經律異相 22
English (machine translation) 22
- Language
- English
22.1
Compiled by the Liang śramaṇas Sengmin, Baochang, and others
22.2
Two novices, Shuangde and Shuangfu, encounter the Buddha and attain the Way, 1
Sudaya is born and grows up in a tomb, encounters the Buddha, and attains the Way, 2
The novice Cunda leaves the household, together with the causes and conditions of his past lives, 3
A novice saves ants, lengthens his lifespan, and through diligence attains the Way, 4
A novice pushes his master, who falls to the ground and dies; having no ill intent, through diligence he attains the Way, 5
A novice dies young and is born in heaven; having lost his good master and friends, in distress he visits the Buddha and comes to understand the noble truths, 6
The novice Cunda is revered by ghosts, and the heterodox Subhadra is naturally subdued, 7
A novice follows his noble master into the mountains and attains the four supernormal knowledges; he is pained and remembered by five mothers, 8
A novice protects the precepts, giving up his cherished body, 9
A novice conceives desire for a nāga maiden and is subsequently born among nāgas, 10
A novice desires curd and immediately receives the body of a worm, 11
22.3
Two Novices, Shuangde and Shuangfu, Encounter the Buddha and Attain the Way, 1
22.4
In the kingdom of Śrāvastī there was a mountain village of fifty or sixty households, five hundred leagues away from the capital. In the village was a poor household. The wife was pregnant for ten months and gave birth to twin boys, who were exceedingly handsome without match. Their parents loved them and named the children: one was called Shuangde (Double Virtue) and the other Shuangfu (Double Fortune). When they were fifty or sixty days old, their father was herding cattle and had rested to sleep on the bed, while their mother was out collecting firewood and had not yet returned. These two children then reproached each other. One said, “Formerly, when we were on the verge of attaining the Way, it was precisely because of foolish notions, thinking that life was permanent, that we fell back into birth-and-death for incalculable kalpas. Now we have been born into this poor household, where rain-cloaks of grass are used as felt and coarse cloth, and the food and drink are coarse and wretched, barely supporting our lives. Going on like this for so long, how can we survive? All of this was because in our former lives we longed for wealth and rank, indulging our bodies and scattering our minds for momentary pleasures. From then on, we have suffered on this long journey. Now, in this anxiety and distress, what can we rely upon?” The other replied, “At that time, faced with a small difficulty, we did not see our diligent effort through with vigor for a single moment, and so now for many lifetimes we have encountered various evil misfortunes. This was done by ourselves, not caused by our parents. We must simply bear it together; what more is there to say?” Their father, hearing this, thought it strange and called them ghosts, thinking, ‘While they are still small and not yet grown, it would be fitting to kill them.’ In fright, the father went into the fields to gather firewood, wishing to burn them to death. The mother returned and asked her husband, “What are you using this firewood for?” The husband explained as before. The mother heard this in bewilderment. The next day, the husband and wife went out together and eavesdropped in secret. The two children were reproaching each other as before. They then gathered firewood together, secretly intending to burn them. The Buddha saw this with his divine eye and came to the village, universally emitting light. Heaven and earth shook violently, and the mountains, rivers, and trees all turned golden in color. He arrived at the home of the twin infant boys. Seeing the Buddha’s light, the two children leapt with boundless joy. The parents were also startled, and each took a child in their arms and brought them to the Buddha, asking the Bhagavat, “These children were born forty or fifty days ago, yet they spoke in such a manner. We were very suspicious of them and feared they would cause harm, so we wanted to burn them with fire. We do not know what kind of demonic spirits they are. We only pray you explain.” The children saw the Buddha and leapt for joy. The Buddha saw the children and smiled broadly, his mouth emitting rays of light of five colors, universally illuminating heaven and earth. The Buddha said, “These two children are not demonic spirits; they are children of merit and virtue. Formerly, in the time of the Buddha Kāśyapa, they became śramaṇas. They had been friends since youth and, with a common aspiration, left home, each exerting vigorous effort. When they were on the verge of attaining the Way, improper thoughts suddenly arose in them: they disheartened each other and delighted in worldly glory and luxury, wishing to rely on their merit to be born in heaven and descend as lords, kings, rulers, and elders. When this thought suddenly arose, they retrogressed of themselves, failed to attain nirvāṇa, and underwent this cycle of birth-and-death. Year after year they were constantly bound together, always being born as twins. When they encountered my age, only now were they born. Because they had once made offerings to the Buddha, their remaining merit is such that they should be delivered. Having been born with the recollection of their past lives, I have now come to deliver them. If I had not delivered them, they would have been burned by fire undeservedly.” Then he spoke these verses:
22.5
“Great persons by nature have no desires; / wherever they are, they are luminous and clear.
Though they may encounter suffering or joy, / they do not loftily display their wisdom.
The greatly virtuous have no worldly concerns; / they do not desire children, wealth, or kingdoms.
They should guard the path of morality and wisdom, / not coveting improper wealth and honor.
A wise man whose wisdom wavers / is like a tree growing in sand.
When friends’ resolve is not steadfast, / they are dyed according to the colors they meet.”
22.6
The Buddha spoke this, and the infant boys, upon seeing the Buddha, bounded up into the size of eight-year-old boys. They immediately became śramaṇeras and attained the Way of arhatship. All the villagers, young and old, saw the Buddha’s light and marks, and also saw the boys’ forms transform and leap into larger size; they were all overjoyed and attained the Way of srotāpanna. The parents’ doubts were dissolved, and they also attained the Dharma eye. (Extracted from the first fascicle of the Dharmapada Sūtra).
22.7
2. Śrutadhara is Born and Raised in a Tomb, Meets the Buddha, and Attains the Way
22.8
There was a king named Candrāvata. He venerated the teachings of the brāhmaṇas and also employed them to govern the state. The king held his junior queen in high regard, and the other queens hated and envied her. Bestowing gold upon a brāhmaṇa, they slandered her to the king, saying that the child she bore would surely bring misfortune to the kingdom. Hearing this, the king was unhappy, and asked the brāhmaṇa, “What should be done?” He answered, “She and [the child] must both be killed.” The king said, “Human life is precious; how can she be killed?” He replied, “If she is not killed, you will surely lose your kingdom and lose your life.” The king then wrongfully killed the child[’s mother]. Later, the child was born in the tomb. Half of his mother’s body did not decay, and the child drank her milk—dong means milk. This continued for three years, until the tomb collapsed. The child was able to get out, and played with birds and beasts, returning to the tomb at dusk. When he reached six years of age, the Buddha took pity on his toil and hardship living among birds and beasts, and transformed himself into a śramaṇa. He went to call and ask him, saying, “Whose child are you? Where do you live?” The child joyfully answered, “I have no home, but only roost and sleep in this tomb. I beg to follow the man of the Way.” The Buddha said, “What do you wish to do?” The child replied, “In good or bad fortune, I will ultimately follow the man of the Way.” The Buddha then led him into the Jetavana. Seeing the dignified manners and rules of the bhikṣus, his mind was greatly delighted, and he said to the Buddha, “I wish to request to become a bhikṣu.” The Buddha then permitted it, stroked his head with his hand, and his hair fell off of itself, with kāṣāya robes covering his body. He was named Śrutadhara. Guarding the precepts with vigorous effort and an untiring mind, after passing seven days he attained the Way of arhatship. The Buddha said to Śrutadhara, “You should go deliver King Candrāvata.” Śrutadhara went to him. The king of that country said, “My mind is greatly troubled; what should I do?” The man of the Way said, “What are you troubled by?” The king said, “I am advanced in years, and past the time of having an heir, which causes me grief and anxiety.” Hearing the king’s words, the man of the Way did not respond at first, but merely smiled to himself. The king then grew angry, saying, “I spoke with the man of the Way, yet he does not answer me at all, but instead merely laughs to himself.” He then wished to kill him. Śrutadhara knew his intention, and lightly took flight into the air, dividing his form and scattering his body, entering and emerging without obstruction. Seeing these miraculous transformations, the king repented of his error, saying, “I am truly foolish and do not distinguish the genuine from the false. I only pray that the great spirit return at once, so that I may take refuge [in you].” Śrutadhara then descended from the air and stood before the king, saying to him, “If you can take refuge, it is very good. You should take refuge in the Buddha. The Buddha is my master, the Lord of the Three Realms, who liberates sentient beings.” In the time it takes to stretch out an arm, Śrutadhara brought the king and his people together to the Buddha’s presence, where they took refuge in the Three Honored Ones and begged to receive the five precepts as upāsakas. The Buddha fully explained that Śrutadhara was the king’s son. Hearing the Buddha’s words, the king was so overwhelmed with terror that he could not contain himself. The Buddha said: “Long ago, in the time of the Buddha Krakucchanda, there was a king named Puṣyadata. The people in the kingdom all made offerings to the Three Honored Ones. At that time, there was an ordinary person who lived in poverty without an occupation. He was constantly hired by the wealthy in the kingdom to herd and tend several hundred cattle. Seeing the king and people making offerings to the community of bhikṣus, he asked, ‘What are you all doing?’ The people answered, ‘We are making offerings to the Three Honored Ones. In future times, wherever we are, we will be at peace, joyful, honored, and wealthy, free from hardship and suffering.’ He then thought to himself, ‘Being poor, I should simply simmer cow’s milk into yogurt and ghee, and with a pure mind offer it to the bhikṣus.’ The community of bhikṣus made a vow of blessing for him, saying, ‘May you obtain blessings life after life.’ From then on, passing through cycle after cycle of birth-and-death, he always received these blessings, either being born above as devas or below as kings and lords. Once, as a king or lord, he went out hunting. Seeing a fine cow that was pregnant with a calf, he killed it. The queen said to the king, ‘Do not kill her offspring.’ At that time, the cow’s owner cut [the cow] open, took the calf, and raised it. The owner said angrily, ‘May the king become like this cow!’ Thereafter, his consciousness became the king’s child. Before he was born, his mother was killed by the king; this was Śrutadhara. Śrutadhara’s mother was the queen of that time. The brāhmaṇa was that cow owner. Śrutadhara was born in the tomb, and half of his mother’s body did not decay so that he could drink her milk and grow up by himself, because in a past life he had offered yogurt and ghee to the community of bhikṣus.” Hearing this, the king’s mind opened to understanding, and he attained srotāpanna. (Extracted from the King Candrāvata Sūtra).”
22.9
3. The Circumstances of the Śramaṇera Kuṇḍi’s Leaving Home and His Past Lives
22.10
When the Buddha was in Śrāvastī, at that time the Venerable Śāriputra would use his divine eye during the three intervals of the day and night to observe who should be delivered, and would immediately go to deliver them. At that time, some merchants wished to go to another kingdom (the Sūtra on the Repayment of Kindness says: between the two countries of Madra [and another] there were five hundred merchants). These merchants took a dog along with them (the Sūtra on the Repayment of Kindness says: a white dog). Midway on the road, while the merchants were resting, the dog stole some meat. Thereupon the crowd beat the dog together, broke its legs, cast it into the open wilderness, and abandoned it. Śāriputra saw with his divine eye that the dog was crippled on the ground, starved, exhausted, and on the verge of death. Flying to where the dog was, he gave it food as an offering. The dog’s remaining life was saved, and its mind was full of joy. Śāriputra then expounded the subtle and marvelous Dharma to this dog. The dog then died and was born into a brāhmaṇa family in Śrāvastī. At that time, Śāriputra was walking alone on his alms round. The brāhmaṇa saw him and asked, “Is the Venerable One walking alone without a śramaṇera?” Śāriputra said, “I have no śramaṇera. I hear you have a son; you should give him to me.” The brāhmaṇa said, “I have a son named Kuṇḍi. He is still a small child and not yet capable of carrying out service. When he grows older, I will give him to you.” Śāriputra kept this in mind. When the boy reached seven years of age, he returned to ask for him. The brāhmaṇa then had the boy leave home. Śāriputra brought him to the Jetavana and gradually expounded the Dharma to him. His mind was enlightened and he attained arhatship (the Sūtra on the Repayment of Kindness says: the Buddha said, “Welcome,” and his beard and hair fell off of themselves, with kāṣāya robes covering his body). After the śramaṇera Kuṇḍi had newly attained the Way, he used the power of his wisdom to observe his past lives. He saw that in his former life he was a hungry dog, and through the grace of his preceptor he had now obtained a human body and attained the fruit of the Way. Joy arose within his mind, and he thought to himself, “Receiving the grace of my teacher, I have escaped all suffering. For the rest of my life I should provide for all his necessities and remain a śramaṇera forever.” In the distant past, in the time of the Buddha Kāśyapa, bhikṣus were gathered in one place. At that time, a young bhikṣu had a voice that was pure and elegant, and he was skilled at chanting praises. There was an elderly, venerable bhikṣu whose voice was muddy and dull, incapable of recitation and chanting; he would simply chant aloud to amuse himself. The elderly bhikṣu had already attained arhatship. At that time, the young bhikṣu rebuked him, saying, “Now, elder, your voice is like the barking of a dog!” Then the elderly bhikṣu called to the youth, “Do you recognize me?” The youth answered, “I know you well; you are a senior elder bhikṣu from the time of the Buddha Kāśyapa.” He answered, “I have now attained arhatship.” The youth was terrified, blamed himself, and repented; yet for five hundred lifetimes he constantly received the body of a dog. Because he had left home and kept the pure precepts, he has now met me and obtained liberation. (Extracted from the twelfth fascicle of the Sūtra of the Wise and the Foolish).
22.11
4. A Śramaṇera Saves Ants, Prolongs His Life, and Through Vigorous Effort Attains the Way
22.12
Formerly, in a small state not far from the city, there was a fine forest where five Daoists studied the Way. There was one monk who had attained the six supernormal powers, and one novice whose years were just eight; together in the mountains, they each sat facing one side contemplating the sūtras and the Way. The master knew that the novice had only seven days of life remaining. [He thought,] "If he dies here, his parents will say that I did not look after him well and caused him to perish, and they will harbor resentment." He then said to the novice, "Your parents miss you. You may return home, and come back early on the eighth day." The novice rejoiced, bowed his head, and departed. On the road, he encountered a great rainstorm and a torrent of water flooded down. On the ground was an ant-hole, into which the flowing water was about to pour. The novice thought to himself, "I am a disciple of the Buddha; first, I have a mind of compassion, and second, I preserve life." He immediately blocked [the water] with earth and diverted the flow, causing it to run off. The novice returned home without any mishap, and came back on the morning of the eighth day. The master saw him from afar and was astonished by this: "He was supposed to die in seven days; by what cause and condition [is he here]? Can it be a ghost or spirit that has transformed and appeared to come?" He immediately entered samādhi and saw that through saving the ants, his lifespan had been extended in the present life. When the novice arrived, he prostrated himself, paid homage, and sat to one side. The master said to him, "You have performed a great merit; do you know it yourself or not?" The novice said, "During the seven days at home, I did no other merit." The master said, "Your life was due to end; yesterday, because you saved the ants, your lifespan has been increased in the present life by more than eighty years." The novice rejoiced, had faith that good deeds bear retribution, and thereupon cultivated with even greater diligence without remiss, attaining the status of an arhat. (Taken from the Fobao jing, and also from the seventh fascicle of the ten-fascicle Avadāna Sūtra.)
22.13
5. The Novice Pushes His Master to the Ground and Kills Him, but Attains the Way through Diligence Having No Evil Mind
22.14
In the country of Śrāvastī there was an old man who had early on lost his wife and lived alone with his son. In dire poverty without wealth, and realizing the impermanence of the world, he went forth under the Buddha. His son was still young and also became a novice. Together with his father he begged for food, and as dusk drew near they were to return. The father walked slowly, and the son feared ferocious beasts; hurriedly supporting his father, he pushed him forward on the path, but did not hold him firmly. He pushed his father to the ground, and [the father] died immediately beneath his touch. [The son] went alone to the Buddha's place. At that time, the monks rebuked the novice and thereupon reported it to the Buddha. The Buddha told them, "Although this master has died, it was not with evil intent." He then asked the novice, "Did you kill your master?" He replied, "I truly pushed him, but not with evil intent." The Buddha said, "I know your mind was without evil intent. In a past life it was also like this: with no evil intent, you slew one another. Formerly, a father and son lived together in one place. At that time, the father was gravely ill and was asleep, when many gnats repeatedly came to bother and touch him. The father told the son to ward off the gnats, hoping to sleep peacefully. When the son urgently warded them off, the gnats came without ceasing. The son then became enraged, took a large staff, and watched for the gnats to kill them. (The Sarvāstivāda-vinaya says he held a large stone to strike the mosquitoes.) At that moment, the gnats vied to swarm on the father's forehead; striking them with the staff, his father died immediately. The father was this novice, and the son of that time was the deceased monk. Because there was no evil mind, it was not done with evil intent, nor was it intentional killing." The novice cultivated diligently without remiss and eventually attained the arhat path. (Taken from the tenth fascicle of the Damamūkanidāna Sūtra.)
22.15
6. The Novice Dies Prematurely and Is Born in Heaven; Grieving over the Loss of His Good Master and Friends, He Goes to the Buddha and Attains the Discernment of the Noble Truths
22.16
The Buddha was wandering in Śrāvastī, at the Jetavana, Anāthapiṇḍada's park. At that time, a certain monk had a disciple whose disposition was gentle and elegant, and whose thoughts and conduct were benevolent and worthy. He constantly attended on his preceptor with sincere care and diligence, respectfully following the Dharma teachings and not disobeying his master's commands. His lifespan was short and he died young, being born into a palace in Trāyastriṃśa. Looking upon heaven, he saw only a great fire. His original aspirations were not fulfilled as he wished; he could not stay together with his good friends: "Now having abandoned my good master, I follow along with bad companions. Here, I have parted far from the most venerable preceptor, the ācāryas, and the various assemblies of those who practice the brahma-conduct—the fourfold assembly of disciples. There is an Omniscient One named the Tathāgata, from whom I am now completely separated. Through countless kalpas He is difficult to meet and difficult to see; having arisen in the world, He expounds the subtle and profound scriptures, having never uttered [frivolous words], and peacefully instructs and converts, explaining the various dependent originations so that each understands that from which there is a cause. What has not been seen or heard for countless kalpas, He completely resolves. Having encountered this Dharma and Vinaya, I left home for the Way; yet what I was to accomplish has not reached fulfillment, and now on the contrary I am negligent." He first went to the World-Honoured One and bowed his head at His feet. The Buddha saw that his mind was upright and truly delighted in the Way, purely focused upon the Dharma, and expounded suffering, origination, cessation, and the path, whereupon he immediately saw the Truth. The preceptor, grieving in remembrance, wept tears like rain. The Buddha summoned and asked him, "Why are you sorrowful?" He replied, "My disciple has passed away." The Buddha said, "Why do you sorrow?" He replied, "My novice disciple was exceedingly worthy and good; before reaching fulfillment, he died prematurely in his youth. Therefore I am despondent and cannot console myself." The Buddha said, "Do not grieve; he has already reached fulfillment, attained birth in heaven, and this midnight discerned the Noble Truths." The monk wept no more. (Taken from the Dizi guoming jing.)
22.17
7. The Novice Cunda Is Revered by Ghosts, and the Non-Buddhist Subhadra Naturally Submits
22.18
Śāriputra had a novice named Cunda who, at the age of eight, had attained the six supernormal powers and flew through the air to Lake Anavatapta. There was a brahmacārin with five supernormal powers named Subhadra who also went to that lake. At that time, beside that lake, blue-clad ghosts guarding the lake drove away the brahmacārin of five supernormal powers, throwing tiles and stones so as not to allow him to approach the divine lake. When the novice Cunda arrived flying through the air, those blue-clad ghosts, several hundred in number, all came forward to welcome him: some came forward to hold his robes, some held pure water to wash his hands and feet, some wiped his head and face with pure cloths, and some bathed his body with fragrant warm water. The brahmacārin Subhadra raised his voice and said, "I have now attained the five supernormal powers and my spiritual virtue is immeasurable; my power can move mountains, halt flowing waters, and rotate heaven and earth like turning a pearl in my palm. Since studying the Way for over one hundred and twenty years, I have toiled my form and tormented my body, exhausted in form and spirit: sometimes serving the five fires, lighting fires in four places with the sunlight shining from above; sometimes lying in ashes and dung, or lying amid thorny and rugged perils—there is no path I have not studied. Yet I was driven away and not allowed to reach the lake. But this little black-robed boy, aged seven or eight, not yet separated from nursing, his body foul and stinking, is treated with such excessive reverence. For what reason is this?" Then the blue-clad ghosts said to the brahmacārin, "Although this scholar's form and age are small, his practice transcends the three realms, having attained the noble eightfold path. You do not have this now, which is why we do not pay reverence." There was a brāhmaṇa named Yakṣa who established a monastery, also called Yakṣa, and constantly supplied clarified butter and oil to supply the monastery for lighting lamps. At that time, a brāhmaṇa from a distant place came to that monastery; having also heard of the brahmacārin Yakṣa's eminent talent and bright virtue, and that he especially believed in the Buddha's Dharma and had established a divine shrine, he met with him. At that time, a novice came to receive the butter and oil to supply the monastery for lighting lamps. The many brahmacārins said to the brāhmaṇa Yakṣa, "Do you really bow down to this man in dyed robes?" Before the words were finished, the novice had already arrived, and [Yakṣa] immediately bowed to him again. The many brahmacārins said to this brahmacārin, "You come from the four castes with talent and skill surpassing others; there is nothing in astronomy or geography you have not mastered; your divine spells move the spirits and there is nothing you cannot accomplish. Now this person in dyed robes comes from among many castes and his lineage is not pure. Why do you violate our original tradition to reverently bow to him? Moreover, you, brahmacārin, maintain pure conduct, cultivate the inner treasury of diagrams, prognostication texts, and secret records; in practicing the Way to accomplish merit, what wish is not fulfilled? You are fully versed in texts, seals, and tallies. The Buddha's practice is scant and rare; what is there to value in it? Abandoning the root to take up the branches is what I despise. We have heard that śramaṇas are base and lowly, their deceit and artifice flourish, and they delude the people of the world; what they practice is short-lived, sufficient only for the glory of a single life, and cannot bring about brahmic blessings. Even if you meet, you should merely raise folded hands and no more; why cast your five limbs to the ground and pay homage with reverence? We have seen it ourselves and are extremely astonished at the reason. How much less could the elders of our previous tradition pardon you for this offense?" Yakṣa answered the many brāhmaṇas, "Be quiet, all of you, and listen to what I say:
22.19
"The virtue of the noble sages is difficult to measure,
The eightfold upright and unsurpassable path.
This is the true brahma-śramaṇa,
Proclaimed by the Tathāgata's own mouth.
Seeing this form, though small,
He has already attained the noble path.
Therefore, I now take refuge;
Why do you brahmacārins sneer?"
22.20
Those who have attained can reach fulfillment: srotāpannas and sakṛdāgāmins are able to cut off the bonds of the desire realm, the various entanglements, aggregates, and sense bases. Therefore it is said: those who have attained can exhaust Māra's source. Persons who enter samādhi and sit in meditation delight in dwelling in quietude, setting their minds on singleness of thought, counting the inhalations and exhalations, and holding their intent firmly; they are able to sever Māra's bonds and bind Māra. Persons who enter samādhi can command ghosts and spirits, who arrive as soon as wished. One should seek expedients to sever Māra's firm bonds. (Taken from the fifth fascicle of the Udānavarga.)
22.21
8. The Novice Follows His Noble Master into the Mountains and Attains Four Supernormal Powers, Knowing He Was Grieved over by Five Mothers
22.22
Formerly there was a young boy, just seven years of age, who greatly loved the Buddha's Way and became a novice. Following an arhat master to study in the mountains, he was diligent without remiss. By the age of eight, he attained four supernormal powers: first, the eye of penetrating sight; second, the ear of penetrating hearing; third, flying and transformation; fourth, knowing for himself his past lives and whence he came. Sitting and contemplating for himself, he saw what he had undergone in past lives: he had been the son of five mothers. Thereupon he laughed to himself. The master asked why he laughed. The novice said, "How could I dare laugh at my master? Looking at myself in this one body, I have had five mothers, who weep day and night, grieved and bitterly distressed, constantly saying, 'I miss my son and have never forgotten him for a moment.' I think to myself: this one body has caused bitter distress to five families; therefore I laughed. When I was the son of the first mother, a neighbor had a child born at the same time as me. After I died, the one born on the same day walked in and out; when my mother saw him, she said, 'If my son were alive, he would also walk in and out like this.' Thereupon she grieved and pined for me in pain. Next, I was the son of the second mother; not long after birth, I died again. When my mother saw someone nursing a child, she would pined for me in pain, grieving and weeping. Next, I was the son of the third mother, and not long after died again. When my mother came to eat, tears flowed as she thought of me, saying, 'If my son were alive, he would be eating with me; he has abandoned me and died.' Next, I was the son of the fourth mother, and not long after died again. When my peers of that time were betrothed and married, my mother again thought of me, saying, 'If my son had not died, he too would be taking a wife today.' I became the son of the fifth mother, who is still alive today. When I left home to study the Way, my mother wept daily, saying, 'I have lost my son, not knowing where he is, whether hungry or cold, alive or dead, never to see him again.' All of them sighed with deep sorrow. Now if the five mothers were to gather together, each speaking of her lost son, they would face one another weeping and thinking of me alone; therefore I laughed. People of the world do not know there is birth in future lives; they only speak of death. When a person does good, they obtain blessings; when they do evil, they obtain calamity. While people are in the world, good and evil are of their own doing; fearing nothing and doing evil, they later suffer bitter pain, and falling into the evil realms, regret will be of no avail. Weary of the world, I therefore took leave of my parents to seek the Way. Looking upon the hells, animals, hungry ghosts, and poverty, I am terrified on their behalf. Having received my master's kindness and accepted the Buddha's scriptures and precepts, I am now delivered. I think of my five mothers: unable to obtain deliverance, on the contrary they sorrow over me." (Taken from the Wumu ziren jing.)
22.23
9. The Novice Guards the Precepts and Relinquishes His Cherished Body
22.24
There was once a monk who had few desires and knew contentment. At that time, in the country of Andhra, there was an upāsaka who faithfully revered the Three Jewels and made offerings to them throughout his life, sending provisions every day. In that country there was an elder who had a son. Wanting him to leave household life, he sought an excellent teacher. He immediately went and addressed the monk, saying: “I wish to have this son of mine leave household life. I only pray that the Venerable One will compassionately accept him and deliver him.” At that time, the monk observed with his spiritual vision that if this person left household life, he would be able to uphold the pure precepts, so he ordained him as a novice. Meanwhile, the upāsaka had a close lay friend who was hosting a gathering for guests the next day. In the morning the friend thought: “Today I must go to the gathering; who will stay behind and guard the house?” His daughter then addressed her father: “I only pray that my parents will take all the servants and just go to attend the invitation; I can stay behind and guard.” The father said: “Very good.” The whole family went, and the daughter locked the door, staying alone inside the house. That day the upāsaka was in a rush and forgot to send the food. The Venerable One thought to himself: “It is getting late, and laypeople have many affairs.” He immediately sent the novice to fetch it, saying: “Comport yourself with proper deportment, just as the Buddha has taught.” The novice knocked on the door. The girl asked who it was, and he answered: “I am the novice, fetching food for my master.” She immediately opened the door for him. This girl was shapely and exquisite in appearance; she had just turned sixteen and was burning with the fire of lust. Before the novice, she performed all kinds of flirtatious wiles, intensely showing signs of desire. When the novice saw this, he thought: “Does this girl have epilepsy, or is she driven by the fetter of lust, wishing to ruin my pure conduct?” Resolutely maintaining his deportment, his countenance did not change. The girl then cast herself to the ground in full prostration and addressed the novice: “What I always wished for, I now wish to explain. The treasures and storehouses in this house of mine are like the treasure trove of Vaiśravaṇa's heavenly palace, yet they have no master. You could deign to become the master of this house. I will be your maidservant, attending to your commands, to fulfill my wish.” The novice thought: “I would rather forfeit my life than break the prohibitive precepts. In the past, when a monk reached the house of a courtesan, he would rather throw himself into a fiery pit than commit sexual misconduct. Furthermore, when monks were robbed by thieves and bound with grass, though blown by the wind, scorched by the sun, and bitten and gnawed by various insects, out of safeguarding the precepts they would not break the grass and leave. Just as with the bird that swallowed the gem, although the monk saw it, out of upholding the precepts he endured extreme suffering and did not speak. Just as when a sea-vessel was wrecked, a junior monk, out of guarding the precepts, handed his plank to a senior monk and drowned in the ocean to his death. Were these persons alone the disciples of the Buddha capable of upholding the prohibitive precepts, while I am not a disciple and cannot uphold them? Was the Tathāgata, the Bhagavat, their master alone, and not mine?” Using an expedient means, he said to her: “Firmly close the doors. I shall enter a room and do what should be done; only then shall we come together.” The girl immediately shut the doors. The novice entered a room and latched the door. Finding a razor, he took off his robes, placed them on a rack, joined his palms, and knelt facing Kuśinagara, where the Buddha entered nirvāṇa. He made a vow for himself: “I do not now abandon the Buddha, the Dharma, or the Saṅgha, nor do I abandon the precepts; it is precisely for the sake of upholding the precepts that I forfeit this physical life. May it be that wherever I am reborn, I shall leave household life, cultivate pure conduct, exhaust all taints, and realize the Way.” He then slit his throat and died. The girl, wondering at the delay, hurried to the door to look, and saw that he was already dead, having lost his original appearance. Her lustful mind instantly ceased; overcome by shame, distress, and lamentation, she screamed in grief and fell unconscious. When her father returned from the gathering and saw his daughter like this, he asked why. She replied completely with the truth. The father immediately entered the room and saw the novice, his body stained red with blood like sandalwood. He bowed and praised him, saying: “Safeguarding and upholding the Buddha’s precepts, he was able to forfeit his physical life!” According to the law of that country at the time, if a śramaṇa died in a layperson's house, a fine in gold coins was to be imposed. The upāsaka placed one thousand gold coins on a bronze tray and carried them to the royal palace. He addressed the king: “Great King, I have incurred a penalty that should be remitted to the king; I pray that you will accept it.” The king said: “In my kingdom you have faithfully revered the Three Jewels, with no discrepancy between your words and deeds. Why should you alone have committed an offense and must pay a fine?” The upāsaka then detailed the aforementioned circumstances, denouncing his daughter and praising the novice. Hearing this, the king was struck with awe and said to him: “The novice safeguarded the precepts and forfeit his own physical life; you bear no blame or fault. Just take the coins back home. I myself now wish to go in person to your house to make offerings to the novice.” The king went to see him, stepped forward, and bowed to him. Placing the deceased novice upon a high carriage adorned with various gems, they carried him to a level field, piled up diverse fragrant woods, and held a cremation (jhāpita) as an offering. They also adorned the girl with beauty surpassing all in the world, placing her in a high, conspicuous place so that everyone in the assembly could see her. The king said to the crowd: “This girl is of such extraordinary, radiant beauty; who that has not yet abandoned desire would be without an impassioned mind? Yet this novice, though he had not yet attained the Way, upheld the precepts and gave up his life with his mortal body—truly marvelous and exceedingly rare!” The king then sent someone to invite the novice's master, who expounded the subtle and wondrous Dharma extensively for the great assembly. Hearing and seeing this event, among all those in the assembly, some sought to leave household life, while others generated the unexcelled bodhicitta (from the Sutra of the Wise and the Foolish, fascicle 7).
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10. The Novice Who Developed Affection for a Nāga Girl and Was Consequently Born Among Nāgas
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Formerly, an arhat practiced the Way in the mountains together with a novice. Every day the novice went to people's homes to beg for food. Travelling along an embankment, the path was rugged and perilous; his foot slipped and he fell to the ground, soiling the rice with mud. The novice took the unsoiled rice and placed it in his master's bowl; the soiled rice he washed and ate himself. This went on for more than a day. The master said: “Why do you wash the rice, discarding its flavor?” He answered: “When I went out to beg, it was clear; when I returned from begging, it rained. I fell on the embankment and overturned the rice.” The master reflected in silence and knew that a nāga was harassing the novice. He then stood up, went to the embankment, and struck the bushes with his staff. The nāga transformed into an old man, came out, and bowed with his head to the ground. The śramaṇa said: “Why do you harass my novice?” He answered: “I truly loved his handsome appearance, that is all. Beginning from today, come eat in my chamber every day.” The śramaṇa accepted the invitation and went daily to eat. Later, the novice saw in his master's bowl two or three grains of rice that were not food of the human world. He asked the upādhyāya, but the master remained silent and did not respond. The novice then went under the bed and held fast to the bed-foot with his hands. When the upādhyāya finished his meditative concentration, following along with him, they both flew up to the palace of the nāga. The nāga and the women bowed together to the śramaṇa, and also bowed to the novice. The master only then realized it. He called the novice out and said to him: “These are not court maidens; they are beasts! Though you are a novice who has not yet attained the Way, you will certainly be born in the Trāyastriṃśa heaven, which surpasses this a hundredfold. Do not sully your mind!” The novice said: “The dwelling place of this nāga is rarely found in the world.” The master said: “They have three kinds of suffering: first, though it is food of a hundred flavors, upon entering the mouth it immediately transforms into toads; second, though the maidens are peerlessly lovely, when they wish to become husband and wife, two snakes intertwine; third, on the nāga's back there are reversed scales, within which sand and stones form, causing pain that penetrates to the heart and chest. These are great sufferings; why would you follow them? Having not yet attained the Way, you must not be allowed to see the realms of spirits or the inner affairs of worldly kings.” The novice did not answer. Pondering it day and night and yearning for it, he stopped eating, fell ill, and died. His consciousness was reborn as the son of the nāga. (The Da zhidu lun states: “Having practiced giving and upheld the precepts, he vowed to quickly become a nāga. Because the resolve of his pledge was so intense, water sprang forth from under his feet. Later, he went to the edge of the great pool where his master had originally entered, covered his head with his kāṣāya, and entered. Upon dying, he immediately transformed into a great nāga deity, killed the old nāga, and made the whole pool turn completely red.” From the Kāśyapa-codana-nanda-sūtra; also from the Da zhidu lun, fascicle 17.)
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11. The Novice Who Loved Curd and Immediately Received the Body of an Insect
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For instance, there was a novice whose heart always craved curd. Whenever various dānapatis presented curd to the Saṅgha, the novice would always receive the leftover portions. In his mind, he was attached to the pleasure and was delighted, unwilling to part with it. After his life ended, he was reborn inside a jar of leftover curd. The novice's master attained arhatship. When the Saṅgha was distributing curd, the master said: “Gently, gently! Do not harm this curd-loving novice.” The others asked: “Why do you say ‘this curd-loving novice’?” He answered: “This was originally my novice. Simply because of craving leftover curd, he was reborn in this jar.” When the master received his portion of curd, the insect came inside it. The master said: “Curd-loving one, why have you come?” He then gave the curd to it (from the Da zhidu lun, fascicle 17).
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Diverse Phenomena from the Sūtras and Vinaya, Fascicle 22
Linked texts (1)
- 經律異相 — Classical Chinese