經律異相 39
English (machine translation) 39
- Language
- English
39.1
Compiled by the Liang śramaṇas Sengmin, Baochang, and others
39.2
Origins of the non-Buddhists establishing heterodox views (1)
The six masters make a pact to watch for an opportunity to subdue the Buddha; repeatedly sending spies, they all convert to the Buddha (2)
The six masters compete in power of the Way with the Buddha's disciples (3)
Binding the belly with iron plates and carrying fire on the head to display an extraordinary show of prowess (4)
The people of the state of Zhihuan worship crows and peacocks (5)
Pūraṇa Kāśyapa competes with the Buddha in the Way; falling short, he commits suicide (6)
The ṛṣi Kṣānti cultivates patience and practices compassion, but is dismembered by King Kali (7)
The ṛṣi with conch-shaped hair creates writing, which wind and rain cannot disturb or damage (8)
Circumstances of the four ṛṣis attaining the Way (9)
A ṛṣi loses his supernormal powers and is born in an evil realm (10)
A ṛṣi, seeing and hearing the forms and sounds of women, loses his supernormal powers (11)
Creating hands and feet to touch a princess, he gives rise to desire, later conceives evil thoughts, and falls into Avīci (12)
Devayana hears Śacī's voice and gives rise to lust (13)
The ṛṣi of the Snow Mountains engages in lust with a tigress and sires twelve sons (14)
The ṛṣi Bāṣpa sees a princess, gives rise to desire, and loses his supernormal powers (15)
The single-horned ṛṣi has his mind defiled by worldly desire and is ridden by a courtesan (16)
39.3
Origins of the non-Buddhists establishing heterodox views (1)
39.4
The Buddha said to Mañjuśrī: 'Do you wish to hear how non-Buddhists were established in the world? In past times there was a buddha named Krakucchandabhadra who appeared in the world. At that time, that world had no sand or gravel, nor was there any name of non-Buddhists; there was only the One Great Vehicle. After the Buddha entered nirvāṇa, when the Dharma was about to perish, there was a forest monk named Fo Hui. A good person gave him a priceless garment, and the monk accepted it. Several hunters conceived the thought of robbery; by night they took the monk into the deep mountains, ruined his body, stripped him naked, and hung him upside down from a tree. At that time, a flower-gathering brāhmaṇa came to the forest place, saw a tiger, fled in terror toward the mountain, and saw that monk with his body ruined, naked, and hung upside down from the tree. Amazed and sighing, he lamented: 'The śramaṇa formerly wore a kāṣāya, but now is naked; one must know that the kāṣāya is not the cause of liberation, and that hanging oneself in ascetic practice is truly learning the Way. How could that man abandon the wholesome Dharma? He must clearly know that this is the path to liberation, which ruins the true Dharma.' He immediately threw off his clothes, pulled out his hair, and became a naked śramaṇa. Naked non-Buddhists arose from this. Later, the monk managed to free himself from his bonds; he immediately took tree bark, stained it with red ochre, and covered himself with it, tying grass into a whisk to drive away mosquitoes. Another flower-gathering brāhmaṇa saw him and thought: 'This monk abandoned his formerly fine clothes, wears such clothes as these, and holds such a whisk; how could he abandon the wholesome Dharma? He must clearly know that this is the path to liberation.' He immediately learned this practice, and from this arose the renounced brāhmaṇas. Later, in the evening, that monk entered the water to bathe, washing the sores on his head; he took a water-robe to cover the sores, and took ragged garments discarded by cowherds to cover his body. A woodcutter saw him and thought: 'This monk formerly wore a kāṣāya, but now has abandoned it completely; one must know that the kāṣāya is not the cause of liberation, which is why he dishevels his hair, wears ragged clothes, and bathes three times day and night to cultivate ascetic practice. How could he abandon the wholesome Dharma? He must clearly know that this is the path to liberation.' He immediately learned that practice, and from this arose the ascetic brāhmaṇas. After the monk bathed, his body had many sores, which flies and bees bit and ate; he then smeared white ash on the sores everywhere and covered his body with the water-robe. Someone who saw this said: 'This is the Way,' and immediately learned that practice; from this arose the ash-smeared brāhmaṇas. The monk lit a fire to cauterize his sores; the sores became increasingly painful and unbearable, so he threw himself from a cliff to commit suicide. Someone who saw him said: 'This monk formerly wore fine clothes, yet now does this; how could he abandon the wholesome Dharma? I know for certain that throwing oneself from a cliff is the path to liberation.' From this arose throwing oneself from a cliff and serving fire. In this manner, in succession, ninety-six kinds [of non-Buddhists] all arose from this monk's various appearances and conditions; they produced various delusions and individually formed their own views. For example, just as in a country people look at one another and give rise to coarse conceptions, and once coarse conceptions arise, they kill one another—the arising of heterodox views among non-Buddhists is just like this.' (From the Aṅgulimālīya Sūtra, fascicle 4.)
39.5
The six masters make a pact to watch for an opportunity to subdue the Buddha; repeatedly sending spies, they all convert to the Buddha (2)
39.6
In the past, when the six teachers were in the world, they craved gain and offerings, each claiming to be uniquely supreme. Hearing that the Buddha had appeared in the world with supernormal power and virtue surpassing ordinary people, they gathered and swore an oath: "We should be of one mind and agree together; only if our words do not contradict each other can we prevail over him." They then sent one person to go and observe the Tathāgata, to see whether he was like an ordinary man. [The emissary], looking upon him insatiably, returned and told the six teachers, "Gautama's countenance is rare in this world, and his majestic spiritual light surpasses the sun and moon. From what I have seen, nothing can compare to it." The six men thought again, "That man was born of royal lineage, so by right he should be handsome; why marvel at that? Let us now send another person to go and observe whether he is composed or agitated." He returned and told the six teachers, "Gautama amidst the assembly is like a king among beasts, without fear or dread." The six men thought again, "Foolish people seldom experience matters, so they covet his light; this is merely common manners, why marvel at it? Emerging from the royal palace, where sixty thousand court ladies entertained him day and night, he has never undergone training under a teacher. Let us send someone else to go and listen to see whether he possesses principles and scripture or is like an ordinary man." They then sent an intelligent person to observe what the Buddha preached. He returned and told the six men, "His teachings comprehend the ancient and understand the present; looking forward, he knows without limit, and looking backward, he perceives without end. His judgments of principles and analysis of matters are concise and free of redundancy." The six teachers thought again, "There are many people in the world who possess swift eloquence that delights human hearts, yet the truth is absent and cannot be investigated. Let us send someone else to go and observe whether the people, upon hearing him speak, listen quietly and receive it or are bewildered and disorderly." He returned and told the six teachers, "What Gautama expounds is tasty as sweet dew; the crowd thirsts for it with longing and listens insatiably." The six men thought again, "When people gather, after a long time from the beginning they are bound to disperse. Let us send another person of high excellence to go and inspect whether his principles are profound or shallow." He returned and told the six teachers, "What Gautama reveals is boundless like the sea; what we have seen is like water in a cow's footprint. Now, I alone wish to go to him and seek to become his disciple." The emissaries sent earlier and later all led one another to the Tathāgata's presence. Incalculable sentient beings also vied with one another to arrive. The Buddha spoke a verse:
39.7
"I have of myself attained the supreme, correct enlightenment, / Unstained by all phenomena; / All-knowing, without fear, / Spontaneously without teacher or guardian."
39.8
When the disciples of the six teachers heard the Buddha speak the verse, those whose minds were resolute immediately sought to practice the Path; those whose minds were hesitant returned and told their teachers, saying, "He is the sole venerable one in the three realms, governing the ten directions, truly without equal. We should disperse and seek our own peace."
39.9
"Since I have neither teacher nor guardian, / And am also alone without a companion, / Through accumulated oneness I became a Buddha, / Spontaneously penetrating the holy Path." (Extracted from the Sūtra of the Six Teachers' Covenant)
39.10
The Six Teachers Compete in Spiritual Powers with a Disciple of the Buddha, 3
39.11
There was a king named Duofu (Abundant Blessings), whose crown prince was named Zengfu (Increasing Blessings). The king revered the six teachers, while the prince served the Buddhist path; what they adhered to differed. At that time there were no śramaṇas in the world, and only a single layman served as the foremost teacher. The five hundred non-Buddhists were jealous of that master's renown and virtue, and so said to the king, "The state serving two doctrines makes people not single-minded. We wish to display extraordinary wonders against the master of the Buddhist path, on the condition that the loser shall become enslaved to the other." The king consented. The non-Buddhists set a date with the master and made an agreement: before the king, each would test their skills and abilities and acknowledge the victor. The brahmacārins were all skilled in archery and charioteering; they immediately went into the mountains, and each of the five hundred men shot a deer, all piercing the left eye, and came to compete in arts and skills. The virtuous man also entered the mountains, focused his mind in contemplation of the Buddha, and sought supernormal assistance to reveal the Great Path. Immediately, a five-colored fawn suddenly sprang up from the ground, and he joyfully took it home. The non-Buddhists learned of this, waited for the virtuous man to go out, and went to his house, deceitfully saying to his wife, "Your husband wishes to leave home and become a practitioner of the Path; solely on account of this deer, your family will be ruined." Hearing this, the wife became furious and gave the deer to them. When the virtuous man returned home and did not see his deer, he asked his wife; she said, "It was an inauspicious thing, and now it is lost." The husband was exceedingly grieved and sorrowful, returned to the mountains, and repented with utmost sincerity. Thereupon, a moon-bright divine pearl suddenly emerged from the ground. He then took this pearl and presented it to the brahmacārins, going to their gate peddling the extraordinary object. The brahmacārin's wife said, "My family also has an unusual object that can be compared with it," and brought out the fawn. The virtuous man then said, "The king had me take charge of this fawn; your stealing it now is a crime beyond measure!" In fear, the woman returned it. When the day of the test arrived, each brahmacārin presented a dead deer, all wounded in the left eye, which were foul and stinking; the king despised them. The virtuous man stepped forward leading the divine deer and carrying the bright pearl up into the king's hall; the two objects flew and leaped about in play, flashing like shooting stars and lightning. The entire palace marvelled at them. The five hundred brāhmaṇas, realizing that their skills could not compete, fell into servitude as slaves, and their wives all became handmaids. (Extracted from the Ten-Fascicle Sūtra of Parables, Fascicle 8)
39.12
Plating the Belly with Copper Plates and Bearing Fire on the Head to Show Extraordinary Strength, 4
39.13
In South India there was a disputant who plated his belly with copper plates, lit a fire on his head, and entered the city of Śrāvastī. People of that time asked him, "Why do you do this?" He replied, "My wisdom is so abundant that I fear my belly will burst; I carry fire wishing to illuminate the darkness." The people told him, "Foolish brāhmaṇa! The sun illuminates the world beneath heaven, why do you speak of darkness?" He replied, "You do not know: there are two kinds of darkness. One is the absence of sun, moon, fire, and candles; the second is folly lacking the light of wisdom." The people further said, "You have not yet met the monk Śākyaputra Hāridra; how dare you speak like this?" He replied, "If I meet and speak with him, it will be like seeing the sun rise in the dark night." At that time, the people inside the city summoned the monk Śākyaputra Hāridra, wishing to have them debate together. When Hāridra heard of this, he entered the city with a sorrowful heart. On the road, he saw two rams fighting each other; he immediately took an omen from this: "One ram is the brāhmaṇa, and one ram is me. Mine is inferior." He became even more grieved. Walking forward, he saw two oxen fighting each other, and again thought: "One ox is the brāhmaṇa, and one ox is me." Again his was inferior. Reaching the front gate, he saw two men wrestling, and again thought: "Mine is likewise inferior." As he was about to enter the debate venue, he saw a person carrying a jar filled with water, and the water jar broke. He thought again: "I have seen all these inauspicious omens." Having no choice, he entered the house and saw this brāhmaṇa; from his eyes, mouth, and appearance, he knew of himself that he was inferior. After sitting for a short while, the people said, "You may debate together." He replied, "I am slightly unwell today; we must wait until tomorrow," and returned to his lodging. (Extracted from the Ten Recitations Vinaya, Second Recitation, Fascicle 3)
39.14
The People of the Land of Zhihuan Revere Crows and Peacocks, 5
39.15
In a past age, there was a great country in the northern frontier region named Zhihuan. A person of Zhihuan brought a crow to the kingdom of Bochelī (Pāṭalīputra?). In that kingdom there were no such crows, nor any other extraordinary or wondrous birds. When the people of that time saw the crow, they danced with joy, made offerings and served it with food, drink, fruits, and melons, taking care of it. Crows from distant places all gathered in incalculable numbers. The entire kingdom universally served and revered them immeasurably. Later at another time, a merchant brought a peacock from another country. When the crowd saw its extraordinary plumage and dignified, elegant gait, such as had never been seen before, and heard its voice, their hearts leaped with joy. They all abandoned the crows and cherished the peacock. The provisions previously used to feed the crows were all offered to the peacock with reverence and refuge. The crows all disappeared and their whereabouts were unknown. At that time, a deva recited a verse:
39.16
"Before seeing the light of the sun, / The fire of a torch alone shines bright. / Formerly we saw all serving the crows / With water, food, fruits, and melons; / But now that the beautiful voice is fully present, / Like the sun rising amidst the trees, / The crows lose their offerings: / Seeing how they are treated reveals the high and the low."
39.17
Ānanda recited a verse:
39.18
"If the Buddha had not arisen and appeared, / The brahmacārins would receive offerings and service. / Now that the Buddha is endowed with the complete voice, / Those of non-Buddhist teachings lose their offerings."
39.19
"The peacock was myself. The crows were the teachers of non-Buddhist doctrines. The deva was Ānanda." (Extracted from the Peacock Sūtra)
39.20
Pūraṇa Kāśyapa Competes in the Path with the Buddha, and Being Inferior Commits Suicide, 6
39.21
Formerly, in the state of Śrāvastī, there was a brāhmaṇa master named Pūraṇa-Kāśyapa. He was accompanied by five hundred disciples, and there were none among the king and people who did not revere and serve him. When the Buddha first attained the Way, he came with his disciples from Rājagṛha to the state of Śrāvastī. The Buddha's bodily marks were resplendent, and his teaching of the Way was pure and beautiful. From the king and his inner palace to the populace throughout the land, there were none who did not revere and honor him. Jealous and seeking to disparage the Bhagavat, Kāśyapa said to King Prasenajit: "We elders are long-standing scholars and old teachers of this realm. The śramaṇa Gautama has only recently renounced home to seek the Way and possesses no genuine spiritual holiness. Yet Your Majesty forsakes us. I now wish to compete with the Buddha: whichever of us has superior virtue and Way, Your Majesty shall revere." The king said: "Very well." The king reported this to the Buddha. The Buddha said: "Most excellent." They set an appointment in seven days to compete in supernormal transformations. In a flat, broad, and fine place east of the city, the king erected two high seats. The king, his ministers, and the great multitude gathered like clouds, wishing to watch the two compete in the Way. Kāśyapa and his disciples arrived first at the seats and climbed the ladder to ascend. The guardian spirit-king Pañcika, seeing his falsity and jealousy, immediately raised a great wind that blew the sitting mats upside down, toppled the banners, and sent sand, gravel, and stones flying like rain so that eyes could not see. The Bhagavat's high seat remained solemn and motionless. The Buddha and the great assembly arrived in stately order. Heading toward the high seat, he was suddenly already upon it. The entire monastic sangha sat in serene silence according to rank. The king and his ministers prostrated themselves with redoubled reverence and said: "We pray you will display your divine transformations to subdue false views and cause the people of this realm to clearly believe in the true and genuine." The Bhagavat suddenly disappeared from his seat and ascended into the empty sky, emitting a great radiance. He disappeared in the east and appeared in the west, and likewise in the four directions. From his body issued water and fire, alternating above and below. He displayed twelve transformations while sitting and lying in the air. Vanishing from sight, he reappeared upon the seat. Gods, dragons, ghosts, and spirits made offerings of flowers and incense, and their shouts of praise shook heaven and earth. Pūraṇa-Kāśyapa, knowing within himself that he had no Way, lowered his head in shame and terror, not daring to lift his eyes. A vajra-holding warrior grasped a vajra-pestle, the tip of which shot forth fire aimed at Kāśyapa, and asked: "Why do you not display transformations?" Terrified, Kāśyapa threw himself down and fled, and his five hundred disciples scattered in all directions. The Bhagavat's dignified countenance showed neither joy nor grief. He returned to the Jeta Grove. The king and his ministers rejoiced and took their leave. Thereupon, humiliated, Kāśyapa departed with his disciples. On the road, they met an old upāsikā named Maṇi, who rebuked them to their faces, saying: "You fools failed to gauge yourselves and dared to contest arts of the Way against the Buddha! You mad, foolish deceivers have no sense of shame. You might as well not show such faces in the world!" Ashamed before his disciples, Kāśyapa went to the riverbank and deceived them, saying: "If I now cast myself into the water, I will surely be reborn in the Brahmā heaven. If I do not return, it is because there is bliss there." His disciples waited for him, but he did not return. They conferred together, saying: "Our master has surely ascended to heaven. Why should we stay behind?" One by one they cast themselves into the water, hoping to follow their master, not knowing that dragged by their evil deeds, they all fell into hell. On a later day, the king heard of this and, greatly astonished, went to the Buddha's presence and said: "By what cause did it turn out thus for Kāśyapa and his disciples?" The Buddha told the king: "Kāśyapa and his disciples committed two grave offenses: first, their three poisons blazed fiercely while they claimed to have attained the Way; second, they slandered the Tathāgata in the desire for reverence and offerings. Because of these two offenses they were destined to fall into hell. Their retribution pressed upon them, causing them to drown in the river; their bodies died, their consciousnesses departed, and they suffer boundless torment. In the past, there were two monkey kings, each ruling over five hundred monkeys. One king gave rise to jealousy, wishing to kill the other king so as to rule alone. He went to fight him, but was repeatedly bested in combat. Ashamed, he withdrew to the seashore, where inside a bay there was a great heap of foam. Blown by the wind, it had gathered hundreds of fathoms high. That foolish monkey king thought it was a snowy mountain, and told his troop: 'I have long heard that there is a snowy mountain in the ocean, filled with bliss and sweet fruits to one's heart's content. Only today do I see it. I shall go ahead to inspect it. If it is truly blissful, I will not be able to return; if it is not blissful, I shall return to tell you.' Thereupon he climbed a tree, leapt with all his might, cast himself into the heap of foam, and drowned at the bottom of the sea. The others wondered why he did not emerge and thought it must be greatly blissful. One by one they cast themselves in, and the whole troop drowned to death. That jealous monkey king was Pūraṇa-Kāśyapa; his troop were the five hundred disciples of Pūraṇa today." (Taken from the fourth fascicle of the Dharmapada-avadāna Sūtra; the Xianyu jing records the incident with differing detail, so it is not adopted).
