法苑珠林 47

English (machine translation) 47

Language: English

47.1

Compiled by the Śramaṇa Shi Daoshi of Ximing Temple

47.2

Section 46: Chastising Transgressions
Section 47: Harmony and Compliance

47.3

Section on Chastising Transgressions (this has two divisions)

The physical body is prone to many afflictions; in principle, it requires strict admonition. The sense faculties and consciousness are prone to torpor; it is fitting to constantly alert and spur them. Thus scripture says: "Do not let a lifetime pass in vain with nothing attained due to the causes and conditions of sleep." It is merely that possessing a body is the root of afflictions; having no body, afflictions are extinguished. Therefore, in the rites, nothing lacks reverence; arrogance must not be allowed to grow. If one gives rein to arrogance, laxity and pride will increase all the more. To attack them in vain does nothing to alleviate suffering and grief. The mouth is the gate of knives and axes, the beginning of disaster and burden. The mind harbors poisonous thoughts, the mouth issues poisonous words, and the body performs poisonous actions. Giving rise to these three karmas attracts the four destinations all the more. Thus the Book says: "A single word can cause a state to flourish; a single word can cause a state to fall." It is also said: "Actions are the pivot and mechanism of the noble person; the functioning of this pivot and mechanism is the master of honor and disgrace." The mind is the root of karma; the body and mouth arise from it. Therefore, one must first eliminate malicious intent, banish depravity, and devote oneself to rectitude. Thus we know that detestable matters flow like a river, entirely produced by the mind. How do we know this? If the mind arises through a sudden encounter with conditions, the mouth will consequently utter evil words. Words are manifested from the mind; there is no evil that is not done. Therefore, the Tattvasiddhi-śāstra says: "Apart from the mind, without thought, there are no bodily or vocal karmas."

47.6

Division 2: Scriptural Citations and Proofs

47.7

As the Vimalakīrti-sūtra says: "Therefore, only with a number of bitter and cutting words can one enter into the discipline." The Book says: "Hearing admonition like flowing water"—these words are worthy of note. The stubborn and obstinate who lack faith are like wild horses hard to tame. Beating the breast with much shame, one should constantly use this to admonish oneself. It is hoped that those who hear these treatises will express their innermost feelings. Now, if one wishes to seal one's speech and regulate one's body, it is best first to curb one's mind and next to subdue one's intention. Thus scripture says: "Restrain it in one place, and there is nothing that cannot be accomplished." For example, foxes and hares dare not dwell in the caves of golden mountains; frogs and turtles refuse to lodge in deep, clear oceans. Thus we know that if one cleanses one's mind and purifies one's intention, then the retribution of the three wretched paths will cease and the four virtues will always be fulfilled. Guard the mind like a city; watch over the mouth like a jar. One may say that the final entrustment at the Golden River belongs to such a person; the broad transformation at the Jade Gate is truly verified herein. Having spurred these three karmas, one can then eliminate the four afflictions. What are the four afflictions? They are birth, old age, sickness, and death. Thus the Garbhāvakrānti-sūtra says: "When sentient beings enter the womb, they experience all hardships. In murky obscurity, like floating dust. When the ten months are nearly full, the mother's womb experiences suffering. The winds of karma urge it on, directing the head toward the birth canal. Falling to the ground, the whip-like touch is as if upon a mountain of knives; the wind's biting cold touch is like freezing ice. At that moment, birth is truly suffering." Moreover, the Nirvāṇa-sūtra says: "For example, the wick of a lamp relies solely on grease and oil; once the grease and oil are exhausted, its light cannot last long. Man is also like this; he relies solely on the grease of vitality; once the grease of vitality is exhausted, how could the wick of decrepit old age remain long?" Moreover, in the Udāna-sūtra, the Buddha spoke a verse on the suffering of old age, saying:

47.8

"In youth, the mind is exuberant and robust;
yet it is overtaken by old age.
The form withers and becomes extremely emaciated;
breath exhausted, one walks leaning on a staff."

47.9

Furthermore, the Buddha spoke a verse on the suffering of death, saying:

47.10

"Breath extinguished, the spirit departs; / the physical frame turns bleak and desolate. / Worldly beings are uniformly governed: / nothing born does not come to an end."

47.11

Moreover, the Nirvāṇa-sūtra says: "As for death, in that perilous and difficult place there are no provisions; the destination is far away without companions; one journeys day and night without knowing the limit; it is profound and dark without lamp or light; entering has no door yet there is a place; although there is no specific locus of pain, it cannot be cured; going there cannot be hindered; arriving there, one cannot escape." Furthermore, the Sukhāvatīvyūha-sūtra says: "Born alone, dying alone, coming alone, going alone. In places of suffering or joy, one undergoes it by oneself; none can take one's place. Dim and murky, parting is for long; paths are different, meeting again has no fixed time. It is exceedingly difficult, exceedingly difficult to encounter one another again." In life, relatives gather in joy, fully expressing the harmony of affectionate love. In death, dying in the morning and buried in the evening, there are immediately signs of fear and separation. Singing and weeping escort the departed, yet the dead knows nothing of it. Returning to the empty hall of the chamber, all is silent and extinguished with nothing to behold. Existence and non-existence, being and nothingness, transform in an instant. Thus in the Udāna-sūtra the Buddha again spoke a verse on the suffering of death, saying:

47.12

"Life is like fruit waiting to ripen,
ever fearing it will fall.
All who are born have suffering;
who can bring about non-death?"

47.13

"Just like a condemned prisoner / being led to the marketplace, / with every step heading toward the path of death; / human life is like this. / Like a river's swift current, / flowing onward and not returning; / human life is like this: / those who pass on do not return."

