法苑珠林 92

English (machine translation) 92

Language: English

92.1

Compiled by the Śramaṇa Shi Daoshi of Ximing Temple

92.2

Section 92: Advantage and Harm (This section contains two parts)

Now, the sentient beings of the triple realm (tridhātu) and the lives endowed to the four modes of birth (catur-yoni)—their six sense-faculties grasp at conditions, and their seven consciousnesses forge karma. Burned by the fires of desire, their greedy minds are insatiable; their worldly pursuits are like a swift-flowing river, their actions like the Scorched Earth. Thus, even a foot of water's wave or an inch of fleeting shadow cannot be halted by great strength, nor can the moon's driver or the sun's chariot be checked by heroic talent. In between, they drink bitterness and swallow poison, harboring torment and harboring grief. Their physical and vocal actions are driven by the ten drives; their thoughts and cogitations make them the masters of the eight defects. All this is because of clingings of affection: ensnared and tethered by wives, children, wealth, and sensual pleasure, it causes them from beginningless time until now to constantly suffer the eight kinds of suffering. They do them themselves and instruct others, in unbroken succession. Seeing good, they do not praise it; hearing evil, they rejoice in it. They burn forests and dry up marshes; they unleash hounds and fly falcons; they exhaust the tunes of Zheng and Wei and indulge to the utmost the delicacies of sweet tastes. In jesting laughter they commit evil, and in an instant it becomes wrongdoing. They insult and disparage holy images, trample upon pagodas and temples, show no reverence for the Vaipulya scriptures, and destroy and break up the Saṃgha. They set their own measures and weights and discard those of others; with guilty hearts they betray principle, and with shameless ingratitude deceive their own kin. Although the seven-foot body is not other and the square inch of mind rests with oneself, to be able to awaken one's nature is not easy for a person. If one indulges this mind and mouth, all offenses will amass. We pray that monks and laity alike will each summon sincere devotion, wash away deviant greed, forever leave behind the fires of desire, purify body and speech, and fulfill practices and vows; extinguish the karma of the three obstacles and illumine the wisdom of the three knowledges; attain ease and self-mastery with the five eyes and six supernormal faculties; and cut off forever the five hindrances and six dusts from this moment on.

92.5

Section Two: Citing Evidences.

92.6

As the Mahālaṃkāra-śāstra states: The Buddha said, 'In the past I once heard that there was a bhikṣu who resided in a country, where cities, towns, and villages vied with one another to make offerings to him. His fellow renunciants hated, envied, and slandered him. When the bhikṣu's disciples heard these slanders, they said to their master, "Such-and-such a bhikṣu is slandering our preceptor." Then that preceptor, having heard these words, immediately called the slanderer over, consoled and exhorted him with kind words, and gave him robes. The disciples said to their master, "That slandering person is our enemy! Why does the preceptor console him and give him robes?" The master replied to them, saying, "That slanderer has done me a favor; I ought to make offerings to him." He then spoke a verse:

92.7

'Just as when hail harms grain,
If someone is able to block it,
The owner of the field is greatly delighted
And rewards him with wealth and silks;
That slanderer is a dear friend,
He should not be called an enemy.
He blocks the hail of gain and offerings from me;
I ought to repay his kindness.
Like that Devadatta,
Harmed by the hail of gain and offerings,
Because of his greedy attachment,
Not a hair of good dharma remained to him.
Just as when being flayed with a hair-rope,
The skin breaks, the flesh and bones are destroyed,
The marrow is severed, down to the heart—
Gain and offerings are worse than a hair-rope:
They sever the skin of keeping the precepts,
They can break the flesh of dhyāna-concentration,
Shatter the bones of wisdom,
And destroy the marrow of the wonderful wholesome mind.
Because of greed for gain and offerings,
One takes no pleasure in quiet and secluded places;
The mind is constantly bound to gain and offerings,
Resting neither day nor night.'

92.8

Furthermore, the Saṃyuktaratnapiṭaka-sūtra states: At that time, King Ajātaśatru sent five hundred caldrons of boiled rice daily to Devadatta, so that he received abundant gain and offerings. The bhikṣus all informed the World-Honored One. The Buddha said, 'Bhikṣus, do not envy Devadatta's receiving of gain and offerings.' He then spoke a verse:

92.9

'When the plantain bears fruit, it perishes;
The reed and bamboo die when they flower;
The juxu dies when pregnant;
So too does the mule and donkey.
The fool's greed for gain and offerings harms himself,
An object of ridicule for the wise.'

92.10

'Therefore, the Buddha said to the bhikṣus: Gain and offerings are a great disaster and calamity, capable of creating obstacles and difficulties; even an arhat may be obstructed and troubled by gain and offerings.' The bhikṣus asked, 'What sort of obstacles can these cause?' The Buddha said, 'The harm of gain and offerings can break the skin, break the flesh, break the bones, and break the marrow: it breaks the skin of pure precepts, the flesh of dhyāna-concentration, the bones of wisdom, and the marrow of the subtle and wonderful wholesome mind.'

