法苑珠林 47.34

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: