經律異相 31

English (machine translation) 31

Language: English

31.21 — 5 parts

31.1

Compiled by the Liang śramaṇas Sengmin, Baochang, and others

1. The Crown Prince of Gandhāra Casts His Body to a Starving Tigress and a Stūpa is Raised over His Remaining Bones
2. Dharmarakṣa Burns His Body for the Dharma and the Fire Pit Turns into a Lotus Pond
3. Kṣānti Sacrifices His Body for His Father
4. Zhizhi Gives His Flesh and Blood to a Sick Monk
5. Candrāloka Cuts Open His Body to Produce Blood and Marrow to Save a Sick Man
6. Kṣāntivādin Slices His Flesh to Sustain His Parents' Lives
7. Sudāna, Delighting in Giving, is Reproached and Exiled to the Mountains for Giving a White Elephant to Others
8. Jīvaka, Born of Āmrapālī, Relinquishes the Country to Become a Physician

31.3

1. The Crown Prince of Gandhāra Casts His Body to a Starving Tigress and a Stūpa is Raised over His Remaining Bones

31.4

The crown prince of the kingdom of Gandhāra did not care for worldly glory and retreated to dwell secluded among the mountains and marshes. At that time, in the bottom of a deep ravine, there was a starving tigress. Having newly given birth to seven cubs, she was met with falling snow. The mother tigress had cradled her cubs for three days without being able to seek food. Fearing her cubs would freeze to death, she guarded her cubs while starving as the snow fell ceaselessly. Mother and cubs were exhausted by hunger, and their lives would not last long. Pressed by hunger, the mother was about to devour her cubs. Then the ṛṣis said: "Who can sacrifice their body to save these creatures?" The crown prince said: "Excellent! My vow is now fulfilled!" Going to the edge of the cliff, he looked down and saw the mother tigress cradling her cubs, covered by snow, and great compassion arose within him. Standing upon the mountain peak, he entered stillness in samādhi. Thereupon he attained the pure forbearance of the non-arising of dharmas (anutpattikadharmakṣānti). He beheld the events of countless kalpas in the past, and likewise those of the future. He then returned and addressed his master and five hundred fellow students: "I shall now sacrifice my body; may each of you rejoice accordingly." The master said: "You have studied the Way for only a short time, and your knowledge and insight are not yet vast. Why have you suddenly resolved of yourself to sacrifice your cherished body?" The crown prince replied: "In the past I made a vow that I must sacrifice one thousand bodies. Previously I have already sacrificed nine hundred and ninety-nine bodies. The sacrifice today will complete the full thousand bodies; this is why I sacrifice it. May you, master, rejoice accordingly." The master said: "Your noble aspiration is sublime; you will surely attain the Way first. Do not forget me!" The crown prince took leave of his master and departed. His master and the five hundred divine ṛṣis, their eyes filled with weeping tears, escorted the crown prince to the edge of the mountain cliff. At that time, the elder Fulan was leading a retinue of five hundred men and women carrying offerings up the mountain. Seeing the crown prince sacrifice his body, he wept with grief and also followed the crown prince to the edge of the mountain cliff. Before the assembly, the crown prince made a great vow: "I now sacrifice my body to save the lives of living beings. May all the resulting merit enable me swiftly to achieve bodhi, to obtain a vajra body, and the unconditioned Dharmakāya of permanence, bliss, self, and purity. May those who have not crossed over be crossed over; may those who are not liberated be liberated; may those who are not at ease be set at ease. Now, this body of mine is impermanent, miserable, and afflicted, a gathering of all poisons. This body is impure, with its nine apertures flowing over, bitten and stung by the four great poisonous snakes, pursued, wounded, and cut by the five bandits with drawn swords. Such a body has no gratitude; though provisioned with delicacies, delicious tastes, and the pleasures of the five desires, after this body's life ends, there is no wholesome repayment of kindness, and it falls into hell to suffer immeasurable pain. The body of a mortal should only be subjected to suffering and not be granted pleasure." He made another vow, saying: "Now, with my flesh and blood, I shall save that starving tigress. As for the remaining relics of my bones, my father and mother in later times will surely erect a stūpa for them. May all sentient beings whose bodies suffer from various illnesses and the causal conditions of past sins, whom decoctions, medicines, acupuncture, and moxibustion cannot cure, come to the place of my stūpa and make offerings with a sincere mind; according to whether their illness is mild or severe, within no more than one hundred days they shall surely be cured. If this is true and not false, may the devas rain down fragrant flowers!" In response to his words, māndārava flowers rained down and the earth all shook. The crown prince then untied his deer-skin garment to wrap his head, and threw himself down before the tigress. The mother tigress obtained the bodhisattva's flesh to eat, and both mother and cubs survived. At that time, the people atop the cliff looked down and saw the crown prince being devoured by the tigress, his bones and flesh strewn about in disorder. Weeping and wailing loudly, their cries shook the mountain. Some beat their breasts and threw themselves down, writhing upon the ground; some engaged in dhyāna contemplation; some kowtowed in repentance. The devas of the Śuddhāvāsa, Śakra Devānām Indra, the Four Heavenly Kings, and the sun and moon devas, tens of millions in number, all gave rise to the mind of unexcelled bodhi. They played music, burned incense, and scattered flowers to make offerings to the crown prince, calling out these words: "Excellent, Mahāsattva! From this point on, you shall before long sit in the bodhimaṇḍa." The five hundred ṛṣis all gave rise to the intention for the unexcelled, true, and correct Way. The great master of the divine ṛṣis attained the forbearance of non-arising. The queen sent provisions, but only saw the garments, parasols, bowls, staff, bottles, and jars in the stone chamber. Inquiring everywhere of the ṛṣis, they were weeping to one another in groups of ten and fifteen. Going to the great master's quarters, she saw only the ṛṣi master with hand propping up his cheek, eyes filled with weeping tears, sitting and groaning. Inquiring all around, none was willing to answer. The messenger was terrified, and immediately gave the food and drink as an offering to the ṛṣis, and ran back to the queen to recount the above matter in full. The queen said: "Disaster! My son is dead!" Beating her breast and crying out loudly, she ran to the king. When the king heard this, he swooned in confusion. The ministers remonstrated with the king: "The crown prince is in the mountains; may the Great King rest a little."

