法苑珠林 52

English (machine translation) 52

Language: English

52.1

Compiled by Shi Daoshi, Śramaṇa of Ximing Temple

52.2

Chapter 56: Kinfolk
Chapter 57: Comparative Evaluation

52.3

Chapter on Kinfolk (This comprises four sections)

52.4

Section on Expressing Intent
Section on Mourning and Pining
Section on Alteration and Transformation
Section on Severing Attachment

Examining kinfolk, they drift like duckweed, turning in the cycle of new and old. Departure and remaining are difficult to divine; gatherings are only temporary. Truly this is because good and evil conditions diverge, and rising and sinking lead to different destinies. The good are like Nanda, who abandoned glory and desires to follow the Way, or Rāhula, who renounced the royal throne to sever the fetters. Just as a sandalwood forest is surrounded by sandalwood, beings are crossed over in accordance with their capacities; the excellence of the Tamer can be seen herein. The evil are like Devadatta, who caused a schism in the Saṃgha, or King Ajātaśatru, who murdered his father; they ever harbor poisonous thoughts and constantly make enemies. They are like a forest of thorns, or akin to a brood of vipers. As the paths of good and evil diverge, calamity and fortune can be seen.

52.7

Section 2: Mourning and Pining

52.8

As stated in the Sumati-grahapati Sūtra: When the Buddha was in the world, in the city of Śrāvastī there was the son of a great elder named Sumati. When this man died, his parents, clan members, and acquaintances all wept aloud together, mourning and beating their breasts, crying out grievances, screaming loudly, and fainting to the ground. Some called out to parents and siblings; some cried out to husbands and masters. Thus in diverse manners they wailed and wept. There were also those who seized dirt and threw it upon themselves, and those who took knives and cut their hair, like a person whose heart is pierced by a poisoned arrow, suffering immeasurable affliction. There were also those who covered themselves with garments and wept in sorrow, like trees in a great wind blowing and whipping about, their branches clashing against one another; or like fish out of water writhing upon the ground; or like a great felled tree crashing down in disarray. Such was the severe torment inflicted upon their bodies. At that time, the World-Honoured One, knowing this, purposefully asked Ānanda, “Why is that great assembly wailing and weeping in sorrow like this?” Ānanda fully reported it to the Buddha: “I only pray that the World-Honoured One, for the sake of delivering all beings, may go there. The Buddhas and World-Honoured Ones do not speak without being requested. I now beseech the Buddha on behalf of those people. May the World-Honoured One, out of great compassion, please go there.”

52.9

At that time, the Tathāgata accepted Ānanda's request and immediately went to their house. At that time, seeing the World-Honoured One from afar, those people each wiped their faces with their hands and came forward to welcome the Buddha. Having arrived at the Buddha's place, they bowed their heads to his feet, choked with sorrow and unable to speak. Just as they wished to heave a long sigh, out of reverence for the Buddha they did not dare exhale, holding their breath in choking silence. At that time, the Buddha addressed the elder's parents and others: “Why do you weep, lament, and cling to these illusory phenomena?” Those people spoke at the same time, saying to the Buddha: “World-Honoured One, in this city there was only this person who was intelligent, wise, handsome, and exquisite. His years were in their prime, and among men he had no superior. Moreover, he possessed abundant wealth and treasures, his storehouses brimming over, with carriages, horses, clothing, male and female slaves, and servants—all were fully equipped with nothing lacking. Suddenly in a single morning he passed away. For this reason, we weep, yearn, and cannot contain ourselves. Excellent, World-Honoured One! May you preach the Dharma skillfully for us, so that we may be freed from all afflictions and from now on never again experience such sufferings!”

52.10

At that time, the World-Honoured One addressed the elder's parents, clan members, acquaintances, and the great assembly: “Have you ever seen anyone born who does not experience old age, sickness, and death?” The people said to the Buddha: “We have never seen such a one.” The Buddha again addressed the great assembly: “If you wish to be free from birth, old age, sickness, death, sorrow, lamentation, pain, and affliction, do not contemplate this bond of affection and love any longer. Fix your minds on right view and take refuge in the Three Jewels. Why is this? In all the worlds there is none superior to the Buddha, who can guide the blind and foolish multitudes. The Dharma spoken by the Buddha is itself excellent medicine.” At that time, the World-Honoured One spoke these verses:

52.11

“In the worlds of the ten directions, / none who are born do not die. / On the road of coming and going in saṃsāra, / only the Dharma can extinguish it. / There is no land in the ten directions / that can rescue one when life ends; / only the Buddha can sever and eliminate it, / therefore take refuge in the Buddha. / If a person does what is unwholesome / and delights in practicing the ten unwholesome deeds, / whose mind constantly harbors arrogance / and does not respect the Three Jewels, / who cannot keep the precepts purely / and is indolent and not vigorous— / all such persons / are called the dead. / Regarding the impermanent as permanent, / regarding the impure as pure, / speaking of real suffering as pleasure, / regarding non-self as self— / sentient beings in saṃsāra / are deeply attached to inverted views; / throughout thousands of myriads of koṭis of kalpas, / they know not the root of saṃsāra. / If there is a person who can understand / the true and great Dharma, / he can know that this impermanence / is the foremost root of great suffering. / If a person sees defilements / and severs the root of the three poisons, / he will surely be able to attain / the supreme, great Dharma.”

52.12

At that time, the elder's kinfolk, upon hearing what the Buddha taught, had their grief and suffering extinguished and together attained the fruits of the Way. Furthermore, the Avadāna-Dharmapada-sūtra states: In the past, there was a brāhmaṇa who went forth in his youth and studied until sixty without being able to attain the Way. According to the brāhmaṇa custom, if one does not attain the Way by age sixty, one subsequently returns home, takes a wife, and lives as a householder. He fathered a son who was handsome and lovely. When he reached seven years of age, he was intelligent in book-learning, with talent and eloquence upon his lips exceeding ordinary standards. Suddenly he contracted a severe illness and died in a single night. The brahmacārin loved him dearly and could not contain his grief; throwing himself over the corpse, he lost consciousness and revived again. His kin reasoned with him and took away the corpse for encoffining, burying it outside the city. The brahmacārin reflected to himself: “My weeping now serves no benefit; it would be better to go to King Yama's place to beg for my son's life.” Thereupon the brahmacārin bathed, observed the precepts, and carrying flowers and incense, left his house and departed. Wherever he went, he asked people: “Where is the place where King Yama rules?” Traveling on and on, he covered thousands of li into deep mountains, where he saw several brahmacārins who had attained the Way, and asked them as before. The brahmacārins asked: “Sir, you ask for King Yama's dwelling place; what do you seek?” He answered: “I had a son whose eloquence and wisdom surpassed others; recently he suddenly died. In my utter grief and distress, I cannot resolve it myself. I wish to go to the King's place to beg for my son's life, and bring him back home to support me in my old age.” The brahmacārins, pitying his foolishness, said to him: “The place where King Yama rules is not a place that living people can reach. We shall show you a way: from here you should go west for more than four hundred li, where there is a great plain with a city in it. This is the city where all heavenly deities rest when patrolling the world. King Yama always passes through this city when on inspection on the fourth day of the fourth month. If you maintain the precepts and go, you are sure to see him.” The brahmacārin rejoiced, followed their instructions, and departed. Reaching the plain, he saw a splendid city, its palaces and houses like those in the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven. The brahmacārin went to the gate, burned incense, stood on tiptoe, and prayed, asking to see King Yama. The King ordered the gatekeeper to usher him in. The brahmacārin said: “Late in life I fathered a son, intending him to provide for my old age. Having raised him to seven years, he recently passed away. I only pray that the Great King will bestow your gracious charity and return my son's life to me.” King Yama said: “What you seek is very good. Your son is now playing in the eastern garden; go fetch him yourself.” The brahmacārin immediately went, saw the boy playing with other small children, and stepped forward to embrace him. Weeping before him, he said: “Day and night I long for you, finding no relish in food or sleep. Do you not remember your parents' toil?” The child started in alarm, cried out, and scolded him: “You foolish old man, you do not understand the truth! We resided together for a mere moment, yet you call someone your son! Do not babble nonsense; it is better you leave early. Now I have my own parents here; why embrace me in vain on a chance encounter?” The brahmacārin departed in dejection and tears, and reflected: “I have heard that the Śramaṇa Gautama understands the way of the soul's transformations; I should go ask him.” Thereupon the brahmacārin returned to the Buddha's place. At that time, the Buddha was preaching the Dharma for the great assembly at the Jetavana in Śrāvastī. Seeing the Buddha, the brahmacārin bowed his head in homage and reported the matter from beginning to end to the Buddha: “He truly is my son, yet he refuses to acknowledge me, and on the contrary called me a foolish old man, saying we resided together for a moment yet I claim him as a son, showing no affection of father and son at all. What is the cause of this?” The Buddha told the brahmacārin: “You are truly foolish. When a person dies and the consciousness departs, it immediately assumes another form. Parents, wives, and children dwell together by cause and condition, like lodgers who scatter once they rise. The foolish and deluded are bound and attached, reckoning them as their own, experiencing sorrow, lamentation, and pain without knowing the root cause, sinking in saṃsāra without any rest. Only the wise do not crave affection and love; realizing suffering, they abandon its accumulation and diligently cultivate the sutras and precepts. When consciousness and conception are extinguished, saṃsāra comes to an end.” Upon hearing this, the brahmacārin's mind was suddenly opened to understanding, and right on his seat he attained the arhat path.

52.13

Furthermore, the Mahāpradīpa Sūtra states: The Buddha said, “All sentient beings are assigned names according to their forms and kinds, such as birds and sparrows. But among hungry ghost sentient beings, there are no fixed, distinct names. Do not say that devas are permanently devas, humans are permanently humans, or hungry ghosts are permanently hungry ghosts. Just as on one entity there are various names, just as on one person there are various names, and just as on a single deva down to a hungry ghost or animal there are various names, so it is here. There are also many hungry ghosts who have no names at all; in the snap of a finger they transform their bodies and assume various shapes. How could one call them by name? Because their karmic causes and conditions of evil deeds have not ended, in a single thought-moment they transform their bodies in diverse ways.”

52.14

Section 3: Alteration and Transformation

52.15

As the Dharmapada-avadāna-sūtra says: In the past, when the Buddha was in the country of Śrāvastī preaching the Dharma for gods and humans, there was in the city an elder brahmin of boundless wealth. He was stingy and greedy, disliked giving, always shut his gates to eat, and took no pleasure in guests. Whenever he had food, he would command his gatekeeper to shut the doors tight and not let anyone enter by mistake to beg or ask for anything. At that time, the elder suddenly craved delicious food, so he instructed his wife to prepare a meal and bade her slaughter a fat chicken, seasoning and cooking it with ginger and pepper until done. Once the meal was set out, it was ready. He ordered the gates shut from outside. Husband and wife sat together with a small child placed between them in the center, and they ate and drank together. The parents took chicken meat and put it into the child's mouth, doing so repeatedly without pause. Knowing that this elder had past merit and was ripe for deliverance, the Buddha transformed himself into a śramaṇa. Watching for when they sat down to eat, he manifested before the seating area and pronounced a blessing, saying merely: 'Giving even a little brings great merit.' The elder raised his head, saw the transformed śramaṇa, and at once cursed him, saying: 'You are a religious practitioner yet have no shame! We are sitting at home eating—why do you barge in?' The śramaṇa replied: 'You yourself are foolish and know no shame. Why should I, a beggar, feel ashamed?' The elder asked: 'My household and I are enjoying ourselves together; why should we feel ashamed?' The śramaṇa replied: 'You kill your father, wife your mother, and nourish your mortal enemy without feeling shame, yet conversely ask why a beggar should feel ashamed.' Thereupon the World-Honoured One spoke a verse:

52.16

The branches produced do not cease, / purely driven by eating and greedy desires. / Nourishing enemies only adds to burial mounds; / the foolish toils restlessly. / Though prisons have fetters and chains, / the wise do not call them secure; / the foolish, seeing wife and child adorned, / cling deeply to them, loving their prison. / The wise say that craving is a prison, / deep and secure, difficult to escape. / Therefore one must sever and abandon it; / keeping desires at a distance brings peace.

52.17

Hearing the verse, the elder was startled and asked him: 'Why does the practitioner say this?' He answered: 'The chicken on the table was your father in a past life; because of stinginess and greed, he was constantly reborn among chickens to be eaten by you. This small child was formerly a rākṣasa. When you were a wealthy merchant, you boarded a ship to enter the sea; the boat lost its course and fell into the realm of the rākṣasas, where you were eaten by that rākṣasa. Thus it went for five hundred lifetimes. When his lifespan ended, he came to be born as your son; because your remaining karmic offenses were not yet exhausted, he came intending to harm you. Your present wife was your mother in a past life; because her love and affection were deep and firm, she has now returned to be your wife. Now, in your foolishness, you do not recognize your past lives: you kill your father, nourish your enemy, and take your mother as wife. The samsāra of the five destinies revolves without end, turning round and round in the five destinies. Who could know this? Only a practitioner can see both this and that. When the foolish do not know, should they not be ashamed?' Thereupon the elder's hair suddenly stood on end as if in terror. The Buddha manifested his divine power to make him recognize his past lives. Seeing the Buddha, the elder immediately recognized his past lives, promptly repented, acknowledged his faults, and received the five precepts. The Buddha preached the Dharma for him, and he attained the fruit of srotāpanna. Again, the Saṃyuktaratnapiṭaka-sūtra says: When the Buddha was once traveling, he came to the country of Kośala and sat under a tree along the way. There was an old woman named Kaṭañcarā who was a bondservant drawing water at a well. The Buddha told Ānanda: 'Go and fetch water.' Receiving the Buddha's command, Ānanda went to request water. At that time, hearing that the Buddha requested water, the old woman carried the jar herself and went. Having reached the Buddha's place, she set the jar on the ground, walked straight up to the Buddha, and embraced him. Ānanda wished to stop her, but the Buddha said: 'Do not stop her. In five hundred lifetimes, this old woman was once my mother. Because her affectionate mind is not yet exhausted, she embraces me. If you were to stop her, boiling blood would surge from her face, and she would immediately die.' Having embraced the Buddha and kissed his hands and feet, she stood to one side. The Buddha told Ānanda: 'Go and summon her master.' When her master arrived, he bowed his head at the Buddha's feet and withdrew to stand to one side. The Buddha said to the master: 'Release this old woman and let her go forth. If she goes forth, she will attain arhatship.' The master then released her. Because she had gone forth to practice the path in the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, she attained arhatship. At that time, as the head of an assembly, she had scolded holy nuns as servant-maids; hence she is now a bondservant to others. Because in five hundred lifetimes she was constantly my mother and hindered me from giving, she was constantly born poor and lowly.

52.18

Furthermore, the Damamūkanidāna-sūtra says: In the country of Śrāvastī, there was a wealthy elder who had no son. He continually prayed and made offerings to the deities, seeking a son. Because of his earnest and sincere devotion, his wife became pregnant. When the months were full, she gave birth to a boy. The child was handsome, rare in the world. The parents and their kin gathered together and went to the bank of a great river to feast and amuse themselves. Standing unsteadily beside the river, they lost the child, who fell into the water. Though they immediately grasped and reached for him, they could not recover him. Overcome with grief and love, the parents swooned and only revived later. Due to the child's past merit, he ultimately did not die; he sank and floated with the current in the river water. At that time, a fish swallowed the child, yet though he was inside the fish's belly, he still did not die. There was a small village downstream where a wealthy family also had no offspring, despite having sought one by various means without success. That wealthy family always sent a servant to catch fish and sell them. The servant caught the fish that had swallowed the small child, cut open its belly to look inside, and found a small child whose face was handsome. Having found him, they were delighted: 'Our family has long prayed and made sacrifices seeking a child; because of our sincere devotion's retribution, heaven has given him to us.' Thereupon they wiped him, nursed him, and raised him. Meanwhile, the parents from the upstream village pursued him, saying: 'This is our child, whom we lost in that river. Now that you have found him, we ask that you return him to us.' The elder downstream replied: 'Our family has long prayed and made sacrifices seeking a child, and now the deities have responded and bestowed a child upon us. Where indeed is your lost child?' Unable to resolve the dispute, they went to the king seeking judgment. The two families each argued their case, and when the king heard their accounts, he was at a loss as to what to do. He then ordered the two families to raise the child together. When the child grew up, each family found him a wife, set him up in their estate, and he lived alternately in the two places. The son born of one wife belonged to that family, and the son born of the other wife belonged to the other family. The two elders complied with the king's instruction. When the child grew up, both took wives for him and provided for his needs without any lack. The child addressed both sets of parents, requesting to leave the household life. Cherishing him, the parents could not refuse him, and so they granted him permission. He went at once to the Buddha's place to seek entry into the path. The Buddha granted it, praising him: 'Welcome!' His hair and beard fell away naturally, and he became a śramaṇa, named Dvikula. The Buddha preached the Dharma for him, enabling him to exhaust all suffering, and right upon his seat, he became an arhat. Ānanda addressed the Buddha: 'We wonder, World-Honoured One: what deeds did this monk Dvikula formerly perform, and what roots of goodness did he plant, that in his present life he fell into the water, was swallowed by a fish, yet still did not die?' The Buddha told Ānanda: 'Listen closely, and I will explain it for you. Long ago in the distant past, there was a Buddha, a World-Honoured One, named Vipaśyin. When he gathered the great assembly to preach the wondrous Dharma, an elder came into the assembly, heard and received the three refuges, and took the precept against killing; furthermore, he offered one coin to that Buddha. Because of this, for lifetime after lifetime he received blessings without any lack.' The Buddha told Ānanda: 'The elder of that time was the present monk Dvikula. Because he gave one coin, he was continually wealthy in goods for ninety-one kalpas, down to the present life where two families provided for him. Because he received the precept against killing, he did not die when he fell into the water and was swallowed by a fish. Because he took refuge in the Two [Treasures], he has now encountered my dispensation and attained the path of an arhat.' Furthermore, the Sūtra on the Elder's Son's Distress in Three Places says: At that time, in the city of Śrāvastī, there was a very wealthy elder with boundless wealth and treasures, but no son of his own. Fearing that after his death his property would be confiscated by the state, the husband and wife prayed, made offerings, and took refuge in the Three Jewels. Through unremitting diligence, she became pregnant. A clever woman should know five things: first, knowing her husband's mind; second, knowing whether her husband longs for her or not; third, knowing the reason for her pregnancy; fourth, distinguishing whether the fetus is male or female; fifth, distinguishing whether it is good or evil. The wife reported to the elder: 'I am pregnant.' The elder was delighted. When the months were full, she gave birth to a boy, and five wet-nurses were engaged to care for and hold him. When he grew up, they found a fine wife for him. The child and his wife were strolling in an orchard where there was a tree called the aśoka, whose blossoms were pure white and as delicate as soft scarlet silk. The wife said to the husband: 'I want to have these flowers.' The husband then climbed the tree to pick the flowers for her. The branches were slender and weak; they broke at once, and the child fell to his death. Hearing this, the parents rushed over, embraced his head, and stroked and gazed at him, but his breath was utterly extinguished and he did not revive. The parents grieved bitterly, their innards torn apart, and the many guests who saw it also wept with sorrow on their behalf. The Buddha and Ānanda, happening to enter the city, saw them and pitied the only child who had fallen from the tree and died. The Buddha told the elder: 'Where there is life, there is death; where things form, they deteriorate. When karmic retribution arrives and life ends, one cannot escape or hide. Cast away your sorrowful thoughts and grieve no more.' The Buddha told the elder: 'Originally, this child came to be born in your home when his life in the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven came to an end. When his life in your home ended, he was born among the nāgas, where a king of the suparṇas seized and devoured him. The parents in all three places are weeping at the same time: whose son is he?' The Buddha then spoke a verse:

52.19

The devaputras in heaven— / is he your son, / or among the nāgas, / is he the son of a nāga spirit? / Then the Buddha himself explained: / He is not the devaputras' son, / nor is he your son, / nor indeed is he the son of the nāgas. / The conditions of birth and death / are impermanent, like an illusion; / all do not endure for long, / just like passing guests.

52.20

The Buddha told the elder: 'Death cannot be avoided; what is gone cannot be pursued.' The elder addressed the Buddha: 'What were this child's past karmic offenses and merits?' The Buddha said: 'In a previous life, this child took joy in giving and respected others; by virtue of this merit, he was born into an eminent and wealthy family. Yet he took joy in hunting and injuring life, causing his life to be short. Offenses and merit follow a person like a shadow following a form.' Overjoyed, the elder attained the acceptance of phenomena.

