經律異相 21.8

21.8

In the past, there was a monk named Devadatta, intelligent and widely learned. For twelve years he sat in meditation and entered samādhi without his mind shifting or changing. The twelve dhūta practices he never failed to maintain. He aroused the contemplation of impurity and comprehended inhalation and exhalation, distinguishing worldly supreme dharmas up to the peak stage one by one. The Buddhist scriptures he could recite amounted to sixty thousand [gāthās], more than an elephant could carry. Later, his resolve slackened and evil thoughts gradually arose; he yearned for offerings from others and became attached to worldly gain. He went to the Bhagavat, bowed his head to the Buddha's feet, stood to one side, and addressed the Buddha, saying: 'Indeed, Bhagavat, may you preach the way of psychic powers (ṛddhipāda)! When I have heard this, I shall practice it well, and having attained psychic powers, I shall travel to other regions to transform and teach everywhere.' The Bhagavat told him: 'Set aside psychic powers for now. Why not learn the four truths—impermanence, suffering, emptiness, and non-self?' At that time, the monk Devadatta formed this thought: 'The reason the Tathāgata does not preach psychic powers to me is out of fear that someone might surpass him, feeling ashamed to be inferior.' Thereupon Devadatta left the Tathāgata and went to Śāriputra to seek the way of psychic powers. Then Śāriputra said to Devadatta: 'Set that aside for now. Why not cultivate the four [truths of] impermanence?' Devadatta thought: 'This Śāriputra is foremost in wisdom, yet as I see him, he is like a firefly compared to the sun and moon! Among what I recite and study, none is my equal, yet even I do not yet understand the way of psychic powers—how much less could Śāriputra understand it?' He immediately left and went to Maudgalyāyana to seek the way of psychic powers. Maudgalyāyana said to him: 'Stop, stop, Devadatta! A beginner should first learn the four [truths of] impermanence, and then must diligently cultivate the four dhyānas; only then will you attain the way of psychic powers.' Devadatta became furious: 'This Maudgalyāyana boasts that his psychic powers are unequaled! The reason he will not give it to me is that he fears being inferior to me; if I attain it, he will lose his fame. Now I have sought the way of psychic powers everywhere, and none will teach me. My younger brother Ānanda has heard much and is widely learned, possessing all virtues; I should now go and ask him.' He said to Ānanda: 'I have heard that you well understand the way of psychic powers. Please explain it to me. Once I have attained psychic powers, I will travel to other regions to transform and teach everywhere.' Then Ānanda explained it to him. Having heard it, Devadatta went to a quiet and secluded place, concentrated his mind with single focus, proceeding from the coarse to the subtle and then rising from the subtle back to the coarse. Using his mind he lifted his body, and using his body he lifted his mind; body and mind merged, and he gradually rose from the ground—at first the height of a sesame seed, then like a walnut, gradually rising from the ground: from the ground to the couch, from the couch to the roof, and from the roof into the empty sky. In the open sky he performed the eighteen transformations, surging forth and disappearing at will. He transformed himself into an infant child, handsome in appearance, with five tufts of hair on his head and a face like a peach blossom. Sitting upon the lap of Crown Prince Ajātaśatru, he now laughed and now cried, displaying the mannerisms of a baby. Yet the prince knew it was Devadatta's body; he played with him all day without weariness, kissing and licking his spittle, or lifting his body and passing him from left hand to right hand. The prince thought: 'Devadatta's psychic powers surpass those of Gautama; he can perform countless transformations!' Ajātaśatru daily provided five hundred cauldrons of food, making offerings in season without letting him lack anything. At that time, many monks saw Ajātaśatru supplying Devadatta and reported everything to the Bhagavat. The Buddha told the monks: 'You should not covet Devadatta's offerings. Devadatta brings ruin upon himself and upon others as well; both will fall into sin. It is like the plantain tree: a foolish man seeks fruit from it but can gain nothing; the bamboo and reed are also like this; when a mule conceives, both lives are lost. In the past, there was a flock of vultures, each brooding over its young. A vulture warned its chick, saying: "When you learn to fly suspended in the sky, and you look down at the earth and see it like a plate, take care not to fly any higher! There is the Vairomba wind that will harm you, scattering your head, brain, and limbs in different places." Then the chick did not obey its father's instruction, flew beyond measure, was blown by the wind, and lost its life in scattered pieces. You monks should not give rise to such thoughts! Monks, you should know: it is like a family of turtles, whose parent told its offspring: "Protect yourselves and do not go to a certain place! There is a hunter there who will capture your bodies and cut them into five parts." Then the young turtles did not follow these words; they went to that place to amuse themselves together, and were captured by the hunter. Some of them safely managed to return. The parent turtle asked its young: "Where did you come from?" The offspring reported to their parents: "We went together to that place to see it. We saw no hunter, only a long cord chasing behind us." The turtle said to its young: "This cord has pursued you since long ago! Your ancestors and parents all perished because of this cord!" Monks, you should know: it is like a jackal that watches day and night for feces, and having eaten the dung of beasts, defecates again itself. The monk Devadatta greedily seeking offerings is also like this. In the past, in the realm of the Great Yuezhi, the custom was always to fry wheat in butter and feed it to pigs. At that time, an official foal said to its mother: "We exert our strength for the king, counting neither near nor far, answering all his commands. Yet we are fed with straw and chaff, and given muddy water to drink." The mare told her foal: "Take care not to give rise to this thought or envy their butter-fried wheat! Before long, proof will appear on its own." When the festival approached and the New Year was nearly at hand, every household bound the pigs and threw them into cauldrons of boiling water, and they cried out loudly. The mare told her foal: "Do you still remember the butter-fried wheat? If you want to know the proof, you may go and look." The foals, knowing the truth of it, then understood the nature of that fried treatment; when eating grass, even if they encountered wheat again, they took care not to eat it.' The Buddha spoke a verse: