法苑珠林 49

English (machine translation) 49

Language: English

49.1

Compiled by the Śramaṇa Shi Daoshi of Ximing Temple

49.2

Chapter 49: Loyalty and Filial Piety
Chapter 50: Unfilial Conduct

49.3

Loyalty and Filial Piety (This contains five sections)

49.4

Section on Expressing the Intent
Section on Citing Evidence
Section on the Crown Prince
Section on Śyāmaka
Section on Karmic Causes

I have heard that filial devotion, loyalty, and respect surpass the virtue of Dong An, while rebelling against and disrespecting revered parents incurs guilt exceeding the treachery of Wang Ji. Therefore, though wood was not an actual mother, making offerings to it echoed across a thousand ages; though an ordinary person is not a holy monk, paying reverence shines beyond ten thousand generations. By principle, one ought to incline one's heart and bear them upon the crown of one's head, obtaining boundless blessings. How can one give rise to arrogance and pride, inversely breeding contempt and insult? Thus, establishing oneself and walking the Way spreads renown to later generations; fulfilling filial piety throughout one's life is truly the beauty of state-building. Thus we recall Zilu meeting with Kong Qiu, saying: 'When You served both parents, I constantly ate goosefoot and pulse, carrying rice on my back for my parents from a hundred li away. After my parents passed away, I traveled south to Chu, with a hundred carriages following me and ten thousand bushels of grain stored, sitting on layered cushions and dining before arrays of cauldrons. Yet I still wished to eat goosefoot and pulse and carry rice on my back for my parents, but could never do so again.' Whenever I am moved by these words, though they are gone, it is as if they were present. How can the kindness of parents ever be repaid? Their compassion is deeper than rivers and seas; our filial piety is like a drop of dust. Longing forever and weeping aloud, the pain pierces heart and head. Secular tradition says that nurturing us with milk gave birth to our physical bodies, and the kindness of a single lifetime is still difficult to repay; how much more so the Tathāgata's great compassion, which universally permeates and views all as an only child, pulling beings out of the three destinies, allowing them to depart from the four modes of birth forever, bidding farewell to the eight sufferings and perpetually directing them onto the three vehicles? Quietly contemplating the weight of this kindness, how can it be compared to the mundane? One's inner heart collapses as if burned and scorched; emotion cuts deeper than principle, more painful than the slicing of a blade. Venerating and respecting through kalpas, constantly offering rare delicacies, still cannot repay the kindness of an instant. Therefore, the Nirvāṇa Sūtra says: 'The Buddha possesses a single taste of great compassion, / pitying sentient beings like an only child. / Sentient beings do not know that the Buddha can rescue them, / and slander the Tathāgata, the Dharma, and the Saṃgha.'

49.7

Section 2: Citing Evidence

49.8

As the Sūtra on the Malla King says: A person asked the World-Honoured One, 'What is the strength of parents?' The Buddha said: 'It refers to the kindness of receiving one's physical body from parents, and their suckling and rearing. Even if one were to pile precious jewels from the earth up to the twenty-eight heavens and give them all in charity to others, it would not equal making offerings to parents. This is the strength of parents.'

49.9

Moreover, the Ekottarika Āgama says: At that time, the World-Honoured One addressed the monks: 'There are two dharmas that grant an ordinary person great merit and accomplish great retribution. First, making offerings to parents. Second, making offerings to a bodhisattva bound to one last birth. Giving to these two persons obtains great merit and receives great retribution. Furthermore, if a person were to bear their father upon the left shoulder and their mother upon the right shoulder for tens of millions of years, providing clothing, bedding, food, couches, sickbed medicines, and even if they were to discharge feces and urine right upon the shoulders, one still could not repay their kindness. You should know that parental kindness is weighty. When they nourish and raise you, they protect you without missing the proper season. Offer them support and be filial and obedient.'

49.10

Moreover, the Hell Sūtra says: 'If a disciple speaks of the faults of their master or monks, even if the master truly has them, at the end of life that disciple will surely enter hell and have their tongue eaten away. If one obtains good food, delicious fruit, and the like, and does not give it first to parents, masters, or monks, but eats it oneself, one falls among the hungry ghosts, and afterward is born among humans in poverty. If a person harbors venom toward their masters or elders, they enter the Iron Stake Hell, and afterward are born among venomous snakes. If with an evil mind one mimics the speech of parents, masters, or elders, one enters the Molten Copper Hell, and afterward is born among humans with a stammer.'

49.11

Moreover, the Sarvāstivāda Treatises say: 'It is better to destroy stupas and demolish images than to speak of another's gross offenses. If one speaks of them, one destroys the Dharma-body. Regardless of whether the bhikṣu in question has committed an offense or has not committed an offense, one must not speak of it in any case.'

49.12

Moreover, the Sūtra on Respecting the Master says: 'Three times a day one should attend to the master's comings and goings. If one comes to attend upon the master and does not see him, one should hold a clod of earth, grass, or wood to serve as a token. When the weather is hot, one should fan the master three times every day. If there is a bhikṣu who, regarding that master or preceptor (upādhyāya), does not give rise to a reverent mind but speaks of his shortcomings, in a future life there is a separate minor hell named Repulse and Strike, through which he must pass. Having fallen into that place, he will have one body and four heads, his body entirely scorched. In that hell there are furthermore worms named Hook-Beaks, which constantly eat the base of his tongue. If one has heard from another even a single four-line verse, through a thousand thousand kalpas each, carrying that preceptor, ācārya, and others upon one's shoulders, or bearing them on one's back and atop one's head, one still could not repay them.'

49.13

Moreover, the Abhidharma treatises say: 'If one gives to a sick person, to a Dharma preacher, or to bodhisattvas who are near the Buddha, one obtains a great retribution.'

49.14

Furthermore, the Sūtra on the Collection of the Six Perfections states: In the past, the Bodhisattva was a crane and had three chicks. At that time, there was a great drought in the country, and he had nothing to feed them. He tore open the flesh beneath his own wings to save their lives. The three chicks wondered, saying, 'The scent and flavor of this flesh are identical and no different from our mother's own body. Could it be that our mother is feeding us with her own flesh?' The three chicks felt grieved, with intense sorrow. They also said, 'We would rather lose our lives than harm our mother's body!' Thereupon they closed their beaks and would not eat. The mother saw that they would not eat and sought [food] again. A heavenly deity sighed and said, 'The mother's loving wisdom is beyond compare; the chicks' filial devotion is exceedingly rare!' The devas assisted her, and her wish was immediately fulfilled as she desired. The Buddha told the monks, 'The mother crane was myself; the three chicks were Śāriputra, Maudgalyāyana, and Ānanda. The Bodhisattva's loving wisdom, boundless practice, and dāna were like this.'

49.15

Furthermore, the Sūtra of Forty-two Sections states: The Buddha said: 'Feeding one hundred ordinary people is not as good as feeding one virtuous person. Feeding one thousand virtuous people is not as good as feeding one person who observes the five precepts. Feeding ten thousand people who observe the five precepts is not as good as feeding one srotāpanna. Feeding one million srotāpannas is not as good as feeding one sakṛdāgāmin. Feeding ten million sakṛdāgāmins is not as good as feeding one anāgāmin. Feeding one hundred million anāgāmins is not as good as feeding one arhat. Feeding one billion arhats is not as good as feeding one pratyekabuddha. Feeding ten billion pratyekabuddhas is not as good as using the teachings of the Three Honored Ones to deliver one's parents of this single lifetime. Teaching one hundred billion parents is not as good as feeding one Buddha, generating the vow to seek Buddhahood, wishing to deliver sentient beings. The merit of feeding a virtuous person is of the greatest and profoundest weight. For ordinary people to serve heaven, earth, spirits, and deities is not as good as being filial to their parents. The two parents are the most divine.'

49.16

Furthermore, the Sūtra of the Storehouse of Sundry Jewels states: Long ago in the past, in the Himālayas, there was a parrot whose parents were both blind. It would constantly gather fine fruit to offer to its parents first. At that time, there was a landowner who, when first sowing grain, made a vow, saying, 'The grain I sow must be shared with sentient beings to eat.' At that time, the young parrot, knowing that the landowner had previously had the intention of giving, would constantly take his grain to supply its parents. The landowner, inspecting the grain, saw where birds and insects had gathered the ears of grain. Feeling anger and frustration, he set up nets and caught the parrot. The parrot then said to the landowner, 'Landowner, you previously had the good intention to give, and therefore I dared come to take it. Why do you now capture me in a net?' The landowner asked, 'For whom did you take the grain?' The parrot answered, 'I have blind parents, and I wished to offer it to them.' The landowner said, 'From now on, you may always take from here; do not have doubts or hesitation.' If even beasts are like this in filial support of their parents, how much more so humans? The Buddha told the monks, 'The parrot of the past was my own body now. The landowner of that time was Śāriputra. The blind parents were my present parents, King Śuddhodana and Lady Māyā. Due to my past filial support, I have now attained Buddhahood.'

