he ordered the rear carriages to be fully loaded with needed clothing, medicine, and food; the dead were given burial. The ruler's name spread throughout the ten directions. When Śakra saw his virtuous conduct, he feared that he would usurp his throne and thought to destroy him. Transforming himself into an old brahmacārin, he begged the king for a thousand silver coins. The king gave them to him at once. [The brahmacārin] said: 'I live in hardship and distress, and fear someone will steal them; I wish to deposit them with the king.' The king said: 'In my country there are no thieves; since you entrust them to me with great regard, I accept.' [Śakra] then transformed into another brahmacārin and went again to the palace gates. The king immediately received him. The brahmacārin praised him, saying: 'Great King, your name spreads across the eight extremes, and your virtuous conduct is rare indeed. I was born among the common folk, and admiring your exalted glory, I wish to beg for this kingdom.' The king said: 'Very good.' He then departed with his wife and child in a light carriage. The heavenly king transformed again into another brahmacārin and begged the king for the carriage. [The king] gave him the carriage and horses, and proceeded on foot with his wife and child, stopping at a mountain to lodge. There was an adept possessing the five supernormal powers who was friends with the king. Suddenly remembering the king's virtues, he saw that he had lost his kingdom; settling his mind in dhyāna, he saw that Heavenly Śakra, out of greed and jealousy, had seized the kingdom, leaving [the king] exhausted and emaciated. Using supernormal travel, the adept suddenly arrived at the king's place and asked: 'What do you seek that you wear down your resolve like this?' [The king] replied: 'What my resolve rests upon, you, my friend, already know fully.' The adept then transformed himself into a single-shafted carriage to convey the king. The transformed brahmacārin begged for that carriage too. They had not yet reached that foreign country, being still several thousand li away. The deity transformed again into the earlier brahmacārin and came to demand his silver coins. The king said: 'I gave my kingdom away to another, and inadvertently forgot your money.' The king immediately pawned his wife and child to obtain a thousand coins to repay the brahmacārin. The wife originally served in the pawnbroker's house. The daughter took off her pearls and various jewels while bathing; the deity transformed into a hawk and snatched away the clothes and jewels. The daughter claimed: 'The woman stole them,' and arrested her, casting her into prison. Her boy slept together with the pawnbroker's child. At night, the deity killed the pawnbroker's child. The household seized the boy and sent him to prison. Mother and son were detained; emaciated by starvation, they wept and sighed without rescue. Weeping all day long, their guilt was established and they were to be executed in the marketplace. The king earned a thousand silver coins through hired labor and went to redeem his wife and child. Passing through the marketplace, he saw them. He at once recollected the Buddhas and reproached himself, saying: 'Did my past deeds bring about this?' Calming his mind, he entered clear insight and saw that it was the work of the deity. A voice in the air said: 'Why not kill them quickly?' The king said: 'I have heard that Śakra saves all sentient beings, having a sincere and sorrowful heart that nurtures them beyond a loving mother, so that among all living creatures none fails to receive his protection. You obtained the throne of the gods through the absence of evil conditions; yet harboring severe malice, your evil has ripened and your crime is established—you shall fall alive into Mount Tai!' The devas, humans, nāgas, and ghosts all praised this as good. The ruler of the land immediately pardoned the wife and child of their crime. The two kings met and inquired into the origins of the matter; throughout the country, among great and small, none failed to shed tears. The ruler of the land divided his kingdom to govern jointly. The ministers and commoners of the former kingdom searched for the king's whereabouts, and from across the land they welcomed him. The residents of the two kingdoms experienced sorrow and joy respectively. The king at that time was myself; the wife was Yaśodharā; the prince was Rāhula; the heavenly king was Devadatta; the adept in the mountains was Śāriputra; and the king of that foreign country was Maitreya (Extracted from the first fascicle of the Collection of the Six Pāramitās).
First 24 of 32 passages. Read on
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- 經律異相 — Classical Chinese