47.14

Moreover, the Udāna-sūtra says: In the past there were four brothers who were brahmacārins, all of whom had attained the five supernormal knowledges. Knowing that their lifespans were short and that they would surely die within seven days, the brothers conferred, saying: "We brothers have sovereign supernormal powers; by supernormal strength we can overturn heaven and earth, manifest an immense hand to touch the sun and moon, and move mountains and halt currents—there is nothing we cannot accomplish. How could we be unable to avoid this disaster?" The first brother said: "I will enter the great ocean, right in the middle between top and bottom; how could the murderous demon of impermanence know my whereabouts?" The second brother said: "I will enter into the interior of Mount Sumeru and seal its surface so that no boundary appears; how could the murderous demon of impermanence know my whereabouts?" The third brother said: "I will dwell in empty space, concealing my form without a trace; how could the murderous demon of impermanence know my whereabouts?" The fourth brother said: "I will conceal myself in the great market among the milling crowd, where people do not know one another; the murderous demon of impermanence will just seize someone at random, why must he take me?" After the four had finished conferring, they went together to bid farewell to the king, and said to him: "We calculate that our remaining lifespan is daily growing short; we each wish to flee to seek abundant blessings." The king then told them: "Advance well in your virtue." Thereupon they took their leave, each going to his intended place. When the seven-day period was fulfilled, each died in his respective place. With his divine eye, the Buddha saw that the four brahmacārins, fleeing impermanence to seek deliverance from the world, had all passed away, and he spoke a verse, saying:

47.15

"Neither in the sky nor in the ocean,
nor entering among rocks and mountains;
there is no place on earth
where, having escaped, one does not undergo death."

47.16

Furthermore, the Ekottarika-āgama says: At that time, the World-Honoured One was in the kingdom of Śrāvastī, in the eastern park of the Mother of Mṛgāra (Mṛgāramātṛ-prāsāda), together with a great assembly of five hundred monks. At this time, on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, the World-Honoured One laid out his seat in the open air, and the assembly of monks surrounded him before and behind. The Buddha told Ānanda: "Quickly strike the gaṇḍī now. Today, the fifteenth day of the seventh month, is the day for receiving the years [of the monastic age] (pravāraṇā)." Ānanda joined his palms and spoke this verse:

47.17

"Pure-eyed one, peerless without remainder, / There is nothing you have not mastered. / With wisdom unsoiled and unattached, / What is it that is called 'receiving the year'?"

47.18

The World-Honoured One replied with a verse:

47.19

"Receiving the year purifies the three actions / Done by body, speech, and mind. / Two monks face each other in pairs, / Personally confessing the faults they have committed, / Each stating his own name: / 'Today the assembly receives the year; / I also receive it with a pure mind; / I only pray that my faults be forgiven.'"

47.20

At that time, Ānanda, having heard this, rejoiced. He immediately went up to the lecture hall, took the gaṇḍī in hand, and spoke this verse:

47.21

"Subduing the enmity of Māra's power, / Eliminating defilements without remainder. / Striking the gaṇḍī in the open air, / When the monks hear it, they should gather. / All who desire to hear the Dharma, / To cross the flowing ocean of birth and death: / Hearing this wondrous resonant sound, / All should assemble here!"

47.22

At that time, after Ānanda struck the gaṇḍī, he went to the World-Honoured One's place and said to the World-Honoured One: "Now is the right time. I pray only to know what the World-Honoured One commands." At this time, the World-Honoured One told Ānanda: "Take your seat according to rank; you should sit on a grass seat." Then all the monks sat on their grass seats. At this time, after silently observing all the monks, the World-Honoured One instructed the monks: "I now wish to receive the year. Have I no fault toward the assembly? And have I not offended in body, speech, or mind?" After the Tathāgata spoke these words, all the monks remained silent and did not reply. After this was announced a second and third time to the monks, the venerable Śāriputra rose from his seat, knelt on his right knee, and said to the World-Honoured One: "The assembly of monks observes that the Tathāgata has no fault of body, speech, or mind. World-Honoured One, today you deliver those not yet delivered, liberate those not yet liberated, bring those not yet in parinirvāṇa to enter parinirvāṇa, act as a refuge and protection for the helpless, provide eyes for the blind, and act as a great king of physicians for the sick. You are uniquely supreme in the three realms, and none can equal you. By reason of this, the Tathāgata has no fault toward the assembly, nor has he any fault of body, speech, or mind." At this time, Śāriputra said to the World-Honoured One: "May I now state of myself whether I have any fault toward the Tathāgata and the assembly of monks?" The World-Honoured One told him: "You, Śāriputra, have entirely no wrongful deeds committed by body, speech, or mind. None can equal your wisdom now. What you say now is always in accord with the meaning of the Dharma and has never transgressed reason." At this time, Śāriputra said to the Buddha: "Are all these five hundred monks to receive the year? Do they all have no fault toward the Tathāgata?" The World-Honoured One told him: "I also do not blame the body, speech, or mind of these five hundred monks. Śāriputra, within this great assembly it is exceedingly pure and free from blemish. The lowest and most junior in this assembly now has attained the fruit of stream-enterer (srotaāpanna), and will certainly advance upward to the stage of non-retrogression (avaivartika). For this reason, I do not reprove or blame this assembly."

47.23

Furthermore, the Abhiniṣkramaṇa-sūtra says: At that time, the men of the Śākya clan, altogether ninety-nine thousand, as well as the people dwelling in the city of Kapilavastu, went together from the city wishing to see the Tathāgata. Seeing King Śuddhodana and the great assembly arriving in majestic array from afar, the World-Honoured One immediately thought: "If I see him and do not rise to welcome and honour him, people will say of me: 'How can this be a person of the fruition of moral conduct? Why does he see his father and not rise to go out and welcome him?' If I now see my father and the great assembly and rise to go forward and welcome him, they will incur immeasurable great transgression. If I now maintain my dignified deportment and remain here, they will not give rise to a reverent mind toward me." The Tathāgata formed these three thoughts, and seeing that there were such three causes and conditions, after contemplating these three reasons, he rose from his seat, soared into the sky, and manifested various divine transformations, causing the great assembly to give rise to faith and all enter the Path.

47.24

Furthermore, the Brahmajāla-sūtra says: If one is a disciple of the Buddha, one should sit in order according to the Dharma: those who received the precepts earlier sit in front, and those who received the precepts later sit behind. Regardless of age, whether monk, nun, noble person, king, prince, or even eunuch or slave, all should sit with those who received the precepts earlier in front, and those who received the precepts later sitting in succession. Do not be like the foolish people among non-Buddhists, where young and old have no front or back, sitting without order after the manner of soldiers and slaves. In my Buddha-Dharma, the seniors sit first and the juniors sit afterward. If a bodhisattva does not sit in order, he commits an offense of light defilement (duṣkṛta). If a disciple of the Buddha constantly carries out transformation through teaching, entering with great compassion among noble donor families and all assemblies, he must not stand to explain the Dharma for laypeople. He should sit on a high seat before the lay assembly. A Dharma master must not stand on the ground to explain the Dharma for the fourfold assembly and laypeople. When explaining the Dharma, the Dharma master sits on a high seat, offered perfumes and flowers, and the fourfold assembly of listeners sits below, like being filial to parents and respectfully obeying the teacher's instruction like a fire-worshipping brāhmaṇa. If the one explaining the Dharma does not act according to the Dharma, he commits an offense of light defilement.

47.25

Furthermore, the Samantapāsādikā says: When a disciple visits a teacher, he should avoid six positions: first, he must not be directly in front; second, he must not be directly behind; third, he must not be too far; fourth, he must not be too close; fifth, he must not be in a higher place; sixth, he must not stand upwind. Question: Among the four kinds of bodily postures—sitting, standing, walking, and lying down—why is it only said that he stands to one side? Answer: Because it is a visit, he should not walk; out of respect, he should not sit; out of making offerings, he should not lie down.

47.26

Furthermore, the Three Thousand Rules of Deportment says: When wishing to get onto a bed, there are five matters: first, one should slowly sit back onto the bed; second, one must not crawl up on all fours; third, one must not cause the bed to make a noise; fourth, one must not roughly dust off the bed-mat causing a noise; fifth, if one's feet are washed and not yet dry, one should wipe them. When on the bed, there are five matters: first, one must not blow heavily; second, one must not scold, shout, sigh, or belch; third, one must not sigh and dwell upon worldly affairs; fourth, one must not lie down like a pack of dogs; fifth, when wishing to rise and sit up, one should do so at the proper time; if the mind wanders restlessly, one should reprove oneself for the source [of the distraction]. Furthermore, when lying down, there are five matters: first, one's head should face the Buddha; second, one must not lie down looking at the Buddha; third, one must not stretch out both feet; fourth, one must not lie facing the wall, nor lie face down; fifth, one must not raise both knees, but must clasp the hands, restrain both feet, and stack the two knees. Furthermore, when rising from sleep and wishing to go out the door, there are five matters: first, rise from the bed without causing the bed to make a noise; second, when putting on shoes, first shake them out; third, stand upright and put on the Dharma robe; fourth, when wishing to open the door, first snap the fingers three times, not allowing the door to make a noise; fifth, if there is a Buddha image in the room, one must not turn one's back to it when going out, but should face toward the door and exit backwards, and once outside, one must not stand and converse with others.

47.27

Furthermore, the Saddharmasmṛtyupasthāna-sūtra says: The Peacock Bodhisattva explained the method of subduing the mind (damana) to the assembly of devas: "Whether householder or renunciant, whether old or young, if one's subjugation is appropriate, one is adorned by this. As a renunciant initially subdues himself by means of the kāṣāya robe, he should practice seven matters: First, in accordance with the law of that land, he accepts rag robes—garments discarded by householders. If in a cemetery there are garments of the dead, those pressed beneath a corpse should not be taken; if in a cemetery one obtains tattered garments, one should accept and use them. This is called the method of subverting defilements through the kāṣāya robe.

47.28

"Second, if entering a village, walk observing the ground, looking forward the distance of one fathom (vyāma), keeping the Buddha's image in mind, with single-minded right mindfulness and faculties undispersed. Do not look at any utensils of necessity; do not converse with women; do not hold small children; do not repeatedly move the feet, nor move the arms and the seats; do not rub the head with the hands; do not repeatedly adjust the clothes; do not shake out the kāṣāya robe; do not rub the hands together; and do not snap the fingers. This is called the second method of subduing defilements.

47.29

"Third, if entering a donor's home, wash the hands up to the wrists at mealtime. When receiving food, do not stretch out the hands too far, but keep them one cubit (aratni) before you; do not fill the mouth with food, nor take too little. The balls of food made should be neither too large nor too small; do not open the mouth wide; do not make chewing noises; of the food served, eat only two-thirds, knowing when to stop and be content with food; do not look at another's bowl and give rise to a greedy mind; do not harbour distracted thoughts regarding the food received; look at one's own bowl and do not look from side to side. This is called the third method of subduing defilements.

47.30

"Fourth, if at mealtime, whether in a village or in a town or city, do not give rise to mental fixation on food seen previously; do not speak of it repeatedly, nor crave it; accept and keep the matting received in accordance with the Dharma, not seeking superior quality. This is called the fourth method of subduing defilements.

47.31

"Fifth, in all that one does, do not rely on or cling to things, and do not spare body or life; do not amass large quantities of utensils used; do not travel to border regions or perilous and fearful places; do not wear bizarre garments; do not take partial pleasure in frequenting a single household. This is called the fifth method of subduing defilements.

47.32

"Sixth, do not cut grass and trees or dig the living earth; do not wear multi-coloured leather sandals or multi-coloured clothing; do not break another's precepts; do not slander or criticize; let the mind not crave; do not relish kingly delicacies; do not draw close to monks fond of quarrelling. This is called the sixth method of subduing defilements.

47.33

"Seventh, if there are those of like mind and like Dharma, one should associate with and benefit them; whether in mountain caves, beneath trees, or in the open air, constantly cultivate emptiness, signlessness, and wishlessness. This is called the seventh method of subduing defilements. If there is a monk who can practice in this way, he will be able to abandon all fetters and attain liberation."

47.34

Furthermore, the Za baozang jing states: On the night the Buddha first went forth from the household life, the Buddha’s son Rāhula first entered the womb. On the night [the Buddha] first attained the Way, Rāhula was born. All the court ladies in the palace felt ashamed and humiliated, saying, “How monstrous and exceedingly wicked of Yaśodharā! Without considering right and wrong, she acted rashly and heedlessly, not cherishing or guarding herself, thereby bringing defilement upon our entire palace. The Bodhisattva Siddhārtha went forth long ago, yet now she suddenly gives birth to a son! This is utterly disgraceful.” At that time there was a Śākya maiden named Lightning-Flash (Dian’guang), who was the daughter of Yaśodharā’s maternal aunt. Beating her chest and slapping her thighs, she scolded Yaśodharā, saying, “Why have you disgraced your venerable family? It has already been six years since the crown prince went forth; giving birth to this boy is exceedingly untimely. By whom did you conceive him? You have disgraced our clan and brought an evil reputation without care!” King Śuddhodana was in his tower at that time and saw this great earth trembling in six ways. Having seen this sign, he thought that the Bodhisattva had died, and the arrow of grief pierced his heart. Hearing loud wailing through the palace, the king became doubly alarmed and terrified, believing the crown prince was dead. He sent a running maidservant to ask what weeping sound that was. The maidservant addressed the king, saying, “The crown prince is not dead. Yaśodharā has just given birth to a boy, and the whole palace is ashamed and humiliated; therefore they weep.” Hearing these words, the king’s grief and distress doubled. He broke into loud wailing and cried out aloud, “How monstrous! What an ugly disgrace! My son went forth six years ago; how can she only now give birth to a son?” According to the law of that kingdom, one stroke of the drum was the signal for all to assemble, and ninety-nine thousand Śākyas all gathered. They summoned Yaśodharā, who donned clean white clothes and held the child in her bosom without the least alarm or fear, standing with the child in her arms amidst her kinsfolk. The Śākyas were all enraged and scolded her, “You vile and base woman! What face do you have to stand before us? Speak the truth properly: where did you get this child after all?” Yaśodharā felt no shame or humiliation at all, and spoke with uprightness, “I had this child from that Śākya clansman who went forth, named Siddhārtha.” The king said, “When my son Siddhārtha was originally at home, he would not even listen with his ears to the five desires, much less engage in desire to father a child! This is truly crooked and deceitful, not an upright matter.” Because of this slander, the king was exceedingly enraged and asked the Śākyas, “By what cruel means shall she be put to death?” There was another Śākya who said, “In my opinion, we should make a fire pit and cast them into the fire, leaving nothing of both mother and child.” Everyone said, “This is the best course.” Thereupon they dug a fire pit, heaped khadira wood inside it, and set it ablaze. They then brought Yaśodharā to the edge of the fire pit. Only when Yaśodharā saw the fire was she greatly terrified, like a solitary wild deer surrounded on all sides, looking in every direction with nothing to rely upon. Yaśodharā blamed herself, “Though guiltless myself, I suffer this catastrophe!” Looking around at all the Śākyas and seeing no one to rescue her, she held the child and lamented, thinking of the Bodhisattva: “You possess loving-kindness and compassion, pitying all beings. Devas, nāgas, ghosts, and spirits all revere you. Now my child and I lack help and protection, and suffer without having committed any fault. Why does the Bodhisattva pay no heed? Why do you not rescue my child and me from today’s perilous crisis?” Immediately facing toward the Buddha, she paid homage with a single mind, bowed again to the Śākyas, joined her palms toward the fire, and spoke words of truth (satyavacana): “This child of mine truly came from no other. If it is true that this child came from no other, and it is true and not false that he remained in my womb for six years, may the fire be extinguished and never burn or harm my child and me!” Having spoken these words, she stepped into the fire. Thereupon this fire pit turned into a pool of water, and she saw herself seated upon a lotus blossom, completely devoid of terror, her countenance pleasant and serene. Joining her palms toward the Śākyas, she said, “Had I been lying, I ought to have burned to death immediately. Because this child is truly the Bodhisattva’s son, by my true words I have escaped the disaster of the fire.” Some Śākyas said, “Look at her appearance—she is neither frightened nor afraid, and this fire pit has turned into a pure pool. Verified by this, we know she is blameless.” Then the Śākyas escorted Yaśodharā back to the palace with redoubled respect, sought wet nurses to serve and attend to her son, exactly the same as if he were [just] born. The grandfather, King Śuddhodana, cherished and valued him most deeply; if he did not see Rāhula, he could not eat at all, and whenever he thought of the Bodhisattva, he held Rāhula to dispel his sorrowful thoughts. In brief: when six full years had passed, King Śuddhodana thirsted for the Buddha and sent messengers to invite him. Out of pity, the Buddha returned to his native kingdom. Arriving at the Śākya palace, he transformed the one thousand two hundred and fifty monks so that they all looked like the Buddha’s body, with no difference in radiance or marks. Yaśodharā said to Rāhula, “Who is your father? Go over to his side.” After Rāhula finished paying homage to the Buddha, he stood right beside the Tathāgata’s right foot. The Tathāgata then stroked Rāhula’s crown with his hand and spoke a verse:

47.35

Toward the relatives of my birth / and the son born to me,
I have no partial or preferential love; / I merely stroke his crown with my hand.
I have extinguished all defilements; / affection and hatred are forever cast off.
Do not harbor doubts / or waver concerning this son;
He too shall go forth from the household life / and become once again my Dharma-son.
To state briefly his merits: / going forth to train in the true Way,
He shall attain the fruit of an arhat.

47.36

The panegyric says:

47.37

The winds of karma constantly surge and overflow, / accompanied by the roaring sound of waves in the ocean of suffering;
Drifting and wandering incessantly, / one is far removed from the city of nirvāṇa.
Suddenly encountering the arrival of the vessel of compassion, / it conveys me out of the sea of attachment.
From this we know that yearning for lofty companions / curbs transgressions and reforms ordinary dispositions.
Sins and defilements are removed and bound knots dissolved; / the divine jewel illuminates the dark gloom.
The gate of the Śākyas shines with magnificent radiance, / while secular affairs entangle with harsh suffering.
May the dimming five hindrances be dispelled, / so that one awakens to the lightness of the six dusts.
Unless one mounts the jewelled carriage, / how can the flames be quelled and settled?

47.38

Conditions of Sympathetic Resonance (briefly citing three verifications)

47.39

Śramaṇa Shi Sengbao of the Song
Śramaṇa Shi Sengyuan of the Qi
Śramaṇa Shi Hongxian of the Sui

47.40

In the capital of the Song, at Jetavana Temple, there was the Śramaṇa Shi Sengbao. He was originally a native of Jingzhao. In his youth in the Guanzhong region, he received instruction from the Venerable [Kumāra]jīva. During the Yongchu reign period of the Song, he travelled through northern Xu and entered the Mount Huang Vihāra, where he further visited the two masters Jing and Ding to advance his practice. Thereupon he established at that place a three-seven-day (twenty-one-day) Samantabhadra fasting deśanā. On the seventeenth day, a white crane flew down and settled before the seat of Samantabhadra; it departed only when the mid-day circumambulation with incense was completed. Toward dusk on the twenty-first day, four men in yellow robes circled the stupa several times and suddenly vanished. From his youth Bao possessed resolve and high integrity, which was further reinforced by auspicious omens; hence his unflagging spirit was further stimulated. Daily he recited over ten thousand words of sūtras and regularly performed several hundred prostrations to the Buddha. Later, he went east down to the capital just as lectures were being launched at Jetavana Temple; Dharma followers gathered like clouds, and scholar-officials and commoners sat shoulder to shoulder. Since Bao had just arrived and no one knew him yet, he rode a donkey to go observe. His clothes were soiled and tattered, his appearance weather-beaten by wind and dust. The hall being cramped inside, he sat on his donkey pack-saddle outside the entrance. Just as the lecturer on the high seat finished explaining the title, Bao was about to interject a remark. The Dharma Master immediately asked, “What is the name of this guest monk?” He replied, “My name is Bao (Enfolding).” The master asked again, “What, to the utmost, do you enfold?” He replied, “Even the person on the high seat can be enfolded!” He then posed several questions, all of which surpassed what the mental power of previous masters could reach. The one on the high seat could not counter his statements, and so yielded and withdrew. At that time, Wang Hong and Fan Tai, hearing Bao’s dialectics, praised his talent and intellect and requested to converse with him. They then prevailed upon him to reside at Jetavana Temple, where he lectured on various sūtras and his Dharma transformation continued unbroken. Xie Lingyun of Chen Commandery heard of his reputation and came to visit him; upon seeing Bao’s demeanor, his admiration and respect deepened all the more. Someone asked him, “How is Master Xie?” Bao said, “Lingyun has an excess of talent but a deficiency of discernment; alas, he will not escape disaster in his person!” Once, while travelling along a road, Bao saw six bandits who had been captured. Bao preached the Dharma for them and urged them to be mindful of Avalokiteśvara. Facing a mortal crisis, the bandits were earnest and sincere from thought to thought. Shortly afterwards, the escorting guards drank wine and grew intoxicated together; the bandits freed themselves from the cangues and escaped. He passed away during the Yuanjia reign period of the Song. (This one verification comes from the Liang Biographies of Eminent Monks.)

47.41

At Xuehe Temple in Liangzhou under the Northern Qi, there was the Śramaṇa Shi Sengyuan. It is unknown where he was from. By nature he was careless and unrestrained, paying no heed to minor matters of conduct, and was fond of drifting along with the crowd and indulging in revelry. In the fifth year of the Wuping reign period of the Qi, he saw a giant in a dream who gnashed his teeth and scolded him, saying, “You are a person who has gone forth from the household life, yet your face and countenance are like this! With dishevelled hair you commit evils; why do you not take a mirror and look at yourself?” Yuan suddenly awoke, startled and sweating profusely. At dawn, he looked at his reflection in a basin of water and saw black spots beside his eyes. Thinking they were dirt, he washed and wiped them, whereupon his eyebrows all fell out under his hands at once. He blamed and reproached himself, wondering how to bear such a karmic calamity. He thereupon changed his regular habits, altering his appearance and transforming his character. In tattered robes and broken sandals, he maintained a single meal daily in long-term fasting, strictly observed the monastic rules, and performed repentances at dusk and dawn, his sorrowful tears streaming down. After a month had passed, he dreamed of the same person again, who smiled and said to him, “One who knows his transgressions and is able to reform is called a wise man. I forgive your former faults; do not continue them again.” He woke up startled and joyful, his whole body bathed in sweat. His face and eyes grew moist, and his eyebrows gradually regrew. Yuan in a single lifetime repeatedly experienced two retributions; he truly knew that the suffering and joy of the three periods of time are not in vain. From then on, he exhausted his devotion without pausing for a single moment. He was revered by his locality, and passed away in his native place.

47.42

At Daci Temple in Xiangzhou under the Sui, there was the Śramaṇa Shi Hongxian. In his youth he stepped into the gate of the Way and early on understood the disciplinary regulations. Due to the strain of listening to lectures and travelling, both of his eyes became dark and blind. Since he had no guide, he constantly remained in his room, taking homage and recitation as his practice without ceasing morning and night. In the fourteenth year of the Kaihuang reign period, he suddenly had an encounter with a spirit who called himself the Benefactor Prajñā (Bore). The spirit came to receive the precepts from him and frequently engaged him in conversation. The Meditation Master Senggang, who shared his room, went up to the hall to eat. Afterwards, Prajñā took a bundle of Gang’s clothing to donate to Xian as an offering, saying, “You have wearied yourself with expounding Dharma matters and brought no small benefit; I humbly present these garments and pray that you will certainly accept them.” Xian stored them in a chest. When Gang returned to the room after eating, he wondered at the loss of his clothes. Searching throughout the temple, he found them in Xian’s possession. Xian told him everything in full, but Gang refused to believe him, suspecting that Xian had stolen them. The spirit thereupon dismantled and threw down the garments and bedding in Gang’s room, scattering them in disarray all over the courtyard, and broke poles, fans, steelyards, and rulers into several pieces. The spirit spoke in the air, saying, “Senggang does not like to provide fasting feasts to make offerings to the Three Jewels. I shall bring disaster upon you and do not consent to let you off!” Xian experienced this unseen retribution; he conversed with Prajñā and saw things as if with his own eyes. The spirit said to Xian, “My companions are extremely numerous, all on the river at Zimo, and only thirty people follow me. You may have the temple prepare food.” The monastic assembly then gathered in the West Courtyard. The spirit said, “Very good, though food and drink take much effort and expense! Even though you venerable masters are like this, Senggang does not initiate fasting offerings; later I will make him understand!” Gang had no choice; under relentless terror, he personally expended wealth to prepare various fasting blessings. Prajñā then said, “Since you have been able to practice merit, I now let you off.” He then handed two bolts of silk to Xian, saying, “You should give one bolt to the great assembly and present one bolt to Master Gang.” Xian received them before the assembly; everyone heard and saw it, and he distributed and received them as instructed. Thereafter Gang reformed his faults, became even more diligent in sūtra practice, and passed away in his residence. (These two verifications come from the Tang Biographies of Eminent Monks.)

47.43

Chapter 47: Harmony and Accordance (this has five sections)

47.44

Section on Stating the Purpose
Section on Citing Evidence
Section on Harmonious Giving
Section on Harmonious States
Section on Harmonious Affairs

47.45

First: Section on Stating the Purpose

47.46

Now, when good and evil run contrary and words and actions conflict with one another, misfortunes and disasters arise therefrom, and enmity and malice grow ever heavier. Therefore, to speak of it is easy, but to practice it is difficult. For this reason, when firmness and gentleness attain the middle, opposition and compliance attain their proper nature. For example, when casting a sword, if it is too hard it will snap, and if it is too soft it will bend. If one wishes the sword not to snap, tin must be added to it; if one wishes the sword not to bend, metal (copper/bronze) must be added to it. Why? The nature of metal is hard, while the substance of tin is soft. When hardness and softness are balanced and equal, it is good. When one’s endowed nature is harmonious and peaceful, it is praiseworthy. Thus Rāhula’s hidden practice was used to regulate himself, wherefore the Sage praised him with fine acclaim; Devadatta’s coarse conduct was harsh and wicked, wherefore the multitude condemned him with evident faults. Secular books state: Ximen Bao was impatient by nature, so he wore a leather strip to moderate himself; Dong Anyu was sluggish by nature, so he wore a bowstring to urge himself on. Therefore, the tuning of yin and yang constitutes the harmony of heaven and earth; the balancing of hardness and softness constitutes the nature of humans and things.

