經律異相 23

English (machine translation) 23

Language: English

23.1

Compiled by the Liang śramaṇas Sengmin, Baochang, and others

1. Bhadra self-recognized his past lives, encountered the Buddha, and attained the Way
2. Śuklā was born wrapped in fine cloth, left household life, and awakened to the Way
3. Bhadrā Kapilānī was coerced by a king, yet her mind remained unstained
4. Utpalavarṇā, after attaining the Way, had an impure act secretly committed upon her by a brāhmaṇa while lying down
5. The courtesan Padmā saw a conjured person, heard the preaching of the Dharma, and her mind was freed
6. Five hundred brāhmaṇa women heard the Dharma and attained awakening
7. A brāhmaṇa nun invited Udāyin, but out of arrogance did not listen to the Dharma
8. Kṣamā-padmā met a violent man, gouged out her eye, and escaped
9. Vidūrā was originally stingy and greedy, received conversion from the Buddha, and attained the Way
10. Vāsiṣṭhī, having lost her son, went mad, heard the Dharma, and attained the Way
11. Anāthapiṇḍada's mother and daughter were taken in by a king, left household life, and awakened to the Way
12. Śrīmā forgot her hunger to provide for the Saṅgha
13. Cañcā in a past life was the wife of a turtle
14. Cañcā slandered the Buddha

23.3

1. Bhadra Self-Recognized His Past Lives, Encountered the Buddha, and Attained the Way

23.4

When the Bhagavat was in the city of Rājagṛha, the bhikṣuṇī Bhadrā left the bhikṣu park, sat upright under a tree, focused her mindfulness, recalled her own past lives, and smiled. Seeing this, the other bhikṣuṇīs asked her [about it]. The bhikṣuṇī Bhadrā said: “I remember my past lives. Ninety-one kalpas ago, the Tathāgata Vipaśyin appeared in the world. There was a young man named Brahmadeva who possessed immense wealth, abundant goods, and boundless riches. Holding a jeweled parasol, the youth came out of his house. A guild elder’s wife, peerlessly upright and beautiful, also passed by there, and a great multitude of people were all gazing at her. The youth then thought to himself: ‘Now I hold a jeweled parasol fashioned from manifold gems and walk along this road, yet no one looks at me; they [all look at] this elder’s wife. I must now devise an expedient means to make the people look at me.’ Thereupon the youth, holding the jeweled parasol in hand, departed that territory, went to the Tathāgata Vipaśyin, and stood behind the Tathāgata holding up the jeweled parasol for seven days and seven nights. He made this vow, saying: ‘By the merit of my making offerings to the Bhagavat, may I be reborn as a woman of peerless beauty, so that anyone who sees me will be entranced and fall prostrate to the ground!’ When the youth died, he was born in the Trāyastriṃśa heaven as a heavenly maiden, supreme in five respects. What are the five? Celestial lifespan, celestial appearance, celestial joy, celestial supernatural powers, and superior celestial merit. When the devas saw this woman, they all cherished hopes of being united with her, and the devas of the Trāyastriṃśa heaven fought with one another. When the heavenly maiden’s lifespan ended, she was reborn in the human realm as the daughter of the brāhmaṇa Yajñadatta, upright and exquisite. Transmigrating between human and celestial realms, she was always beautiful, encountered many Buddhas, served and made offerings to them all, and sought to remain a woman. Later, she was born in the human realm into a lowly brāhmaṇa family as a maidservant to the youth Candraprahāsa, and her name was Kīrā. The wife of the youth Candraprahāsa was named Manoharā, peerlessly beautiful. At that time, the lady [Manoharā] said to that maidservant: ‘Go outside the house. If you see a śramaṇa or a brāhmaṇa, lead them here; I wish to give alms.’ The maidservant went out of the house. A pratyekabuddha was on the door threshold begging for food. The maidservant Kīrā said to him: ‘Come inside; [she] wishes to give you alms.’ When the lady saw that his body was not handsome, she said to Kīrā: ‘Send the śramaṇa away; I will not give to him.’ The maid said: ‘May my lady open her heart and not despise the śramaṇa’s appearance! The merit of making an offering [to him] is immeasurable.’ The lady answered: ‘Hurry and drive this śramaṇa out! I cannot bear to give to him.’ The maid replied: ‘If my lady will not give to this śramaṇa, please do not grudge the portion of food that I am to receive today.’ The lady immediately gave roasted barley flour to the maidservant. The maidservant Kīrā then placed her portion of roasted barley flour into the pratyekabuddha’s bowl. Having eaten, he ascended into the sky. When the maidservant saw this, overcome with joy, she made a vow: ‘By this merit, may I not fall into evil destinies, and throughout the distant future may I constantly encounter this holy one, who will teach me the Dharma and cause me to attain liberation quickly!’ At that time King Brahmadatta of the city of Vārāṇasī saw that pratyekabuddha rising into the air, and said to his ministers: ‘Where did he receive alms?’ At that time the elder Candraprahāsa had gathered five hundred merchants in a great lecture hall. Seeing from afar the pratyekabuddha holding his bowl and ascending into the sky, some merchants said: ‘This holy one must have received food at my home.’ At that time the lady Manoharā saw [this] and said to the maidservant Kīrā: ‘Transfer the merit you attained to me; this was my almsgiving. I will now give you more food in return.’ The maid said: ‘I will not give it.’ [The lady] spoke again: ‘I will now give you a two-fold share of food.’ She replied: ‘I have no need of it either.’ The lady said again: ‘I will give you three-fold, five-fold, ten-fold, twenty-fold, even a hundred-fold, a thousand-fold shares.’ The maidservant Kīrā said: ‘I will not give it to you.’ The lady retorted: ‘If you do not give it to me, I will cut off your ears, nose, and hands.’ The maidservant Kīrā said: ‘I will not give it to you.’ The elder’s wife then beat the maidservant with a stick. After she had finished beating her, the elder Candraprahāsa returned, saw the maidservant Kīrā with a broken head and torn clothes, weeping and shedding tears, and asked her what had happened from beginning to end. She reported the matter in full. The youth Candraprahāsa then demoted that lady to be a maidservant, made the maidservant Kīrā his principal wife, surrounded her with five hundred palace women, and adorned her body with hundreds of thousands of precious gems. When King Brahmadatta heard that the maidservant of Candraprahāsa had fed that pratyekabuddha, King Brahmadatta sent hundreds of thousands of ounces of precious treasures as a gift to the elder Candraprahāsa’s wife, and furthermore granted fields and estates to the elder Candraprahāsa. King Brahmadatta at that time was what is now Kapilavāstu. The elder Candraprahāsa was Mahākāśyapa. The maidservant Kīrā was my very self. Now I have met the Buddha and attained arhatship.” (Drawn from the Bhadrā Bhikṣuṇī Sūtra)

23.5

2. Śuklā, Born Wrapped in Fine Cotton Cloth, Leaves the Household and Awoke to the Way