49.17

Section 3: The Crown Prince

49.18

As the Sūtra on the Requital of Kindness states: The Buddha told Ānanda: Long ago in the past, immeasurable, boundless asaṃkhyeya kalpas ago, a Buddha appeared in the world named Vipaśyin. After his entry into nirvāṇa, during the Semblance Dharma, the king of the country of Vārāṇasī was named Rāja. That king ruled over sixty lesser kingdoms. The king had a crown prince who ruled as a king of a lesser kingdom. There was a minister named Rāhula who conceived an evil rebellion, murdering the great king as well as the two princes. The king's youngest son was the ruler of a frontier kingdom; he was gentle, kind, well-tamed, and virtuous, respected and loved by the heavenly deities. He fathered a prince named Sujāti, who was only seven years old, intelligent, loving, and filial, deeply cherished by the king. At that time, a deity said to the king, 'The minister Rāhula has plotted to seize the royal throne, executing your royal father and killing your two elder brothers. His troops and cavalry will soon arrive to kill you, O King. You should flee now.' Hearing these words, the king was terrified and his hair stood on end. Looking up, he asked, 'Who are you, sir? I hear only your voice but do not see your form. Is what you proclaim true or not?' [The deity] immediately replied to the king, 'I am the palace-guarding deity of the great king. Because the king possesses merit, rules the kingdom with the correct Dharma, and does not oppress the people, I have come ahead to inform you. The king should depart swiftly; calamity is not far off and will arrive right now.' Having heard this, the king went into the palace and pondered, wishing to seek refuge in another kingdom. At that time, there were two roads leading to the neighboring kingdom: one road was estimated to take seven days to reach it, and one road was estimated to take fourteen days to arrive. The king immediately prepared seven days of provisions, carried his child, and departed, with his queen following behind. At the time of departure, in their haste and confusion, their minds were bewildered, and by mistake they took the fourteen-day road. The road was treacherous and difficult, lacking water and grass. When they first set out, they had brought provisions for only one person, but now three people were eating together. After several days, the provisions were exhausted, yet the road ahead was still far. The king and queen wept aloud, crying, 'How strange! How bitter! From our birth onward, we have never heard of such suffering and distress. Why do we personally undergo this today? Utter calamity has arrived all at once!' Throwing his entire body to the ground, he reproached himself, saying, 'What evil deeds did we perform in past lives to receive this disaster today?' Having thought this, he wept aloud, fainted, and fell to the ground. Then he thought to himself, 'It is impossible for all three of us to perish here together. I should kill the queen, take her flesh to preserve our lives, and prolong our child's life.' Having thought this, he drew his sword, intending to kill the queen. Seeing that the king intended to kill his mother, the child stepped forward, grasped the king's hand, and asked the reason. The king wept, his eyes filled with sorrowful tears, and in a faint voice told the child, 'I wish to kill your mother and take her flesh and blood to prolong our remaining lives. If I do not kill her, she will die on her own anyway, and so will I. As matters stand, where will life or death lie? To preserve your life, I wish to kill your mother.' The child addressed his father, saying, 'If the king kills my mother, neither of us will eat. Where is there a child who eats his mother's flesh? Since I will not eat her flesh, I shall die along with her. The king should now rather kill me, your child, and take my flesh to save my parents' lives.' When the king heard the child's words, he fainted, writhing and collapsing to the ground, and said to the child, 'You are like my own eyes. Where is there a person who gouges out his own eyes and eats them? I would rather lose my life than ever kill my child and eat his flesh!' The child said to his father again, 'If you end your child's life, the flesh will rot and stink within a few days. My only wish is that my parents daily cut three catties of flesh from your child's body, divide it into three portions, offer two portions to my parents, and leave one portion for myself to eat, so as to sustain our lives.' The father followed the child's words, cut three catties of flesh, sustained their lives, and proceeded on the road. Before two days had passed, the flesh on his body was completely gone, his bones and joints were linked together, and his remaining life was not yet extinguished, whereupon he collapsed to the ground. Seeing this, the parents immediately rushed forward, embraced him, and wept aloud, saying, 'We are wretched and have wrongly eaten your flesh, causing you such agony. The road ahead is still far, and we have not reached our destination. Your flesh is exhausted; now let us perish together, gathering our corpses in one place.' The child admonished his father, saying, 'You have already eaten your child's flesh and progressed on the road to this point. Calculating the distance ahead, there remains only one day left. Your child will now give up his life here. I earnestly request that my parents do not perish together in one place like ordinary people. You may cut all the remaining flesh from between the joints of your child's limbs to sustain my parents so that you may reach your destination.' The parents followed his words, cut a little flesh, divided it into three portions, gave one portion to the child, and ate two portions themselves. Having eaten, they parted. The child stood up and watched his parents leave. The parents at that time wept aloud and went on their way. When the parents were far away and could no longer see the prince, he longed for his parents and did not take his eyes off them for a moment. After a long while, he fell to the ground; blood flowed from his body, and mosquitoes and horseflies bit and ate him, the torment and pain being beyond description. Before his remaining life was cut off, he raised his voice and made a vow: 'May the calamities and evils of past lives be completely eradicated from this. From this day forward, I will never dare commit them again. Now I offer my body's flesh to my parents; may my parents always obtain residual blessings, sleeping in peace and waking in peace, seeing no nightmares, protected by deities and loved by people, with officials, thieves, and sinister plots eradicated, and all affairs auspicious. May the remaining flesh and blood of my body be given to these insects, causing them all to be satisfied, and may I attain the Buddha's path in a future life, giving them the Dharma food to eliminate their hunger, thirst, and the grave illness of birth and death!' When he made this vow, the earth shook greatly, and the sun lost its brilliant light. Seeing this, Śakra transformed himself into a lion, tiger, and wolf, terrifying the prince and coming as if to bite and gnaw him. The prince said, 'If you wish to eat me, take and eat as you please. Why try to frighten me?' Śakra then said, 'I am not of the kind of lions, tigers, or wolves; I am Śakra, king of the devas, and have come purposely to test you.' When the prince heard this, he rejoiced boundlessly. Śakra asked the prince, 'You have now renounced what is difficult to renounce, being able to feed your parents with your own flesh. For such merit, what do you wish to become? A heavenly king, a human king, a Brahmā king, or a Māra king?' The prince answered, 'I do not wish for these; I wish to seek the Buddha's path to liberate all beings.' King Śakra said, 'The Buddha's path is long and distant, attained only after undergoing toil and suffering for a long time. How could you endure such suffering?' The prince answered, 'Even if a burning iron wheel were upon my head, I would never retreat from the Buddha's path because of suffering.' Śakra, king of the devas, said, 'These are merely empty words; who will believe you?' The prince immediately made a vow, saying, 'If I am deceiving Śakra, king of the devas, may the wounds on my body never close from beginning to end. If it is not so, may I be restored as before, and my blood turn into milk.' After the prince made this vow, his body was immediately restored as before, his blood became white milk, and his appearance was twice as handsome as usual. Śakra then praised him, saying, 'When you attain the Buddha's path, I pray you will deliver me first.' At that time, when the parents arrived in the neighboring kingdom, they recounted the above matter in full to that king: 'Our son's filial devotion and his offering of his own flesh were like this.' When the neighboring king heard this, he was moved by his loving filial piety, and at once provided troops and sent them back to their kingdom to attack Rāhula. The father, leading the troops, passed along the road by the place where he had parted from his child. He thought to himself, 'My child is dead; I must gather his bones and return to our original kingdom.' Weeping sorrowfully aloud, he searched along the road. From afar he saw the prince, his body fully restored and twice as handsome as usual. He immediately stepped forward, embraced him, mixed with grief and joy, and said to the prince, 'My child, are you alive now?' Then the prince recounted the above events in full to his parents. The parents rejoiced, and together they rode a great elephant and returned to their native kingdom. Due to the power of the prince's merit and loving filial piety, they conquered their native kingdom, and the father king immediately established the prince as king. The Buddha told Ānanda, 'The father at that time was my present father, Śuddhodana. The mother at that time was my present mother, Lady Māyā. The prince was myself. Śakra of that time was Ājñātakauṇḍinya.'

49.19

Section 4: Śyāma

49.20

As the Shanzi jing states: In a past age, in the country of Jiayi, there was an elder who had no son. Both husband and wife had lost their sight. In their hearts they wished to enter the mountains to seek the unsurpassed Way, cultivate pure resolve, and take faithful delight in secluded solitude. At that time there was a bodhisattva named Sarvasundaradarśana (All-Wondrous Vision), who had this thought: 'These people have brought forth an aspiration that is subtle and wonderful, yet their eyes see nothing. If they enter the mountains, they will certainly meet with untimely harm.' When the bodhisattva's lifespan ended, he vowed to be born in the elder's household, and was named Shan. He was supremely filial, benevolent, and compassionate, practicing the ten virtues. Day and night he vigorously served his parents, as mortals serve Heaven. When he passed ten years of age, Shanzi knelt upright and addressed his parents, saying: 'Originally you brought forth a great resolve, wishing to enter the deep mountains to seek the aspiration for empty serenity and unsurpassed, true enlightenment. How could you cut short your original vow on account of your son?' His parents took him at his word and thereupon entered the mountains. Shan gave away all the family's possessions to the poor, and then went into the mountains. Using grass, they made a hut, and arranged beds and mats, neither cold nor hot, always finding what was suitable. After entering the mountains for a year, fruits were abundant and delicious, all tasting sweet; spring waters welled up, pure and cool; pond blossoms had five colours, and birds and beasts made music, facing one another with compassionate hearts and having no further intent to harm. Shan was so supremely filial and compassionate that when he trod upon the earth he feared causing it pain. Heavenly spirits and mountain spirits constantly assumed human form to console and encourage him day and night. Shan wore deer-skin clothing and carried a pitcher to fetch water. The elks, deer, and many birds also went there to drink, without fearing him. At that time, the king of Jiayi entered the mountains to hunt. Seeing a herd of deer beside the water, the king drew his bow and shot at them. The arrow mistakenly struck Shan in the chest. Hit by the poisoned arrow, Shan cried out in a loud voice, saying: 'Who has shot and killed three men of the Way with a single arrow?' Hearing a human voice, the king immediately dismounted his horse and went before Shan. Shan said to the king: 'Elephants die on account of their tusks, rhinoceroses perish on account of their horns, kingfishers meet their end for their feathers, and elks and deer for their hide and meat. Now I am innocent; on account of what do I die?' The king asked Shan, saying: 'What kind of person are you? Wearing deer-skin clothing, you are no different from birds and beasts.' Shan said: 'I am a person of your kingdom. Together with my blind parents, I have come to study the Way for over twenty years, and have never been seen and wrongfully harmed by tigers, wolves, or poisonous insects. Yet now I have been shot and killed by the king.' At that very moment, a violent gale suddenly arose in the mountains, blowing down and snapping trees. The hundreds of birds cried out mournfully, and beasts such as lions and bears all wailed loudly. The sun lost its bright radiance, the flowing springs dried up, the many blossoms withered and died, and thunder and lightning shook the earth. Then his blind parents were startled, arose, and said to one another: 'Shan went to fetch water and has not returned for a long time. Could he have been harmed by poisonous insects? The birds and beasts are wailing unlike ordinary times; the wind has risen and snapped the trees—there must be a calamity or anomaly.' At that time, the king was terrified and greatly reproached himself: 'I have acted abominably! Originally wishing to shoot deer, the arrow mistakenly struck you and killed a man of the Way. The sin is extremely grave. Out of greed for a little meat, I incur a heavy disaster. I now [offer] all the rare treasures of my kingdom, the palaces, courtesans, suburbs, and walled cities to save your life!' The king then pulled at the arrow in Shan's chest with his hands, but it was deep and could not be drawn out. Flying birds and running beasts gathered like clouds from the four directions, wailing so as to shake the mountain. The king became even more terrified; of his three hundred and sixty joints, every single joint trembled. Shan spoke to him, saying: 'It is not the king's fault; it was brought about by my own past sins. I do not begrudge my bodily life, but only pity my blind parents. Now that their years are declining and old, and their two eyes are also blind, once they are without me, they too must perish. There will be no one to look after them, and it is on account of this that I am distressed, not because of the pain of the poison.' The king again spoke solemnly: 'I would rather enter Niraya for a hundred kalpas to suffer punishment if it would allow Shan to live! If your life ends, I will not return to the kingdom, but will remain in the mountains to provide for your parents just as when you were alive. Do not worry about this. Let all the devas, dragons, and spirits bear witness that I will not violate this oath.' Shan, hearing the king's oath, felt joy and gladness in his heart, and though dying, had no regrets: 'I entrust my parents to the great king. Providing for people of the Way will extinguish sins in this present life and bring immeasurable merit.' The king said: 'Tell me where your parents are, so that while you have not yet died, I may know it.' Shan then gave directions: 'From here along the footpath, not far away, you will naturally see a grass hut; my parents are inside. King, walk slowly; do not cause my parents to be terrified. Use skilful means to enlighten their minds, and offer my apologies to them. Impermanence has now arrived, and I must proceed to the next world. I do not begrudge my life, but only think of my parents: old in years, both eyes blind, and once they are without me, having nothing to rely upon—it is on account of this that I am distressed. Although it is deeply cruel, death is one's ordinary lot, brought about by past sins, from which none can escape. Now I repent, wishing that sin may be extinguished and merit produced, and that we may meet life after life without drifting apart. I pray that my parents may preserve their years and lifespan to the end, free from sorrow and distress, and that the devas, dragons, ghosts, and spirits may constantly follow and protect them, causing disasters to be eliminated.' Having received these words, the king took several men and went straight to where the parents were. After the king had departed, Shan suddenly breathed his last. Birds and beasts wailed, circling above Shan's corpse and licking the blood from his chest. The blind parents, hearing the sounds, grew even more anxious and terrified. As the king walked swiftly, brushing against the grass and trees, there was a rustling sound of a person. The parents said in alarm: 'Who is this? It is not our son's gait.' The king said: 'I am the king of Jiayi. Having heard that people of the Way were in the mountains studying the Way, I have come to make offerings.' The parents said: 'Welcome, Great King. You have wearied your majestic honour to come from afar into the wild grasses. Is the king's person well? Are your palaces, consort, crown prince, officials, and subjects all well and sound? Are the wind and rain harmonious, the five grains abundant, and neighbouring states not invading or harming you?' The king answered the people of the Way, saying: 'By the grace of the people of the Way, all are safe and well.' The king inquired of the blind parents, saying: 'Living in the mountains must weary your minds with bitter toil. Among the trees, do the flying birds and running beasts do you no harm? Are you at peace with the seasonal cold and heat in the mountains?' The blind parents said: 'By the king's bountiful grace, we are always at ease. We have a filial son named Shan, who constantly gathers fruits and melons for us, and the spring water is always plentiful. The wind and rain in the mountains are harmonious, and there is no lack or scarcity. We have grass mats to sit on and fruits and melons to eat. Shan has gone to fetch water and should soon return.' Hearing this, the king was heartbroken, and tears fell. He said: 'In my vile wickedness, I entered the mountains to hunt. Seeing a herd of deer beside the water, I drew my bow and shot at them. The arrow mistakenly struck Shan, so I have come to tell you.' When the parents heard this, they threw their bodies to the ground, like a great mountain collapsing, and the earth shook. The king personally stepped forward to support and raise them up. The parents wailed, looked up to Heaven, and said: 'Our son was so filial and compassionate that when he trod upon the earth he feared causing it pain. What crime did he commit that you shot and killed him? A moment ago the wind arose in the trees and the hundreds of birds mourned at once—we suspected that our son had died.' His mother wept and cried out, but the father said: 'Stop for a moment. Having been born, one must die; this cannot be averted. Let us now ask the king where he shot Shan, and whether he is now dead or alive.' The king recounted Shan's words, and the parents were overcome with grief: 'Once we are without our son, we too must die.'

