經律異相 26.16

26.16

Formerly, in the country of Motianluo, there was a king named Rinanguo. His learning penetrated divine illumination, and there was nothing obscure he did not perceive. Realising the impermanence of the world, he said: “My body will decay and become the world’s dung and loam; what kingdom can be preserved?” Abandoning glory and discarding pleasure, he put on the supreme robe of the Dharma. Taking a single bowl of food as sufficiency, he received the precepts of a śramaṇa and dwelt in the mountain forests, accumulating thirty years there. Beside a tree there was a pit thirty fathoms deep. At that time, a hunter galloped after a deer and fell into the pit. There were also a crow and a snake that fell in alarm at the same time, their bodies all injured. Looking up to heaven, they cried out in sorrow with the sounds of utter helplessness. The practitioner felt sorrowful and illuminated them with a torch; tears streamed down his neck. Approaching the pit, he announced: “Do not grieve; I shall pull you out.” He then lowered a long rope; taking hold of it or biting it, they were thus completely saved. At once they thanked him, saying: “Receiving the practitioner's boundless benevolence and kindness, we have been able to see the light of day. We wish for the rest of our lives to supply whatever you lack.” The practitioner said: “I was once a king; my kingdom was vast, its people numerous, and its palace treasures and court ladies were supreme among all nations. Whatever I wished was answered immediately; what request was not attained? But I regarded the kingdom as an enemy and the six sense-objects as six swords constantly cutting down my body, and six arrows shooting at my form. Because of these six evils, one passes through the three evil destinies, cruel and unbearable; I loathed them greatly. Therefore I abandoned my kingdom to become a śramaṇa, wishing to attain the Buddha path and transform all living beings to return to their original source. How could it be merely for the three lives of you all? Return each to your former dwellings, see your kin, and cause them to take the three refuges, not defying the Buddha's teachings.” The hunter said: “I have lived in the world for years and have often seen good people, but none like the Buddha's disciples, who consider others to rescue the multitude and hide away without making a name for themselves. If the practitioner ever lacks anything, please come to my house to beg for a modest offering.” The crow said: “My name is Bo. If the practitioner is in difficulty, please call my name; I will race to you.” The snake said: “My name is Chang. If the practitioner is in distress, please call my name; I will surely come to repay your kindness.” Having taken their leave, they each withdrew. On another day, the practitioner went to the hunter's house. Seeing him from afar, the hunter said to his wife: “That inauspicious person is coming. I instruct you: prepare the food slowly. He does not eat past midday.” When the wife saw the practitioner, she assumed an expression of deference, deceitfully detaining him by setting out food and engaging in vain conversation until midday had passed. The practitioner withdrew and returned to the mountain. Seeing the crow, he called its name, saying: “Bo.” The crow asked: “Where do you come from?” He replied: “I have come from the hunter’s place.” The crow said: “Have you already eaten?” He said: “His preparation was not yet ready, and the sun had already passed midday, so without waiting, I withdrew.” The crow said: “An ominous creature is hard to rescue with compassion; he is a treacherous man who violates benevolence and turns his back on kindness. I have no food and drink to offer you; please keep your mind at ease and sit. In a moment I will fly to the country of Pañca.” Seeing that among the headdress ornaments of the king's sleeping queen there was a luminous pearl, the crow took it in its beak, returned, and offered it to the practitioner. When the queen awoke, she searched for it in vain, and immediately reported it to the king. The king decreed to his officials and people: “Whoever finds it will be rewarded with a thousand catties each of gold and silver, and a thousand head each of oxen and horses. Anyone who finds it and does not present it to the court shall be punished with the extermination of his clan.” The practitioner gave it to the hunter. The hunter bound and tortured him, reporting to the king: “Where did you obtain this?” The practitioner reflected deeply: “If I speak of its master, surely every crow in the kingdom will die; this is not the way of a disciple of the Buddha.” Silently, he endured interrogation and beatings with rods numbering in the thousands. From the beginning, he bore no resentment toward the king, nor did he harbor enmity toward the hunter. He made a vow of compassion: “May I attain buddhahood and deliver the multitude of sufferers!” The king buried the practitioner with only his head exposed, intending to execute him the next day. The practitioner then called the snake, saying: “Chang.” The snake said: “In all the world, no one knows my name except the practitioner. Calling out my name aloud must have a reason.” Hurrying forth, it saw the practitioner and asked: “How did this come about?” The practitioner then related the reason for it. Weeping tears, the snake said: “The practitioner is benevolent and kind, yet between heaven and earth he still meets with calamity. How much more so for the unprincipled—who will protect them? I will enter the palace and bite the crown prince to death.” The snake gave divine medicine to the practitioner, which cured him as soon as it was applied. At night, the snake entered the palace and bit the crown prince, who immediately expired. Keeping the corpse for three days, the king decreed: “If anyone can revive the crown prince, I will divide the kingdom to rule with him.” They carried the prince through the mountains and passed by the practitioner. The practitioner said: “I can revive him.” Hearing this, the king was overjoyed. The practitioner applied the medicine to the crown prince's body. Suddenly the prince spoke, saying: “Why am I here?” His attendants explained the reason in full. The crown prince returned to the palace; great and small danced with joy, and the king offered to divide the kingdom to reward him. The practitioner accepted nothing at all. The king realised, saying: “If he will not accept a division of the kingdom, how could he have stolen?” He asked how the pearl had been obtained, and why, being of such noble conduct, he had suddenly suffered this distress. The practitioner set forth the matter from beginning to end. Tears streamed down the king’s face. He said to the hunter: “You have performed a service for the kingdom; summon all of your nine generations of relatives, for I wish to bestow a great reward upon them.” The relatives, young and old, all came to the palace gate. The king said: “Violating benevolence and turning his back on kindness, he is the ringleader of evil!” and had them all put to death. The practitioner entered the mountain to learn the path, energetic without wearying, and at the end of his life was reborn in heaven. The practitioner of that time was myself; the crow was Śāriputra; the snake was Ānanda; the hunter was Devadatta; and the wife was the woman who carried the bowl (from the Sūtra of the King of the Country of Mo).