23.6

At that time in the kingdom of Śrāvastī, an elder's wife gave birth to a daughter of exquisite beauty, with few equals. At her birth, she came forth wrapped in fine, soft white cotton cloth. Her parents were astonished at it. Her physical marks were examined and found to be extremely auspicious, so they gave her the name Śuklā (in the language of Liang, “White”). As Śuklā grew up, the cloth grew along with her body. This maiden was extraordinarily lovely, and from near and far across the land suitors vied to propose marriage to her. The maiden said to her parents: “I wish to leave the household.” Her parents loved and cared for her, and did not go against her wish. They immediately brought out cloth, intending to make the fivefold monastic robes. The maiden told her parents: “What I am wearing is already fully complete; there is no need to make more. I only ask that you permit me to go to where the Buddha is.” She went to the Buddha, paid homage, and asked to leave the household. The Buddha said: “Welcome!” Her hair fell off of its own accord, and the white cloth she wore immediately turned into the fivefold robes. She was entrusted to Mahāprajāpatī to become a bhikṣuṇī, and practicing vigorously, before long she realized the path of an arhat. Ānanda said to the Buddha: “What virtue did Śuklā cultivate in the past, that she was born together with cloth and, leaving the household, attained the Way?” The Buddha said: “In the past there was a Buddha named Vipaśyin. At that time the king, ministers, and common people made many offerings. There was then a woman named Danikoṭī who was exceedingly poor. The husband and wife shared only a single piece of cloth between them. When the husband went out, he wore it, while the wife stayed naked. When the wife wore the cloth, the husband sat naked. An alms-gathering bhikṣu came walking to their house, saw this woman, and thereupon exhorted her, saying: ‘A Buddha's era is rare to encounter; a human body is difficult to obtain. You should listen to the Dharma and practice generosity.’ The woman returned and said to her husband: ‘There is a śramaṇa outside who exhorts me to see the Buddha, listen to the Dharma, and practice generosity.’ The husband answered her, saying: ‘Our family is destitute; although we may have the intention, what can we give?’ The wife said: ‘My wish is to give this cloth as an offering.’ The husband said: ‘You and I share this one piece of cloth, going out and coming in seeking resources to keep ourselves alive. If we now use it as an offering, we shall both stay here and die!’ The wife said: ‘Human beings are bound to die. If we do not give, we will still die. Dying having given alms brings hope for future lives; dying without giving will lead to far greater misery hereafter.’ The husband rejoiced and said: ‘Let us accept death and make the gift!’ The wife then went out again and said to the bhikṣu: ‘O Venerable One, please enter my name upon the donor register.’ The bhikṣu answered: ‘If you wish to give, you must present the offering in person so that I may pronounce a blessing for you.’ Śuklā said: ‘I wear only this cloth and have no other clothes beneath it. A woman's form is base and repulsive, and it is not fitting to strip here.’ She then returned inside, took off the cloth from her body from afar down below, and handed it to the bhikṣu. The bhikṣu pronounced a blessing and brought it to where the Buddha was. The Buddha said: ‘Bhikṣu, bring that cloth here.’ The bhikṣu offered it to the Buddha, and the Buddha received it with his own hands. This cloth was filthy and stained. At that time, the assembly of the king felt slight contempt in their hearts that the Buddha received such soiled cloth. Knowing the minds of the assembly, the Buddha told them: ‘I see that in this assembly, no pure and great giving surpasses this offering made with the cloth.’ Hearing this, the great assembly was awestruck. The king’s consort rejoiced, immediately took off the decorative jewels, necklaces, and precious robes she was wearing, and sent them to Danikoṭī. The king was also delighted, took off his own clothes, sent them to her husband, and commanded them to come to the assembly.” The Buddha said to Ānanda: “Do you wish to know who the poor woman Danikoṭī was at that time? She was none other than the present bhikṣuṇī Śuklā. Because at that time she gave the cloth with a pure mind, wherever she was reborn for ninety-one kalpas, she was always born with cloth, lacking nothing.” (Drawn from the Sūtra of the Wise and the Foolish, Fascicle 7)

23.7

3. Bhadrā Kapilā Is Pressured by the King, but Her Mind Remains Unstained

23.8

In the kingdom of Kosala, King Prasenajit heard that Bhadrā Kapilā had left the household, and immediately invited her into the palace to spend the four months of the summer retreat residing in the same place. The king went to the garden and said to the gatekeeper: “Guard the gate well; do not allow this bhikṣuṇī to leave.” The gatekeeper thought: “This bhikṣuṇī is pleased to stay and will not flee.” Then the gatekeeper had other business to attend to. The bhikṣuṇī put on the garments of a royal consort and went out through the gate. From afar, she went to the Jetavana to listen to the Buddha preaching the Dharma. Seeing her from afar, the Buddha said: “Welcome, Bhadrā Kapilā!” At once, the consort's garments vanished, her hair fell off of its own accord, kāṣāya robes appeared on her body, and she became a bhikṣuṇī. She approached the Buddha and paid homage with her head to his feet. The Buddha preached to her the powers of the four bases of psychic power, and the bhikṣuṇī attained the power of psychic faculties. At that time, when the king heard that the woman Bhadrā Kapilā had fled, he led troops to surround the assembly of bhikṣus and the bhikṣuṇī convent. The bhikṣuṇī then flew into the sky. Looking up, the king immediately gave rise to remorse, thinking: “How could I have defiled an arhat bhikṣuṇī?” Fainting with distress, he fell to the ground and confessed his error to the bhikṣuṇī. The bhikṣuṇīs in the monastery drove her out. She replied: “I had no lustful desire in my mind.” The bhikṣuṇīs said: “You spent the four months of summer in the king's palace; how could there have been no desire?” They reported the matter to the Buddha. The Buddha, though knowing, intentionally asked: “Bhikṣuṇī, did you truly experience soft and smooth touch?” She replied: “Bhagavat, how could I have received pleasure? I felt that smoothness as though hot iron were entering my body.” The Buddha said: “If your mind did not take pleasure in the smooth touch, there is no transgression.” (Drawn from the Ten Recitation Vinaya, Good Recitation, Fascicle 2)

23.9

4. Utpalavarṇā, Having Attained the Way, Is Sleeping When a Brāhmaṇa Secretly Commits an Impure Act

23.10

The Buddha was in Śrāvastī. At that time in the town of Ujjayinī, a young householder was travelling for pleasure and saw a woman named Utpalavarṇā. Her complexion was like peaches and plums, and she possessed all feminine marks. Feelings of mutual respect arose, and he took her as his wife. Soon afterward the wife became pregnant, and he sent her back to her family home. When her months were full, she gave birth to a daughter. Because the wife had given birth and he did not approach her again, he illicitly had secret relations with her mother. When Utpalavarṇā discovered this, she abandoned [them] and left. The bond between husband and wife was broken, and fearing she would bring trouble upon her parents, she took pity on the infant, swallowed her shame, and returned to her husband's home. She raised her daughter for eight years and only then departed. Arriving in Vārāṇasī, famished, thirsty, and exhausted, she sat beside the water. At that time a guild elder of that place, travelling about to sightsee, saw her and felt love and respect for her. He immediately asked, "Where do you live? To what parents and clan do you belong? To whom are you bound now, that you are here alone?" Utpalavarṇā said, "I am the daughter of such-and-such a clan, and now belong to no one." The elder asked again, "If you belong to no one, can you become my principal wife?" She replied, "A woman should have a husband; why should I not?" He immediately took her home in his carriage and appointed her his principal wife. Utpalavarṇā managed his household, in harmony with both old and young, and husband and wife respected each other for eight years. At that time the elder spoke to his wife, saying, "I have loans out in the town of Ujjayinī that have not been collected for eight years now. By calculation the interest amounts to hundreds of millions. I will now go to collect them and temporarily part from you." The wife said, "The customs of that town are such that the women are dissolute. If you go yourself now, you might lose a husband's integrity." He replied, "Though my understanding is shallow, I would never reach such disorder." The wife said again, "If it must be so, you ought to go, but I wish to hear an oath." He replied, "Very well. If I give rise to a depraved mind, may it perish together with the thought!" Thereupon they parted. Arriving in that town, the places to collect from were many, and a year passed. Yearning for a household grew deeper: 'If I commit depraved lust, I will violate my original oath; but taking another household [wife] would not break faith.' He thereupon searched about and chanced upon a maiden whose appearance was graceful and fine, and whose gaze was not depraved. Feeling great respect and affection, he went to seek marriage. Because the elder had talent, understanding, and great wealth, the father gladly gave her to him. When the collections were finished, he took her back to his home country, settled her in a separate residence, and only then returned [home]. He went out at dawn and returned at dusk, unlike ordinary times. Utpalavarṇā found this strange and secretly questioned his attendant. The attendant replied, "He has a young wife, and your husband returns at dusk." Utpalavarṇā asked, "You have a new wife; why do you hide her and not let me see her?" He replied, "I feared you would resent it, so I kept her outside." The wife said, "I have no jealousy. The spirits are my witnesses. You may call her back to help manage [the household] for you." He immediately brought her back, and she was none other than [Utpalavarṇā's] daughter! Mother and child met without recognizing each other. Later, while washing her hair and closely observing her features, she suspected this was her daughter, and asked of her native region, her parents, and her clan. The maiden answered in detail. Only then did she know. The mother, shocked and grieved, said, "Formerly I shared a husband with my mother; now I share a spouse with my daughter. Delusion in saṃsāra reaches even to this! Without severing craving and lust, going forth to study the Way, how can such inverted confusion ever be brought to rest?" She then abandoned everything and departed. Arriving at the gate of the Jetavana, famished, thirsty, and exhausted, she sat under a tree. At that time the Bhagavat was surrounded by the great assembly, expounding the Dharma. Utpalavarṇā, seeing that the people were numerous, thought it was a festive gathering and that there must be food and drink. She entered the monastery and saw the Buddha, the Bhagavat, expounding the Dharma for the assembly. Hearing the Dharma, her mind opened to understanding, and her hunger and thirst vanished. Thereupon the Bhagavat surveyed the entire assembly to see who was ripe to be saved: only Utpalavarṇā was ripe to attain the fruit of the Way. He immediately expounded suffering, its origination, its cessation, and the path. Right upon her seat she became free from dust and separated from defilement, attaining the purity of the Dharma eye. Having attained the fruit, she joined her palms with single-minded devotion, facing the Buddha and abiding thus. When the Buddha had finished preaching the Dharma, the assembly dispersed. Then Utpalavarṇā stepped forward, paid homage to the Buddha's feet, knelt upright with palms joined, and said, "I wish to go forth into homelessness in the Buddha's Dharma." The Buddha granted it at once and addressed the nun Pajāpatī, "You should now deliver this woman into the Way." She was immediately delivered into homelessness and received the full precepts. Striving with diligence, she attained arhatship, endowed with the eight liberations. Her countenance shone with a radiance double that of before. Entering the city to beg for food, a brāhmaṇa saw her and gave rise to defiled pleasure. He thought to himself, 'This nun cannot be obtained now; I must search out her dwelling place and find an expedient way to get her.' Later, when she went out again to beg for food, that brāhmaṇa slipped in behind her and hid beneath her bed. That night the nuns, exhausted from expounding the Dharma the entire night, returned to their cells, lay on their backs, and fell into a deep sleep. Thereupon the brāhmaṇa emerged from under the bed and engaged in impure conduct. At that moment the nun leaped up into empty space, and the brāhmaṇa, right upon the bed, fell alive into hell (from fascicle 5 of the Mahīśāsaka Vinaya).

23.11

5. The Courtesan Padmā Sees a Conjured Person and, Hearing the Expounding of the Dharma, Understands Its Meaning

23.12

The Buddha was on Gṛdhrakūṭa Mountain in Rājagṛha. There was a courtesan named Padmā. A wholesome thought arose in her naturally, and she abandoned worldly affairs to become a nun. She went into the mountains toward the place of the Buddha. Before she arrived, midway there was a flowing spring. The woman drank the water, washed her hands, and looked at her reflection, seeing that her facial appearance was incomparably lovely. She then thought, "Why should I abandon myself to become a śramaṇa? For a short while I should enjoy my private desires!" and immediately started to return home. The Buddha knew that Padmā was ripe to be saved, and manifested an illusory woman of peerless elegance, surpassing Padmā, who came along the road. When Padmā saw her, her heart felt great affection and respect. She asked the conjured person, "Where do you come from? Where are your husband, kin, and attendants? Why are you walking alone with no retinue?" The conjured person replied, "I come from the city and wish to return home. Though we do not know each other, we can go back together to the spring above." Padmā said, "Very well." The two went back together to the spring and poured out their thoughts in detail. The conjured person lay down to sleep with her head on Padmā's lap. In an instant, she suddenly passed away. Her body swelled, rotted, and stank; her abdomen ruptured and worms crawled out; her teeth fell out, her hair fell away, and her flesh and limbs fell apart. When Padmā saw this, her heart was terrified: 'How could a beautiful person suddenly be impermanent like this? Even such a person is like this; how could I last long?' Terrified, she resolved to go to the Buddha and vigorously study the Way. She went straight to the Buddha's place, threw her five limbs to the ground, paid homage, and spoke of herself. The Buddha told Padmā, "A woman has four things that cannot be relied upon: first, youth and vigor must inevitably turn to old age; second, strength and health must inevitably turn to death; third, the pleasant companionship of the six kinds of kin must inevitably lead to separation; fourth, accumulated wealth and jewels must inevitably be scattered." Hearing the Dharma, Padmā joyfully understood, and attained arhatship (from the Sūtra of the Maiden Padmā).

23.13

6. Five Hundred Brāhmaṇa Women Hear the Dharma and Awaken

23.14

In the southeast sea of the kingdom of Śrāvastī there was a terrace, upon which were pure, fragrant flower trees. There were five hundred brāhmaṇa women who worshipped heterodox ways with great diligence, not knowing there was a Buddha. At that time the women said among themselves, "We have received physical form and been born as women. From youth to old age we are constrained by three things and cannot be free. Our lives are short, our forms like illusions, and we must again face death. It would be better for us to go together to the fragrant flower terrace, gather fragrant flowers, and diligently observe the fast, entreating the god Brahmā to descend, and make our vow to him: we vow to be born in the Brahma heaven, with long life and no death, and to attain independence without constraint or taboo, freed from all retribution for offenses and having no more sorrow or suffering." They took offerings, went to the terrace, gathered flowers and incense, and served Brahmā, observing the fast with single-mindedness, wishing for the descent of the honored spirit. The Buddha saw that their minds were ripe for conversion, and so together with the great assembly he flew up into empty space, arrived at the terrace, and sat beneath a tree. The women joyfully said, "This is Brahmā!" and congratulated one another, saying, "We have attained our wish!" At that time a deva said to the women, "This is not Brahmā. He is the most honored in the three realms, called the Buddha, who delivers boundless people." The women said to the Buddha, "We have many defilements and are now women; we seek to be free of constraint and wish to be born in the Brahma heaven." The Buddha said, "It is good and beneficial for you women to make this vow. In the world there are two things whose retributions are clear and distinct: doing good receives blessing, and doing evil receives calamity. The suffering of the world and the joy of heaven; the vexation of the conditioned and the serenity of the unconditioned—who can choose and seek the true one? Excellent, women, that you have a clear aspiration!" Thereupon the Bhagavat spoke in verse:

23.15

"Who can choose the ground, / Abandon constraint and take heaven? / Who can speak the verses of the Dharma, / As one selects fine flowers? / Knowing the world is like broken pottery, / A phantom phenomenon suddenly arising, / Severing Māra's blossoms as they open, / One sees neither death nor birth."

23.16

The women, hearing the verse, wished to study the true Way and become nuns. Their hair fell away naturally, and they were fully clad in the Dharma robes. Contemplating in serene concentration, they immediately attained the path of the arhat (from fascicle 3 of the Dharmapada-avadāna Sūtra).

23.17

7. A Brāhmaṇa Nun Invites Udāyin and, Being Arrogant, Does Not Hear the Dharma

23.18

Udāyin went to the kingdom of Kosala and dwelt in the mango grove of a brāhmaṇa nun of the Veṇukātyāyana clan. The disciples of the nun wandered about gathering firewood and came into the mango grove. They saw Udāyin sitting beneath a tree, his countenance upright and serene, his sense faculties tranquil, his mind peaceful and resolute, having accomplished supreme taming. They went to his place, greeted him, and sat down. At that time Udāyin expounded various teachings of the Dharma for the youths. Having encouraged them, he remained silent. Those youths, having heard the Dharma, were overjoyed, and carrying their bundles of firewood, returned to the nun's place. They said, "Upādhyāyā, in the grove there is a śramaṇa of the Gautama clan who expounds the Dharma exceedingly well." The nun said to her disciples, "You may go invite him to dine here tomorrow." The disciples, having received her instruction, went to invite him. The Venerable One remained silent. They returned and told the upādhyāyā, "The Venerable One has accepted the invitation." When the night had passed, Udāyin put on his robes, took his bowl, and went to the nun's house. Seeing him coming from afar, the nun spread a seat and invited him to sit. She set out various kinds of food and drink, offering them with her own hands in rich abundance. Having rinsed his mouth and washed his bowl, he returned to his original seat. The brāhmaṇa nun, wearing fine leather sandals, covering her head with a robe, and having set up a separate high seat, displayed an arrogant manner. She said to Udāyin, "I wish to ask something. Do you have the leisure to give me an answer or not?" He replied, "Sister, now is not the time." The next day, the disciples again went into the grove to gather firewood, heard the Dharma, returned, and told the upādhyāyā. The nun again sent an invitation for food, repeating this three times as before, even to asking for the Dharma, to which he replied, "It is not the time." The disciples said, "Upādhyāyā, you did not sit with respect. Why should he speak?" The upādhyāyā said, "If that is so, invite him for me once more." Receiving her instruction, they invited him again, and she made offerings as before. At that time the upādhyāyā, knowing the meal was finished, took off her leather sandals and fine upper garment, sat upon a low seat, and respectfully said, "I wish to ask something. Would you grant an answer?" He replied, "Just ask, and I will explain it for you." She then asked, "Why do some say that suffering and pleasure are made by oneself, others say that suffering and pleasure are made by another, others say that suffering and pleasure are made by both oneself and another, and others say that suffering and pleasure are made neither by oneself nor by another?" He replied, "Sister, the Arhat says that suffering and pleasure arise differently." She asked again, "What is the meaning of that?" He replied, "It is through causes and conditions that suffering and pleasure arise." He said further, "I now ask you; answer me as you please: Is there an eye?" She answered, "There is." "Are there forms?" She answered, "There are." "Through eye-consciousness and eye-contact, do causes and conditions of contact give rise to feelings, inwardly perceiving either suffering, or pleasure, or neither-suffering-nor-pleasure?" She replied, "It is so." Udāyin said, "This is what the Arhat said: from causes and conditions arise suffering and pleasure." When the Venerable One expounded this Dharma, the brāhmaṇa nun became free from dust and separated from defilement, attaining the purity of the Dharma eye. Rising from her seat and adjusting her robes, she respectfully joined her palms and said to the Venerable One, "Today I have transcended and entered certainty. From this day forward I take refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha, relying on the Three Jewels for the rest of my life" (from the Sūtra on Udāyin Sitting Tranquil and Tamed beneath a Tree).

23.19

8. Kṣamā-utpalā Encounters a Violent Man, Plucks Out Her Eyes, and Obtains Deliverance

23.20

Formerly, in the city of Śrāvastī, in the country named Kosala, there was a band of dissolute and licentious people who devoted themselves to wickedness. At that time, the bhikṣuṇīs in the country were sitting under trees, diligently and single-mindedly contemplating the correct path without letting it go from their thoughts. Foremost in wisdom among the bhikṣuṇīs was named Kṣemā, and foremost in supernormal powers was named Uppalavaṇṇā; each possessed lofty virtues and formidable dignity. As the weather was somewhat warm, they went together to bathe beside a flowing stream. The wicked band saw them from afar and immediately conceived evil thoughts, their lustful desires flaring up, wishing to violate them. They watched for the bhikṣuṇīs to take off their garments and enter the water to bathe, whereupon they rushed forward, seized their robes, carried them to a distant spot, and attempted to drag them off and violate them. The bhikṣuṇīs felt deep sorrow and pity for them. Thereupon, [Kṣemā] plucked out both her eyes, placed them in her palms, and showed them to the ruffians, saying: “What you love about me is only the look of my face. Now that I am blind and have no eyes, what is there to love?” She further showed them her belly and stomach; her bodily five viscera, hands, and feet were separated and cast to one side. She said to the wicked band: “Where is the beauty now?” When the wicked ruffians saw this, they were suddenly struck with dread, realizing that the world is impermanent and the three realms are like a temporary lodging, and that the body is transformed into impure bones and blood, with nothing worthy of greedy attachment. They immediately returned the robes and garments, prostrated themselves, and repented of their vile deeds: “We were rebellious and unrighteous; may we be spared this calamity!” Kneeling upright with palms pressed together, each received the five precepts. They were then led to the Buddha's presence, prostrated to the ground, and blamed themselves for their sins. (Extracted from fascicle 4 of the Chusheng jing; also from the Vinaya.)

23.21

9. Vairātī, Formerly Miserly and Greedy, Was Converted by the Buddha and Realized the Path

23.22

The elder Sudatta had an elderly mother[-like servant] named Vairātī, who diligently managed the household affairs and was entrusted with the treasury and everything. The elder Sudatta invited the Buddha and the Saṅgha and provided for their needs. When sick bhikṣus made many requests, the old woman was stingy and greedy, grew furious at the Buddha, Dharma, and Saṅgha, and said: “The elder of our house is foolish and deluded. He falls for the śramaṇas' tricks; they beg insatiably—what path could they possess?” Having spoken thus, she made an evil vow: “When will I ever be able to not hear the names of the Buddha, Dharma, and Saṅgha?” When Queen Mallikā heard of this, she said: “Why is it that Sudatta is like a fine lotus flower yet harbors four poisonous snakes?” She immediately ordered Sudatta: “Send your wife here.” When the wife arrived, [the Queen] told her: “The old servant of your house utters evil speech and slander; why not drive her out?” The wife replied: “The Buddha's appearance in the world brings vast moisture and benefit; how much more so for an old servant!” When the Queen heard this, her heart was filled with great joy, and she said: “I wish to invite the Buddha; send your servant to attend.” The next day, when the Buddha arrived, the elder sent the servant holding a jar filled with gold, capped with mani jewels, to assist the royal house in making offerings to the congregation of monks. When the Buddha entered the gate, the old servant saw him and felt displeasure in her heart; she immediately wished to withdraw and escape through the dog-hole. But the dog-hole and the small alleyways on all four sides were blocked at once; only the main road remained open. The old woman covered her face with a fan. The Buddha stood before her and caused the fan to become like a mirror, without any obstruction. When she turned her head and looked around in all four directions, she saw the Buddha everywhere. When she lowered her head and prostrated to the ground, even from the ten fingers of her hands the Buddha was manifested. When the old woman saw the Buddha and these diverse manifestations, she eliminated eighty hundred thousand koṭis [of kalpas of sins]. Although faith did not arise in her, she was still able to dispel the sins of birth and death. The Buddha saw that she manifested differently: the servant ran back home, crawled into a wooden cage, and wrapped her head in white cotton cloth, fearing to see the Buddha again. The Buddha said: “This servant’s sins are heavy, and she lacks affinity with the Buddha. Rāhula has great affinity with her; he should be directed to convert her.” At that time, Rāhula, relying on the Buddha’s spiritual power, entered the samādhi of wish-fulfillment and transformed his body into a wheel-turning sage king. The one thousand two hundred and fifty bhikṣus were transformed into a thousand sons; Ānanda became the minister of the treasury; Nanda became the minister of arms; the seven treasures and the fourfold army were all fully provided. The golden wheel treasure rested in the empty sky, riding on a lotus platform, heading straight for the house of the great elder Sudatta. A yakṣa proclaimed: “The sage king has appeared in the world, expelling all evil people and proclaiming the wholesome Dharma!” When the old woman heard this, her heart was filled with great joy: “The sage king who has appeared possesses a wish-fulfilling jewel; he seeks nothing from others. To him I can speak!” At that time, the sage king struck bells and beat drums, riding a great jeweled carriage, and arrived at Sudatta’s house. When the old woman saw him, she was exceedingly joyful: “The sage king's appearance brings much benefit; he discerns good and evil and certainly will not be deluded by the śramaṇas.” She came out of the wooden cage and paid homage to the sage king. The sage king at once dispatched the minister in charge of the treasury to go to the woman and announce: “Sister, you possess past merit that corresponds to the marks of royalty. The sage king now wishes to take you, sister, as his woman-treasure.” The old woman addressed him: “My person is lowly and base, just like filth. The sage king condescends to regard me, which brings immeasurable joy and celebration. How could I be worthy of being the woman-treasure? If he has pity on me, let him command my master to release me and set me free; that would already be a great gift.” At that time, the sage king addressed Sudatta, saying: “The elderly woman of your household possesses majestic features; I now wish to have her serve as the woman-treasure.” Sudatta replied: “I obey only your command; I wish to offer her to the Great King.” When the old servant heard she was freed, her delight was extraordinary. The sage king then illuminated the woman’s face with the wish-fulfilling jewel, causing her to see herself as the woman-treasure. Her joy was doubled, and she said: “Those śramaṇas talk loftily and speak grandly, claiming to possess the path, yet there is not a single proof! The sage king has appeared in the world with manifold benefits; he has made an old and decrepit woman like me into the woman-treasure!” Having spoken thus, she threw her five limbs to the ground and bowed to the sage king. Then the minister of the treasury proclaimed the king’s gracious decree and unfolded the teachings of the ten wholesome deeds. When the woman heard the ten wholesome deeds, her heart was overjoyed, and she said: “What the sage king has spoken contains nothing that is not good.” She bowed to the king, repented, and blamed herself. Once her mind was tamed, Rāhula resumed his original form. The old woman lifted her head and saw the one thousand two hundred and fifty bhikṣus. She immediately said: “The Buddha’s Dharma is pure; he does not abandon sentient beings. Even someone decrepit and vile like me was still converted and delivered!” Having spoken thus, she sought to receive the five precepts. Rāhula then explained the three refuges and conferred the five precepts on her. Upon hearing this teaching, before she had even raised her head, she became a srotāpanna. Then Rāhula led this old woman to the Jeta Grove. Having arrived, she saw the Buddha, and with joyful, joined palms bowed in repentance, begging the Buddha to let her renounce the world. The Buddha told Rāhula: “Take this woman to Gautamī.” While on the way, Rāhula explained to her the teachings on suffering, emptiness, impermanence, non-self, and the like. Upon hearing them, the old woman’s hair fell out on its own, and she became a bhikṣuṇī, equipped with the three knowledges, the six supernormal powers, and the eight liberations. King Prasenajit and Queen Mallikā rejoiced greatly and said: “Bhagavat, what past sin did this old woman have, and what auspicious merit, that she could attain the path of an arhat?” The Buddha told the Great King: “In a kalpa long ago, there was a Buddha, a Bhagavat named Jewel-Canopy Lamp King. After that Buddha’s demise, during the semblance Dharma, there was a king named Variegated Jewel Flower Light. That king had a son named Kṣemadarśin, who sought to renounce household life, and his father granted permission. The prince went to the monastery seeking to renounce household life. At that time, there was a bhikṣu, intelligent and of great wisdom, who deeply understood the true nature of reality; he accepted him as his disciple. There was also a bhikṣu named Virtue Flower Light, skilled in expounding the essentials of the Dharma to attract and advance beginners. Although the prince bhikṣu had renounced household life, he still harbored arrogance. His preceptor explained to him the profound, wondrous Dharma of the Prajñāpāramitā and the meaning of great emptiness. When the prince heard it, he misunderstood it and explained it perversely. After the bhikṣu passed away, the prince said: ‘My great preceptor was completely devoid of wisdom; he could only praise illusory, empty matters. May I never wish to see him in future lives! May my ācārya, who has wisdom and eloquence, be my virtuous friend in life after life!’ Having spoken thus, the prince bhikṣu declared the Dharma to be non-Dharma and non-Dharma to be Dharma, teaching all his followers to practice wrong views. Although he observed the prohibitive precepts and his deportment was flawless, because of his mistaken understanding, upon the end of his life he fell into the Avīci hell as swiftly as an arrow flies, constantly enduring great torment for eighty hundred million kalpas. When he emerged, he became a poor and lowly person, deaf, foolish, and sightless, serving as a slave to others. The preceptor of that time was none other than myself; the ācārya was Rāhula; and the prince bhikṣu was this old woman. (Extracted from fascicle 6 of the Guanfo sanmei jing.)”