39.22
7. The Ṛṣi Kṣānti Practiced Patience and Cultivated Benevolence, and Was Dissevered by King Kali
39.23
The ṛṣi Kṣānti was in a great forest practicing patience and cultivating benevolence. At that time, King Kali brought his palace women into the forest to disport. Having finished eating, the king took a short rest. The palace women gathered flowers in the woods, saw this ṛṣi, bowed with deep reverence, and stood to one side. The ṛṣi then expounded benevolence and patience to the palace women. His words were so wondrous that the listeners never tired of them, and lingered long without leaving. King Kali awoke and did not see the women; drawing his sword, he followed their tracks and found them before the ṛṣi. Filled with arrogance and jealousy, the king glared angrily, brandished his sword, and asked the ṛṣi: "What are you doing?" The ṛṣi replied: "I am here practicing patience and cultivating benevolence." The king said: "I shall test you now. With a sharp sword I will cut off your ears and nose and sever your hands and feet. If you do not grow angry, I will know you practice patience." The ṛṣi said: "Do as you please." The king then drew his sword, cut off his ears and nose, and severed his hands and feet, asking him: "Is your mind disturbed or not?" He replied: "I practice benevolence and patience; my mind is not disturbed." The king said: "You are alone here without power. Though your mouth says it is not disturbed, who will believe you?" At that moment the ṛṣi made a vow: "If I truly practice benevolence and patience, may my blood turn to milk!" Instantly his blood turned into milk. The king was greatly astonished and took the women away. At that time, the dragon spirits in the forest unleashed thunder and lightning on the ṛṣi's behalf. The king was struck by disaster and perished without returning to his palace. (Taken from the fourth fascicle of the Dazhidulun).
39.24
8. The Ṛṣi Śaṅkhalipi Composed Writings That Neither Wind Nor Rain Could Blow Away or Damage
39.25
Formerly there was a ṛṣi named Śaṅkhalipi whose vigor was pure and complete, yet he lived as a householder without leading a celibate life. Some explain it thus: Like that Śaṅkhalipi who had pure conduct yet dwelt as a householder without complete purity, Śaṅkhalipi composed writings that neither wind nor rain could ruin. Dwelling among worldly folk while practicing the celibate life—just like an anāgāmin who is at home surrounded by family—is this not also pure conduct? The realm of spiritual powers is inconceivable. (Taken from the sixth fascicle of the Vasumitra Sūtra).
39.26
9. Causes and Conditions of Four Ṛṣis Attaining the Way
39.27
When the Buddha was in Rājagṛha proclaiming the true Dharma, all the Nirgranthas became distressed in mind. On Mount Riyi there were five hundred ṛṣis. The Nirgranthas sent an envoy saying: "Here there is a Buddha who claims to have attained the Way and to be foremost in supernormal transformations; none of us can equal him, and he exalts himself. We pray that you great masters will condescend to assist us, debating the essentials of the Way to demolish his path, so that the fame and merits of the masters may become all the more manifest." They replied: "Very well. We will first dispatch four persons to go challenge Gautama." The Nirgranthas proclaimed throughout the realm: "Seven days from now, four Buddhas will enter the country to deliver people." When that day arrived, the four persons displayed supernormal transformations, coming through the air and entering each from one side of the city. The multitudes saw them and took them to be real Buddhas. The Nirgranthas sent an envoy to inform the Buddha: "You may come to debate the Way." The Buddha said: "I will go at mealtime." The Nirgranthas rejoiced, saying: "Gautama fears he is inferior, so he deceitfully does not come forward." The crowd all thought this true. The Buddha caused fire to arise in the sky, coming from the west. When the four flew south, the fire came south as well. Surrounded by burning heat on all four sides, the four were terrified and collapsed to the ground. The Buddha appeared in a cool place, and they immediately sought the coolness, coming before the Buddha. The Buddha expounded the Dharma for them; they all became śramaṇas and attained arhatship. The Buddha entered the city. The people of the city said: "This morning there were four Buddhas in the sky." Pointing to those at his side, the Buddha said: "It was these four arhats." (Taken from the fifth fascicle of the Ten-Fascicle Avadāna Sūtra).
39.28
10. A Ṛṣi Lost His Supernormal Powers and Was Reborn in an Evil Destiny
39.29
For instance, the ṛṣi Udraka attained the five supernormal powers and flew to the royal palace to eat. According to the custom of that country, the king's chief consort bowed down and touched his feet. At the touch of the consort's hand, he immediately lost his supernormal powers. He asked the king for a chariot, rode out in it, and returned to his original place. Entering the forest, he sought the five supernormal powers once more. Focused with single-minded devotion, he was on the verge of attaining them when birds in the trees chirped clamorously, disturbing his mind. Leaving the trees, he went to the waterside to seek concentration, but again heard the sound of fish fighting and agitating the water. Failing to attain dhyāna, this man grew angry: "I shall kill all fish and birds!" Much later, by contemplation he attained concentration and was born in the sphere of neither-perception-nor-non-perception. When his lifespan there ended, he was reborn below as a flying fox, killing fish and birds. Committing boundless offenses, he fell into an evil destiny. (Taken from the seventeenth fascicle of the Dazhidulun).
39.30
11. Ṛṣis Lost Their Supernormal Powers Upon Seeing the Forms and Hearing the Voices of Women
39.31
King Udayana took his palace maidens and concubines to the forest on Mount Udapadha. Banishing all men, he disported himself solely with the women and the five types of music. The sounds were delicate and wondrous, and various famous incenses were burned. At that time, some of the palace maidens danced naked. Five hundred ṛṣis were passing through that place; upon seeing the forms, hearing the sounds, and smelling the perfumes, they lost their supernormal powers, falling into that forest like wingless birds. The king asked: "Who are you?" The ṛṣis answered: "We are ṛṣis." The king asked again: "Have you attained the concentration of the sphere of neither-perception-nor-non-perception?" They answered: "We have not." He asked again: "Have you attained the first dhyāna?" They answered: "We once attained it, but now have lost it." The king then said angrily: "Men with desire looking upon my palace women is entirely improper!" He then drew a sharp sword and severed the hands and feet of the five hundred ṛṣis. (Taken from the thirty-third fascicle of the Chao Pitan Piposha).
39.32
12. With Transformed Feet and Hands He Touched a Princess and Gave Rise to Lust; Later Conceiving Evil Thoughts, He Fell into Avīci
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To Udraka Rāmaputra, there was a king who constantly offered food. When the mealtime arrived, [the rishi] would use his supernatural powers to fly through the air and reach the royal palace. The king would personally receive and embrace him, seat him on a golden couch, and make offerings to him with the delicacies eaten by rishis. After the rishi had finished eating, he would remove the vessels, rinse his mouth, recite verses of blessing, and fly away through the air. Later on, because of state affairs, the king had to travel elsewhere. There was no one to attend to the rishi. [The king thought,] 'The rishi is volatile by nature. He might become enraged and curse me, causing me to lose my throne or ending my life.' He then asked his daughter, 'If the rishi comes, can you serve him according to my customary rule?' The daughter replied, 'I can.' The king then sternly charged his daughter to serve him wholeheartedly, and only then did he depart to attend to the affairs of state. The next day at mealtime, the rishi came flying in. The king's daughter, following the king's rule, personally received and embraced him, seating him on the golden couch. The king's daughter's body was delicate and soft; when the rishi touched the maiden, he lost his supernatural powers. Having finished his food and drink, he removed the vessels, rinsed his mouth, and recited verses of blessing. He wished to fly, but could not. At that time, there was a rear park in the royal palace. He immediately entered it, wishing to cultivate his supernatural powers, but hearing the sounds of elephants, horses, and carriages, he could not cultivate them. Meanwhile, the people of the city had constantly thought, 'If only the great rishi would walk on the ground, we would be able to draw near and prostrate at his feet.' The rishi was clever and discerning, skillful in expedients. He said to the king's daughter, 'You must now proclaim to the people of the city: “Today the great rishi will walk out on foot from the royal palace. Whatever you people should do, do it all.”' The king's daughter followed his instructions and made the proclamation at once. The streets and lanes were cleaned, cleared of rubble and filth; banners were hung, incense was burned, and various flowers were scattered, adorning everything so that it was fresh and clean. The rishi walked out not far from the city and entered among the forest trees, wishing to cultivate his supernatural powers. Hearing the calls of various birds, he could not succeed in cultivating them. He then left the forest trees and went to the riverbank, wishing to cultivate his supernatural powers according to his original method. Again, hearing the splashing sounds of fish and turtles in the water, he could not cultivate them. He then climbed to the mountaintop and thought thus: 'The reason I have lost my wholesome qualities today is entirely due to sentient beings. By whatever wholesome qualities and pure conduct I possess, may I become such a sentient being that I can harm all sentient beings seen in the world—those walking on the ground, flying through the air, or living in water—with none escaping me.' Having made this evil vow and wishing to see it fulfilled, he detached from the desires of the eight stages and was born in the Summit of Existence, the sphere of neither-perception-nor-non-perception. Opening the gate of nectar, [dwelling in] the tranquil park and field, he dwelt in quietude and bliss for eighty thousand kalpas. When his karmic retribution was exhausted, he returned to this place, in the Dāpa forest at the Dharma-āraṇya, becoming a winged fox (flying fox/civet). Its body was fifty yojanas wide, each of its two wings was fifty yojanas wide, and its body measured one hundred and fifty yojanas. With this immense body, he killed airborne, aquatic, and terrestrial sentient beings, with none able to escape. When his body broke up and his life ended, he was born in the Avīci hell. (From the thirty-third fascicle of the Excerpted Abhidharma-vibhāṣā)
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13. Dvaipāyana Hears Śacī's Voice and Arouses Lust
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Before the Buddha appeared in the world, Śakra Devānām Indra constantly went to the rishi Dvaipāyana's dwelling to listen to the Dharma. Later, on one occasion, riding in a jewel-adorned carriage, he wished to visit the rishi. Śacī thought, 'Today Śakra has abandoned me to visit other court ladies.' She then concealed her form and boarded the carriage. Śakra was unaware. Just as they were about to arrive at the rishi's dwelling, he looked back and saw her, and asked, 'Why have you come? The rishi does not wish his eyes to see women. You must return to the palace.' Śacī did not want to leave. Śakra struck her with a lotus stem. Śacī apologized to Śakra with a woman's soft and melodious voice. The rishi heard it and aroused lustful desire; his coiled hair instantly fell off, and his auditory consciousness deteriorated. (From the thirty-third fascicle of the Excerpted Abhidharma-vibhāṣā)
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14. The Himālaya Rishi Engages in Lust with a Tigress and Fathers Twelve Sons
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In the past, in the Himālayas, there was a rishi named Bhārgava. He ate fruits, grasses, and roots, and cultivated a mind of loving-kindness, yet he could not eliminate the fetters of afflictions. At that time, a tigress dwelt in that place. He engaged in lust with her, and she subsequently became pregnant. When the months and days were fulfilled, she came to the rishi's dwelling and gave birth to twelve sons. The rishi took pity on them, immediately bathing and nurturing them. The mother tiger, loving and fond, suckled them at appropriate times. The rishi gave names to each of them: the first was called Khaḍga, the second Bhavaga, the third Vyāghra, the fourth Siṃha, the fifth Bhāradvāja, the sixth Bhāradvāja, the seventh Padaga, the eighth Bhāranu, the ninth Drallāhāra, the tenth Duḥśīla, the eleventh Siṃhabhāra, and the twelfth Sighraga. By the age of seven, they were able to eat roots, flowers, and fruits. Both their parents passed away, and the sons' minds were filled with sorrow and grief. Looking up to the heavens, they wailed and wept, having no one to rely upon. A tree deity said, 'Do not wail anymore. In the six periods of the day and night, you should wash and purify yourselves, face the open sky, and with sincere hearts pay homage and beg for mercy from Brahmā. When Brahmā hears this, he will come to your dwelling, destroy your darkness of ignorance, bestow upon you the light of wisdom, and provide for you.' Following the instruction, they practiced for twelve years. Then Brahmā, Śakra, and the gods of the Trāyastriṃśa heaven, along with countless retinues, all came to make offerings. Brahmā addressed the boys, saying, 'Why have you practiced vigorous austerities and made offerings to me for twelve years? What do you seek?' They all said, 'We only wish the Great Being to bestow wisdom upon us, so that we may know the actions of good and evil and the matters of experiencing suffering and joy.' (From the twenty-fourth fascicle of the Mahāsaṃnipāta Sūtra)
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15. The Rishi Bāgura Sees a King's Daughter, Arouses Desire, and Loses His Supernatural Powers
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Long ago in the distant past, there was a rishi named Bāgura who had attained the five supernatural powers. At that time, he was served and revered by a king, flying through the air with his supernatural powers back and forth to the royal palace. The king made offerings of all kinds to provide him comfort. The king personally held the rishi's spread hair as he walked, and personally poured and served a hundred kinds of food and drink, which continued for years. Later, the king had official business. The king had a daughter who was upright, refined, and exquisite, rare in the world, and the king held her in high regard. The daughter had not yet married. The king told his daughter, 'I serve the rishi without daring to neglect his wishes. Now that I am traveling far away, you must make offerings to him just as if I were here.' Later, that rishi flew down from the sky into the inner palace. The king's daughter saw him coming, held him with her hands, and seated him upon the throne. Touching the woman's soft body, he immediately aroused lustful thoughts. Passionate desire flared, and he promptly lost his supernatural powers. He pondered and practiced walking meditation, wishing to regain his supernatural powers, but was still unable to obtain them. He walked out of the palace on foot. At that time, countless people all gathered to watch. When the king finished his journey and returned, he heard that [the rishi] had fallen into sensual love and could no longer fly. At night, the king went to the palace, walked out alone in secret, and went to see the rishi. Bowing his head to the rishi's feet, he spoke in verse:
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"I have heard that the great brahmacārin, / Was originally unique, subsisting only on food and drink. / From what teaching did this arise? / For what reason do you practice carnal desire?"
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Bāgura replied:
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"Indeed it is so, Great King, / Just as the noble one has heard."
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The king said:
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"I do not know where wisdom lies; / It is what the virtuous and worthy keep in mind. / Even if one arousing lustful thoughts, / How could he fail to subdue his former mastery?"
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Bāgura replied:
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"Lust and desire destroy benefit and right; / The mind of passion blazes fiercely. / Today, having heard the king's words, / I shall immediately abandon sensual desire."