31.5

The king, the queen, the consorts, the palace ladies, the ministers, and the officials and commoners ran up the mountain. The elder Fulan came forward to inform the king: "Yesterday, the crown prince threw himself down beneath the cliff to feed the tigress with his flesh. Now only his bones remain, strewn upon the ground." Together they went to the site of the corpse. The king, the queen, the consorts, the palace ladies, the ministers, the officials, and the commoners raised their voices in sorrowful wailing that shook the mountain valleys. The king and the queen fell upon their son's corpse, their hearts broken, swooning and insensible to others. The consort came forward, supported his head, smoothed the crown prince's hair, and said: "I would rather my own body be smashed like fine dust than have my husband suddenly end up like this!" Then the ministers addressed the king: "The crown prince gave of himself in generosity and vowed to deliver living beings; he was not snatched away by the ghost of impermanent death. Before [his corpse] rots and stinks, it is fitting to prepare offerings." They then collected the bones and took them out of the mouth of the mountain valley. On a level piece of ground, they heaped up sandalwood firewood, fragrant ghee, and oil, and used them to cremate (jhāpeti) him. They collected the relics and erected a stūpa of seven treasures. The crown prince of that time was my own person. The father king was my present father, Śuddhodana. The queen was my mother, Māyā. The consort was the present Gopī. The one who performed the cremation was Ānanda. The great master of the divine ṛṣis on the mountain was Maitreya. (From the Sūtra on the Bodhisattva Sacrificing His Body to Feed the Starving Tigress)

31.6

2. Dharmakāma Burning His Body for the Dharma, and the Fire Pit Turning into a Lotus Pool

31.7

Formerly, in Jambudvīpa, there was a king named Brahmadeva. The king had a crown prince named Dharmakāma, who took deep delight in the true Dharma. Śakra transformed himself into a brāhmaṇa and said: "I can expound the Dharma." The crown prince touched his feet in reverence and requested to hear it. The brāhmaṇa said: "I have studied for a long time; how could you wish to hear it just directly? If you can begrudge neither your life nor your wife and children, and enter a great pit of fire to make an offering to me, only then will I impart the Dharma." The crown prince acted completely according to his words and made a great fire pit. The king, the queen, and the palace ladies went to the palace and reasoned with the brāhmaṇa, begging to offer the kingdom, the city, and his wife and children to serve him as servants, so that the crown prince would not have to throw himself into this fire. The brāhmaṇa said: "I do not compel him; it is according to his own will. But if it is like this, I will not preach for him." The king proclaimed to the country that seven days hence the crown prince would burn his body, and that if anyone wished to witness it, they should come early on that day. The noble and the base of the entire kingdom gathered all at once, begging for mercy and firmly entreating as before. The crown prince said to the crowd: "In the long course of birth and death, I have lost my body countless times. Among humans, out of greed, beings chop and kill one another. In heaven, when lifespan is exhausted, the loss of desires brings grief and suffering. In the hells, being burned and boiled, stripped with knives and dismembered, the River of Ashes and the Sword-Leaf Trees pierce pain straight through to the heart and marrow. Among hungry ghosts, hundreds of poisons bore into the body. In the retribution of animals, their bodies serve as food for the mouths of many, or carry heavy loads while eating grass. Bearing these various sufferings, I have lived and died in vain, never once with a wholesome mind for the sake of the Dharma. Now I discard this foul and defiled form to seek what is pure and supreme. Why do you wish to hinder me? When I attain the Buddha Path, I will bestow upon you the fivefold Dharmakāya." The crown prince then stood above the fire pit. The brāhmaṇa said:

31.8

"Constantly practice with a mind of loving-kindness, / Eliminating thoughts of anger and harm; / With great compassion pity sentient beings, / Grieving for them with raining tears; / Cultivate a mind of great sympathetic joy, / Equal to the Dharma one has oneself attained; / Protect them with the aspiration for the Way— / Only then does one accord with the bodhisattva practice."

31.9

Having heard this, the crown prince was about to throw himself into the fire. At that time, Śakra and King Brahmā each took hold of one of his hands and reproached him, saying: "All kinds of living beings in Jambudvīpa rely on the kindness of the crown prince, none failing to find their proper place. If you now throw yourself into the fire, the realm will lose its father. Why abandon all and perish alone?" The crown prince apologised, saying: "Do not obstruct my unexcelled aspiration for the Way!" He threw his body into the fire pit. Heaven and earth shook violently. The devas in the empty sky simultaneously wailed and wept, their tears falling like heavy rain. At that time, the raging fire pit turned into a lotus pool, and the crown prince sat upon a lotus throne. The devas rained down flowers up to his knees. King Brahmadeva was the present Śuddhodana; the mother was the present Queen Māyā; the crown prince was the present Bhagavat. (From the Sūtra of the Wise and the Foolish, Fascicle One)