49.21

According to the Zabaozang jing, the king then wept sorrowfully and spoke a verse:

49.22

"I am the king of this state, / hunting in these mountains. / Wishing only to shoot birds and beasts, / I did not realize I would strike and harm a man. / I will now abandon the royal throne / and come to serve the blind parents, / no different from your son; / take care not to give rise to grief and distress."

49.23

The blind parents answered the king with a verse:

49.24

"Our son was compassionate, filial, and obedient, / unequalled in Heaven or among mortals. / Although the king shows pity and kindness, / how could you compare to our son? / If the king would show pity and kindness, / we pray you lead us and show us where our son is, / so that we may be at our boy's side / and end our lives together; our wish will then be satisfied."

49.25

Thereupon the king led the parents to where the boy was. Beating their chests in distress, they wailed aloud and said: 'Our son was incomparably compassionate, benevolent, filial, and obedient!' The heavenly spirits, mountain spirits, tree spirits, and river-and-pond spirits all spoke a verse toward them:

49.26

"Śakra, Brahmā, and the lords of the heavenly worlds, / why do you not lend aid / to our filial and obedient boy, / leaving him to suffer such torment? / Deeply moved by our filial son, / quickly rescue and save his life!"

49.27

The Shanzi jing further states: 'We pray the king lead the two of us to go to his corpse.' The king thereupon led the blind parents to the corpse. The father held his feet, and the mother held his head. Looking up to Heaven, they cried aloud. The mother then licked Shan's chest wound with her tongue, [saying]: 'May the poison enter my mouth! I am already old, my eyes see nothing; let my body substitute for the son: let Shan live and me die, and dying I will have no regrets! If Shan was supremely filial and this is known to Heaven and Earth, may the arrow be drawn out, may the poison be removed, and may Shan come back to life!' Thereupon, the throne of the king of the second heaven, Trāyastriṃśa, was shaken. With the divine eye, he saw the two people of the Way holding their son, wailing and weeping; even the fourth heaven, the palace of Tuṣita, was shaken. Śakra, Brahmā, and the Four Heavenly Kings then arrived from the fourth heaven in the time it takes a man to bend and stretch his arm, descending before Shan and pouring divine medicine into Shan's mouth. When the medicine entered Shan's mouth, the arrow spontaneously came out, and he was revived as before. The parents were startled and rejoiced; seeing that Shan, having died, was alive again, both of their eyes were opened. Flying birds and running beasts all rejoiced greatly. The wind ceased, the clouds dispersed, and the sun shone with renewed brightness. The spring water welled up, blossoms showed five colours, and the trees flourished and bloomed twice as much as ordinary times. The king rejoiced greatly, unable to contain himself. He bowed to Śakra, Lord of the Devas, and then bowed to the parents and Shanzi, wishing to offer the kingdom's wealth to the people of the Way. Shan said: 'If the king wishes to repay this kindness, let the king return to his kingdom, bring peace to the people, and cause them all to uphold the precepts. Let the king no longer hunt or prematurely harm insects and beasts. In the present life one's person will not be at peace, and when one's life ends one will enter Niraya. Mortals dwelling in the world possess affection and love but temporarily, while separation is long; it cannot be kept forever. In past lives the king possessed merit, and so now has become a king; do not become unrestrained simply because you have attained sovereignty.' The king reproached himself: 'From this day forward, I will act according to Shan's instruction.' His several hundred followers were all overjoyed and upheld the five precepts. The king took his leave and returned to his palace. He ordered that all blind parents throughout the kingdom who were like Shan's should be provided for and must not be abandoned; offenders would be guilty of a grave crime. Thereupon, everyone in the kingdom acted according to the king's instruction, upholding the five precepts and the ten virtues; at death they attained rebirth in Heaven, with none entering the three evil destinies.

49.28

The Buddha told Ānanda: 'Shanzi in that past life was myself. The blind father was my present father, King Śuddhodana. The blind mother was Lady Māyā. The king of Jiayi was Ānanda. The Śakra, Lord of the Devas, of that time was Maitreya. That I was caused to swiftly attain the unsurpassed, true and correct Way was entirely due to filial virtue.'

49.29

Part 5: Karmic Causes

49.30

As the Za baozang jing states: The Buddha said, 'If a person makes even a small offering to their parents, they obtain boundless merit; if they show even a little disobedience, their offense is likewise boundless. Long ago in the past, I was born in the country of Vārāṇasī as the son of an elder, named Maitrakanyaka. His father had died early, and he lived together with his mother. The family was poor, and by selling firewood he earned two coins a day to provide for his mother. Devising better plans, he earned four coins a day to supply his mother. Gradually doing still better, he earned eight coins a day to support his mother. Later, turning to commerce, he made increasingly larger profits, earning sixteen coins a day to provide for his mother. Seeing his intelligence and blessed merit, everyone came to encourage him to go out to sea to gather jewels. Having heard this, he informed his mother. His mother, seeing his filial love, thought he could not go, and jokingly said to him, "I permit you to go out to sea." The son then formed a group of companions, fixed a date, and took his leave. His mother embraced her son and wept, saying, "Without waiting for my death, how can you go?" Having already given his word to the others, the son feared breaking his promise; he pulled himself away, tearing out several dozen strands of his mother's hair and injuring her. He then went out to sea and returned with a great abundance of jewels. Halfway back, his companions went ahead, and Maitrakanyaka lagged behind alone, losing his companions and straying from the road. Arriving at a mountain, he saw a city of lapis lazuli. Hungry and thirsty, he went toward it, and four jade maidens holding four wish-fulfilling gems came out of the city playing music to welcome him. For forty thousand years he experienced great happiness. Then he grew weary, abandoned them, and departed. He saw a city of crystal, where eight jade maidens holding eight wish-fulfilling gems came playing music to welcome him. For eighty thousand years he experienced tremendous joy. Later, growing weary, he abandoned them and departed. Arriving at a city of white silver, sixteen jade maidens holding sixteen wish-fulfilling gems came to welcome him as before. For one hundred and sixty thousand years he experienced great happiness. Afterward, he again abandoned them and departed. Arriving at a city of yellow gold, thirty-two jade maidens holding thirty-two wish-fulfilling gems came to welcome him as before. For three hundred and twenty thousand years he experienced great happiness. Then, growing weary, he abandoned them and departed. He arrived at an iron city. Entering, he saw a man wearing a flaming wheel upon his head, who cast it upon Maitrakanyaka's head and departed. Thereupon Maitrakanyaka asked the hell warden, "When can I be freed from wearing this wheel?" The hell warden replied, "When there is someone in the world who performs actions of sin and merit like yours—entering the sea and passing through the various cities—he will then come to take your place and receive the punishment. If no one takes your place, it will never fall to the ground." He asked again, "What sin and merit did I perform in the past?" The hell warden answered, "Because in the past you supported your mother with two coins, you obtained the lapis lazuli city with four wish-fulfilling gems and four jade maidens, experiencing that pleasure for forty thousand years. Supplying your mother with four coins, you obtained the crystal city with eight wish-fulfilling gems and eight jade maidens, experiencing various pleasures for eighty thousand years. Supplying your mother with eight coins, you obtained the silver city with sixteen wish-fulfilling gems and sixteen jade maidens, experiencing pleasure for one hundred and sixty thousand years. Because you supported your mother with sixteen coins, you obtained the golden city with thirty-two wish-fulfilling gems and thirty-two jade maidens, experiencing great happiness for three hundred and twenty thousand years. Because you tore your mother's hair, you now receive the retribution of the iron city's flaming wheel. Only when someone takes your place will you be freed." He asked the hell warden again, "Are there many in this hell who undergo retribution comparable to mine?" He answered, "They are limitless and beyond calculation." Having heard this, he thought, "I will certainly not escape it. May all who ought to suffer pain have it gather entirely upon my body!" As soon as he formed this thought, the iron wheel immediately fell [from his head]. Seeing this, the hell warden struck his head with an iron pitchfork. He immediately perished and was reborn in the Tuṣita Heaven.' The Buddha said to the bhikṣus: 'The former Maitrakanyaka was myself. By this reason, whether one does a little good or evil toward one's parents, one receives boundless retribution. Therefore, one should diligently provide for one's parents.' Furthermore, the Tattvasiddhi-śāstra says: 'Toward the various noble ones and toward parents and the like, if the Tathāgata generates good or evil karma, he receives immediate retribution.' Furthermore, in the Mañjuśrīparipṛcchā-sūtra, the Buddha spoke in verse, saying:

49.31

"The sun and moon shine upon the myriad flowers, / having no thought of repaying kindness. / The Tathāgata takes nothing, / and similarly does not seek recompense."

49.32

The hymn says:

49.33

"Entering the court to assist the king, / one resolves on maintaining loyalty; / dwelling at home to serve one's kin, / with reverence and sincerity one is filial to the end. / How much more so the Buddha's great benevolence, / which universally saves without limit! / In repaying that kindness and requiting that virtue, / could one dare to be lax in reverent devotion?"

49.34

Accounts of Sympathetic Resonance (briefly citing fifteen verifications)

49.35

Shunzi had the resonance of serving his father.
Guo Ju had the resonance of nurturing his mother.
Ding Lan had the resonance of carving wood.
Dong Yong had the resonance of selling himself.
Chen Yi had the resonance of scorched rice.
Jiang Shi had the resonance of fetching water.
Wu Kui had the resonance of providing burials.
Xiao Gu had the resonance of postponing burial.
Wu Chong had the resonance of grieving lamentation.
Wang Xuzhi had the resonance of recovering from illness.
Bo Yu had the resonance of weeping for his mother.
Shi She had the resonance of substituting in death.
The filial wife had the resonance of caring for her mother-in-law.
Xiong He had the resonance of casting himself into the water.
Wang Qianshi had the resonance of the burial mound.

49.36

Shun's father suffered loss of sight, which began only faintly. Coming to the words of his second wife, [she incited him against Shun], and Shun experienced the incident of the well. Shun's father was at home in poverty and distress, living in the market town. At night, Shun's father lay down and dreamed of a phoenix that called itself a chicken; holding rice in its beak, it fed him. It said, 'Regard the chicken as your descendant, though it is a phoenix.' The Dream Book of the Yellow Emperor says of it: 'Among this man's descendants, there will surely be an exalted one.' Shun divined it likewise. Successive years of purchasing grain had coins hidden inside. Shun then spent three days and three nights looking up to heaven to confess his faults. From this he heard the voices of those who regularly traded in the market. Shun came before him, and his eyes suddenly opened wide. Seeing Shun, the market people were moved to sorrow. Great sagedom and supreme filial piety are indeed moved by the spirit realm!

49.37

Furthermore, Guo Ju was a man of Wen in Henei. His family was very wealthy. When his father died, the estate was divided into two shares of twenty million each. His younger brother took his share, while Ju alone took his mother to support and live with. Nearby their neighborhood was an unlucky house where no one lived; everyone urged him to live there, and he suffered no harm. His wife bore a son; fearing that raising the child would hinder supporting his mother, he ordered his wife to hold the child, and he dug into the ground intending to bury him. In the earth, he obtained a pot of yellow gold. Upon the gold was an iron voucher stating: 'Conferred upon the filial son Guo Ju.'

49.38

Furthermore, Ding Lan was a man of Yewang in Henei. At the age of fifteen he lost his mother. He carved wood into the likeness of his mother and served and provided for it as if she were alive. Lan's wife one night burned the mother's face with fire; the mother's face developed sores. After two days, the wife's hair fell out of its own accord as if cut by knife and saw. Only then did she apologize for her fault. Lan moved the wooden mother to the main road, making his wife observe mourning attire for three years, bowing and prostrating. One night, a sudden gale and rain arose, and the wooden mother returned on its own. Whenever neighbors came to borrow items, if the mother's countenance was mild, he would lend them; if not mild, he would not lend them. (Zheng Jizhi's Xiaozi zhuan says: Lan's wife mistakenly burned the mother's face, and immediately dreamed of the mother in pain. Someone came asking for a loan, and Lan had agreed without first informing the mother. The neighbor said, 'What does withered wood know?' and thereupon struck the wooden mother with a knife, drawing blood. When Lan returned, he wailed in grief, made mourning clothes, and carried out funeral rites. The commandant of justice considered that the wooden figure had been moved to the point of death, and Emperor Xuan praised him and appointed him grand palace grandee.)

49.39

Furthermore, Dong Yong (Zheng Jizhi's Xiaozi gantong zhuan says Yong was a man of Qiancheng) lost his mother at an early age and lived with his father. He exerted his strength in the fields, carrying his father with him in a small cart. When his father died, he sold himself to Master Fu to provide for the funeral rites. On the road he met a woman who called out and spoke to him, saying, 'I wish to become your wife.' Thereupon they went together to Master Fu. Master Fu said, 'Who is this woman?' Yong replied, 'She is my wife; she wishes to help repay the debt.' The master said, 'If you weave three hundred bolts of silk, I will release you.' In just ten days, it was completed. The woman walked out the door and said to Yong, 'I am a heavenly woman. Heaven ordered me to help you repay your debt to others, that is all.' When she finished speaking, she suddenly vanished, and her whereabouts were unknown. (The above four verifications are taken from Liu Xiang's Xiaozi zhuan.)

49.40

Chen Yi was a man of Wu. In his youth, he served as a commandery clerk. His mother loved to eat scorched rice from the bottom of the pot. When Yi was on duty, he always carried a bag, and whenever food was cooked, he collected the scorched portions to give to his mother. Later, during the rebellion of Sun En, he had accumulated several decalitres and always carried it with him. When they were defeated, many starved to death, but Yi survived. His mother wept day and night remembering Yi, until her eyes lost their sight and her ears lost their hearing. When Yi returned, he entered, bowed twice, and wailed; his mother's eyes suddenly opened in clear sight. (The above verification is taken from Song Gong's Xiaozi zhuan.)

49.41

Jiang Shi, whose courtesy name was Shiyou, was a man of Luo in Guanghan. His mother loved drinking river water. His son frequently went to fetch water and drowned. His wife grieved deeply, but fearing that the mother would learn of it, lied that the boy had gone away to study. Year after year, she made clothes and cast them into the river. Soon, a spring welled up beside their cottage, its flavor sweet and fine like river water, and a pair of carp emerged from it. (The above verification is taken from the Dongguan Han ji.)

49.42

Wu Kui was a man of Wuxing. After the rebellion of Sun En, his brothers, sisters-in-law, and cousins suffered thirteen deaths. His family was destitute with bare walls, lacking blankets and trousers in winter. By day he hired himself out as a laborer, and by night he returned to make bricks; husband and wife attended to their tasks, leaving themselves no leisure even to eat. In the span of a single year, they provided seven tombs and thirteen coffins, using only his labor wages to furnish the funeral expenses. The neighbors then forgave all his debts as funeral contributions, taking nothing from him, but he personally farmed to repay them. In the third year of the Yixi era of the Jin dynasty, the commandery governor Zhang Chongli summoned him to office.

49.43

Furthermore, Xiao Gu, whose courtesy name was Jiyi, was a man of Lanling in Donghai. He was a fourteenth-generation descendant of [Xiao] He. The family formerly lived in Pei; because Xiao He was buried in Changling, they settled in Guanzhong. From youth he possessed filial piety and prudence, and observed mourning for six years. Pheasants and magpies frolicked familiarly in his courtyard, and roe deer entered his gates and walls. Though summoned to office, he did not take up the post. Gu's son Zhi, whose courtesy name was Yingmao, was of the purest and utmost filial devotion. He was appointed gentleman of the imperial secretariat. Several dozen pheasants pecked and roosted above him; whenever he went up to court, they escorted him right to the road, flying and crying beside his carriage. (The above two verifications are taken from Zheng Jizhi's biography.)

49.44

During the Wu dynasty, the palace secretariat gentleman Xian Chong was supremely filial. His mother, Lady Wang, had lost her sight. Chong went out for a short while, instructing the maidservant to prepare food for his mother. The maid gathered beetle grubs, steamed them, and fed them to her. Lady Wang found them very delicious, not knowing what they were. When her son returned, Lady Wang said to him, 'After you left, the maid brought me a dish that was exceedingly sweet and delicious, yet it was neither fish nor meat. Try asking her about it.' When he subsequently questioned the maid, she confessed the truth that they were grubs. Chong embraced his mother and wept bitterly; his mother's eyes suddenly opened in clear sight. (The above verification is taken from Zu Tai's Zhiguai.)

49.45

Wang Xuzhi was a man of Xichang in Luling. At the age of thirteen he lost his mother, and at thirty he lost his father. For twenty years, neither salt nor vinegar touched his mouth. He fell ill and was confined to bed. Suddenly a person came to inquire after his illness, saying to him, 'Your illness will soon recover.' In a short while, he was gone. Moreover, the house where he lived shone with light at night, and an orange tree in the courtyard bore fruit three times in the depth of winter. His illness indeed soon healed. All considered this to be moved by his utmost filial piety. (The above verification is taken from Song Gong's Xiaozi zhuan.)

49.46

When Han Boyu committed a fault, his mother caned him and he wept. His mother said, 'In former days you never wept; why do you weep now?' He replied, 'In former days when Yu was caned, it always pained me. Today mother's strength has declined and she cannot make it hurt; that is why I weep.'

49.47

Furthermore, Shi She was a man of Chu who served his parents filially. In the time of King Zhao, he served as chief minister. While traveling the road, he saw someone commit murder in the distance; pursuing him, it turned out to be his own father. She released his father, returned, and put himself in prison. He sent someone to say to the king: 'To govern through one's father is unfilial; to set aside the law and release the guilty is disloyal. I beg to die to redeem my father.' He then slit his own throat. (The above two verifications are taken from the records of the Shuoyuan.)

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法苑珠林 — 道世, Classical Chinese