法苑珠林 80

English (machine translation) 80

Language: English

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Compiled by the Śramaṇa Shi Daoshi of Ximing Temple

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Section 85: The Six Pāramitās (This has six divisions)

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Division 1: Dāna (This comprises eleven subdivisions)

Subdivision on Stating the Purport / Subdivision on Stinginess and Pretence / Subdivision on Restricted Giving / Subdivision on Universal Giving / Subdivision on Giving the Dharma / Subdivision on Assessing the Object / Subdivision on Contemplating the Field / Subdivision on Mutual Comparison / Subdivision on Giving Material Wealth / Subdivision on Rejoicing in Accordance / Subdivision on the Merit of Giving

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Subdivision 1: Stating the Purport

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Now, the deed of dāna is the source of all practices. It is set forth at the beginning of the six pāramitās, and placed at the head of the four means of embracing. For this reason, Anāthapiṇḍada scattered gold without stinginess; King Sudāna gave away the white elephant without regret. They could even relieve distress by forgetting their own physical bodies; thus Sattva cast his body to save a famished and emaciated life, and Śibi cut his thigh to substitute for the meal of the hawk. How much less should kingdom, cities, wife, and children be kept in mind? How could precious goods and storehouses be taken to heart? Even secular texts say: taking off one's robe and pushing forward one's food, wearing down from crown to heel, sharing chariots, horses, clothes, and furs with friends until worn out—none failed to make light of wealth and value righteousness, loving the worthy and delighting in men of talent. Moreover, wealth and material goods are themselves impermanent; how do they concern human affairs? Bitterly toiling to hoard them, what does one ultimately use them for? The four fears torture by turns; the five houses compete to seize them. How could any person of wisdom treat them as precious playthings? Recently we see ordinary, foolish people who begrudge and cling to family wealth; without a mind to give away, they lose their bodily lives. Solely out of craving for life, they constantly worry they will not survive, thereby causing wife and child to glare at each other, brothers to quarrel within the walls, relatives to be estranged, and friends to be severed. This truly arises because stingy causes, stingy conditions, stingy mental qualities, and stingy deeds contradict the mind of a bodhisattva and obstruct the path of compassion, failing to give rise to the intention to rescue and protect, and solely generating afflictive feelings. Such calamities indeed have stingy craving as their root.

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Subdivision 2: Stinginess and Pretence

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As the Buddha spoke in verse in the Bodhisattva-garbhastha-sūtra:

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"The world has many foolish, deluded people / Who guard their stinginess and do not practice giving. / Hoarding wealth of thousands of millions, / They claim: 'This is mine.' / When about to end their life-span, / Their eyes behold evil ghosts and spirits; / The knife-winds dismantle their bodies, / And there is no longer outgoing or incoming breath. / The craving consciousness follows good and evil, / Receiving retribution that is exceedingly bitter and harsh. / Brought to the place of punishment, / They regret and repent when it is too late."

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Again, a verse in the Satyakanirgrantha-sūtra says:

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"Greedy people hoard much, / Yet in obtaining it they never feel content. / With a mind of ignorance and perversion, / They constantly think of encroaching upon and harming others. / In the present life they have many grudges and hatreds, / And abandoning the body they fall into evil destinies. / Therefore, those who possess wisdom / Ought to keep contentment in mind. / Begrudging wealth and not giving, / They hide it away fearing others might know; / Abandoning the body, they depart empty-handed, / And suffer torment among hungry ghosts: / Hunger, thirst, cold, heat, and the like, / Grief and sorrow constantly roasting them. / The wise do not hoard, / In order to smash stinginess and greed."

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Again, a verse in the Karmavibhaṅga-sūtra says:

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"Cultivating the original practice of giving, / Yet being quick-tempered and prone to anger, / Not relying on correct mindfulness, / One later becomes a dragon of great strength."

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Again, the Bodhisattva-caryā-sūtra says: "If, upon seeing a beggar, one's face and eyes frown, one should know that this person opens the gate to the hungry ghosts."

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Furthermore, the Mahāsaṃnipāta-sūtra states: 'There are four dharmas that obstruct the Mahāyāna. What are the four? First, not taking pleasure in giving; second, giving and then giving rise to regret; third, giving and then examining the recipient's faults; fourth, not being mindful of the bodhicitta. There are another four dharmas: first, giving out of desire; second, giving out of anger; third, giving out of delusion; fourth, giving out of fear. There are yet another four dharmas: first, not giving with an earnest mind; second, not giving with one's own hands; third, not giving face-to-face; fourth, giving with slight and contempt.'

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Furthermore, the Upāsakaśīla-sūtra states: 'The Buddha said: "When a bodhisattva practices dāna, he distances himself from four evils: first, breaking the precepts; second, the net of doubt; third, wrong views; fourth, stinginess. Furthermore, he departs from five dharmas: first, when giving, not choosing between the virtuous and the non-virtuous; second, when giving, not speaking of good and bad; third, when giving, not selecting caste; fourth, when giving, not scorning the petitioner; fifth, when giving, not using harsh speech to curse and revile.'

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Furthermore, there are three matters through which, having given, one does not attain a supreme and wondrous karmic fruit: first, first generating a vast intention and later giving little; second, picking out poor-quality goods to give to others; third, having carried out the gift, giving rise to regret and resentment in one's mind. Furthermore, there are eight matters through which, having given, one does not attain the superior fruit: first, having given, seeing the faults of the recipient; second, when giving, the mind is not impartial; third, having given, seeking service from the recipient; fourth, having given, delighting in praising oneself; fifth, saying one has nothing and only giving later; sixth, having given, using harsh speech to curse and revile; seventh, having given, demanding twofold in return; eighth, having given, giving rise to doubts. A donor such as this will not be able to directly meet the buddhas, worthy ones, and āryas. If one provides fully endowed form, scent, taste, and tangibility and gives them to the other, this is called pure giving."

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"If one gives only to good fields of merit (puṇyakṣetra) and does not take pleasure in giving constantly, when this person receives karmic retribution in the future, he will not take pleasure in giving.'

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"If a person, having given, gives rise to regret, or robs others of their property to practice dāna with it, when this person in the future acquires wealth and property, it will constantly be depleted and not accumulate.'

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"If one distresses one's family and dependents to obtain goods for giving, when this person receives great retribution in the future, his body will constantly suffer illness and distress.'

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"If a person cannot first support his parents, but causes distress and hardship to his wife, children, male and female slaves, and yet practices dāna, this is called an evil person; this is a merely nominal gift, not called a true gift. Giving such as this is called lacking compassion and not knowing how to repay kindness. When this person obtains wealth and treasures in the future, they will constantly be lost and not accumulate, he will be unable to disburse and use them, and his body will suffer much illness and distress."

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Section 3: Narrow Giving

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The commentary says: There may also be someone who promises a gift to the poor to make them happy, but later regrets it and does not give it, incurring increasingly more suffering. Or there are sentient beings who themselves lack faith in giving, and seeing others practice giving, are unable to rejoice in it; rather, they give rise to slander and prevent others from giving, incurring the gravest guilt. Or when property is held in common, using it exclusively for oneself is blameworthy: for instance, property in the household is jointly experienced by husband and wife, each having a share, and is not obtained by one person alone; yet someone is exclusively stingy with it and unwilling to bestow it, obstructing others from cultivating merit—this incurs the deepest evil. Therefore, the Saddharmasmṛtyupasthāna-sūtra states: 'If a man instructs his wife to give food to śramaṇas, brāhmaṇas, and the like, and his wife is stingy, having food in fact but claiming to have none, telling her husband: "There is nothing at all in the house; what should I give to the śramaṇas and virtuous people?"—such a woman, deceiving her husband, being stingy with wealth, and not practicing dāna, when her body breaks up and life ends, falls among the needle-mouthed hungry ghosts. Because of her accumulated habits of committing much bad karma, women are mostly born into the realm of hungry ghosts. Why is this? Because women have much greed, desire, and jealousy, not equalling men; women have small minds and frivolous minds, not equalling men. Due to these causes and conditions, they are born among hungry ghosts, and until their evil karma of jealousy is exhausted, unabated, undestroyed, and undecayed, they cannot escape from among the hungry ghosts. When their karma is exhausted and they attain escape, upon dying there they are born among animals, receiving the body of a cātaka bird (this bird eats only rainwater from the heavens; looking up with mouth open to receive celestial rainwater, it drinks it, unable to drink other water), constantly afflicted by hunger and thirst, suffering great torment. Dying among animals, they are born among humans, and due to the residue of their karma, they are constantly beset by hunger and thirst, suffering hardships that are difficult to exhaust, constantly going about begging for food.' Furthermore, when within the family there is food held in common, to eat it exclusively oneself without giving to others also incurs grave guilt. Therefore, the Saddharmasmṛtyupasthāna-sūtra states: 'One who eats much delicious food eats it alone, not giving to his wife, children, or other family members; the wife and children and the rest only smell its fragrance without tasting its flavour. He eats it alone before his wife and children. Out of stinginess and jealousy, he does not give to his dependents of common karma; he also instructs others not to provide for their wives and children, and gives rise to rejoicement [in such deeds]. Constantly committing these faults without repenting, he gives rise to neither shame nor remorse. When such an evil person's body breaks up and life ends, he is born among the hungry ghosts who feed on breath-vapour. Having been born there, hunger and thirst scorch his body as he scurries everywhere, groaning and wailing, weeping and grieving in distress. He relies solely on stūpas and temples as well as shrines to devas, where people of faith make offerings, and by their fragrance and smelling the residual vapor, he sustains his own life.' Hence we know that sentient beings who use household property exclusively or eat food exclusively alone all incur great guilt. Or, fearing they have no wealth—even down to water and grass—they also do not give them, and later suffer poverty and hardship for life after life without cessation. Therefore, the Upāsakaśīla-sūtra states: 'When a person without wealth says of himself that he has no wealth, this meaning is not so. Why is this? There is no one who does not possess all the water and grass. Although someone is the ruler of a state, he is not necessarily able to give; although someone is destitute, he is not unable to give. Why is this? Even a destitute person has a portion of food; having eaten, he washes the vessel, and if he discards the wash-water and gives it to those who should eat it, he also attains merit. If one gives a speck of parched flour to an ant, he also attains immeasurable fruits of merit. In the whole world, who among the most destitute would lack this speck of parched flour? Who among the most destitute is completely naked without clothing? If one has clothing, could one not have a single thread or a single needle to give to someone, or a piece of cloth the size of a finger to bind a wound or make a lampwick? Good sons, who among the people in the world who appear destitute does not have their own body? If they have a body, seeing others making merit, they should go in person to assist: undertaking labor, sweeping, and sprinkling also attains karmic reward.' Therefore, the Tattvasiddhi-śāstra states: 'Sweeping the saṃgha's ground of the entire Jambudvīpa does not equal sweeping the Buddha's ground the size of a palm.'

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Furthermore, the Dharmaguptaka-vinaya and the Mahīśāsaka-vinaya state: 'Formerly, when the Buddha was in the world, in the city of Bhadrika there was a great householder named Meṇḍhaka. He had abundant wealth and treasures and great authority; according to his wishes, he provided for all beings and goods. There was a hole in his storehouse, as large as an axle-hub, from which grain and rice emerged of their own accord. His wife prepared cooked rice from eight sheng of rice and fed the fourfold army and visitors coming from the four directions, and the food remained unexhausted. His son gave a thousand liang of gold to the fourfold army and beggars coming from the four directions, and at his will it was never exhausted. His son's wife took a single packet of incense to anoint the fourfold army and the petitioners coming from the four directions, satisfying them at will, and the incense remained unexhausted. His male slave plowed seven furrows with a single plow, yielding grain in great abundance. His female slave gave eight sheng of grain to the fourfold army, and humans and horses eating it could not exhaust it. Freeborn and bondservants within the household disputed among themselves, each claiming, "This is the power of my merit!" Meṇḍhaka went to the Buddha to ask whose power it was. The Buddha said: "It belongs in common to all of you. Long ago in Rājagṛha there was a weaver. The weaver had a wife, and also had a son; the son also had a wife; and there was one male slave and one female slave. At one time, while eating together, a pratyekabuddha came to the house to beg for food. Each wanted to relinquish his or her own portion to give to him. The pratyekabuddha said: 'Let each reduce a small amount: it will not be small for you, and for me it will be sufficient.' They thereupon together followed his instruction. Having eaten, the pratyekabuddha displayed various divine transformations in the sky and only then departed. When the weaver's family died, they were born in the Heaven of the Four Heavenly Kings, and up to the Heaven of Paranirmitavaśavartin, cycling back and forth seven times. The remaining merit culminates in this lifetime, with their karmic retributions being equal."'

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Section 4: Universal Giving

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As the Nirvāṇa-sūtra states: 'When a bodhisattva practices giving, he does not see whether the recipient keeps the precepts or breaks the precepts, whether it is a field [of merit] or not a field, whether this is an acquaintance or not an acquaintance. When giving, he does not see whether [the recipient] is a suitable vessel or not a suitable vessel; he does not select the date and time, whether it is a proper place or an improper place; nor does he calculate famine or abundance and joy; nor does he consider causes and effects, whether this is a sentient being or not a sentient being, whether it is merit or not merit. Although he does not see the giver, the recipient, or the goods, nor does he even see cessation or karmic fruits, he constantly practices giving without interruption. If a bodhisattva saw keeping precepts or breaking precepts, or even karmic fruits, he would ultimately be unable to give. If he does not practice dāna, he will not fully achieve the dānapāramitā. If he does not fully achieve the dānapāramitā, he cannot accomplish anuttarasamyaksaṃbodhi. For example, if a man has been struck in the body by a poisoned arrow, his relatives, wishing him to be safe and sound, in order to remove the poison immediately summon a skilled physician to extract the arrow for him. But that man says: "Wait a moment, do not touch it! I must first see from which direction this poisoned arrow came, and who shot it: was it a kṣatriya, a brāhmaṇa, a vaiśya, or a śūdra?" Furthermore, he thinks: "What kind of wood is this? Is it bamboo or willow? As for its iron arrowhead, from which forge did it come? Is it hard or soft? As for its feathers, what kind of bird's wing is it? A crow, a kite, or a vulture? As for the poison on it, was it concocted, or does it exist naturally? Is it human poison or vicious snake poison?" Before this foolish man could ever find out, he would immediately die. The bodhisattva is also like this: if when practicing giving he discriminates whether the recipient keeps the precepts or breaks the precepts, or even calculates karmic retribution, he will ultimately be unable to give. If he cannot give, he will not fully achieve the dānapāramitā, or even achieve bodhi.'

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Furthermore, the Viśuddhācārakarmāvaraṇa-sūtra states: 'If a bodhisattva contemplates stinginess and giving without making two characteristics of them, contemplates keeping precepts and breaking precepts without making two characteristics of them, and contemplates anger and patience, laxity and diligence, a scattered mind and meditative absorption, delusion and wisdom, without making two characteristics of them, this is called purifying all karmic hindrances.'

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Furthermore, the Sūtra on Prince Sudāna Spoken by the Buddha says: The Buddha addressed Ānanda: In the past, countless kalpas ago, there was a great country named Yebo. Its king was called Shibo. The king had twenty thousand consorts, yet not a single son. The king himself prayed and sacrificed to all the gods, devas, and spirits, and subsequently a conception was felt. When the ten months were complete, the crown prince was born and was named Sudāna. By the age of sixteen he was fully accomplished in the arts of writing and scholarship, and from his youth onward he constantly loved to practice giving (dāna). When the crown prince grew older, the king took a consort for him named Mandī, the daughter of a king, who was peerlessly upright and beautiful. The crown prince had one son and one daughter. The crown prince reflected that he wished to accomplish the perfection of giving (dānapāramitā). He went out of the city to tour and sightsee. Śakra, ruler of the gods, transformed himself into poor, deaf, blind, and mute people, who were all beside the road. After seeing them, the prince was grieved and unhappy. The prince addressed the king: 'I wish to ask a single boon from the Great King; I wonder whether you will grant it?' The king replied: 'Whatever you wish, I will not oppose your will.' The prince said: 'My wish is to take all the rare treasures in the Great King's inner storehouse, place them outside the four city gates and within the marketplace, and use them to practice giving so that whatever anyone requests, their wishes will not be thwarted.' The king said to the prince: 'Indulge whatever you desire; I will not oppose you.' The prince thereupon carted the rare treasures and placed them outside the four city gates and within the marketplace, letting people ask as they pleased. Throughout the eight directions, above and below, there was no one who did not hear of it. Those who came from thousands or ten thousands of li away were given to as they wished, without their intentions ever being thwarted. At that time there was a rival, hostile country. Hearing that the prince loved to practice giving and never thwarted what anyone requested, its king assembled his ministers and various religious practitioners (daoshi) to hold counsel together, saying: 'The king of Yebo has a white elephant that walks on lotuses, named Sudānayan, which possesses great strength and is skilled in battle. Whenever we engage in warfare with other states, this elephant is always victorious. Who is capable of going to beg for it?' All the ministers said: 'No one is capable of going.' Among them were eight brahmins who said to the king: 'We are able to go and beg for it; you should supply us with provisions.' The king immediately gave them provisions and said: 'If you can obtain the elephant, I will reward you richly.' The eight religious practitioners went to the country of Yebo and arrived at the gate of the crown prince's palace. Leaning on their staves, they all stood on one raised foot and said of themselves: 'We have intentionally come from afar wishing to make a request.' When the prince heard this, he was exceedingly joyful, went out to welcome them, and stepped forward to pay homage as a son greets his father. He then comforted them and asked what they sought. The religious practitioners replied: 'We have heard that the prince loves to practice giving and does not thwart people's wishes. The prince's name has spread throughout the eight directions, penetrating up into the azure heavens and down into the Yellow Springs. The merit of your giving is immeasurable. We wish to beg from the prince the white elephant that walks on lotuses.' The prince immediately led them to the stables and bade them take an elephant. The eight men said: 'We specifically want the white elephant that walks on lotuses, named Sudānayan.' The prince said: 'This great elephant is cherished and prized by my royal father; the king regards it as he does me. If I give it to you, I will cross my royal father's will, or he may banish me from the country.' Then the prince reflected to himself: 'Previously I made a vow that my giving would not thwart anyone's wishes. If I do not give it now, it will violate my original resolve. If I do not give away this elephant, how will I ever accomplish unexcelled equality?' He immediately commanded his attendants to saddle the elephant with its golden gear and quickly lead it out. With his left hand the prince held water to wash the hands of the religious practitioners, and with his right hand he led the elephant to confer it upon them. Having obtained the elephant, the eight men blessed the prince, mounted the white elephant together, and departed with joy. The prince said to the religious practitioners: 'You must leave swiftly! If the king finds out, he will pursue and take it back from you.' The eight religious practitioners then went away swiftly. When the ministers in the country heard that the elephant had been given to their enemy, they were all terrified. When the king heard of it, he was astounded: 'We hold the realm today because we have this elephant! This elephant surpasses the strength of sixty elephants, yet the prince has given it to our enemy! I fear we will lose the kingdom—what is to be done?' [The ministers said:] 'With the prince giving like this, the inner storehouse is emptied by the day. We fear that the entire country as well as his wife and children will all be given away to others.' When the king heard these words, he became even more unhappy. The king consulted with his ministers, wishing to inflict various punishments upon the prince. A great minister said: 'May the king not permit [harming him], but merely banish him from the country and place him in the Mount of the Wild Fields for about twelve years; this should make him feel shame.' The king followed what this minister said. The king said to the prince: 'Leave the country! I banish you to Mount Daṇḍa for twelve years.' The prince addressed the king: 'I dare not disobey your command. I only wish to practice giving for seven days to unfold my humble mind, and only then leave the country.' The king said: 'It is precisely because your giving was too excessive, emptying my country's treasury and losing our treasure against our enemies, that I banish you! Leave immediately! I will not grant your request.' The prince said: 'I dare not disobey the Great King's decree. I have my own personal wealth; I wish to give it all away and only then depart, not daring to trouble the state.' The twenty thousand consorts went together to the king's presence, pleading to let the prince stay and practice giving for seven days before sending him out of the country. The king then granted it. Those coming from the four directions and afar were given to as they pleased. In seven days the wealth was exhausted; the poor became rich, and the myriad people were overjoyed. The prince took leave of his wife. Astounded to hear this, the consort said: 'What fault has the prince committed that it should come to this?' The prince fully explained the reasons: 'For this reason he banishes me.' Mandī said: 'May the country be abundant and prosperous without limit. We should simply strive together to seek the Way in the mountains.' The prince said: 'The place where people live in the mountains is fearful; you have always known luxury and joy—how could you endure this?' The consort replied to the prince: 'I could never part from you. A king takes a banner as his emblem, fire takes smoke as its emblem, and a woman takes her husband as her emblem. I rely only on the prince. If someone comes to beg, I will comply with it. Even if someone asks for me or