31.10

3. Kṣānti Sacrificing His Life for His Father

31.11

In the time of Vipaśyin Buddha, the king of Vārāṇasī was intelligent, benevolent, and virtuous, but had no children. He served a mountain deity for twelve years, praying unremittingly. Later, his foremost queen gave birth to a boy, whose nature was wholesome and without anger, and who was fully endowed with the marks of a noble person. He summoned all his ministers to divine his fortune, and thereupon bestowed on him the name Kṣānti. When he grew up, he took delight in practicing generosity, regarding all sentient beings with equal loving-kindness and compassion. In the kingdom, there were six ministers who were treacherous, deceitful, flattering, wicked, perverse, and unprincipled, loathed by the people; they were jealous of the crown prince. At that time, the king was gravely ill, his life hanging in the balance. Crown Prince Kṣānti addressed his father's ministers: "My royal father is critically ill; what should be done now?" The ministers said: "Wonderful medicine is difficult to obtain, and his life is not far from ending." The crown prince fell to the ground in grief and swooning. The wicked ministers devised a scheme wishing to eliminate the crown prince, and stated to the prince: "The king's illness requires medicine, but the medicine cannot be obtained." The crown prince asked: "What kind of thing is it?" They replied: "It is the eyes and marrow of a person without anger. If this medicine is obtained, the king's life will surely be preserved." The crown prince said: "My own person seems to be such." That person then took leave of his mother, and gathered the kings of the smaller states, proclaiming of himself: "Today, this body of mine bids farewell to the great assembly." He immediately called a caṇḍāla to break his bones to take out the marrow, and gouge out both of his eyes. The ministers then pounded and blended them, and presented them to the Great King. The king took it at once, and his illness was cured. He asked the ministers: "This medicine is exceptionally wonderful, curing my suffering and affliction." The ministers replied: "This medicine was provided by the crown prince." The king said: "Where is he now?" They replied: "Outside, his body is wounded and broken, and his life is not far from ending." The king wept bitterly. Going to his son's place, his life had already ended. His mother was deeply distressed and threw herself upon the corpse: "I have past sins and should have my body crushed to dust; yet it caused my son to lose his life!" They cremated him with goshīrṣa-candan-sandalwood, and erected a stūpa of seven treasures over his bones. (From the Great Skillful Means Sūtra on the Repayment of Kindness, Fascicle Three)

31.12

4. Zhizhi Giving Flesh and Blood to a Sick Monk

31.13

Formerly, a king of Jambudvīpa was named Zhili. He always protected the Buddha Dharma and had deep sincerity. A monk was related to the king, and was respected by the king and cherished by the people of the country. The king wished to see him without ever tiring. A great, virulent ulcer grew on the monk's thigh, which the physicians and medicines in the kingdom could not cure. The king and his twenty thousand consorts all grieved for him. At that time, while the king was asleep and dreaming, a heavenly being came and said to the king: "If you wish to cure this monk, you must have the flesh and blood of a living person; if he consumes it, he will be cured at once." The king awoke and was unhappy, thinking that since this monk was so severely ill, he required such medicine. He issued an order inquiring of his ministers: "Where can the flesh and blood of a living person be obtained?" At that time, the king's crown prince, named Zhizhi, addressed the king: "May the king not sorrow. The flesh and blood of a person are the basest of things; what worldly people value does not contradict the Way." The king said: "Excellent." The crown prince remained silent. Returning to his fasting chamber, he took a knife, sliced his thigh to take the flesh and blood, and delivered them to the monk. The monk consumed them, whereupon the ulcer was cured immediately and his body was restored to ease. When the king heard that the monk had already been cured, he was so joyful and delighted that he could not contain himself. The crown prince healed naturally. The wealth and treasures of the whole kingdom were bestowed upon the crown prince. The one with a sincere mind at that time was Dīpaṅkara Buddha; King Zhili was Maitreya; and Crown Prince Zhizhi was my own person. (From the Sūtra on the Samādhi of the Bodhisattva Candraprabha)

31.14

5. Candraprabha Breaking His Body to Offer Blood and Marrow to Save a Sick Person

31.15

There was Prince Candraprabha (Moonlight). He went out on an excursion. A leper saw him, intercepted his carriage, and said: "My body suffers from severe illness, full of hardship and distress. Does the prince alone enjoy pleasure in sport and amusement? In your great compassion and pity, please grant me cure and healing." Hearing this, the prince asked the physicians about it. They said: "You must obtain the blood and marrow of a person who from birth to adulthood has been without anger, apply it [to the body], and drink it; only thus can he be cured." The prince reflected: "Even if such a person existed, being attached to life and cherishing longevity, how could one obtain them? Except for my own body, there is no place to obtain it." He then commanded a caṇḍāla to cut away the flesh from his body and break his bones to extract the marrow, so as to apply it to the sick man, and gave him the blood to drink. Such gifts as these, as well as giving away his wife and children, he gave without stinginess. Just as if casting away grass and trees, he contemplated the things given away and knew they arose from conditions; searching for their reality, absolutely nothing was to be found. All was pure like the characteristic of nirvāṇa, extending even to the attainment of the patience of the non-arising of dharmas. This is the practice of dānapāramitā in a physical body produced by binding karma (drawn from the Dazhidu lun, fascicle 12).