23.23

10. The Mother of Vāsiṣṭha Grew Mad upon the Death of Her Children, but Heard the Dharma and Attained the Path

23.24

There was a brāhmaṇa named Vāsiṣṭha whose mother had six sons. They died one after another; thinking of her children, she went mad, running along the road naked and with disheveled hair. Seeing the Bhagavat from afar, she regained her original sanity, felt ashamed and disgraced, and tucked her body down into a squat. The Buddha told Ānanda: “Take your uttarāsaṅga and give it to her to wear so she may listen to the Dharma.” Ānanda gave her the robe to wear, and she went before the Buddha, prostrated, and paid homage. The Buddha taught her the Dharma, instructing, encouraging, and delighting her. She received the three refuges, became an upāsikā, and departed rejoicing. Later, when her seventh son passed away, she did not weep at all. At that time, her husband asked her in verse:

23.25

“When your other sons died before, / your grief and distress were stirred;
day and night you took no food, / even falling into raving madness.
Now you have lost your seventh son, / yet you alone feel no grief?”

23.26

The wife said:

23.27

“Children and grandchildren are without number, / born from the union of causes and conditions.
Through the long night they pass away; / so it is with me and with you.
In the places where they are born, / they devour one another in turn.
If one understands the reality of birth, / why should it be cause for grief?
I have already recognized transcendence; / therefore I am distressed no more.”

23.28

The husband said:

23.29

“Such Dharma I have never heard before, / yet now I hear you speak it.
Where did you hear the correct Dharma, / so that you grieve not for your son?”

23.30

The wife said:

23.31

“Today the Samyaksambuddha / has forever departed all suffering,
proclaiming suffering, origin, cessation, and path, / serenely heading toward nirvāṇa.
I have already come to know the true Dharma, / which can resolve grief for a child.”

23.32

The husband said:

23.33

“I too shall go now / to the Mithilā Mango Grove,
and from that Bhagavat / seek relief from the pain of grieving my child.”

23.34

The wife said:

23.35

“You should gaze upon the Samyaksambuddha, / whose golden body is soft and gentle,
who can tame those who are untamed, / broadly delivering all people.”

23.36

The husband went to see the Buddha, and the Buddha spoke a verse, saying:

23.37

“Suffering, origin, cessation, and the path, / directly tend toward nirvāṇa.
Seeing the Dharma right there, / one accomplishes the peerless [state].”

23.38

Hearing the Dharma, his mind was awakened; he renounced household life under the Buddha, and meditating in solitude, became an arhat. His wife and daughter, Sundarī, also both renounced household life and reached the end of suffering. (Extracted from fascicle 34 of the Saṃyuktāgama.)

23.39

11. A Destitute Mother and Daughter Were Taken into the King's Household, Renounced Household Life, and Realized the Path

23.40

In the city of Śrāvastī, there was a solitary and poor widowed mother who had an only daughter. She was just seventeen years old, with an upright and digniﬁed countenance, but her clothes could not cover her body. Her mother begged for food to sustain them. The daughter was chaste, virtuous, intelligent, and perceptive; she read the scriptures extensively and maintained her integrity, never leaving her doors. Living near the royal highway, her heart wished to marry a king, and she also wished to serve the deities as one does the Buddha. The king went out to travel through his realm. He saw a crow cawing above the poor girl’s gate. The king then drew his bow and shot the crow. Carrying the king’s arrow, the crow flew into the girl’s house. The king’s attendants pursued the crow into the dwelling. The girl did not show her face, but merely pulled out the arrow, released the crow, and, taking the arrow, threw it outside. When the king’s men saw her fingers, they knew she was no ordinary person. A year later, the king’s primary consort passed away. He sought a wife to be consort, but none had the corresponding bodily marks. Inquiring widely among the people, his attendants reported: ‘Earlier, the daughter of the destitute and solitary mother whose house we chased the crow to was sixteen or seventeen. Although we did not see her face, looking at her hands and hearing her voice, she seemed to be a noble person.’ The king then went to look, summoning her to come along with him. He sent a physiognomist to divine her fortune, and the messenger went directly inside her gate. The girl’s mother was not present, and only the girl stayed there alone. The messenger called for the girl to come out, calling three times without reply. The messenger said: ‘Girl of a poor family, come out!’ The girl replied: ‘Talented or untalented, each belongs to their own family. Who are you to intrude upon my house? Get out the door immediately!’ The messenger said: ‘The king has sent me to summon you. You, a child of a lowly household, how dare you act like this?’ The girl said: ‘On what matter has the king sent you here? If he seeks me to be a maidservant, my family has not violated the king’s law. If he seeks me to be his wife, then you all are my servants! How dare you treat a poor gate lightly, relying on authority to intrude and intimidate a woman? Although a woman is lowly, she has her own past karma and will not yield to intimidation. Report this to the king!’ The messenger dared to reply, and fully reported it to the king. The king then ordered the hundred officials to prepare the carriages and fully arrange the ceremonial etiquette, and went to welcome her accompanied by five hundred palace ladies. The envoys carried offerings of respect: oxen, sheep, pigs, wine, and foods of betrothal. The envoys rode in carriages with black canopies, drawn by five horses, to receive the maiden. In the vanguard were a hundred thousand elite soldiers, followed by a thousand carriages, ten thousand fine horses, and an escort of one hundred and twenty thousand men. Bells were struck and drums beaten, the sound shaking heaven and earth. Innumerable onlookers gathered, arriving at the girl’s gate. The envoys got down from the carriages and came forward to present their respects. The maiden respectfully gave an order, saying: ‘I thank the envoys, all the officials, clerks, and people for your trouble on the road, great and small. You have not cast aside this impoverished and lowly maiden, troubling the officers and attendants to come from afar, and humbling the king’s weighty mandate. Because I am poor and lowly, it is only through past merit that I am mistakenly brought to the king’s palace steps. Estimating myself, I am ugly: in virtue, I have no feminine deportment; in appearance, I lack the color of peach blossoms or the udumbara; in voice, I lack the pleasing sound of strings and pipes; in wisdom, I have not the illumination of holy and great persons; in perception, I have not the foresight across ten thousand li of the sages; in body, I lack the radiant luster of purple gold; in breath, I have not the fragrance of sandalwood and musk; in speech, I lack the beauty of loyalty, harmony, benevolence, and goodness; in conduct, I have not the proper rhythm of advancing, retreating, rising, or descending. Unworthily burdened with the king’s command, I have troubled the onlookers in vain.’ The envoys and the hundred officials held their breath in admiration. She spoke to the palace ladies: ‘Your merit is thin, which has cast you down into this lowly servitude. From now on, as we work together, you should each rectify your hearts, cultivate goodness in your conduct, and do not violate royal etiquette.’ The five hundred palace ladies all answered in assent. She also called the two thousand five hundred maidservants and said to them: ‘Among human beings there is no noble or base; those who possess the Way are honored. You are all children of good families; throughout past and present, changing circumstances have placed you in lowliness. Do not demean yourselves; you must strive to do good.’ They all said: ‘We obey your instructions.’ The hundred officials presented the royal gifts: one thousand cakes of yellow gold, two thousand cakes of white silver, auspicious flower-garlands, crystal and lapis lazuli, bright moon spirit-pearls, coral and amber, one thousand bolts of white silk, one thousand bolts of royal fine silk, and clothing of patterned satin, floss silk, gossamer, vermilion embroidery, purple and green, plain white, yellow, red, and fine silk gauze, along with various perfumes of sandalwood, a thousand bolts in all. The hundred officials presented a hundred garments of the consort’s attire and ornaments. The maiden then accepted them, and when her adornment was complete, she came out and bowed to those of high rank. When the hundred officials saw her, none were not delighted; they all hailed her with ‘Ten thousand years!’ and said, ‘The realm will surely have great peace, having gained the mother of our hundred surnames and myriad subjects!’ The palace ladies and maidservants drew near to her like children finding their mother. Gathering her robes, she mounted the carriage; the carriage was stable, the horses were well tamed, and the sky turned clear and bright. White elephants gathered like clouds, calling to one another. The hundred officials, ministers, and commoners all said: ‘A heavenly being has descended; the realm will surely be protected and peaceful.’ When they reached the palace gate, it opened naturally. The five hundred attendants entered the palace and descended from the carriages. Within the palace, five-colored light arose spontaneously, shining brightly upon the hall and illuminating inside and outside. Entering the hall, she bowed to the king. When the king saw her, he was startled and awestruck, not knowing what to do; he stepped down from his seat to respond to her. The primary consort paid homage to the king, performing a hundred prostrations as fluid as flowing water; kneeling and rising on her own, she stopped only after a hundred bows. The king knelt upright to respond to her. She issued orders in the palace to be gentle, benevolent, and kind, and not to hurt the feelings of others. The king loved and respected her. She spoke slowly and sparsely, and her words always conformed to what was right. Inside and outside, all respected and submitted to her. After entering the palace, for seven days and seven nights she did not sleep, making merry together with the other consorts and palace ladies. The king wished to see her, but the consort’s intention was chaste and her mind pure, not abiding in defilement. Her original intention was pure, so she did not speak with the king, nor did she meet with him. The king said: ‘The duty of a household and the role of husband and wife is based on affection and intimacy. The consort has entered the palace for seven days and seven nights, yet we do not meet. What is her intention? Does she consider this proper?’ The consort sent a palace lady to reply to the king, saying: ‘From my birth, I had two wishes. Now I have obtained one, but have not yet obtained the other. Therefore we have not met.’ The king said: ‘What have you obtained, and what have you not obtained?’ The consort replied: ‘In my youth, I made a vow: may my husband be like a king, and may I serve the deities as I do the Buddha.’ The king said: ‘You may meet me once, and afterwards I will go and invite the Buddha for you.’ The consort said: ‘No. If I have not yet seen the Buddha, I will never meet with the king.’ The king was furious and said: ‘You were originally of a lowly and beggarly sort; how dare you defy the will of a lord of ten thousand chariots?’ The consort said: ‘A woman’s life is bound to her husband; wherever he directs, she obeys his command. But I have a past vow that must not be broken. Though a ruler is honored, he cannot unjustly interrogate an innocent person.’ The king said: ‘I am the master of ten thousand chariots. Those who offend are executed immediately; how could I ask whether it is unjust or straight?’ The consort said: ‘A ruler is the father and mother of the people; executions must follow principle. How can you indulge your own joy and anger? Even an ordinary man would not do this, how much less a king!’ The king said: ‘Those who follow my heart are pardoned; those who do not are executed.’ The consort said: ‘A woman also has her modest heart. Only if her heart is granted will we meet. If her heart is not granted, we will never meet.’ The king said: ‘How can we invite him?’ The consort said: ‘The Buddha is in our realm; if you invite him, he will certainly come.’ The king said: ‘I fear the hundred officials will laugh at me.’ The consort said: ‘If the king invites the Buddha into the palace and up to the hall, the hundred officials will naturally rejoice; receiving blessings in lifetime after lifetime, they will not laugh at the king.’ The king said: ‘Very good!’ That very day, he ordered the kitchen to prepare food for a hundred thousand people. He sent a maidservant to inform the consort: ‘The food for a hundred thousand people to invite the Buddha has been prepared. You may go and invite the Buddha.’ The consort said: ‘A woman must follow commands. In the propriety of inviting the Buddha, the great king should condescend to ride your chariots, go briefly to meet the Buddha, and pay deep respect to him.’ The king said: ‘If I invite, I go myself; if you invite, you go yourself. I will not go.’ The consort said: ‘A ruler is noble and is my husband; a woman’s strength is not equal to a king’s slight word. If the king condescends to show his authority and go briefly to meet the Buddha, all will be well; if not, I am not the great king’s family. We do not yet have the relationship of husband and wife in a household, and remain strangers.’ The king said: ‘Since the marriage is not yet completed, there is no duty between us; it is up to your intention.’ The consort remained silent without speaking, her radiant brilliance shining, her countenance extraordinary. The king suspected the consort might want to commit suicide or escape. He ordered the inner and outer guards and patrolmen to set up guards, soldiers, and officers to shut the palace gates. They stood shoulder to shoulder in continuous ranks so that even flying birds could not pass. The palace ladies inside stood side by side in succession so that not even a needle could fall. The consort knew the king did not intend to invite the Buddha and did not trust her. Then, upon the hall, the consort transformed and vanished; her body was nowhere to be seen. A thousand palace ladies and seventy-one consorts were all startled, looking at one another, scattering to search for her; spreading out through the interior and exterior, she was nowhere to be seen. The king was greatly ashamed and terrified, rising with tears in his eyes. The king said: ‘What shall I do? What shall I do? It was caused by my obstinacy; I regret it deeply. By what means can I make her return?’ The second consort said to the king: ‘The primary consort is not an ordinary person like us. The king should have complied with her wishes, but instead abruptly rejected her and treated her with unpredictable anger and harsh words. She is a heavenly being! If the king causes the primary consort to leave, upon what will the seventy-one of us rely?’ The palace ladies and maidservants all wept as if someone had died. The ministers and people, men and women, were also grieved and lamenting: ‘Now in our realm, whom can we rely upon?’ The birds shrieked, and heaven and earth shook violently. Moved with remorse, the king wished to die; looking up to heaven, he sighed deeply, his tears falling like rain. The people did not pursue their livelihoods; the marketplaces were desolate and abandoned. In groups of tens and fifteens, they wandered around in sorrow. For seven days and seven nights, the king lay down, fasting and eating no grain. The second consort said: ‘For now, you should go briefly to meet the Buddha and invite him to come along.’ The king went to the Buddha’s place, bowed his head to the ground in reverence, and said to the Buddha: ‘I am Agadaru, king of the state of Agirāneya.’ Repeating this three times, he quickly paid his respects, saying: ‘I am continuously occupied with state affairs and have no leisure from morning to evening.’ The Buddha said: ‘State affairs are troublesome and fraught with many entanglements, truly taxing the spirit. Are the officers, people, and borders peaceful or not?’ The king said: ‘All receive the Buddha’s grace. I only wish you would condescend to come briefly to my humble dwelling.’ The Buddha remained silent. In a short while, the Buddha arrived at the hall. The primary consort, along with the other consorts and palace ladies, three thousand five hundred and seventy-one people in all, paid homage to the Buddha together. At first, the king did not see the consort, nor did the palace ladies see her; only the Buddha himself saw her. After the king finished paying homage to the Buddha, he was sorrowful and unhappy. The Buddha said to the king: ‘The primary consort you seek is precisely this person.’ When the king saw her, he rejoiced; the hundred officials, consorts, palace ladies, great and small, were also overjoyed. The king served food and drink. When the meal was finished, the Buddha made a great pronouncement of blessings, so that each obtained the desire of their heart. The king said to the Buddha: ‘My primary consort was originally the daughter of a poor, lowly, and solitary mother. Now she is the primary consort, and moreover she is able to make her body vanish and perform such magical transformations. What sins and blessings brought about this? She is honored above all but one, and has become the mother of the people. Her benevolence, virtue, wisdom, and kindness are such that her words are gentle and do not wound others’ feelings. She hid her form for seven days, and humans, ghosts, spirits, and nāgas did not know where she was.’ The Buddha told him: ‘In the past, the primary consort was a great gṛhapati, possessing countless wealth, but was stingy and did not give; therefore, in this life she was poor. The gṛhapati was by nature lustful and delighted in consorting with women; therefore, in this life she fell into being a woman. Furthermore, she loved to associate with Daoists who understood the scriptures and studied with them; therefore, she possessed wisdom. She had already seen five hundred Buddhas, and now has met me. In the past, she was a good friend to the king, and therefore they became husband and wife. In past lives, the primary consort served five hundred Buddhas, but she did not maintain her mind firmly and troubled the people of the world; therefore, she fell into being a woman. Thirty-nine kalpas from now, the primary consort will attain Buddhahood. The king will also be born seven times in heaven and seven times in the human world. When the king is born in heaven, the primary consort will be a heavenly maiden, serving at the king’s side, always suiting the king’s wishes. The king made a vow with the primary consort to die together, to follow each other life after life, and together to attain liberation. Because the king was arrogant and luxurious, indulging his joy and anger, she did not appear to him again.’ The king rejoiced greatly, and immediately attained the stage of non-retrogression. The Buddha then conferred the five precepts upon the king. The consorts, palace ladies, great and small, ministers, the hundred officials, and all the people of the state received the five precepts. The primary consort had previously received the ten precepts, observing the three yearly fasts and the six monthly fasts. Together with the three thousand five hundred and seventy-one palace ladies of the inner palace, she led them in practicing goodness. The king’s righteous rule was broad and generous, bringing great peace to the realm. He built stūpas and monasteries, all made with the seven treasures; they mutually respected each other, and inside and outside there was no thought of separation. When the people died, all lived out their full lifespans. The king’s primary consort awakened her mind to contemplate the impermanence of the world, realizing that people day and night indulge in lust, affectionate love, ignorance, and impurity, having no virtuous reputation in life and becoming impure ghosts in death. She then sighed deeply, changed her clothing, disheveled her appearance, and tangled her hair. She came forward and said to the king: ‘All things under heaven are impermanent and will inevitably end in death. The reason the king desires me is because I am young, my complexion and skin are smooth and radiant, and my breath is fragrant and pure. All these are transient and will inevitably end in death. In the union of husband and wife, there is hardly anything extraordinary; all of it is impure. With affection, there will be old age and sickness; when they arrive without warning, who will avert them for me? I am now terrified that disaster and harm will arrive suddenly and cannot be escaped. All people, noble and lowly, because of this single matter, will all swell up, stink, and become impure. What benefit is there in cherishing it in vain? The king should reflect for himself: what is extraordinary about the union of man and woman? What I speak is the true reality, not irrelevant to the matter.’ The king said: ‘You are of heavenly stock; what you say is not false. You have grasped the essence of things, and none of it is improper. The men, women, great and small of the realm all rely on you; please reconsider and remain with us.’ The primary consort said: ‘I am a woman and cannot control myself, which is why I report this to the king. The great king may dispatch me to fulfill the original vow of my past karma.’ The king said: ‘I am approaching old age. Although there are other consorts, palace ladies, and young ones, not one suits my mind. You should accompany me through my remaining years; after my death, I will entrust future affairs to you. The crown prince is still young; how could you abandon us and go? Where would you go?’ The consort said: ‘I find birth and death impermanent and detest these transformations. I wish to seek ordination from the Buddha as a śramaṇa.’ The king said: ‘You are the mother of a realm and the supreme consort. The consorts of other states, the palace ladies of the inner palace, great and small, all depend on you. How could you suddenly plan this? If gentlemen far and near hear of it, will they not laugh at us? Being a śramaṇa like that is not what a noble consort of your kind aspires to do; you should reconsider.’ The consort said: ‘All Buddhas of the ten directions have come from among śramaṇas. King Pukkusāti abandoned ninety-nine minor kingdoms, consorts, and eight or nine thousand palace ladies to seek to become a śramaṇa. Throughout past and present, there have been many men and women who sought to become śramaṇas; it is not I alone as a woman. Out of affection, the king covets my youthful beauty and cherishes my body. Yet my body is completely filled with pus, blood, and foul impurities. A woman is difficult to associate with; whenever anyone consorts with a woman, none fail to fall into sin. A woman’s body is hotter than boiling water and fire; it burns people and causes them to fall into grave sins, unable to escape for a thousand kalpas. In my past life, I was also a man, but solely because I consorted with women and had abundant affection, I lost manhood and became a woman. A woman is fearsome, yet the king does not realize it.’

First 40 of 49 passages. Read on

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經律異相 — Classical Chinese