our son and daughter, it will be according to whatever the prince gives.' The prince said: 'If you can be like that, it is very good.' The prince, together with the consort and their two children, went to his mother's quarters to bid farewell and depart. He addressed his mother: 'I hope you will frequently admonish the king to govern the country with upright governance and not oppress people crookedly.' Hearing this farewell, the mother was overcome with grief. She said to those around her: 'My body is like stone, my heart like steel. I have served the Great King without ever making an error, yet now I have only one son and he leaves me! How could my heart not break as if dead?' The prince, together with the consort and the two children, bowed to his parents and departed. The twenty thousand consorts each presented the prince with a string of genuine pearls, and the four thousand ministers fashioned jewels of the seven treasures to offer to the prince. Departing from the palace and out of the city, the prince gave them all away to those from far and near, exhausting them in that very moment. Several tens of millions of people, old and young throughout the country, escorted the prince together. The onlookers all lamented and shed tears at parting. The prince and his consort rode together, driving the chariot themselves as they went. After they had gone far ahead, they rested beneath a tree. A brahmin came to beg for the horses; the prince stopped the chariot and gave the horses to him. He placed the two children in the chariot, while the consort pushed from behind, and the prince stepped between the shafts to pull it along as they went. Just as they proceeded further, they met another brahmin who came to beg for the chariot; the prince immediately gave him the chariot. Just as they proceeded further, yet another brahmin came to beg. The prince said: 'I do not begrudge you anything, but my possessions are all exhausted.' The brahmin said: 'If you have no wealth, give me the clothes on your body.' The prince immediately stripped them off and gave them to him, putting on another old garment. Just as they proceeded further, they met another brahmin who came to beg; the prince gave him the consort's clothes. Moving further ahead, they met yet another brahmin who came to beg; the prince gave him the clothes of his two children. Having given away chariot, horses, money, valuables, and clothing until absolutely nothing was left, the prince did not have the slightest regret, even as small as a hair. The prince carried his son on his back, and the consort embraced her daughter, walking on foot as they went, accompanying each other into the mountains. Mount Daṇḍa was more than six thousand li away from the country of Yebo. As they went farther from the country, traveling in the marshes, they suffered greatly from hunger and thirst. Śakra, ruler of the Trāyastriṃśa devas, then magically transformed a walled city in the wilderness, filled with musical entertainment, clothing, and food. Someone came out to welcome them: 'The prince may stay here to eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves.' The consort said to the prince: 'Traveling the road has been extremely exhausting; can we rest here a while?' The prince said: 'My royal father banished me to Mount Daṇḍa. If I remain here, it would disobey my royal father's command and would not be the conduct of a filial son.' Thereupon he went out of the city, and when he looked back, the city was no longer visible. Proceeding onward, they reached Mount Daṇḍa. Below the mountain was a body of water, too deep to cross. The consort said to the prince: 'Let us stay here for a while and cross when the water recedes.' The prince said: 'My royal father banished me to the mountain. Staying here would disobey my royal father's instructions.' Because of the prince's compassionate mind, a hill arose within the water to dam and cut off its flow; lifting his garments, he crossed. Then he thought to himself: 'This water will flood and kill many humans and animals.' He immediately turned back and said to the water: 'Flow again as before! If anyone wishes to come to where I am, let them all be able to cross.' As soon as the prince spoke, the water flowed again as before. Proceeding into the mountain, he saw steep peaks, luxuriant trees, hundreds of birds singing mournfully, flowing springs, clear pools, sweet water, and delicious fruits. The prince said to his consort: 'Look at this mountain; there are also practitioners of the Way here.' When the prince entered the mountain, the birds and beasts of the mountain were all overjoyed and came to welcome the prince. On the mountain was a practitioner of the Way (daoren) named Ajiutuo, five hundred years of age, who possessed consummate and marvelous virtue. The prince bowed to him, stepped back, stood, and said: 'Now that I am in the mountain, where is there a place with good fruit and springs where I can dwell?' Ajiutuo said: 'Throughout this mountain are all lands of merit; wherever you are, you may dwell.' The practitioner further said: 'This mountain is a pure place; why have you brought your wife and children wishing to cultivate the Way?' Before the prince could reply, Mandī asked the practitioner: 'How many years have you cultivated the Way here?' The practitioner said: 'Four or five hundred years.' Mandī said: 'If you still reckon self and others, when will you attain the Way?' The practitioner said: 'I indeed fall short in this regard.' The prince then asked the practitioner: 'Have you heard of Crown Prince Sudāna of the kingdom of Yebo?' The practitioner said: 'I have heard of him often, but have not yet seen him.' The prince said: 'I am indeed Sudāna.' The practitioner asked the prince: 'What do you seek?' The prince replied: 'I seek the Mahāyāna.' The practitioner said: 'Since your merit is such, it will not be long before you attain the Mahāyāna! When the prince attains the unexcelled Way, I will be your foremost disciple endowed with supernatural power.' The practitioner then pointed out to the prince the place where he should dwell. The prince then bound and plaited his hair in the manner of the Dharma, took water and fruits for food and drink, and constructed thatched huts to house the male and female separately. The boy was named Yeli, aged seven, who wore grass garments and followed his father in and out. The girl was named Jīnayan, aged six, who wore deerskin garments and followed her mother in and out. The birds and beasts in the mountain were all joyful and came to take refuge with the prince. Empty pools all gave rise to spring water, withered trees all produced flowers and leaves, all poisons vanished, and fruit trees flourished together. The prince's son and daughter were beside the water playing with the birds and beasts. At that time, in the country of Kuru, there was an impoverished brahmin who did not take a wife until he was forty years old. His wife was exceedingly beautiful, while the brahmin had twelve uglinesses and resembled a ghost. His wife hated the sight of him and cursed him, wishing for his death. When the wife went to draw water, she met youths on the road who ridiculed her husband. Carrying the water, she returned and said to her husband: 'When I went to draw water, the youths teased me. Fetch me male and female slaves! If I do not have to draw water myself, people will not mock me.' The husband said: 'I am poor; where could I get them?' The wife said: 'If you do not fetch me male and female slaves, I will leave immediately and live with you no longer!' The wife further said: 'I have often heard that Crown Prince Sudāna was banished by his royal father to Mount Daṇḍa because of his excessive giving. He has a son and a daughter; you can go and beg for them.' At that time, the brahmin went to Mount Daṇḍa. Arriving beside the great water, merely by keeping the prince in mind he was able to cross. Then the brahmin entered the mountain, met a hunter, and asked for the prince's location, who pointed it out. The brahmin arrived at the prince's dwelling. Seeing him from afar, the prince was exceedingly joyful, went to welcome him, bowed, comforted him, and asked whence he had come. The brahmin said: 'I have come from afar, a man of the country of Kuru. Having long heard that the prince loves to practice giving, I wish to beg from the prince.' The prince said: 'I do not begrudge you anything, but all I had has been bestowed away; I have nothing to give you.' The brahmin said: 'If you have no goods, give me your two children to be my servants.' This was repeated three times. The prince said: 'You have come from afar for this purpose; why should I not give them to you?' At that time the two children were playing; the prince called them and said: 'This brahmin has come from afar to beg for you, and I have already promised you to him. Follow him and go.' The prince took them by the hand and handed them over, whereupon the earth shook. The two children were unwilling to follow him. Returning before their father, they knelt for a long time and said to their father: 'What past sin of ours makes us encounter this today, that royalty of a king should become other people's slaves?' Facing their father, they repented of their faults: 'May our sins be eradicated and merit arise through this condition, so that life after life we will never encounter this again!' The prince said to the children: 'All love and affection in the world must end in separation; everything is impermanent—how could it be held on to? When I attain the unexcelled Way, I will deliver you myself.' The two children said to their father: 'Apologize to mother for us; now we are severed forever, and we regret that we could not part face to face. Due to our past sins, we must suffer this great agony; we think of how mother, having lost us, will be stricken with grief, toil, and sorrow.' The brahmin said: 'I am old and feeble. The small children will each abandon me and run to their mother. How could I manage them? You must bind them and hand them over to me.' The prince then twisted the hands of the two young children behind their backs and had the brahmin bind them himself, tying them together and holding the end of the rope. When the two children were unwilling to go, he struck them with a whip until blood flowed onto the ground. Seeing this, the prince's tears fell to the ground, and the earth seethed for it. The prince and all the birds and beasts escorted the two children, returning only when they were no longer in sight. Then all the birds and beasts followed the prince back to the place where the two children used to play, wailing and throwing themselves on the ground. On the road, the children wound their rope around a tree, refusing to go, hoping their mother would come. The brahmin struck them with the whip. The two children said: 'Do not strike us anymore; we will walk on our own.' Looking up to heaven, they cried aloud: 'Mountain spirits and tree spirits, have pity and compassion on us! We did not get to see our mother to bid farewell. Please tell our mother to pick fruits quickly and come see us!' In the mountain, the sole of the mother's left foot began to itch, her right eye twitched warmly, and milk flowed from both her breasts. She reflected to herself: 'I have never had such strange omens! What use are the fruits? I ought to return and check on my children; could something be wrong?' Dropping the fruits, she ran back. The heavenly king Śakra knew that the prince had given the children to another and feared that the consort would ruin his wholesome intention; he transformed himself into a lion and squatted in the middle of the road. The consort said to the lion: 'Please step aside a little and let me pass.' Knowing that the brahmin had gone far, the lion rose, cleared the path, and let the consort pass. When the consort returned, she saw the prince sitting alone without the two children. She went to the thatched hut and searched everywhere, but could not find them. She returned to the prince and asked: 'Where are the two children? To whom have you given them? Tell me quickly where they are; do not drive me mad!' This was repeated three times, but the prince did not answer. The consort grew even more distressed: 'The prince's silence only makes me more frantic!' The prince said to the consort: 'A brahmin from the country of Kuru came to beg the two children from me, and I gave them to him.' Hearing this, the consort was overcome with agony, collapsed to the ground like Mount Tai collapsing, and rolled about weeping inconsolably. The prince said: 'Stop! Do you remember the original compact in the past at the time of Dīpaṃkara Buddha? At that time, I was a brahmin youth named Megha (Peidawei), and you were a brahmin maiden named Bhadrā (Xuluotuo). You held seven stalks of flowers, and I held five hundred silver coins to purchase five flowers from you, wishing to scatter them over the Buddha. You entrusted two flowers to me to offer to the Buddha and made the vow: "May I always be your wife in future lives!" At that time I made a compact with you: "If you wish to be my wife, you must follow my will in whatever giving I do without thwarting people's desires; only my parents will I not give away, but as for the rest of my giving, it will all follow my will." You answered: "Yes." Now that I have given away the children, would you disturb my wholesome mind instead?' When the consort heard the prince's words, her mind opened in understanding, and she recalled her past lives. She acquiesced to the prince's giving so that he might swiftly attain his wish. Seeing the prince practice giving like this, the heavenly king Śakra descended to test the prince to see what he sought. Transforming himself into a brahmin who also had twelve uglinesses, he arrived before the prince and said of himself: 'I have constantly heard that the prince loves to practice giving and does not thwart people's wishes. Therefore I have come here wishing to beg for your consort.' The prince said: 'Yes, very well, you may have her.' The consort said: 'If you give me to another today, who will attend upon the prince?' The prince replied: 'If I do not give you away now, how will I accomplish unexcelled equality?' The prince then led the consort and handed her over. Śakra saw that the prince had not the slightest regret; all the devas praised him, and heaven and earth shook violently. The brahmin then led the consort away. Walking seven steps, he immediately led the consort back, entrusting her to the prince: 'Do not give her to anyone else again.' The prince said: 'Why do you not take her?' The brahmin said to the prince: 'I am not a brahmin; I am the heavenly king Śakra, who came on purpose to test you. What boon do you wish for?' He then restored his divine body. The consort then bowed and asked for three boons: 'First, cause the brahmin who took my children away to bring them back and sell them in our native country. Second, cause my two children not to suffer from hunger and thirst. Third, cause me and the prince to return to our country soon.' Heavenly King Śakra said: 'It shall be as you wished.' The prince said: 'My wish is to cause all sentient beings to attain liberation, free from the suffering of birth, old age, sickness, and death.' Śakra said: 'How great! What you wish for is unexcelled, what you wish for is uniquely supreme, beyond what I can reach.' Having finished speaking, Śakra suddenly vanished.

80.29

At that time, when the brāhmaṇa of the state of Kuru arrived home with the children, his wife met him with revilement: 'How could you bear to come back with such a face? These children are of royal lineage, yet you have no mercy, beating them so that sores arose and their bodies are covered with pus and blood! Take them quickly and peddle them for sale, and seek other servants.' Her husband followed his wife's words and promptly went to sell them. The Lord of Heaven went through the marketplace saying, 'These children are precious; none can afford to buy them.' Eventually [they arrived] in the state of Yebopo. The ministers and people recognized that they were the children of the crown prince and grandchildren of the great king; the entire country was filled with grief. The ministers promptly asked where he had obtained these children. The brāhmaṇa said, 'I begged and received them myself.' When people wished to take them by force, an elder among them admonished them, saying, 'This came to pass only through the prince's mind of dāna. Now, taking them by force would go against the prince's intent. It would be better to report this to the king; once the king hears of it, he will naturally ransom them.' The ministers reported it to the king. When the king heard it, he was greatly astonished and at once summoned the brāhmaṇa, ordering him to bring the children into the palace. When the king, the queen, and the palace women saw the two children from afar, not one among them failed to choke with tears. The king asked, 'By what cause did you obtain these children?' The brāhmaṇa answered, 'I simply begged and obtained them from the prince.' The king called the two children, wishing to embrace them, but the children both wept and refused to be embraced. The king asked the brāhmaṇa, 'How much money do you seek to sell them for?' Before the brāhmaṇa could reply, the boy spoke up: 'The boy is worth one thousand silver coins and one hundred bullocks; the girl is worth two thousand gold coins and two hundred cows.' The king said, 'A boy is what people cherish; why is the boy cheap while the girl is dear?' The boy said, 'The court ladies of the inner palace have no kinship with the king; some come from lowly origins, and some were merely maidservants, yet wherever the king's favor falls, they attain honor and nobility. The king had only one son, yet you banished him into the deep mountains, having no thought of love for your son at all. Therefore, it is clear that the boy is cheap while the girl is dear.' Hearing these words, the king was overwhelmed with sorrow and grief, his sobbing and weeping mingled. He said, 'I have wronged you greatly! Why do you not come into my embrace? Are you angry with me? Or do you fear the brāhmaṇa?' The boy said, 'We dare not resent the king, nor do we fear the brāhmaṇa. We were originally royal grandchildren, but now we are slaves. How could slaves come into the king's embrace? That is why we did not dare.' Hearing these words, the king's sorrow grew doubly intense. He redeemed them as was said, and again called the two children, who then went into the king's embrace. The king embraced his two grandchildren, stroked their heads with his hand, and asked the two children, 'What did your father eat and drink in the mountains? What kind of clothing did he wear?' The children answered him in full. The king at once dispatched an envoy to hasten to welcome the prince, proclaiming the king's command to the prince. The prince answered, 'The king banished me to the mountains for a term of twelve years. Now there is still one year remaining. When the term is complete, I shall return.' The envoy returned and reported this to the king. The king then wrote a personal letter to give to the prince: 'You are a wise man; when leaving you practiced forbearance, and when returning you should also practice forbearance. Why are you angry with me and refuse to return?' When the prince received the letter, he placed it atop his head in veneration, circumambulated it seven times, and then opened and read it. When the birds and beasts of the mountain heard that the prince was returning, they leapt, rolled on the ground, threw themselves down, and cried aloud. Springs dried up, beasts ceased to nurse, and all the birds wailed sorrowfully, because they were losing the prince. The prince and his consort returned together to their native land. When the hostile neighboring enemy state heard that the prince was to return, they at once sent an envoy to equip the white elephant with saddles and bridles of gold and silver, filling a gold bowl with silver grain and a silver bowl with gold grain, to meet him on the road and return it to the prince. They apologized and repented of their fault, saying, 'Our former begging of the white elephant was merely due to ignorance. It was on our account that the prince was banished. Now hearing of your return, we are inwardly filled with joy. We now present the white elephant back to the prince; may you deign to accept it so as to wipe away our transgression.' The prince replied, 'Suppose someone prepared food of a hundred delicacies to offer to another, but that person vomited it onto the ground; could it still be considered fragrant, clean, and fit to be eaten again? My dāna is also like that which has been vomited out: in the end, I will never accept it back. Quickly ride the elephant away, convey my thanks to your king, and pardon the hardship of your envoy who has come from afar to inquire after me.' Thereupon the envoy rode the elephant back and reported this to the king. Because of this elephant, the enmity of the hostile state was transformed into benevolence, and the king and his ministers all generated the intention towards the unexcelled, equal path. The father-king rode an elephant out to welcome the prince. The prince came forward, bowed his head to the ground in homage, and followed the king home. Among the people of the state, none failed to rejoice, scattering flowers and burning incense to await the prince. When the prince entered the palace, he at once went before his mother, bowed his head to the ground in homage, and inquired after her wellbeing. The king entrusted the treasury of jewels to the prince, and he practiced dāna at will, surpassing even before. Practicing dāna without cease, he naturally attained buddhahood.