31.16

6. Prince Sujāti Slices His Flesh to Support His Parents' Lives

31.17

During the Semblance Dharma period of Vipaśyin Buddha, the king of Vārāṇasī was named Rāja. He had only three sons, each assigned to govern a minor state. At that time, the king was wise and insightful, ruled with the true Dharma, and did not oppress the people. Through the power of the king's virtue, the wind and rain were timely and the five grains ripened in abundance. A high-ranking minister favoured by the king, named Rāhula, harboured wicked rebellion in his heart and suddenly raised the four divisions of the army to attack the kingdom of Vārāṇasī. He took the great king's life. He went on to attack the first and second princes, and next set out to conquer the third. The third prince was tall and grand in stature, exceptionally handsome, gentle and good by nature, and agreeable in speech; he always spoke with a smile, bringing benefit and never offending people's feelings. He governed his people with the true Dharma; his land was prosperous and joyful, the state treasury was full, and all four quarters praised him. The devas in empty space and all the spirits and ghosts also revered and loved him. He had a crown prince named Sujāti, who was intelligent, compassionate, and benevolent, and took delight in giving. His body was of golden colour, the seven places were full and level, and he was complete with the marks of an extraordinary person. He was only seven years old, and his father loved him dearly, not parting from him for a moment. At that time, the spirit guarding the palace said to the king: "The wicked and rebellious Rāhula schemes to usurp the throne and wants to kill the father king. He immediately raised troops, hunted down the two elder brothers, and has already taken their lives. His army will soon reach here as well." Hearing these words, the king was so sorrowful and anguished that he could not control himself. His heart and liver seemed to tear apart; writhing and rolling, he collapsed to the ground. Only after a long while did he revive. In a faint voice he replied toward empty space, saying: "Who are you, sir? I hear only your voice but do not see your form. Is what you just declared true or not?" [The spirit] immediately answered the king: "I am the spirit guarding the palace. Because the king is intelligent, upright, and does not oppress the people, I have informed you of this. The king should depart quickly, for his arrival is not far off." The king thought of seeking refuge in a neighbouring country, but there were two routes: one route was a seven days' journey, and the other was a fourteen days' journey. He then packed provisions for one person for seven days, entered the palace, called Sujāti, and took him onto his lap. The queen came forward and asked: "Great King, today you seem to look frightened." The king said: "It is not for you to know." The queen said: "My body and the king's are like the two wings of a bird. Why do you say it does not concern me?" The king answered as above. He then embraced the prince and set out on the road. The queen followed behind, but in her confusion and distraught state of mind, she mistakenly took the fourteen days' route. That road was treacherous and difficult, lacking water and grass. After travelling forward for several days, the provisions shared by the three of them were exhausted, yet the road was still long. The king and the queen wept aloud: "How dreadful! How bitter! From birth until now we have never heard of such suffering. How is it that today we personally experience it?" Deeply reproaching themselves, pressed by hunger and thirst, their lives hung by a breath. [The king] considered devising an expedient: not wishing for all three to die together, he would kill his wife to keep himself and the child alive. Sujāti saw the king's strange expression, stepped forward, took his father's hand, and addressed him: "What do you wish to do?" The father, his eyes filled with sorrowful tears, said to his son in a faint voice: "I wish to kill your mother and take her flesh and blood to sustain your life." Sujāti, choking back tears, addressed his father: "Where is there a son who eats his mother's flesh? If [we] do not eat the flesh, both son and mother will die together. I pray you only kill your son to save the lives of his parents." Hearing the son's words, the king fell into a faint, and in a faint voice said to his son: "A child is like my eyes. Where is there a person who gouges out his own eyes and turns around to eat them? I would rather lose my life than ever kill my child and eat my child's flesh!" Sujāti said again: "If my life is ended all at once, the blood and flesh will rot and stink before many days have passed. I wish to ask for one boon; if you refuse, you are not compassionate parents." The father king then said to the prince: "I will not refuse your wish." Sujāti said: "I only wish that day by day you cut three catties of flesh from my body: two portions to offer to my parents, and one portion for myself to eat so as to sustain my life." Weeping, the parents complied. They were able to reach the road ahead, but with two days still remaining, the flesh of his body was completely gone, his limbs, joints, sinews, and bones barely connected together, yet his remaining life had not ended. Embracing him, his parents wept aloud: "We are utterly unworthy! We have improperly eaten your flesh and caused you bitter agony. The road ahead is still long and we have not reached our destination, yet your flesh is gone. Now our lives will end together, our corpses gathered in one place." Then Sujāti exhorted them in a faint voice: "Having already eaten your son's flesh and advanced on the road to this point, parents, you must not now act like ordinary people and end your lives together in one place. Out of compassion, do not refuse me! You may thoroughly cut away the remaining flesh between the various joints of my body to save yourselves, so that you can reach your destination." The parents acted according to his words; having finished eating, they wailed and parted from him. Sujāti stood up and watched his parents; weeping bitterly, his parents went along the road. When his parents were far off and could no longer see Sujāti, the prince, longing for his parents, did not let his eyes wander for even a moment. After a long while, he collapsed to the ground. The fresh blood and flesh of his body smelled fragrant throughout the ten directions. Gnats and mosquitoes around, smelling the fragrance of blood and flesh, came to cover his body, everywhere biting and eating it; the excruciating pain was beyond words. His remaining life not yet ended, he raised his voice and made a vow: "May the calamities and evils of my past lives be completely eradicated through this; from now on, I will never dare commit them again. Now I offer this body of mine to my parents; may my parents always obtain the remaining blessings of the eleven [virtues]. May the remaining blood and flesh given to all these gnats and mosquitoes satisfy them to fullness!" When he made this vow, heaven and earth shook in six ways, the sun lost its brilliant light, beasts and birds scattered and fled, the great ocean surged with waves, and Sumeru trembled and sank. The devas of the six desire heavens were all terrified and descended to Jambudvīpa, transforming into the forms of lions, tigers, and wolves. With wide eyes, bristling whiskers, pawing the earth and roaring loudly, leaping and bounding, they came wishing to seize and bite him. Then Sujāti, seeing the beasts displaying great majestic fierceness, said in a faint voice: "If you wish to eat me, take and eat as you please; why do you frighten me?" Then the heavenly king Śakra resumed his heavenly form. Seeing this, the prince was boundlessly joyful. Then Śakra asked the prince: "You have renounced what is difficult to renounce. With such merit as this, do you wish to be born in heaven to be a Māra king or a Brahmā king?" The prince replied: "I vow to attain unexcelled bodhi." Heavenly Śakra said: "These are merely empty words; who would believe you?" The prince made an oath: "If I am deceitful, let the wounds on my body never close from beginning to end; if I am not so, let me be restored as before, let my blood turn to milk, and let my body be healed and twice as handsome as usual!" Then the heavenly king Śakra bowed his head to the prince's feet and sighed in praise: "Excellent! I am not your equal. You are vigorous and courageous, and will certainly attain bodhi; I pray that you will deliver me first." Then the heavenly king Śakra disappeared into empty space. Meanwhile, the king and queen reached the neighbouring country. When the neighbouring country heard of it, they came out from afar to receive them. When they met, [the king] recounted all the events above in full. They provided everything needed, greatly satisfying his hopes. The neighbouring king was deeply moved by the prince's compassion and filial piety; he immediately raised the four divisions of the army and gave them to that king to attack Rāhula, returning along the road. Intending to go to the place where they had previously parted from the prince to gather his bones for a coffin, looking ahead, they wept bitterly. As they drew nearer, they saw from afar that the prince's body was completely healed; stepping forward, they embraced him, sorrow and joy mingling together. Then Sujāti recounted all the events above to his parents. The parents were delighted. Together they mounted a great elephant and returned to their own country. Because the prince's merit was profound, they successfully returned to their native land, and they immediately installed the prince as the great king. The father king at that time was none other than the present King Śuddhodana; the mother was the present Lady Māyā; Sujāti was the present person of the Buddha; and the heavenly Śakra at that time was none other than Ājñātakauṇḍinya (drawn from the Da fangbian fo bao'en jing, fascicle 1).