52.21

Section 4: Relinquishing Attachment

52.22

As the Daśabhūmika-vibhāṣā says: In this household, toward parents, siblings, wife, children, relatives, retinue, carriages, horses, and other things, greed and desire increase without satisfaction. The household is difficult to fill, like the ocean swallowing rivers. The household knows no contentment, like fire consuming firewood. The household has no rest, with coarse and subtle thoughts continuing uninterrupted. The household is painful in nature, like an enemy feigning affection. The household is an obstacle, capable of hindering the noble path. The household is discord, full of mutual conflict and strife. The household is full of wrath, reproaching the good and the bad. The household is impermanent; though lasting long, it deteriorates. The household is manifold suffering, pursued and guarded. The household is a place of suspicion, like enemy bandits. The household is inverted, coveting provisional names. The household is an entertainer, in various false adornments. The household is mutable; what is craved must disperse. The household is borrowed, having no real substance. The household is like a dream; wealth and nobility are lost. The household is like morning dew, vanishing in an instant. The household is like a drop of honey, its flavor meager indeed. The household is like a bramble patch, its thorns of desire injuring people. The household is like iron-eating worms, incessantly gnawing on coarse and subtle thoughts. Such perils cannot be recounted in full. Therefore, the lay bodhisattva should contemplate in this way and recognize the faults of the household. The household's wife, children, retinue, slaves, maidservants, wealth, and possessions cannot serve as a refuge or sanctuary; they are not my good friends. Therefore, one must swiftly abandon and renounce them. Furthermore, from beginningless time, all sentient beings have been mutually fathers and sons in the six destinies; how could closeness or distance be fixed? Therefore, the verse says:

52.23

Ignorance veils the eye of wisdom; / repeatedly in birth and death, / coming and going, much has been done, / alternately becoming father and son. / Coveting worldly pleasures, / they do not know there are superior things. / Enemies repeatedly become companions, / and companions repeatedly become enemies. / Therefore, using skillful means, / do not give rise to minds of hatred or love. / If one gives rise to hatred and love, / one cannot penetrate the Dharma.

52.24

Furthermore, the Mahā-bodhisattva-piṭaka Sūtra states: “Śāriputra, if there are sentient beings who relish and attach themselves to sons and daughters, wives and concubines, and all feminine carnal desires, you should know that this is just like relishing a hailstorm of gravel and stones; it is just like relishing the blade of a sharp knife; it is indeed just like relishing a burning-hot iron ball; it is just like relishing sitting upon a burning-hot iron bed; it is just like relishing a burning-hot iron footstool. Śāriputra, if one relishes flower garlands and fragrant ointments, it is just like relishing flower garlands of burning-hot iron, and it is also just like relishing smearing one’s body with feces and urine. Śāriputra, if one takes possession of dwellings and houses, you should know that one takes possession of a great burning-hot iron cauldron. If one takes possession of male and female slaves and servants, you should know that one takes possession of the wicked minions of hell. If one takes possession of elephants, horses, camels, donkeys, cattle, sheep, chickens, and pigs, you should know that one takes possession of the black and spotted swine and dogs in hell, and it is also taking possession of imperial guards stationed across a hundred yojanas. In brief: if one takes possession of wives, concubines, sons, daughters, and all feminine carnal desires, you should know that this is taking possession of a mass of all sufferings, sorrows, griefs, and afflictions. Śāriputra, one would rather lean upon a great burning-hot iron bed a thousand yojanas in size, exceedingly hot, blazing everywhere with fierce, raging flames, than gaze from afar with a defiled mind of attachment upon the form of the wives, concubines, and various feminine carnal desires provided by those parents—how much less draw near to them and embrace them! Why is this? Śāriputra, you should know that woman is the root of all suffering, the root of obstruction, the root of slaughter, the root of bondage, the root of sorrow, the root of enmity, and the root of innate blindness. You should know that woman extinguishes the eye of noble wisdom. You should know that woman is like burning-hot iron flowers scattered on the ground, upon which one’s feet tread. You should know that woman spreads and increases all improper dispositions. Śāriputra, for what reason and cause is she called ‘woman’ (fùrén)? The word ‘woman’ (fù) signifies imposing a heavy burden. Why is this? Because she causes sentient beings to receive a heavy burden; because she causes sentient beings to bear a heavy burden and go about their activities; because she causes sentient beings to carry a heavy burden and wander everywhere; because she causes sentient beings to suffer mental fatigue over this heavy burden; because she causes sentient beings to be tormented and oppressed by this heavy burden; and because she causes sentient beings to be harmed and ruined by this heavy burden. Śāriputra, by what further condition is she called ‘woman’ (fù)? The word ‘woman’ (fù) is the place to which sentient beings surrender and entrust themselves; it is the place into which the slaves of craving sink and are submerged; it is the place to which those who obey woman pay their tribute; it is the place where those bewitched by woman are deluded; it is the place to which those vanquished by woman submit; it is the place relied upon by those who yield to woman; it is the place of heedlessness for those over whom woman has mastery; it is the place of exhaustion and toil for those enslaved by woman; and it is the place admired and looked up to by those who are swayed by woman. Śāriputra, on account of such causes and conditions as these, these various states are named ‘woman’ (fù).”

52.25

Furthermore, the Saṃyuktāgama states: “At that time, the World-Honoured One told the monks: ‘There are three kinds of sons. What are the three? There is the son who conforms in birth; there is the son who excels in birth; and there is the son who falls short in birth. What is the son who conforms in birth? It refers to when a son's parents do not kill, do not steal, do not commit sexual misconduct, do not tell lies, and do not drink alcohol, and the son also follows and learns not to kill, and so forth. This is called the son who conforms in birth. What is the son who excels in birth? If the parents do not observe [the precepts of] not killing and so forth, yet the son is able to observe not killing and so forth, this is called the son who excels in birth. What is the son who falls short in birth? If the son's parents do not observe not killing and so forth, and the son likewise cannot observe not killing and so forth, this is called the son who falls short in birth.’” Furthermore, the Scripture on the Five without Reciprocation states: “Thus have I heard. At one time the Buddha was in the country of Śrāvastī, together with one thousand two hundred and fifty monks. At that time there was a brahmacārin who had come from the country of Rājagṛha wishing to pursue learning. He then arrived in the country of Śrāvastī and saw a father and son, two people, plowing a field. A venomous snake bit and killed the son. The father continued plowing as before without looking, nor did he weep or wail for his son. The brahmacārin asked, ‘Whose child is this?’ The plowman replied, saying, ‘He is my son.’ [The brahmacārin] said, ‘If he is your son, why do you not weep?’ The plowman answered, saying, ‘Where there is human life, there is death. Where there is flourishing, there is decline. The virtuous receive recompense, and the wicked receive retribution. Sorrow, grief, weeping, and wailing bring no benefit to the dead. As you are now going into the city, please stop by my house at such-and-such a place and tell them: “My son has already died; bring food for only one person.”’ The brahmacārin thought to himself, ‘What kind of man is this who has no reciprocation of feeling? His son lies dead on the ground, yet his heart feels no sorrow or grief, and instead he only asks for food. There is no one whose lack of compassion compares to this.’ The brahmacārin entered the city and went to the plowman's house. Seeing the dead son's mother, he forthwith spoke to her: ‘Your son is already dead. Her husband sent a message asking you to bring food for only one person.’ The brahmacārin said, ‘Why do you not feel grief for your son?’ The son's mother then spoke a parable to the brahmacārin, saying: ‘When the boy came to take birth, I did not call him. Now that the boy has departed on his own, it is not within my power to detain him. It is just like a traveling guest who lodges with a host: when the guest now departs on his own, how could he be detained? My son and I are just like this. Coming and going, advancing and stopping, are beyond my power. Following his own past actions, he cannot be saved or protected.’”

52.26

[The brahmacārin] spoke again to his elder sister: “Your younger brother is already dead; why do you not weep?” The elder sister likewise spoke a parable to the brahmacārin, saying: “It is just like a skillful artisan who goes into the mountains to fell timber and ties it into a large raft, setting it upon the water. Suddenly a great gale blows, smashing the raft apart, and it drifts away following the current, scattered far and wide, front and back, without looking after one another. My younger brother and I are also like this. Brought together through conditions, we were born into the same family. Following the length of life, death and birth are impermanent. Where there is meeting, there must be parting. My brother’s lifespan having ended, each follows his own course; he cannot be saved or protected.”

52.27

[The brahmacārin] spoke again to his wife: “Your husband is already dead; why do you not weep?” The wife spoke a parable to the brahmacārin, saying: “It is just like birds that roost in a tall tree at dusk, staying and roosting together; waiting for dawn to break, they each fly away to seek food. If there are conditions, they gather; if there are no conditions, they part. We husband and wife are also like this. When the retribution of impermanence arrives, each follows their own past actions; he cannot be saved or protected.”

52.28

[The brahmacārin] spoke again to his slave: “Your master is already dead; why do you not weep?” The slave likewise spoke a parable, saying: “My master and I were joined by conditions. I am like a calf following behind a large ox; when someone slaughters the large ox, the calf standing by its side cannot preserve or save the life of the large ox. Sorrow, grief, weeping, and wailing bring no benefit whatsoever.” Having heard this, the brahmacārin felt stirred within and reproached himself, completely bewildered: “I heard that this country practices filial piety, performs service, and reveres the Three Jewels, and therefore I came from afar wishing to pursue learning. Having arrived here, it is wholly unprofitable!” He further asked a traveler, “Where is the Buddha? I wish to go and question him.” The traveler replied, saying, “He is nearby at the Jetavana vihāra.” The brahmacārin went at once to the Buddha's presence, bowed his head in homage, and sat to one side. Pressing his palms together and lowering his head, he remained silent without saying anything. The Buddha knew his thoughts and said to the brahmacārin, “Why do you bow your head, sorrowful and unhappy?” The brahmacārin said, “My wishes have not been fulfilled, running contrary to my original intention; therefore I am unhappy.” The Buddha asked the brahmacārin, “What have you lost that makes you sorrowful and unhappy?” The brahmacārin answered, saying, “I came from the country of Rājagṛha wishing to pursue learning. Having arrived here, I saw five persons without reciprocation.” The Buddha asked the brahmacārin, “What are the five without reciprocation?” The brahmacārin said, “I saw a father and son, two people, plowing the field and sowing seed. The son died on the ground, yet the father felt no sorrow, and young and old in the entire household showed no grief or lamentation at all. This is great unnaturalness.” The Buddha said, “It is not so; it is not as you say. These five persons are the most truly reciprocating. They know the body is impermanent and not one’s own possession. Even the ancient sages could not escape this affliction. Why should ordinary people wail loudly and weep softly to no benefit for the dead? Worldly people lack true understanding and cycle through birth and death without rest.” The brahmacārin’s mind opened and his thoughts were unlocked. [He said,] “Hearing the Buddha's teaching is like recovering from illness, like the blind gaining sight, like finding light in the dark.” Thereupon the brahmacārin attained the stage of the Path. All deaths do not warrant weeping; to extinguish death and guard life is not a matter of sorrow or grief. The body of the deceased returns to the earth; the living cultivate and maintain their livelihoods. If one wishes to benefit the departed, one should invite the Buddha and the Saṃgha, burn incense and make offerings, recite the sūtras, and make prostrations day after day; furthermore, being able to give alms to the Three Jewels is the most essential.” The brahmacārin bowed his head in homage to the Buddha and joyfully put it into practice.

52.29

The verse says:

52.30

Kinfolk bring manifold agitation and turmoil;
Defiled attachment disturbs the mind and spirit.
Closeness and distance are not yet fixed;
How can one be partial in hatred and affection?
Gandharva cities lack a shred of reality;
Thirsty deer vie after the dust of mirages.
Quiet the mind above empty echoes;
Discard thoughts, and the source of the mind is true.

52.31

Circumstances of Sympathetic Resonance (briefly citing seven proofs)

52.32

Layman Du Yuan of the Jin
Layman Dong Qingjian of the Jin
Layman Yuan Kuo of the Song
Layman Bian Yuezhi of the Song
Śramaṇa Shi Huiru of the Tang
Layman Wang Huishi of the Tang
Layman Li Xin of the Tang

52.33

Du Yuan of the Jin dynasty, courtesy name Yongping, was a native of Fucheng in Zitong. His family was exceedingly wealthy, and he had a son named Tianbao, whom Yuan dearly loved. When the boy was ten years old, in the third year of the Taiyuan era, he died of a sudden illness. After several months had passed, a sow kept by the family gave birth to five piglets, one of which was the fattest. Later, when a new official arrived, Yuan was going to use it as a gift and caught it to have it slaughtered. Suddenly a bhikṣu arrived before Yuan and said to him, “This piglet is your son! How could you have forgotten each other within merely a hundred-odd days?” Having spoken, he suddenly vanished. Looking around in search of him, [Yuan] saw him in the western sky, soaring through the air and departing. A fragrant aroma filled the air and did not subside until a full day had passed.

52.34

Dong Qingjian of the Jin was a man of unknown origins. His father was styled Xianming and served as Commandant of the Agile Cavalry in the beginning of the Jianyuan era. When Jian's mother, Lady Song, was pregnant with him, she dreamt that someone told her: "You will surely give birth to a boy. He will have a dark-blue birthmark on his body, and you may name him Qingjian." When he was born, it was as foretold, so he was named accordingly. He possessed a dignified demeanour and pleasant conversation and laughter; by nature he was magnanimous and gentle, and his family had never seen him display an angry countenance. All who saw him marveled at him. When he reached the age of fourteen, the province invited him to serve as an Office Attendant. In the beginning of the Jianyuan era, when the Crown Prince guarded Fan and the Han River, [Jian] served as Adjutant of the Waterways Section. On the sixteenth day of the seventh month of the second year, he took to his bed with an illness, and said himself that he would not recover. On the eighteenth day, as his end drew near, he sat up and addressed his mother: "My transgressions are exhausted, blessings have arrived, and karmic ties are severed forever. I pray that you, Mother, restrain your grief and do not worry about me." Thereupon he wailed aloud seven times; when his voice ended, he breathed his last. When they were about to lay him out in the casket in front of the fasting hall, that night his spirit spoke, saying: "The ways of life and death are opposed; do not place [the coffin] before the fasting hall. A monk who makes statues will surely come to receive the corpse." The next day, a monk indeed came, named Danshun. They immediately recounted [the matter] to Danshun according to the spirit's words. Danshun said: "I reside at Nanlin Temple making an eighteen-foot statue, which is nearly complete; that your worthy son has had this sympathetic resonance must be because of it. There is a small vacant ground west of the temple where he may be laid to rest." He was thereupon buried beside the temple. Three days later, his mother took about ten of his relatives to make an offering at the tomb. East of the tomb, they saw Jian appear as if alive, who said: "I pray that you, Mother, restrain your grief and go back; I am now living back at the temple." His mother immediately stopped weeping and returned home. The entire household adopted a vegetarian diet and kept a perpetual fast. On the eleventh day of the intercalary month, Xianming dreamt that he saw Jian, who said: "I pray that you, Father, step out into the eastern fasting hall for a moment." Xianming then bathed himself in scented water, observed the precepts, and went out into the eastern fasting hall. On the fourteenth night, while asleep, he heard Jian calling his name. Startled awake, he saw Jian standing before the fasting hall as if alive. His father then asked: "Where have you been residing?" Jian said: "Since passing away, I have been living in the Palace of Spirit Refining. When one hundred days are completed, I shall be reborn in Trāyastriṃśa Heaven. Because I could not bear to see my parents and brothers weeping and mourning in agony, for three times seven days I bowed to the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas and petitioned the Four Heavenly Kings, and thus I was granted permission to return briefly. I pray that from now on, my parents will no longer weep and offer sacrifices. My mother has already made a vow seeking to see me; she will soon end her life and be reborn together with me in the same place. My father's lifespan can reach seventy-three; after his life ends, he must endure retributions for transgressions for three years, but if he diligently and austerely practices the Way, he can be liberated." [The father] asked: "You come out of the darkness of night; how is it that you have radiance?" Jian said: "I have now descended together with the Bodhisattvas and the deities of heaven; this is merely the light of their bodies." He also asked: "Whom do you recognize in heaven?" Jian said: "I saw General of Chariots and Cavalry Wang, Prefect of Wuxing Zhang, and my maternal grandfather Song of Xihe." Jian continued: "I was not born in this single clan alone; over the past forty-seven years until now, I have died seven times and been reborn seven times, and have already attained the Four Fruits of the Path. Having previously made seven vows wishing to be reborn in the human realm, I therefore underwent life and death. From now on it is permanently concluded, and I am freed from the seven sufferings. When I was near my end, I saw seven places of life and death; the reason I wailed loudly was to bid farewell to the seven households." [The father] asked: "Into whose households were you born?" Jian said: "I was born into the households of Minister of Personnel Jiang, Inspector of Guangzhou Yang, Prefect of Wuxing Zhang, General of Chariots and Cavalry Wang, Prefect of Wuxing Xiao, Supernumerary Director Liang, and Commandant of the Agile Cavalry Dong. Only in this place did I live for seventeen years; in the other places, it was merely five or three years. From now on, years of noxious pestilence will be numerous; one should diligently cultivate merit. I see that when worldly people die, most fall into the three miserable paths, while those born in heaven are few; if one strives diligently, one can attain liberation and crossover. If you make a vow to be born in heaven, we may also see each other; but if our conduct diverges, there will be no time when we meet again." [The father] asked further: "Your mother is yearning for you to the point of dying; can you let her see you?" Jian said: "There is no need to see each other, for it would only add to her torment and sorrow. Simply speak to her according to what I have said. The deities of heaven have already departed, and I cannot stay long." With a somber and sorrowful countenance, he suddenly vanished. After his departure, around the bamboo grove there was still a fragrant aroma, and the family members all smelled the lingering fragrance. Jian said that the seven households into which he was born were those of Jiang Gai, Yang Xi, Zhang Yong, Wang Xuan, Song Mo, Xiao Huiming, and Liang Jifu. Xianming thereupon left the household, taking the Dharma-name Fazang.