80.30

The Buddha told Ānanda: 'The dāna I practiced in my past lives was like this. Prince Xudana (Sudāna) was myself. The father-king at that time was my present father, Śuddhodana. The mother at that time was my present mother, Māyā. The consort at that time was the present Gopī (Gopā). The recluse in the mountains, Azhutuo (Acyuta), was the present Maudgalyāyana. The Lord of Heaven Śakra at that time was the present Śāriputra. The hunter at that time was the present Ānanda. The boy Yeli (Jāli) was my present son, Rāhula. The girl Jiyan (Kṛṣṇājinā) was the present arhat mother of Cūḍa[panthaka]. The brāhmaṇa who begged for the children at that time was the present Devadatta. The brāhmaṇa's wife was Ciñcā-māṇavikā. With such toil and hardship across immeasurable kalpas, I constantly practiced the dānapāramitā. Such was my dāna.'

80.31

Section 5: The Gift of Dharma

80.32

The commentary states: This clarifies the relative merits and defects of material giving compared with the gift of Dharma. Therefore, the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra states: 'The Buddha said that among gifts, the gift of Dharma is foremost. Why is this? Material giving has a limit, whereas the gift of Dharma is limitless. Material giving yields retribution within the kāmadhātu, whereas the gift of Dharma yields retribution that transcends the tridhātu. Material giving cannot sever the outpourings (āsravas), whereas the gift of Dharma purely ascends to the other shore. Material giving only induces retribution among humans and devas, whereas the gift of Dharma universally induces the fruits of the three vehicles. Material giving is accessible to both the foolish and the wise, whereas the gift of Dharma is restricted solely to the wise. In material giving, only the giver obtains merit, whereas the gift of Dharma universally benefits both giver and receiver. Material giving can be received by foolish animals, whereas the gift of Dharma is restricted solely to intelligent humans. Material giving only benefits the physical body, whereas the gift of Dharma is able to benefit the mind and spirit. Material giving can increase the illness of greed, whereas the gift of Dharma can eradicate the three poisons.' Therefore, the Mahāsaṃnipāta-sūtra states: 'Though one's gifts of jewels be plentiful, they do not equal reciting and upholding a single verse with a sincere mind. The gift of Dharma is the most wondrous, surpassing food and drink.'

80.33

Furthermore, the Adbhutadharmaparyāya-sūtra states: The Lord of Heaven asked: 'What merit is there in giving food versus giving Dharma? We pray you will explain it.' The jackal answered: 'The gift of food and drink saves a life for one day; the gift of precious jewels saves from poverty for a lifetime, yet it increases bondage. Explaining the Dharma to educate and transform is called the gift of Dharma; it is able to make sentient beings depart from the worldly path.'

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法苑珠林 — 道世, Classical Chinese