31.18

7. Sudāna, Fond of Giving, Gives Away a White Elephant and Is Banished to the Mountains

31.19

Formerly, in the state of Yebo, there was a king named Shisui. The crown prince was named Xudana (Sudāna / Viśvantara). Universal with the four immeasurables, he protected everyone, and his words never harmed anyone. He constantly vowed to give generously to relieve and save the multitude of living beings, [wishing,] "May I receive boundless blessings in future lives!" The foolish, not observing changes of impermanence, consider things dependable; the wise clearly perceive the wealth belonging to the five houses. When someone wanted clothing, food, gold, silver, various jewels, carriages, horses, fields, or houses, there was no request he would not grant. His radiant fame spread far and wide, and [people of] the four seas sighed in admiration. His royal father possessed a white elephant, martial, fierce, and powerful, able to counter sixty hostile states; whenever they came to battle, the elephant was always victorious. The kings [of those states] held council together and sent eight brāhmaṇas to beg for the white elephant. The prince was delighted and asked what they sought. They replied, "We wish to beg for the white elephant that walks upon lotus blossoms. The elephant's name is Luozhewotan (Rājavadana / Rājavardhana)." The prince said, "Excellent! Gold, silver, and diverse treasures are also yours as your heart desires." He immediately ordered an attendant, "Quickly equip the white elephant with a saddle and bridle of gold and silver!" Holding the elephant's bridle in his left hand and a golden pitcher in his right, he washed the brāhmaṇas' hands and with loving joy bestowed the elephant. The brāhmaṇas rejoiced greatly; having completed their auspicious wishes, they mounted the elephant and departed. The chief minister and all the officials were all disconsolate. They all said, "This elephant is fiercely powerful; in battle it is always victorious. Now that it has been bestowed upon an enemy state, what shall we rely upon?" They reported the matter fully to the king. Hearing this, the king looked sorrowful, and after a long while said, "The crown prince loves and delights in the Buddha's path; taking the relief of the impoverished, the saving of the destitute, and compassionate nurture as his conduct, he cannot be restrained. If we were to imprison or punish him, that would be contrary to right principle." The officials all said, "The counsel of polishing and refining [conduct] is never at fault. Imprisonment and punishment are indeed cruel; your ministers dare not propose them. Banishing him from the state and placing him in the wilderness to let him reflect and repent within ten years—this is your ministers' wish." The king then sent an envoy, who told him, "The elephant is the treasure of the state; yet did you bestow it on our enemies? [The king] cannot bear to inflict punishment on you; quickly leave the state!" The envoy conveyed the royal command in this manner. The crown prince replied, "I dare not disobey the royal decree. I only request to make donations for seven more days using my private wealth, without presuming to touch the state's [property]." The envoy reported this, and the king granted permission. The prince joyfully gave extensive charity to the poor and destitute, proclaiming, "Come quickly, and take whatever your hearts desire!" When the seven days ended, the poor had all become wealthy. His wife was named Mandi (Madrī), originally the daughter of kings, graceful and delicate in beauty, peerless in the whole realm. From head to foot she wore necklaces of the seven jewels. [The prince] said to his wife, "Arise and listen to my words! The great king has banished me to Mount Dande (Daṇḍaka) for a term of twelve years. Did you know this?" His wife looked at the prince in alarm, shed tears, and said, "For what crime have you been banished, abandoning the honor and glory of the state to reside in the deep mountains?" He answered, "Because I gave the state's famous elephant to the king of an enemy state, the [royal father] and the ministers were enraged and banished me, that is all." His wife then made a vow: "May the state be abundant and fertile, and may the king, ministers, and millions of subjects be wealthy and have limitless longevity! We should simply establish our resolve in the mountain marshes and vow to realize the Way." The prince said, "Consider that those mountain marshes are frightful places where tigers, wolves, and venomous beasts make it difficult to stay. There are also venomous insects, mountain goblins, and destructive ghosts; thunder, lightning, fierce storms, wind, rain, clouds, and mists are extremely terrifying. The cold and heat are extreme; the trees afford little shelter; the caltrops, gravel, and rocks are more than bare feet can endure. You are the daughter of a king, born into glory and pleasure, raised within the palace. Your clothes are fine and soft; your food and drink are delicious; when you sleep there are curtains and canopies with various musics echoing in your ears; all your wishes are indulged. Now, residing in the mountain marshes, sleeping on grass mats and eating fruits and vegetables are things people cannot bear. How could you endure it?" The wife said, "Fine [garments], many treasures, curtains, and delicious food—what benefit are they to oneself if one is separated from the prince while alive? A king is known by his banner; fire is known by its smoke; a woman is known by her husband. I rely on the prince just as I rely on my parents. When the prince was in the state, giving charity to the four directions, I always shared your vows. Now that you are to traverse dangers, if I were to remain and guard glory, how could that be the way of benevolence? If someone were to come begging and I did not see my husband, the anguish in my heart would surely cause my death without a doubt." The prince said, "If people from distant states come to beg for my wife and children, I will have no refusal in my heart. If you, out of affectionate attachment, should happen to go against the way of giving, you would cut off vast beneficence and destroy my grave responsibility." The wife said, "The prince's generosity is rare in this world. You must fulfill your great vow and never grow weary! Through hundreds of thousands of myriad lifetimes, there has been no one like you in establishing the Buddha's grave responsibility; I dare not oppose you." The prince said, "Excellent!" He then took his wife and children to take leave of his mother. Bowing his head to the ground, he said in sorrowful farewell, "I pray you dismiss heavy sorrow and preserve the peace of your jade body. State affairs are burdensome; frequently admonish [the king] with compassion. Do not allow willful acts to wrong those heavenly subjects; endure what is hard to endure!" The mother said, "Before I had a son, I made vows seeking an heir. During my pregnancy, it was like a tree bearing blossoms, day by day waiting for its fruition. Heaven did not deny my vow and granted me a son; yet now that you have been raised to adulthood, we must be separated in life! The royal consorts and concubines will no longer respect me." The prince, his wife, and their children bowed and took their leave. High and low in the palace all choked with tears. Going out, he bid a sorrowful farewell to the ministers and left the city together with them. Everyone whispered, "The prince is the sacred spirit of the state, the most revered of all treasures. What heart do his parents have to banish him?" Sitting outside the city, the prince thanked those who had come to see him off and sent them back to their homes. The common people prostrated themselves, and all raised their voices in bitter mourning; some beat their breasts, stamped their feet, and cried out to Heaven, their cries shaking the realm. Having traveled far from the state, he sat beneath a tree. A brāhmaṇa came from afar to beg for the precious clothing on his body and those of his wife and children; [the prince] gave away all their pearls and gems. He had his wife and children mount the chariot, took the reins, and set off. Just as they set out on the road, another brāhmaṇa came begging for the horses; he gave the horses to him. He then drew the chariot himself within the shafts to proceed on the way. Another brāhmaṇa came begging for his chariot; he immediately gave the chariot to him. The prince's chariot, horses, clothes, body treasures, and miscellaneous goods were completely exhausted with nothing remaining. He had his wife carry their daughter in her arms while he carried the boy himself. After twenty-one days, they reached the mountains. The prince saw that the trees in the mountain were lush and flourishing, with flowing springs of sweet water and an abundance of sweet fruits; wild ducks, wild geese, and mandarin ducks disported among them. The prince said to his wife, "The trees reach into the sky with seldom a broken branch; flocks of birds sing plaintively, and springs and fruits are exceedingly plentiful, quite sufficient for food and drink; we need only devote ourselves to the Way." The ascetics in the mountains all maintained their discipline and loved study. There was an ascetic named Ajutuo (Acyuta) who had resided long in the mountains and possessed wonderful virtue. [The prince] went with his wife and children to visit him, bowed his head, and said, "I have brought my wife and children here to learn the Way. May you bestow your vast compassion and instruct me to fulfill my resolve!" The ascetic instructed him. The prince then gathered firewood and grass to make a hut, tied his hair, wore reed clothing, ate fruits, and drank from the springs. The son was named Yeli (Jāli); wearing small grass clothes, he followed his father in and out. The daughter was named Jianayan (Kṛṣṇājinā); wearing deerskin clothes, she followed her mother in and out. After they stayed in the mountain for one night, the heavens increased the spring waters for them and brought forth medicinal trees anew. Later, there was an impoverished old brāhmaṇa named Jiuliusun (Kuruśūdra / Jujaka), whose wife was young, blooming, and upright in appearance. As she carried a pitcher to draw water, she met youths on the road who obstructed her and mocked her, saying, "Are you so poor that you covet that old man's wealth, hoping to settle down with him? That old man studies the Way hoping to achieve something, yet he is stubborn, foolish, perverse, and obstinate; what is it that you covet in him? His face is ugly and dark, his nose is crooked like a hawk's; his body is twisted, his face wrinkled, his lips protruding; his speech is stammering and halting; both of his eyes are blue-green, and his appearance resembles a ghost. There is no fine feature on his entire body—who would not loathe him? Being his wife, are you not ashamed and disgusted?" The woman shed tears and departed. The old man's beard and sideburns were completely white, like frost adhering to a tree; morning and evening he did not die, and she could do nothing about it. Returning home, she related this matter in full to her husband: "If you do not have slaves or servants, I will leave you!" The husband said, "I am poor; by what means can I suddenly obtain servants?" The wife said, "I have heard that Prince Xudana has great compassion to succor the multitude and has been banished to the mountains. He has two children; if you beg for them, he will bestow them upon you." His wife repeatedly spoke of this; affection for a wife is hard to refuse, so he followed her words. Searching for the way, he met a hunter. The hunter originally knew the reason for the prince's banishment, and angrily cursed him, saying, "I will cut off your head! Why do you ask about the prince?" The brāhmaṇa, startled and terrified, said, "The king and the ministers ordered me to invite the prince to return to the state to become king." [The hunter] replied, "Very good!" and joyfully showed him the place. When [the brāhmaṇa] reached and saw the small hut, the prince also saw him coming. The two children, seeing him, were terrified at heart. The brothers said together, "Our father delights in giving, and this man has come from afar; as the wealth is exhausted and has no replacement, he