52.35

Yuan Kuo of the Song was styled Sidu and was a native of Chen Commandery. During the Yuanhui era, he served as Assistant Prefect of Wu Commandery. Having been ill for a few days, he suddenly appeared to be dead, yet his lingering breath was not entirely exhausted. The implements for his coffin were all prepared, awaiting his end before encoffining. After three days, he was able to move and blink his eyes, and recounted himself: An envoy arrived claiming orders and summoned Kuo to follow him. Upon arrival, there was a great walled city, its battlements high and orderly, and its steps and portals towering and magnificent. Once Kuo was ordered to enter, the host was facing south on a raised dais, imposing and severe, his awe-inspiring attire and cap stately and majestic. A sword-bearing attendant directed Kuo to sit down. Once seated and greetings of health were concluded, wine, roast meat, fruits, zongzi, and delicacies were served, and Kuo tasted all of them. Their varieties, shapes, and flavors were no different from those in the world. After several rounds of wine, the host said to Kuo: "Unfortunately, my recording secretary has passed away, and there is a vacancy in the administrative staff. Because of your talent and brilliance, I wish to invite your service; would you be inclined to give it your regard?" Kuo knew in his mind that this was the underworld, so he firmly declined: "I am ordinary and frivolous, incapable of fulfilling it. Moreover, from my youth I have been poor and orphaned, and my siblings have drifted away; for both public and private reasons, I beg to receive your gracious release." The host said: "You must be declining merely because the hidden and manifest realms are different spheres. Here, the honorable emoluments, material support, sustenance, clothing, and conveyances will surpass what you had in the world. My earnest wish is to work together with you; I trust you will condescend to fulfill what is expected." Kuo firmly pleaded again, saying: "My sons and daughters are young and frail, all at a tender age. If I suddenly take up this appointment, their care and upbringing will have no support; the mutual affection between father and child truly deserves pity." Kuo thereupon wept tears and bowed his head to the ground. The host said: "Since you decline so firmly, how could I force you? That my wish is unfulfilled causes me deep regret." Reaching for a scroll of documents on the desk, he made punctuation marks on it. Then, as Kuo expressed gratitude and took leave to return, the host said: "Do you not wish to visit your deceased kin?" He then dispatched someone to lead Kuo on. They passed through numerous offices and departments, until finally coming to a walled enclosure with black door leaves and posts, which was a prison. Leading Kuo inside, they turned obliquely into a corner, where various dwellings were crowded together and joined, yet were extremely wretched and dilapidated. Next was a room where he saw his birth mother, Lady Yang, in this room, her appearance and clothing unattractive and entirely different from during her lifetime. Seeing Kuo, she was pleasantly surprised. Beside the door, there was a person whose body and face were covered in sores and whose appearance was exceedingly bizarre; this person called out to speak to Kuo. Kuo asked in alarm who it was, and Lady Yang said to Kuo: "This is Madame Wang; do you not recognize her?" Madame Wang said: "When I was in the world, I did not believe in retribution. Although I had no other grave transgressions, it was precisely because I flogged the maidservants and bondsmen too severely that I now suffer this punishment. Since my death, the excruciating torments have hardly paused for a moment; it is only now that I have a brief respite. Previously, I called your elder sister here hoping she could substitute for me, but in the end it was of no avail and merely brought useless sorrow." Having finished speaking, she wept profusely. Madame Wang was Kuo's legal mother, and Kuo's sister was also by her side at the time. After a short while, the envoy led Kuo away again, traversing lanes and paths; the neighborhoods were well-ordered, resembling human dwellings. At the end, there was a residence with a bamboo fence and thatched roof, where he saw his father wrapped in a quilt and wearing a headcloth, leaning against a desk as he sat. When Kuo entered the door, his father waved his hand to dismiss Kuo, saying: "Since you have obtained release, you may return quickly; there is no need to come here."

First 35 of 73 passages. Read on

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法苑珠林 — 道世, Classical Chinese