法苑珠林 56

English (machine translation) 56

Language: English

56.1

Compiled by Śramaṇa Shi Daoshi of Ximing Temple

56.2

Section 63: Wealth and Nobility
Section 64: Poverty and Lowliness

56.3

Section on Wealth and Nobility (This has two parts)

Now, practicing good evokes pleasure just as a shadow follows a form; committing evil invites suffering just as a sound produces an echo. Therefore, wealth is like pearls and jade, and nobility is like Xiao and Cao; wearing brocades and embroideries as garments, making residences of gold and silver; standing before rising clouds and dragon winds, above the balmy breeze of phoenix flutes; striding briskly through spacious halls, pacing leisurely down long corridors; trailing pearl-bedecked slippers upon vermilion stairs, wearing golden sables at the azure lattice windows. For food, rare delicacies fill the banquet and terrestrial and marine delicacies crowd before them; tripods and seasonings spread like stars, sweet fragrances disperse like clouds. For sitting, there are lofty halls and elegant chambers, jade steps and pearl curtains; strings and bamboo pipes sound plaintive and clear, drifting on the air. For sleeping, orchid lamps shine brilliantly, embroidered screens cast their shade; brocade quilts having been spread, black-ram fleeces are brushed clean. For traveling, four-horse teams fly like lightning, palanquins move like thunder; a thousand chariots and ten thousand horsemen surge with a deep, echoing rumble. The causes of merit and good retributions are briefly described like this: they are obtained as these superior benefits due to having practiced generosity (dāna) in the past.

56.6

Part 2: Citations of Evidence

56.7

As the Sūtra of the Wise and the Foolish says: In the past, when the Buddha was in the world, there was an elder in the kingdom of Śrāvastī who was noble, prestigious, and immensely wealthy. A son was born to him, whose facial features were upright and handsome, rare in the world. His parents rejoiced, and because of this, they gave him the name Danmili (Dhammila). As he gradually grew up, his father passed away. King Prasenajit then enfeoffed him with his father's rank. After he received the royal investiture, his family dwelling transformed into the seven treasures, and all the storehouses became completely filled with various precious things. At that time, the crown prince of the king, named Virūḍhaka, contracted a fever. The physicians prescribed medicine and reported to the king, saying: “We require ox-head candana [sandalwood] to smear upon his body, and then he will be cured.” The king immediately sought it through a reward, stating: “If anyone possesses it, the value of a single ounce will be rewarded with a thousand ounces of gold.” Yet no one brought any. Someone informed the king: “Within the residence of Danmili, there is a great abundance.” When the king heard this, he personally went to seek it. Arriving before the outer gate of Elder Danmili, he saw that the outer gate was of pure white silver. He then sent the gatekeeper within to announce the news. The gatekeeper entered and informed the elder: “King Prasenajit is now outside the gate.” Hearing this, the elder came out to receive him and invited the king to enter the palace. Entering the gate, the king saw a woman whose facial features were upright and handsome, peerless in the world, seated on a white silver couch spinning white silver thread, with ten maidens attending to her left and right. The king asked: “Is this your wife?” The elder answered: “She is a gate-keeping maidservant, and those young maidens convey announcements.” Next, entering the middle gate, it was of pure dark-blue lapis lazuli. Inside the gate was a woman seated on a lapis lazuli couch, whose facial features were twice as beautiful as the previous one, and the attendants to her left and right were twice the previous number. Next, entering the inner gate, it was purely of yellow gold. Inside the gate was a woman whose facial features were even twice as beautiful again, seated on a gold couch spinning gold thread, with attendants to her left and right twice the previous count. The king again asked: “Is this your wife?” The elder answered: “She is a gate-keeping maidservant.” Entering into the inner residence, [the king] saw a floor of lapis lazuli. Between the chambers were carved representations of the various hundreds of beasts, which swayed when blown by the wind, casting their reflections upon the ground. Seeing them, the king thought it was water and was frightened, not daring to advance. He said to the elder: “Was there no other ground, that you made a sea before the hall?” Mili informed the king: “This is a lapis lazuli floor; it is not water.” He then took off a bracelet of the seven treasures from his arm and threw it onto the ground; it slid until it was stopped by the wall. Knowing it was solid ground, the king then entered together with him and ascended the hall of the seven treasures. The wife was in the hall seated on a lapis lazuli couch. There was another precious couch, and she invited the king to be seated. At that moment, when the wife saw the king, tears came from her eyes. The king asked her: “Why are you displeased, that tears come from your eyes?” The wife answered: “Great King, it is only that just now I smelled the odor of smoke on the king's body, and therefore my tears fell.” The king then asked: “Does your family not light fires?” She answered: “No.” The king again asked: “What do you use to prepare food?” The wife answered: “When it is time to eat, the hundred delicacies arrive of their own accord.” The king again asked: “Do you not require illumination at night?” The wife answered the king: “We use maṇi jewels to illuminate it, and the entire room is brilliantly lit.” Then Danmili knelt and said to the king: “Great King, for what reason have you troubled your noble majesty to come here?” King Prasenajit answered him fully with the circumstances. Having heard this, the elder took the king within and showed him all the storehouses; they were filled with the seven treasures, and the heaps of ox-head incense were incalculable. The king was free to take whatever he needed. The king took two ounces and sent someone to deliver them ahead. The king respectfully said to him: “Now a Buddha has appeared in the world. Have you heard of him?” Mili replied: “What is meant by ‘Buddha’?” The king then explained it to him. Mili rejoiced and immediately went to the Buddha's presence. The Buddha preached the Dharma for him, and he attained the fruit of srotāpanna. Soon after, he went forth from the household life and attained arhatship, endowed with the three knowledges, the six supernatural powers, and the eight liberations. Seeing this, Ānanda said to the Buddha: “What karma did this Danmili plant in the past, that he was born among humans yet enjoyed the blessed retribution of a deva, and furthermore encountered the World-Honoured One, went forth from the household life, and attained the Way?” The Buddha told Ānanda: “Ninety-one kalpas ago in the distant past, there was a Buddha who appeared in the world named Vipaśyin. After he entered nirvāṇa, during the Semblance Dharma, there were five bhikṣus who made a mutual agreement to dwell in a forest and diligently cultivate the Way. They said to one bhikṣu: ‘This place is far from the city, and begging for food is toil and hardship. For the sake of merit, you should beg for food for one summer to make offerings to us.’ That one bhikṣu thereupon entered the city and exhorted various dānapatis to deliver food daily. With their bodies at peace, the four individuals concentrated their efforts, practiced the Way, and attained arhatship. They then said to this person: ‘Because of you, we are secure and at peace, and what was to be done has been accomplished. What do you wish for?’ Having heard this, that person rejoiced and made a vow: ‘May I in future lives, whether in the heavens or among humans, naturally enjoy wealth and honor, encounter a Buddha, and attain the Way.’ On account of this merit, from that time onward for ninety-one kalpas he did not fall into the evil destinies. In the heavens and among humans he was always among the noble and wealthy, with whatever he required coming naturally. Now, having encountered me, he has gone forth from the household life and attained the Way.”

56.8

Furthermore, the Sūtra of the Wise and the Foolish says: In the past, when the Buddha was in the world, there was an elder in the kingdom of Śrāvastī whose household was immensely wealthy, with treasures beyond measure and calculation. A son was born to him whose body was golden in color, handsome and with few equals. Seeing him, his parents rejoiced beyond measure, and because of this they gave him the name Jintiān (Suvarṇadeva / “Golden Deva”). On the day of his birth, a well of water naturally emerged in his home, eight cubits across and eight cubits deep. Drawing from it met people's desires: if one needed clothes, it produced clothes; if one needed food, it produced food; gold, silver, precious gems, and everything needed could be obtained according to one's wish upon making a vow. As the boy grew up, his talents and arts became broad and accomplished. His father reflected: “My son is handsome, peerless in appearance. I must seek an eminent maiden of golden appearance and wondrous body similar to my son before I go to ask for her.” At that time, in the kingdom of J婆 (Japā?), there was a great elder who had a daughter named Golden Brightness (Suvarṇaprabhā). She was extraordinarily handsome, her body golden in color, radiant and dazzling to behold. On the day she was born, there was also a natural eight-cubit well of water, and that well could also produce various treasures, clothing, food, and drink, with everything needed being pleasing to people's wishes. Her parents also reflected: “Our daughter is handsome, an outstanding wonder among people. We must obtain an able man with a golden radiance similar to our daughter before we arrange a marriage.” The maiden's renown spread far and wide, and Jintiān subsequently took her as his wife. Later, Jintiān invited the Buddha and the Saṃgha for an offering of food. When the meal was finished, the Buddha preached the Dharma for them; Jintiān and his wife, as well as their parents, all obtained the fruit of srotāpanna. Jintiān and his wife both informed their parents, requesting to go forth from the household life, and their parents immediately gave permission. Having gone forth, husband and wife both attained the fruit of arhatship, fully endowed with all meritorious qualities. Seeing this, Ānanda said to the Buddha: “What merit did Jintiān and his wife cultivate in the past, that they were born into a noble family with golden-colored bodies and had a natural eight-cubit well that produced various things?” The Buddha told Ānanda: “Ninety-one kalpas ago in the distant past, after the Buddha Vipaśyin entered nirvāṇa, there were bhikṣus traveling to teach and convert. Arriving in a village, the villagers saw the monks and vied with one another to make offerings. At that time, there was a husband and wife who were poor, possessing not even a sheng or a dou of grain in their home. The husband, seeing others making offerings to the community of monks, wept to his wife, his tears falling upon her arm in anguish. The wife asked her husband: ‘Why are you weeping?’ The husband answered his wife: ‘When my father was alive, wealth accumulated to fill our storehouses, so abundant it was hard to measure. Arriving at my own life, I am destitute and in extreme misery. Although we had wealth in the past, we did not practice giving; today we encounter the monks, but are too poor to give anything. Not giving in previous lives has caused this current poverty; if we do not give now, the future will be even worse. Pondering this, I am distressed.’ The wife said to her husband: ‘Although we have this wish in vain, we have no coins to give. What can we do?’ The wife further said to her husband: ‘Try going to the old dwelling to search thoroughly all around; perhaps you might find something.’ The husband then went to look and found one gold coin, which he brought to his wife. At that time, the wife had a bright mirror, and they also found a vase. They filled the vase with pure water, placed the coin inside the vase, and set the mirror on top. With one mind, the husband and wife offered it to the monks, made a vow, and departed. On account of this merit, from that time onward for ninety-one kalpas they did not fall into the evil destinies. In the heavens and among humans, they were always husband and wife, their bodies golden in color, enjoying blessings and joy. Now, having encountered me, they have gone forth from the household life and attained the Way.”

56.9

Furthermore, the Udāna-śāstra (Chuyao jing) says: In the past, when the Buddha was in the world, in the kingdom of Kapilavastu there was a uterine brother of Maudgalyāyana who was very wealthy, possessed of the seven treasures, with storehouses overflowing, and slaves and attendants beyond reckoning. At that time, Maudgalyāyana frequently went to his brother's home and told his brother: “I hear that you are stingy and envious, not fond of practicing dāna. The Buddha always teaches that giving obtains countless retributions; if you give now, you will obtain immeasurable merit.” Hearing his elder brother's instruction, the brother opened his storehouses and practiced dāna, and established a new storehouse wanting to receive its retribution. Before ten days had passed, his wealth and treasures were exhausted; the old storehouses were completely empty, and the new storehouse had yielded no retribution. In anguish, the younger brother said to his elder brother: “Previously I saw my elder brother instruct that giving obtains great retribution, so I did not dare disobey your teaching. To all who came begging, I emptied the storehouses and gave completely. The old storehouses are all empty, yet the new storehouse has received no retribution. Could it be that I was misled by my elder brother?” The elder brother said: “Stop, stop! Do not utter such words, lest non-Buddhists of wrong views hear these crude remarks. If meritorious blessings were to have physical form, the realm of empty space could not contain them. I shall now provisionally show you a slight retribution.” With his supernatural power, he took his younger brother by the hand to the Sixth Heaven. There they saw a palace made of the seven treasures, with fragrant winds, bathing pools, and storehouses overflowing beyond measure, and tens of millions of jade maidens attending, pure females with no males. He then asked his elder brother: “What palace is this, so towering and magnificent?” Maudgalyāyana told his brother: “Go ask them yourself.” The younger brother went in person and asked the heavenly maidens: “What palace is this, composed of the seven treasures, towering and grand, suspended in empty space? Who possesses the merit to receive retribution within it?” The heavenly maidens replied: “In Jambudvīpa, in the kingdom of Kapila, there is a disciple of Śākyamuni Buddha of supernatural power named Maudgalyāyana. He has a virtuous younger brother, a great wealthy elder; because he is fond of giving, he will later be born in this place to be our lord and husband.” Hearing this, the younger brother rejoiced, and a good mind arose within him. Returning to his elder brother, he reported the matter in detail. Maudgalyāyana told him: “Does a person's giving have retribution, or does it have no retribution?” Harboring shame, the younger brother repented to his elder brother. Later, returning home, he cultivated merit even more; after his life ended, he was immediately born in the heavens to receive this fruit and retribution.

56.10

The Sūtra of Jyotiṣka also says: When the Buddha was in the world, there was a very wealthy elder named Jyotiṣka. His storehouses and granaries overflowed, filled with gold and silver; his male and female slaves stood in ranks, and he had nothing left to desire. There was a white fine-cotton hand-towel hanging beside a pool, which a celestial wind picked up and blew before the king's palace hall. The king immediately convened a great assembly of his ministers to sit and consult together, arranging divinations to query it, wondering at its cause. All the ministers said, "The state is about to flourish, and Heaven has bestowed white fine cotton." Jyotiṣka remained silent. The king said to Jyotiṣka, "All the ministers offer congratulations; why do you say nothing?" Jyotiṣka answered the king, "I dare not deceive the king. This is a white fine-cotton towel for drying the body in my household; it was hanging by the pool, and a celestial wind picked it up and blew it before the king's palace hall. For that reason I remained silent and did not speak." Several days later, a nine-coloured golden flower, as large as a cartwheel, fell before the king's palace hall. The king again assembled his ministers, and the questions and answers were as before. Jyotiṣka answered the king, saying, "I dare not deceive the king. This is a withered fallen flower from the rear garden of my household; a celestial wind picked it up and blew it before the king's palace hall. For that reason I remained silent without speaking." The king said to Jyotiṣka, "Your household can produce such things? You must return home and arrange preparations at will. I shall lead a host of two hundred thousand to visit your house and see it." Jyotiṣka answered, saying, "May the king accompany me directly; there is no need to go in advance. In my household, the beds and mats appear naturally and require no one to spread them; food and drink appear naturally and require no one to make them; they are brought forward naturally without having to call out, and they are cleared away naturally without having to look back." The king then led a host of two hundred thousand, arrived at Jyotiṣka's southern gate, and entered. There was a young boy, upright and lovely. The king said to Jyotiṣka, "Is this your son?" He answered, "This is my slave who guards the gate-tower." Advancing a little further to the inner gate-tower, there was a young girl of upright countenance, with skin like lustrous jade and exceedingly lovely. The king said to Jyotiṣka, "Is this your daughter or your wife?" He answered, "This is my maidservant who guards the gate-tower." Advancing a little further to the front of his hall, the walls were of white silver and the floor of crystal. Seeing it, the king thought it was water and hesitated, unable to proceed. Jyotiṣka led the way forward, taking the king up into the hall, where he sat upon a golden bed and rested his feet on a jade stool. Jyotiṣka's wife sat inside a hundred and twenty layers of gold and silver curtains; parting the curtains, she came out, paid homage to the king, and tears came from her eyes. The king said to Jyotiṣka, "Why do tears fall when your wife bows to me?" "I dare not deceive the king: smelling the king's smoke, tears fell from her eyes." The king said, "Commoners burn animal fat, feudal lords burn honey, and the Son of Heaven burns lacquer; lacquer produces no smoke—how could tears fall?" Jyotiṣka answered the king, "In my household there is a luminous-moon divine pearl hung in the hall; day and night are no different, and there is no need for firelight." In front of Jyotiṣka's hall stood a twelve-storey high tower; he took the king up to look. Gazing in all four directions, in a daze a month passed. The great ministers addressed the king, "The affairs of state are grave; the king ought to return." The king thought it had been only a moment and that he could bear a little more. They then strolled through the gardens and pools, and unwittingly another month passed; the questions and answers were the same as before. Jyotiṣka brought forth the seven treasures as gifts, along with damask, silks, and coloured cloth. The men and horses of the two hundred thousand were all weighed down, and together they returned to the kingdom. The king said to his ministers, "That Jyotiṣka is my subject, yet his women, houses, and mansions surpass mine by far. I wish to attack him; can he be taken or not?" The ministers all said, "He can be taken." Leading a host of four hundred thousand, beating bells and striking drums, the king surrounded Jyotiṣka's residence in several hundred layers. Inside the southern gate of Jyotiṣka's residence stood a strongman holding a golden staff in his hand; with a single point of it at the host of four hundred thousand, men and horses all tumbled over, their hands and feet twisted, their waists and hips limply swaying like drunks, their heads spinning, unable to rise again. Thereupon Jyotiṣka, riding in a mica carriage, came and asked the people, "Why are you lying on the ground in such distress, unable to rise?" "The Great King sent us to attack the elder. The elder's strongman held a golden staff in his hand, and with a single point at the host of four hundred thousand, men and horses all fell over, unable to rise again." Jyotiṣka asked, "Do you wish to get up or not?" The people all said, "We wish to get up." Jyotiṣka released his divine power once, causing the host of four hundred thousand, both men and horses, to all rise, and they returned to their kingdom at once. The king then dispatched an envoy to summon Jyotiṣka, took him into the same carriage, and went to the Buddha's place, where he addressed the Buddha: "World-Honoured One, what meritorious virtues did Jyotiṣka perform in past lives to receive this retribution?" The Buddha said, "Listen carefully. Formerly, five hundred companions with the same conditions were in rugged mountains. On the road they encountered a sick practitioner of the Way; they gave him a hut, rice, provisions, lamps, and candles. At that time, [the practitioner] begged broadly and made many vows: 'May heaven itself provide for me; descending from the void, transforming into eighteen bodies, emitting great radiance, illuminating the whole world. Further, I vow to become a Buddha, shattering the Iron Enclosing Mountains and the cauldrons of boiling water, so that flowers grow, the hells produce sandalwood, the hungry ghosts become śramaṇas, and the rākṣasas sit reciting sūtras.' The five hundred merchants, carrying their heavy treasures, provided for the sick monk, and from the monk's broad begging for heavenly offerings, they now attain this retribution. The donor at that time was this Jyotiṣka; the sick practitioner of the Way was myself; and the five hundred merchants all attained the path of the arhat."

56.11

The Sūtra of a Hundred Avadānas also says: When the Buddha was in the world, there was an elder in the city of Śrāvastī named Subhadra, whose wealth and treasures were boundless and beyond calculation. His wife gave birth to a daughter, upright and exquisite, rare in the world. Upon the crown of her head was naturally a precious gem whose light illuminated the inside of the city. The parents were delighted and accordingly gave her a name, calling her Jewel Light (Ratnaprabhā). As she gradually grew older, her nature became gentle and compliant, and she loved to practice giving. When beggars came seeking the precious gem upon her head, she would immediately take it and give it away, and soon another would grow back. Her parents rejoiced, brought her to the Buddha's place, and out of joy she sought to leave the household life. The Buddha said to her, "Come, bhikṣuṇī!" Her hair naturally fell away, the Dharma robes appeared upon her body, and she became a bhikṣuṇī. Diligently cultivating and practicing, she attained arhatship, revered and admired by devas and worldly humans. When the monks saw this, they asked about the causes and conditions. The Buddha told the monks, "In the distant past, ninety-one kalpas ago, a Buddha appeared in the world named Vipaśyin. After he entered nirvāṇa, there was a king named Brahmadatta who collected the śarīra and erected a four-jewelled stūpa to make offerings to them. At that time, a person entered this stūpa, tied a precious gem to the tip of the pillar, made a vow, and departed. By virtue of this merit, for ninety-one kalpas he did not fall into the evil destinies; among devas and humans he always possessed a precious gem that was born along with him, and he enjoyed heavenly bliss, until today when she met me, left the household life, and attained the Way." Having heard this, the monks rejoiced and put it into practice.

56.12

The Sūtra of a Hundred Avadānas also says: When the Buddha was in the world, there was an elder in the city of Kapilavastu whose wealth was boundless and beyond calculation. His wife gave birth to a lump of flesh; seeing it, the elder felt sorrow and distress, considering it an ill omen. He went to the Buddha's place to inquire about good or bad fortune. The Buddha told the elder, "Do not doubt or wonder at it; just raise it well. When seven days are complete, you will see for yourself." Hearing these words, the elder was overjoyed beyond measure, returned home, and ordered that it be cared for and nourished. When the seventh day arrived, the lump of flesh opened, and there were one hundred boys, upright and exquisite, rare in the world. As they grew older, they met the Buddha, left the household life, and attained the fruit of arhatship, revered and admired by devas and worldly humans. When the monks saw this, they asked him to explain the causes and conditions of their attaining the Way. The Buddha told the monks, "In the distant past, ninety-one kalpas ago, a Buddha appeared in the world named Vipaśyin. After he entered nirvāṇa, the king of that country at the time, named Bandhumat, collected the śarīra and built a four-jewelled stūpa one yojana high to make offerings to them. At that time, over one hundred men of the same village played music, held incense and flowers, and made offerings to that stūpa, each making a vow together: 'By this merit, wherever we are born in future lives, may we be brothers together!' Having made this vow, they each returned home.

56.13

The Buddha told the monks, "If you wish to know who the villagers of that time were, they are these one hundred monks. Due to the power of that vow, for ninety-one kalpas they did not fall into the three miserable destinies; among devas and humans they were always born together, enjoying heavenly bliss, until today when they met me; therefore, they were again born together, left the household life, and attained the Way." Having heard this, the monks rejoiced and put it into practice.

56.14

The verse says:

56.15

Concealed within stone is surely not genuine; / An adorned vase is truly false.
Stealing rank above the palace gate, / Playing out of tune beneath the dark canopy.
Sacrifices to the phoenix vainly startle the heart; / The patterns of the Zou beast ultimately love the wilderness.
How can the true form be displayed? / Fleeting glory cannot yet be cast aside.
Traces differ from the look of caps and robes, / As deeds imitate those who rush about.
Let it end! Cease the sounds of Zheng, / Which naturally disrupt the Zhou odes.
Riches and honour fruitlessly vie for fame; / Favor and disgrace emptily revile one another.
In an instant, a candle in the wind and fire— / How are illusory bubbles worth grasping?

56.16

Conditions of Sympathetic Resonance (briefly citing six verifications):

56.17

Wang Wendu of the Jin;
Lady Zhang of the Jin;
Liu Bozu of the Jin;
Governor Li of the Jin;
Chang;
Director of the Chancellery Cen Wenben of the Tang;
Vice-prefect Shen Yushan of the Tang.

56.18

Wang Wendu of the Jin was garrisoning Guangling. Suddenly he saw two runners holding wooden tablets with swan-head decorations coming to summon him. Wang Wen was greatly startled and asked the runners, "What office am I to hold?" The runners said, "Your Honor is to be General Who Pacifies the North and Inspector of the two provinces of Xu and Yan." Wang said, "I have already held this office; why summon me again?" The ghosts said, "That was only in the human world; what you are to take up now is an office in heaven." Wang was terrified. Soon he saw the officers welcoming him: dark-robed men and petty clerks in swan garments were very numerous. Wang soon fell ill and died. (The one verification above is from the Youming lu.)

56.19

In Chang'an during the Jin, there was a certain Lady Zhang who was alone in her room during the day. A dove came in from outside and perched upon the bed. Lady Zhang detested it; opening her robe at the chest, she prayed, "Dove, if your coming brings me misfortune, fly up onto the ceiling; if you bring me fortune, come and enter my bosom." The dove fluttered, flew into her bosom, and turned into a hook. From that time on, her wealth and property amounted to tens of thousands.

56.20

Liu Bozu of Boling during the Jin was Governor of Hedong. Above the ceiling where he lodged, there was a spirit capable of speech. Whenever edicts and proclamations were sent down from the capital, it would always inform Bozu in advance of the news. Bozu asked what it ate, and it wanted sheep's liver. He bought sheep's liver and sliced it before him; morsel by morsel, it vanished with the knife until two sheep's livers were finished. An old raccoon-dog, squinting and tiny, appeared before the table. An attendant raised a knife wanting to strike it, but Bozu scolded and stopped him, lifting it himself and placing it onto the ceiling. In a short while, it laughed loudly and said, "Just now I became drunk from eating the liver, and suddenly lost my form and met with the Prefect, for which I am deeply ashamed." Later, when Bozu was to become Director of Retainers, the spirit again spoke beforehand: "Bozu, on such-and-such a month and day the letter will arrive." When the date arrived, it was as it had said. When he entered the office of the Director of Retainers, the spirit followed along above the ceiling, always speaking of affairs within the ministry. Bozu was greatly terrified and said to the spirit, "My present post is that of Inspector; if the dignitaries around me hear that a spirit is here, they will use it to harm me." The spirit answered, saying, "As the Prefect fears, I should leave you." Thereupon it ceased and made no further sound.

56.21

During the Jin dynasty, Li Chang, whose courtesy name was Yuanwen, was a native of the commandery of Qiao. When he was young, a śramaṇa came to visit Chang and said to him: 'The retribution of your good fortune is about to arrive, yet a retribution for your debts follows in its wake. If you can maintain poverty, cultivate the Way, and not serve as an official, your good fortune will increase and your debts will be extinguished. You should exert yourself!' Chang was by nature impatient and moreover came from a poor family. He only asked how high he would reach in official service, completely failing to investigate the meaning of cultivating the Way. [The śramaṇa] offered him a scroll of scripture, but Chang refused to accept it. He also persistently asked what his glory, lowly rank, or nobility along the path would be. The śramaṇa said: 'You will wear the gold [seal] and purple [ribbon], reaching your peak across three commanderies. If you can stop at one commandery, that too would be good.' Chang said: 'For now I must have wealth and nobility; why look back at later troubles?' Thereupon he had [the śramaṇa] stay for the night. In the night Chang got up and saw that the śramaṇa's body filled the entire bed. He went in to call his household, and old and young came to peek. [The śramaṇa] then transformed into a great bird perched on the roof beam. At dawn he resumed his form and departed. Chang escorted him out the gate, and suddenly he was seen no more. He knew he was a divine person. Because of this, he served the Buddha, yet he could not be devoted. Later, he served as the grand administrator of Xiyang, Jiangxia, and Lujiang, was appointed General of the Soaring Dragon, and during the Daxing reign era he was implicated in Qian Feng's rebellion and executed. (The one verification above is from the Mingxiang ji.)

56.22

Under the Tang dynasty, Cen Wenben, Secretariat Director, was a native of Jiangling. In his youth he believed in the Buddha and constantly recited the 'Universal Gateway Chapter' of the Lotus Sūtra. Once, while riding a boat on the Wu River, the boat wrecked and everyone died. Wenben sank into the water and heard someone say: 'Just mindfulness of the Buddha, and you will surely not die.' This was said three times. Soon after, he surged up with the waves and found himself on the north bank, thereby escaping death. Later, he held a vegetarian feast in Jiangling, and the assembly of monks gathered at his home. A visiting monk stayed behind alone and said to Wenben: 'The realm is about to fall into chaos. Fortunately, you will not be involved in its calamities; you will ultimately meet peaceful times and attain wealth and nobility.' Having spoken, he hurried out. When [Wenben] escorted him out, he was gone. Soon after, as Wenben was eating the vegetarian meal, he obtained two śarīras inside his own food bowl. Later, it indeed turned out just as he had said. Wenben personally recounted this to [Tang] Lin.

56.23

Under the Tang dynasty, Dai Wenzhou, Minister of the Ministry of Revenue and Duke of Wuchang, had long been on good terms with Shen Yu, Vice Governor of Shuzhou. Zhou died in the seventh year of the Zhenguan reign era. In the eighth month of the eighth year, Yu had a dream while in his prefecture. His body was walking on the southwest street of Yining Ward in the capital. Suddenly he saw Zhou wearing old, tattered clothes, his face and appearance exceedingly haggard. Seeing Yu, he was both sorrowful and glad. [Yu] asked: 'Throughout your life, my lord, you cultivated merit; what are you doing now?' He replied: 'In my time, I mistakenly memorialized the execution of someone. After I died, others slaughtered sheep to sacrifice to me. Due to these two matters, the hardship of arguing and answering [in the underworld] cannot be fully told. Now the situation is finished.' He then said to Yu: 'Throughout my life, I was a good friend to you, yet in the end I was unable to advance your official post; I deeply regret this in my heart. Now you will personally obtain a document of the fifth rank, which has already passed through the Celestial Bureau. Rejoicing to assist you, I have therefore come to inform you.' Having finished speaking, [Yu] awoke and recounted it to others, hoping the dream would have proof. In the winter of that year, Yu entered the capital to participate in the civil selection, but due to a fine of bronze he did not obtain an office. He again said to others that what he had dreamed had no verification. In the spring of the ninth year, as Yu was about to return south of the Yangtze River and reached Xuzhou, he suddenly received

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an imperial decree appointing Yu to the fifth rank as the Administrative Advisor of Wuzhou. Lin's elder brother was the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Personnel; hearing of it, he summoned Yu and inquired about it, and it was indeed so. (The two verifications above are from the Mingbao ji.)

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Chapter Sixty-Four: Poverty and Lowliness (This has five sections)

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Section on Expounding the Meaning
Section on Citing Evidence
Section on Sudatta
Section on the Poor Boy
Section on the Poor Woman

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Section One: Expounding the Meaning

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Poverty, wealth, nobility, and lowliness are all caused by past karma. Gain, loss, having, and lacking all originate from former deeds. Therefore, the sūtra says: 'If you wish to know the past cause, look at the present effect; if you wish to know the future effect, look at the present cause.' Thus, in the home of Yuan Xian and the chamber of Qianlou, ropes for hinges and jars for windows could not keep out the wind and dust; reed doors and tumbleweed gates could not shelter them from frost and dew. Some wove rice stalks to serve as mats; some cut lotus leaves to use as garments. Drawing in the elbows, both sleeves were worn through; pulling on the threads, both lapels were likewise torn. For their bellies they depended on [the spring of] Anyi; for shelter they stayed at the Spirit Terrace. On their heads they wore hats of ten years; on their bodies they draped threads of a hundred patches. In their hometowns they had neither fields nor houses, and in Luoyang they lacked a host. Wandering aimlessly with the times, they passed their days in dire crags. Though ashamed before Lingzhe, they had the plight of being sheltered under the mulberry; though abashed before Boyi, they incurred the suffering of Mount Shouyang. Abruptly lacking coats and skirts, how could they see the warm spring? Possessing not even a pint or a peck, how could they finish the year? The reason it is like this is entirely because in former days they did not practice generous dāna and always harbored stinginess and greed, causing their karmic retribution to become utterly destitute in a single morning. Therefore, practitioners should practice dāna.

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Section Two: Citing Evidence

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As the Dengzhi jing says: 'You should know that poverty is comparable to hell. One loses what one relies on, with nowhere to lodge or dwell. The fire of anxious sorrow burns fiercely; one is withered and parched. One's blooming complexion having faded, one's appearance becomes an obstruction. One's body is feeble and emaciated, wasted by hunger and thirst. One's eyes are sunken, and the bones at every joint protrude. Thin skin wraps them, and veins and sinews are exposed. The hair is disheveled, and hands and feet are skinny and frail. Their color is like mugwort-white, and the whole body is cracked and chapped. Having no clothes, they go amid filth and excrement, picking up coarse rags and sewing them together, barely covering the human form while the four limbs are exposed naked. Leaning and lying on heaps of dung, they moreover have no mats or cushions. Relatives and old acquaintances look upon them without recognizing them. Going along the alleys begging for food, they are just like starving crows. When they go to friends wishing to beg for food from them, the gatekeeper blocks them and does not allow them in. When they watch for an opportunity and slip inside, they are pushed back and humiliated. When the master of the house comes out, he wishes to beat them with a whip; bending down and bowing deeply, they prostrate twice to apologize. The master disdains them and does not even turn to look back. Even if they manage to enter the house, because they are lowly and despised, he neither speaks to them nor spreads a seat for them. Giving a little food and drink, he tosses the bowl and does not let them be filled. Even if they happen upon a great gathering and hope to beg for leftover food, because they are lowly and despised they are not called to sit, but on the contrary are driven away. A poor person is like a forest tree without flowers, which swarms of bees avoid; like frosted grass whose leaves wither and curl up on their own; like a dried-up pond where wild geese do not swim; like a burned forest toward which roe deer do not run; like harvested field crops that no one gathers. If one today in poverty speaks of past wealth and joy, they only call it empty talk; who would believe it? Because of my poverty, wherever I go there is no road. It is like an open wild burned by fire, which people do not enjoy; like a withered tree without shade, to which none turn for shelter; like seedlings struck by frost and hail, abandoned and not harvested; like a venomous snake harming people, which everyone avoids; like food mixed with poison, which no one tastes; like an empty graveyard, toward which no one goes; like a foul latrine, full of gathered stench and filth; like a butcher or executioner, whom people despise and abhor. Even if they speak good words, others take them to be wrong. If they perform good deeds, others take them to be vile. If what they do is agile, they are again disliked as frivolous and rash; if they are deliberate and relaxed, they are said to be blunt and sluggish. Even if they offer praise, people call it flattering adulation; if they do not add praise, slander is born again, saying this poor person never has good words. If they instruct others, they are called deceitful; if they speak at length, people call them talkative; if they are silent and say nothing, people say they hide their feelings; if they speak uprightly, they are called rough and coarse; if they seek to please others, they are called flattering and crooked; if they frequently approach and attach themselves, they are said to be deceptive; if they do not approach, they are called arrogant and haughty; if they comply with what others say, they are said to deceitfully capture others' intentions; if they do not comply, they are said to be self-opinionated; if they humble their intentions to show deference, they are scolded as wretched and base; if they do not humble their intentions, it is said that this poor person still relies on me; if they relax a little, they are said to be foolish and without restraint; if they restrain themselves, they are said to be vainly scrupulous and falsely upright; if they make merry, they are said to be unrestrained and like a madman; if they are sorrowful and wretched, they are said to harbor poison and never have a happy mind. If they hear others' words that are not fully expressed and explain them, they are said to be sycophants who substitute foolishness for wisdom and are shameless to the extreme; if they are silent, they are said to be stupid and ignorant of principles. If they engage in a little light banter, they are said not to believe in sin and merit; if they ask for something, they are said to seek gain illicitly without knowing shame; if they ask for nothing, it is said that though they do not seek now, they hope to obtain greatly later. If their words cite the classics and books, they are said to falsely pretend to be intelligent; if their speech is simple, they are disliked as crude and dull; if they publicly discuss actual facts, they are said to be contentious; if they privately speak correct words, they are said to be slanderous and obsequious; if they wear new clothes, they are said to borrow adornments; if they wear tattered clothes, they are said to be cowardly, wretched, cold, and exhausted; if they eat and drink much, they are called starving and gluttonous; if they eat and drink little, it is said that their bellies are truly hungry and they falsely feign purity; if they explain sūtras and treatises, it is said that they show off what they know to expose our deficiencies; if they do not explain sūtras and treatises, it is said that they are foolish, ignorant, and fit only to herd oxen; if they speak of their past deeds, they are said to boast and praise themselves; if they remain silent, it is said that their family background is shallow. For all those who are poor, coming and going, advancing and stopping, speaking and moving—all are faults. For wealthy and noble people, even if they commit all manner of unlawful acts, they have no faults or troubles at all; every move and action is fitting. A poor person is like a revenant corpse, terrifying to all; like suffering a fatal disease that is difficult to cure; like a perilous place in the wilderness, devoid of water and grass; like falling into a great ocean and drowning in the vast torrent; like someone being choked at the throat, unable to catch a breath; like a cataract over the eye, not knowing where one is going; like thick grime that is difficult to wash away; like an enemy with whom, though sharing food and clothing, one does not abandon ill will; like entering a dry well in summer where one's breath is cut off; like sinking into deep mud, bogged down and unable to get out; like a flash flood from a mountain, whose rushing current sweeps away and snaps the trees. Poverty is just like this, fraught with many hardships. Now, the wealthy and noble have fine majesty and virtue; their appearance is relaxed and their magnanimity broad; ritual and righteousness flourish together, and they can produce wisdom and bravery; they increase their family estate, and their kin are harmonious and yielding; their good reputation is heard far and wide. Looking at it this way, all worldly wealth, nobility, and glory are not worth coveting; regarding the high status among humans and gods, one should not indulge in pleasure. You should know that poverty is a great heap of suffering. If you wish to sever poverty, you should not be stingy or greedy. Therefore, it is said in the sūtra that poverty is an exceedingly great suffering.'

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Section Three: Sudatta

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As the Zābǎozàng jīng says: In the past, when the Buddha was in the world, the elder Sudatta was at last impoverished, and his wealth and goods were completely exhausted. Working as a hired laborer, he obtained four sheng of rice and cooked it to make food. Just then, Aniruddha came to beg for food from him. His wife took a bowl, filled it with rice, and gave it to him. Later, Subhūti, Kāśyapa, Maudgalyāyana, Śāriputra, and others came in turn to beg, and they were all given full bowls. Last of all, the Buddha came, and he was also given a full bowl. Sudatta returned home from outside and asked his wife for food. His wife said to him: 'If the Venerable Aniruddha came, would you eat it yourself or give it to the Venerable?' Sudatta replied: 'I would rather not eat myself and give it to the Venerable.' His wife said again: 'If Kāśyapa, Mahāmaudgalyāyana, Subhūti, Śāriputra, and so forth, even up to the Buddha came, what would you do?' The husband answered his wife: 'I would rather not eat myself and give it all to them.' His wife then told her husband: 'Since morning, all the holy ones came to ask for food; all the food and drink we had has been given to them.' The husband was delighted to hear this and said to his wife: 'Our sins are exhausted, and merit must be born!' Immediately they opened the storehouse, and the grain, silk, and food were completely filled. When used up, they were replenished again. The retribution and so forth cannot be fully described.

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Also, the Zāpìyù jīng says: In the past, the elder Sudatta experienced poverty seven times. The last poverty was the most severe, to the point of not having a single coin. Later, in the manure, he found a wooden sheng measure; it was actually sandalwood. He took it to the market and sold it, getting four sheng of rice. He told his wife: 'Cook one sheng; I will go look for wild greens. When I return, we will eat together.' The Buddha thought: 'I should deliver Sudatta and cause merit to arise again.' Just as the cooked rice was done, Śāriputra, Maudgalyāyana, Kāśyapa, and the Buddha arrived. The four sheng of rice were successively cooked until completely exhausted. When they took it and left, he later became wealthy again, and once more invited the Buddha and the saṃgha to receive offerings until [all was given]. The Buddha preached the Dharma for him, and he attained the Way.

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Furthermore, the *Bodhisattva-caryanirdeśa-sūtra* states: In the beginning, the elder Sudatta's household was impoverished and in severe distress. Receiving the Buddha's exposition of the Dharma, his body and mind became pure, and he attained the fruit of an anāgāmin. He had only five gold coins. In one day, he gave one coin to the Buddha, one coin to the Dharma, one coin to the Saṃgha, one coin for his own food, and one coin as capital. Day after day it was like this, and he always had one coin, which was never exhausted. Thereupon he received the five precepts, and his sensual desires were severed. His wives and women each followed their own inclinations. One woman parched grain to make flour, but accidentally started a fire that widely burned both people and livestock. King Prasenajit ordered his ministers to establish a restriction: "From this day forward, at night none may light a fire or kindle a lamp or candle. Any who violate this shall be fined a thousand ounces of gold." At that time, Sudatta had attained the Path and remained at home; day and night he sat in meditation and entered samādhi. In the middle of the night, when the cock crowed, he lit a lamp and sat in meditation. The patrol caught him, seized the lamp, and reported it to the king, [saying] that he must pay the fine. Sudatta said to the king: "Now I am impoverished, not even having property worth a hundred coins; with what shall I pay?" The king grew angry and ordered an envoy to shut him in prison; so they took Sudatta and handed him over to the prison guards. In the first watch of the night, the Four Heavenly Kings came down and said to Sudatta: "We will give you the money to pay the king's fine, so that you may be released." He preached the scriptures for the Four Heavenly Kings, and then they left. When it reached midnight, the Lord of the Devas came again to see him; Sudatta preached the Dharma for him, after which Śakra left. Next, in the last watch of the night, Brahmā came down again to see him; he preached the Dharma for him, and Brahmā also left. At night, from atop his watchtower, the king saw a blaze of light over the prison. The next day, the king sent someone to tell Sudatta: "You were imprisoned on account of fire, yet you have no shame and continue to light fires!" Sudatta replied: "I did not light a fire. If I had lit a fire, there would be smoke and ashes." [The messenger] said again to Sudatta: "In the first watch there were four fires. In the middle of the night there was one fire, twice as large as the previous fires. In the last watch there was another fire, again twice as large as the one before. You say you did not light a fire—what then were these?" Sudatta replied: "These were not fires. In the first watch, the Four Heavenly Kings came to see me. In the middle of the night, the Lord of the Devas came to see me. In the last watch, Brahmā came to see me. These were the blazing lights from the bodies of the devas, not fires." The official heard his words and went to report them to the king. When the king heard this, his heart was astonished and his hair stood on end. The king said: "This man's merit is so extraordinary! How could I now humiliate him?" He immediately ordered the official: "Quickly release him; do not delay." He then released him. Sudatta, having been freed, went to where the Buddha was, bowed to the Buddha, and listened to the Dharma. King Prasenajit at once arrayed his carriage and followed to where the Buddha was. When the people saw the king, they all stepped aside and rose; only Sudatta, his mind dwelling on the flavor of the Dharma, saw the king and did not rise. The king felt a slight resentment: "This is my subject, yet harboring disrespect, he sees me and does not rise." He thus harbored an angry mind. The Buddha knew his thoughts and paused, not preaching the Dharma. The king said to the Buddha: "I pray that you preach the scriptures and the Dharma." The Buddha told the king: "Now is not the time to preach the Dharma for the king." [The king asked:] "Why is it not the time?" [The Buddha said:] "When a person gives rise to anger and his resentful knots are not untied, when he greedily lusts for female beauty and is arrogant without reverence, his mind is defiled and turbid; hearing the wondrous Dharma, he cannot understand it. For this reason, now is not the time to preach the Dharma for the king." Hearing the Buddha's words, the king thought to himself: "Because of this man, today I have suffered two losses: I gave rise to anger, and I could not hear the Dharma." He bowed to the Buddha and departed. Going outside, he ordered his attendants: "If this man comes out, strike off his head directly!" Having spoken these words, immediately from all four directions tigers, wolves, lions, and venomous, noxious beasts all came and surrounded the king. Seeing this, the king was terrified and returned to where the Buddha was. The Buddha asked the great king: "Why have you returned?" The king said to the Buddha: "I saw terrors and returned." The Buddha asked the king: "Do you recognize this man?" The king said: "I do not." The Buddha said: "This man has already attained the fruit of an anāgāmin. Because you gave rise to evil intentions toward this man, this was caused to happen. If you had not returned, the king would surely have been in danger and unable to escape with his life." Hearing the Buddha's words, the king was greatly terrified; he immediately repented and bowed before Sudatta, prostrating his five limbs upon the ground. Before Sudatta, the king said: "This man is my subject, yet I humble myself to him; this is truly most difficult." Sudatta said in turn: "Yet I was impoverished, and practiced dāna; this also was most difficult." Śīlaviśuddha, acting as an upright official of the kingdom, was seized by bandits; facing death, he would not commit a false speech, and the bandits then released him; this was truly most difficult. There was also a deva named Śikhā; sleeping on a high pavilion, a divine jade maiden came, yet because he upheld the prohibitions, he would not accept her; this was truly most difficult. Thereupon, the four persons spoke verses before the Buddha, saying:

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法苑珠林 — 道世, Classical Chinese