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The rishi was ashamed and rebuked himself wholeheartedly. Through diligent effort day and night, he regained his supernatural powers. The rishi of that time was none other than present Śāriputra, and the king of that time was none other than myself. (From the Scripture on the Rishi Bāgura)
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16. The One-Horned Rishi Is Tainted by Worldly Desires and Ridden by a Courtesan
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At that time, in the mountains of Vārāṇasī, there was a rishi. In the middle of autumn, he urinated into a washbasin. Seeing deer copulating, lustful thoughts were aroused in him, and his semen flowed into the basin. A doe drank it and immediately became pregnant. When the months were fulfilled, she gave birth to a child who was mostly like a human, but had a single horn on his head and feet resembling a deer's. When the doe was about to give birth, she went before the rishi's hut, gave birth to the child, entrusted it to the rishi, and left. When the rishi came out and saw this deer-child, he contemplated the past conditions and knew it was his own son. He took him in and raised him. When the child grew older, [the rishi] diligently taught him, and he mastered the eighteen great treatises. He also studied seated meditation, practiced the four immeasurables, and attained the five supernatural powers. Once, when he went up the mountain, encountering heavy rain and slippery mud, his feet were awkward, and he slipped and hurt his foot. He became exceedingly enraged and cursed [the heavens] not to rain. Because of the rishi's merit, the nāgas, spirits, and deities all caused it not to rain. Because it did not rain, the grains and fruits did not grow, and the people were destitute, with no means of livelihood. The king of Vārāṇasī was sorrowful and distressed, and summoned the high ministers to assemble and deliberate on the matter of rain. A wise person offered counsel, saying, 'I have heard that there is a one-horned rishi who injured his foot climbing the mountain and in anger cursed it not to rain for twelve years.' The king immediately offered a reward: 'If anyone can cause the rishi to lose his five supernatural powers and become my subject, I shall divide the kingdom and give half to them to rule.' In this kingdom of Vārāṇasī, there was a courtesan named Śāntā, who was beautiful and extremely wealthy. She came to respond to the king's recruitment. The courtesan said, 'If he is human, I can ruin him.' Having spoken these words, she took a golden platter filled with fine jewels and said to the king, 'I shall ride this rishi back.' The courtesan immediately requested five hundred carriages carrying five hundred beautiful women, and five hundred deer carts carrying various delight-pills, all compounded with various medicinal herbs, as well as various potent and delicious wines with the colour and taste of water. Wearing tree-bark garments, they walked among the forest trees to resemble rishis. They built a grass hut and lived beside the rishi's dwelling. When the one-horned rishi walked about and saw them, the women all brought out fine flowers and wonderful incense to offer to the rishi. The rishi was delighted. With sweet words and respectful phrases, the women greeted the rishi, took him into a room, seated him on fine couches and cushions, and gave him fine, pure wine pretending it was pure water, and gave him delight-pills pretending they were fruits and melons. After eating and drinking to satisfaction, he said to the women, 'Since my birth, I have never obtained such fruits and water.' The women said, 'Because we practice goodness with a single mind, heaven has granted our wish to obtain these fruits and water.' The rishi asked the women, 'Why are your complexions so plump and flourishing?' They replied, 'We constantly eat these fine fruits and drink this delicious water.' The rishi said, 'Why do you not live here?' They replied, 'We could live here as well.' A woman invited him to bathe together. When her soft hands touched him, his mind was stirred, and lustful desire was accomplished; he immediately lost his supernatural powers. Heaven then poured heavy rain for seven days and seven nights, and [the woman] had him indulge in joyful food and drink for seven days. When the wine and food were exhausted, they offered wild fruits from water and trees instead, but their taste was not delicious. He asked again for the previous ones. She replied, 'They are exhausted. Now we must go together to fetch them; not far from here is a place where they can be obtained.' The rishi said, 'As you wish.' They went out together, and not far from the city, the woman lay down on the ground and said, 'I am exhausted and can walk no further.' The rishi said, 'If you cannot walk, ride on my neck and I will carry you.' The woman had earlier sent a messenger to inform the king: 'The king may come out briefly to see my skill.' When the king saw it, he asked, 'How did you achieve this?' The woman said, 'By the power of expedient means, he is no longer capable of anything.' [The king] had him live in the city, treated him with fine offerings and respect, satisfied his desires, and appointed him as a grand minister. After staying in the city for a few days, his body grew increasingly emaciated; his mind contemplated dhyāna-meditation, and he grew weary of these worldly desires. The king asked the rishi, 'Why are you unhappy?' He replied, 'Although I have obtained the five desires, I constantly long for the forest.' The king thought, 'Originally, this was to eliminate the drought; why should I forcibly thwart his aspiration?' He then sent him away. Once he returned to the mountains, through diligence, he soon regained the five supernatural powers. The one-horned rishi was myself, and the courtesan was Yaśodharā. (From the seventeenth fascicle of the Da zhidu lun)
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Diverse Phenomena from the Sūtras and Vinaya, Fascicle 39
Linked texts (1)
- 經律異相 — Classical Chinese