47.47

Second: Section on Citing Evidence

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As the *Guhyakādhipati-nirdeśa-sūtra* states, King Ajātaśatru asked the Buddha: “How many qualities constitute the benevolence and harmony of a bodhisattva, such that in going and returning, in social intercourse and dealing with others, he always preserves harmony and gentleness and never arouses a coarse mind?”
The Buddha said: “A bodhisattva’s benevolence and harmony comprise eight qualities. What are the eight? First, his disposition is upright and straightforward, without flattery or deceit. Second, his nature and conduct are harmonious and refined, ever free from sycophancy and hypocrisy. Third, his mind remains sincere and mature, eternally free from falsehood. Fourth, his mental conduct is steadfast and essential, never frail or inferior. Fifth, he is without delusion, fixing his intention on benevolence and harmony. Sixth, he acts as a protector of blessings for the worldly multitude and receives their virtuous conduct. Seventh, his mental conduct is thoroughly comprehending and without attachment. Eighth, contemplating guilt and merit, his mind forms no attachments. These are the eight qualities.”
Thereupon, King Ajātaśatru said to the Buddha: “Through how many dharmas of practice does a bodhisattva attain such boundless power and influence?”
The Buddha said: “There are ten dharmas. What are the ten? First, rather abandoning life and limb, he diligently receives the true Dharma. Second, never being arrogant, he is humble and reverent, keeping a lowly mindset and showing respect to all sentient beings. Third, seeing unyielding and difficult-to-transform sentient beings, he establishes patience toward them. Fourth, seeing hungry people, he provides them with fine and delicious food to their fill. Fifth, beholding those who are frightened, he comforts and pacifies them. Sixth, if there are sentient beings suffering from severe illness, he treats them with fine medicine. Seventh, if there are frail and inferior people slighted by others, he respectfully cares for them and cherishes them, preventing anyone from treating them with contempt. Eighth, with pure mud and water, he plasters the shrines of the Tathāgata and repairs their deficits. Ninth, seeing the solitary, suffering, destitute, and distressed who continually bear heavy burdens, he causes them to be freed from their hardships and exceedingly grave misfortunes. Tenth, if there are those without protection and without refuge, he constantly leads and rescues them, keeping his word without change or failure. These are the ten dharmas.”

47.49

Furthermore, the *Saddharmasmṛtyupasthāna-sūtra* states: “If sentient beings, seeing others’ relatives and friends destroying each other and harboring knots of resentment, are able to bring them into harmony, then upon the end of their lives they are reborn in the Kāmadhātu heavens; in accord with whatever their minds desire, they immediately obtain the five desires to enjoy themselves. If sentient beings, seeing people ruined or plundered by others, rescue them and enable them to escape; or in treacherous places teach people the correct path; or in places of doubt and dread cause others to be safe and secure—then upon the end of their lives they are reborn in the heavens of upright conduct, where heavenly maidens make offerings to them and they receive the pleasures of the five desires. If reborn among humans, they are born into families of wealthy elders possessing right view. If there are people capable of cultivating a gentle and deep mind, free from all defilements, nirvāṇa and liberation will be as if held in their very hands. The mind of a gentle-hearted person is like soft solder; practicing good karma, he is trusted by all. The mind of a coarse and fierce person is like vajra; he constantly fails to forget his resentments, his conduct is untamed, and he is hated, disliked, and distrusted by all.”
At that time, the Peacock Bodhisattva, drawing upon the verses of the Buddha’s sūtras, spoke these stanzas:

47.50

“If a person’s mind is gentle and soft, / Just like refined gold,
This person is good within and without, / And quickly gains release from all suffering.
If a person’s mental vessel is attuned, / All things become gentle and pliant;
This person generates seeds of goodness, / Just like a fertile field of merit.”

47.51

Furthermore, the *Hediao Anahan jing* states: “An anāgāmin has eight matters that he does not wish others to know. What are the eight? First, not seeking [gain], he does not wish others to know. Second, his faith he does not wish others to know. Third, his sense of personal shame he does not wish others to know. Fourth, his shame before others he does not wish others to know. Fifth, his vigor he does not wish others to know. Sixth, his inner contemplation he does not wish others to know. Seventh, his attainment of dhyāna he does not wish others to know. Eighth, his wisdom he does not wish others to know. Why does he not wish others to know them? It is because he does not wish to vex or trouble others.”

47.52

Section 3: Harmonious Giving

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As stated in the *Sūtra on the Dāna-pāramitā Practiced by the Lord of All Giving Spoken by the Buddha*: The Buddha said: “In the distant past, immeasurable kalpas ago, there was at that time in the world a great king named Sarvadā (in the language of Jin, ‘Lord of All Giving’). At that time, when giving gifts, whatever was sought from him, he never went against their wishes. At that time, in another country, there was a young brahmin whose father died early. He lived alone with his mother, older sister, and younger brother, their household being poor and lowly. His mother told her son: ‘Our household is destitute, with no means to support ourselves. When your father was alive, he would go to King Sarvadā to beg, and we could sustain ourselves. Why do you not now go to that king’s realm and seek wealth and jewels from him?’
The son replied to his mother: ‘I as yet have no knowledge; I must first study, and only then set out.’
The mother told the son: ‘Now in your house there is nothing at all, yet you insist on studying before you set out! If you leave and this place is left destitute, how are we to survive?’
The son immediately said to his mother: ‘I shall first borrow one liang of gold, which can provide provisions for one year.’ His mother then consented. He went and borrowed one liang of gold, returned to give it to his mother, and then left home to study. When one year had passed, he returned home. When the mother saw her son return, she went out to greet him and asked: ‘Have you already gone to the Lord of All Giving?’
The son again answered his mother: ‘What I have studied is not yet mastered; I must study further.’
The mother said: ‘The previous gold is already exhausted. What plan will you make?’
The son replied to his mother: ‘I shall borrow again.’ The son then went again to the house where he had previously borrowed the gold, and told the master that he wished to borrow another liang of gold. The master of the gold told the son: ‘You took gold previously and have not yet repaid me, and now you ask again. If you truly wish to get more gold, you must put your mother, older sister, and younger brother as bond on the contract; only then can you obtain it. If the time arrives and the debt is not settled, your mother, older sister, and younger brother will be forfeit as slaves.’ He then gave his consent, drew up the contract, took [the gold], carried it home, and gave it to his mother. He again left home to study. When another year was completed, his knowledge was roughly prepared; he wished to return to tell his mother, and then set out for the realm of King Sarvadā.
While on the road, he was seized by the creditor, who had already bound his mother, older sister, and younger brother in foot-shackles. The young brahmin said to the creditor: ‘Although you have bound us, even if you keep me for an entire year I will be of no use to you. It is better that you release me. I shall go to King Sarvadā to beg for wealth and return to repay you.’ The master considered this and released the young brahmin, allowing him to go.
At that time, the army of a king from another state raised troops intending to seize the state of King Sarvadā. The ministers informed the king: ‘Now another state has mobilized troops and entered our borders. We do not know what plan the Great King will make.’
The king thought to himself: ‘Human life is exceedingly short and will surely return to impermanence. Moreover, from my youth I have loved giving; my mind is benevolent, patient, and without intent to harm. I do not wish to resist them. Why? Simply for the sake of my single self to mobilize troops—should anyone be injured, it is truly unfitting for me.’ He then instructed the ministers: ‘There is no need to make preparations, nor should you be afraid. Simply set out in orderly array to welcome them, make obeisance, respectfully serve them, and receive their commands so that they exceed me.’
The ministers again said to the king: ‘Another state has entered our borders; why do we not make preparations?’ The king remained silent and did not respond. This occurred three times. The king said: ‘There is no need to resist them, just as I said before.’ The ministers all said: ‘The king commands not to prepare; we shall all comply.’ The king said: ‘Very good. Let each pacify his family, and be careful not to cause disturbance.’
At midnight, the king removed his seal and sash and secretly fled away. The king of that other state entered the realm and assumed the royal throne, immediately advertising for the capture of King Sarvadā with a very heavy reward. The [former] king had left his state and traveled over five hundred li, when in the distance he saw the young brahmin. The king thought to himself: ‘This young brahmin must surely have come seeking me today, without doubt.’
At that time, the young brahmin also thought: ‘Could this person perhaps be King Sarvadā himself?’ Both walked forward, met each other, and stopped. The king asked the young brahmin: ‘Where have you come from, and where do you wish to go now?’
The young brahmin answered: ‘I wish to go to King Sarvadā.’
The king asked again: ‘Wishing to go to King Sarvadā, what do you seek?’
The young brahmin replied: ‘I lost my father when young and live in great poverty. I gave my mother, older sister, and younger brother as collateral for a debt. I wish to beg wealth and jewels from King Sarvadā to redeem my mother, older sister, and younger brother, and also to sustain myself.’
The king then said to him: ‘I am none other than King Sarvadā.’
The young brahmin asked the king: ‘Where is your royal retinue, that you travel alone?’
The king said: ‘Another state came wishing to have my place, and therefore I avoided them. Why? Because I do not wish to harm people and soldiers.’
When the young brahmin heard what the king said, he threw himself to the ground and wept bitterly, unable to control himself. The king then went forward, took the young brahmin by the hand, comforted him, and made him rise, saying: ‘There is no need to weep any more. What you seek shall now be given to you.’
The young brahmin said: ‘The king has now lost his realm. What can you take to give me in charity?’
The king then answered: ‘The king who came from that state offers a very heavy bounty for me. You may now cut off my head and take it to him; whatever you seek, you will be able to obtain it all.’
Thereupon the young brahmin spoke a verse in reply:

47.54

“In the world, those who kill their father or mother
At the end of life fall into Avīci hell;
If I now inflict harm upon the king,
The sin would be equal and no different.
I truly cannot bear
To inflict evil upon the Great King;
I would rather let my own life end
Than ever harbor an intent of treason.”

47.55

Thereupon, King Sarvadā again said to the young brahmin: “If you do not wish to take my head, you may cut off my nose and ears and deliver them; you can also obtain the reward, though I fear it will not satisfy the king.”
The young brahmin replied to the king: “Today I cannot bear to do this.”
The king again said to the young brahmin: “If not so, you may bind me and take me to deliver to him; you can also gain greatly thereby.”
The young brahmin could tell that the king would return to being king and would not be harmed by him. The young brahmin said: “If the king truly wishes this, we may return together; only when we approach your native realm shall I bind you.”
Thereupon, the king and the young brahmin went together and returned to the native realm. When they were twenty-odd li away, as they were about to arrive, the king put his own hands behind his back and said to the young brahmin: “You may bind me.” The young brahmin then bound the king. The people throughout the realm all heard that King Sarvadā had been bound and was being delivered by a young brahmin from another state. When the people, old and young, saw the king, there was none who did not weep; throwing themselves to the ground, they grieved as if mourning their own parents.
They proceeded forward to the palace gate. The ministers immediately entered and reported to that king: “The former King Sarvadā who fled and was sought with a bounty has been bound and brought by a young brahmin; he is now at the palace gate.”
That king immediately said: “Bring him in so I may see him.”
King Sarvadā then stepped forward into the palace. When that king, his ministers, and all the officials saw King Sarvadā, there was none who did not throw themselves to the ground and weep. That usurping king also shed tears, and asked the ministers: “Why do you all weep?”
The ministers said: “We see that King Sarvadā abandoned his realm and gave it to the king, and now he offers his own person in charity to this young brahmin, doing so without regret; therefore we weep.”
When that usurping king heard each of the ministers speak thus, he immediately threw himself to the ground and wept bitterly, unable to control himself. He then asked the young brahmin: “How did you capture this king today?” The young brahmin answered the king fully concerning the origin and circumstances. When that usurping king heard what the young brahmin said, he again threw himself to the ground, weeping, and issued an order instructing the ministers to quickly untie the king’s bonds, bathe him, clothe him, invest him with his seal and sash, and re-establish him as king, having him immediately return to the throne to rule the state as before. Thereupon, that king knelt on both knees, joined his palms in praise, and spoke these verses:

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法苑珠林 — 道世, Classical Chinese