will surely bestow us brothers upon him!" Holding hands, they both fled. Their mother had previously dug a shelter pit large enough to hold a person; the two children entered it and covered the top with firewood, warning each other, "When Father calls, do not answer!" The prince consoled [the brāhmaṇa], saying, "Traveling so far, you must be weary!" He replied, "Coming from there, my whole body aches with distress, and I am also very hungry and thirsty." The prince served him fruit juice. [The brāhmaṇa continued,] "Now I have purposely come in desperation, hoping to prolong my feeble life." The prince said with pity, "My wealth is exhausted, but I have no regrets." The brāhmaṇa said, "You could give your two children to support my old age." He replied, "My heart will not refuse." The prince called for the children. The brothers were terrified and said to each other again, "Our father calls for us; he will surely bestow us on this ghost!" Disobeying his command, they did not answer. The prince knew they were hiding in the pit; removing the firewood, he saw them. Coming out, the children embraced their father, trembling, weeping, and wailing, saying, "This is merely a ghost, not a brāhmaṇa! We have seen many brāhmaṇas, but none has ever had an appearance like this. Do not make us food for a ghost! Why is our mother so late in returning from gathering fruits? Today we will certainly die, eaten by the ghost! When Mother returns and seeks us, like a cow seeking her calf, she will run wildly in bitter sorrow, and Father will surely regret it!" The prince said, "In all my life of giving, I have never felt the slightest regret. Since I have promised you, do not resist!" The brāhmaṇa said, "I am old and my energy is weak; if the children flee and run to their mother, [what then?] The prince has vast generosity—bind them and hand them over to me!" The prince held the children and had the brāhmaṇa bind them, holding the end of the rope himself. The two children fell prostrate and rolled on the ground before their father, wailing and calling out to their mother, saying, "Heavenly spirits, earthly deities, and gods of the mountain trees, take pity and inform our mother: 'Your two children have been bestowed upon someone; you may see them once more!'" Their sorrow moved heaven and earth, and the mountain spirits made sounds like peals of thunder. At that time, while the mother was gathering fruits, she felt deep unease in her heart. Looking up at the azure sky, she saw neither clouds nor rain, yet her right eye twitched, the sole of her left foot itched, and milk flowed from both her breasts. The mother reflected, "This omen is very great; I must return to check on my children." Casting aside the fruits, she rushed back in panic, as if mad. Śakra thought, "The bodhisattva's resolve is exalted, seeking to fulfill his great mission. If his wife arrives in time, she might disrupt his lofty resolve." He transformed himself into a lion crouching across the road. The woman said, "You are the king among beasts; I am the daughter of a king among humans, and together we dwell in this mountain. I have two children, both still small and young; since morning they have not eaten, and are waiting for me." The lion stepped aside, and the woman was able to proceed on the road. Turning back, before her [Śakra] transformed into a white wolf; the woman spoke as before, and the wolf also stepped aside. He then transformed into a tiger, and calculating that the brāhmaṇa was now far away, he finally withdrew. When the woman saw the prince sitting alone, she became sad and terrified, saying, "Where have my children gone, that you sit here alone? Whenever the children saw me return, they would run to me, leaping with joyful laughter, saying, 'Mother has returned!' Now the children's toys—mud elephants, mud oxen, mud horses, mud pigs, and various handicrafts—lie scattered all over the ground. Seeing them, my heart is stricken and I will go mad! Have they not been swallowed by tigers, wolves, ghosts, or bandits? Quickly dispel this anguish, or I will surely die!" After a long while, the prince said, "A brāhmaṇa came asking for the two children, saying, 'My years are drawing to a close and my life is feeble; I wish to support myself with them.' I have bestowed them upon him." Hearing these words, the woman leaped in anguish and threw herself to the ground, rolling in bitter sorrow, weeping tears and saying, "It is truly just as I dreamed last night! I dreamed that I saw an old, poor brāhmaṇa cut off both my breasts, take them, and run quickly away—it was indeed for this day!" Wailing in grief, she called upon Heaven, shaking the whole mountain. Seeing his wife's grief was extreme, the prince said to her, "I originally feared this from you. In honoring filial piety and serving the venerated, there is nothing requested that I do not give away; our mutual oath was very clear. Yet now you mourn in grief to disturb my mind!" The wife said, "In the prince's pursuit of the Way, how extreme is his toil!" Śakra and all the devas held council together and said, "The prince's Way is vast, giving universally without end. Let us test him by asking for his wife." Śakra transformed into a brāhmaṇa and said, "You harbor benevolence like heaven and earth, universally saving the multitude of beings and giving without refusal; therefore, I have come to take refuge in you with my heart. Your wife is virtuous and chaste, and the fragrance of her virtue is heard far and wide; therefore, I have come to beg for her." [The prince] replied, "Very good!" Suddenly the heavens and earth shook violently, and the devas, humans, ghosts, and spirits all sighed in praise of his goodness. The brāhmaṇa said, "I am the Lord of Heaven, not an ordinary man of the world. I came expressly to test you. You revere the Buddha's wisdom; your exemplary conduct is peerless. What wish do you desire now? Ask freely, and it will surely be granted." The prince said, "I wish to attain great wealth, constantly delight in giving, and be free of greed and transgression. And now, I wish that my royal father and the subjects of the state may think of me and be reunited." The Lord of Heaven said, "Excellent!" and immediately vanished. The brāhmaṇa rejoiced to have obtained their labor; walking without feeling tired, he dragged the two children along as if capturing runaway slaves. The children, being grandsons of a king, had enjoyed honor, joy, and freedom; now torn away from their parents, they were bound with ropes, their skin wounded at every knot, wailing and calling for their mother. When he whipped them to make them run, blood flowed and reddened the ground. The heavenly spirits took pity on them, untied their bonds, healed their wounds, made sweet fruits grow for them, and made the ground soft. The brother and sister picked fruits and handed them to each other to eat, saying, "They are as sweet as the fruits in the royal park! The ground is as soft as the woolen rugs beside the king!" Supporting each other, the brother and sister looked up to heaven and called for their mother, tears streaming over their bodies. Arriving at his home, [the brāhmaṇa] laughed with joy and said, "I have obtained two slaves for you, to do as you command!" Seeing the children, the wife said, "Slaves are not like this! These children are handsome, with delicate hands and feet; they are not capable of manual labor. Quickly go and sell them, and buy others who can be put to work!" Intending to go to another state, the devas bewildered his path, so that he went instead to their native land. The subjects recognized them, and all said, "These are the grandsons of the great king!" They immediately reported this to the king. The king called them into the palace; inside the palace, high and low all wept. The king wished to embrace the two children, but they would not approach. The king said, "Why is this?" The children said, "Formerly we were the king's grandchildren; now we are base slaves. By what reason should we sit upon the king's lap?" The king asked the brāhmaṇa, "How did you come to obtain these children?" He answered truthfully. [The king] asked, "How much money to sell the children?" Before the brāhmaṇa could reply, the grandson interrupted, "The boy is worth one thousand silver coins, plus one hundred bullocks and one hundred cows. The girl is worth one thousand gold coins, plus two hundred bullocks and two hundred cows." The king said, "The boy is older yet cheap, while the girl is younger yet expensive—why is that?" [The boy] replied, "The crown prince is both holy and benevolent, a refuge for the multitude; yet he was banished far away, so we know men are cheap. A daughter of the common people, merely by virtue of her alluring beauty, dwells deep within the palace; so we know women are expensive." The king said, "An eight-year-old child already possesses the discourse of a lofty gentleman; how much more so his father!" When the palace attendants, high and low, heard his subtle admonition, none did not raise their voices in grief. The king paid in full according to the sum, and the brāhmaṇa departed. The king held his two grandchildren and seated them upon his lap, saying, "Earlier you would not be embraced; why do you come so readily now?" They replied, "Earlier we were slaves; now we are the king's grandchildren." He asked, "Living in the mountains, what food does your father sustain himself with?" Both children said, "He sustains himself merely by eating vegetables and tree fruits. Daily he enjoys himself with beasts and flocks of birds, without any sorrow in his heart." The king dispatched envoys to welcome him. When the envoys set out on the road, the trees in the mountains bowed, bent, and stretched as if performing the etiquette of kneeling and rising; flocks of birds sang plaintively, moving human feelings with sorrow. The prince said, "What omen is this?" His wife, lying on the ground, said, "The king's intention has softened, envoys are coming to welcome us, and the gods and spirits are assisting goodness; therefore, this omen has arisen." Since losing her children, the wife had been lying on the ground; only when the envoys arrived did she rise to salute the royal decree. The envoys said, "The king and queen have reduced their meals, shed tears, and their physical life declines day by day as they long to see the crown prince." Looking about to his left and right, the prince felt affectionate longing for the trees and flowing springs in the mountain; brushing away his tears, he mounted the chariot. From the time the envoys set forth, the whole state rejoiced; they swept and cleaned the roads, pitched curtains and canopies in advance, burned incense, scattered flowers, and played music with banners and parasols. The entire realm hurried to and fro, wishing him limitless longevity. When the prince entered the city, he kowtowed and apologized for his faults, then withdrew to inquire after [his parents'] health. The king again entrusted all the treasures of the state treasury to the crown prince, encouraging him to distribute them in charity. The distressed people of neighboring states flocked to him like rivers flowing into the sea. Seeing this, former enemies came bowing to declare themselves vassals; tribute arrived continuously. Bandits and rebels came to esteem benevolence, thieves vied in giving, weapons were laid away in storage, and prisons fell into ruin. The multitude of living beings enjoyed everlasting peace, the ten directions celebrated goodness, and the accumulation of virtue never ceased. Though he initially suffered bitter hardship, he is now an immeasurably revered one. Later, after his life ended, the prince was born into the Tuṣita heaven. Descending from heaven, he was born into the palace of King Śuddhodana; that is my present body. The royal father was Ānanda; his wife was Gopī; his son was Rāhula; his daughter was the arhat mother of Zhuchi; the heavenly king Śakra was Maitreya; the hunter was Udaya; Ajutuo was Mahākāśyapa; and the brāhmaṇa who sold the children was Devadatta. The bodhisattva's compassionate beneficence and generosity were like this (extracted from the *Xudana jing* / *Sudāna-sūtra*).

First 19 of 28 passages. Read on

Linked texts (1)

經律異相 — Classical Chinese

經律異相 31

Contents

Linked texts (1)