92.11

Furthermore, the Sūtra of a Hundred Parables states: In the past there was a brāhmaṇa who considered himself knowledgeable and thoroughly conversant with everything. Wishing to display his virtue, he went to another country, holding his child and weeping. Someone asked, 'Why are you weeping?' The brāhmaṇa said, 'This young child will die in seven days. Pitying his untimely death, I weep for this reason.' The people of the time said to him, 'Human life is hard to know, and calculations are prone to error. Perhaps he might not die—why cry beforehand?' The brāhmaṇa said, 'The sun and moon may grow dark, and the stars and constellations may fall, but what I calculate will never prove false.' For the sake of fame and gain, when the seventh day arrived, he killed his own child to verify his words. After seven days, when the worldly people heard that his child had died, they all praised him, saying, 'He is truly a wise man! What he said was not mistaken.' Generating faith and conviction in their hearts, they all came to pay him respect. This is just like the Buddha's four groups of disciples who, for the sake of gain and offerings, claim of themselves to have attained the Way. They adopt the foolish man's method, killing the child of wholesome qualities while falsely displaying loving-kindness and virtue; consequently, they will suffer endless pain in the future, just like the brāhmaṇa who killed his child to deceive the world in order to verify his own words.

92.12

Furthermore, the Sūtra of a Hundred Parables states: In the past there was a man whose wife was handsome except that her nose was ugly. The husband went out and saw another woman whose face was handsome and whose nose was very beautiful. He then cut off her nose and brought it home. Hurriedly calling to his wife, he said, 'Come out quickly! I will give you a fine nose.' He then cut off her nose and attached the other's nose to her face. As it did not adhere, she also lost her own nose, causing his wife to suffer great agony in vain. The foolish people of the world are also like this: hearing that a senior, experienced śramaṇa has great fame and virtue, is revered by people, and receives great gain and offerings, they make false claims, lying that they possess virtue. Not only do they lose that gain, but afterward they damage their own conduct—just as cutting off another's nose only harms oneself. The foolish people of the world are also like this.

92.13

Furthermore, the Sūtra of a Hundred Parables states: In the past there was a merchant who lent half a coin to someone and for a long time could not get repaid. He then went to collect the debt. Ahead of him was a great river; he paid two coins to hire someone and only then could cross over. Arriving there to collect the debt, he could not get it after all. Returning and crossing the river, he paid two coins again. For the sake of a half-coin debt, he lost four coins, besides suffering the exhaustion of travel on the road: what was owed was very little, but what was lost was exceedingly great, so that he was indeed mocked and laughed at by everyone. Worldly people are also like this: seeking minor fame and gain, they end up destroying great conduct, merely seeking to accommodate themselves without regard for propriety and righteousness; they incur a bad reputation in the present, and later receive bitter retribution.

92.14

Furthermore, the Ekottarika-āgama states: The World-Honored One told the bhikṣus: 'There are people who resemble lions, and there are people who resemble sheep. How do some resemble lions? Some people, having obtained offerings of robes, food, and the like, consume them without generating minds of defiled attachment. If they do not obtain gain and offerings, they do not produce agitated thoughts; they have no mind of increase or decrease. It is just like the lion king who devours small animals without producing thoughts of liking or disliking or defiled attachment. How do some resemble sheep? It is just as when someone receives offerings from people and then consumes them, generating defiled attachment; ignorant of the evil destinies, he is conceited. It is just like a flock of sheep, where one sheep leaves the flock, goes to a large dung heap, gorges on feces, and then returns to the flock, boasting conceitedly: "I have obtained fine food, which the other sheep have not obtained." Therefore, bhikṣus, you should emulate the lion king, and not be like the dung-eating sheep.'

92.15

Furthermore, the Vinayamātṛkā states: 'If there is a bhikṣu who maintains an equanimous mind toward good and bad, and seeing others obtain gain, rejoices as if he had obtained it himself, such a bhikṣu is worthy to be a teacher to worldly people. When Kāśyapa entered villages, he was unobstructed, unbound, and took nothing. Those who wished for gain sought gain; those who wished for merit sought merit. His rejoicing was the same as if he had obtained the gain himself. Like a hair turning in the empty sky, he was without obstruction and without bondage.' [The verse states:]

92.16

'If one enters a village skillfully,
With an equanimous mind toward loss and gain,
Living among fellow brahmacārins in the saṃgha
Without generating an envious mind;
And toward the households of your relatives and acquaintances,
Making no distinction between new and old—
This is called the conduct of a master.'

92.17

Furthermore, the Dharmasaṃgīti-sūtra states: 'Śāriputra, you should now listen single-mindedly and well; I shall speak to you. If there is a bhikṣu who practices the Way single-mindedly, thousands of millions of heavenly deities will all share the same mind, wishing to provide him with all requisites for pleasure. Śāriputra, the offerings that humans make to a seated-meditation bhikṣu do not equal those of heavenly deities. Therefore, Śāriputra, do not worry or think that you will not be able to provide for yourself.' It also says: 'There may be a bhikṣu who, relying on my Dharma, goes forth from household life and receives the precepts, and within this Dharma strives with diligence and vigor. Although heavenly deities and humans may not take notice, as long as he is able to practice the Way single-mindedly with vigor, he will ultimately never have to worry about the necessities of food and clothing. Why is this? The Tathāgata's treasury of merit is immeasurable and hard to exhaust. Śāriputra, even if all worldly people together went forth from household life and practiced in accordance with the Dharma, they could not exhaust even one part in a hundred thousand million portions of [the merit of] the white hair between my eyebrows (ūrṇā-lakṣaṇa). Śāriputra, the Tathāgata has such immeasurable merit. Whatever food and drink and necessities bhikṣus receive will simply be sufficient as they are obtained. Śāriputra, therefore bhikṣus should think thus, and should not practice wrongful livelihoods and evil dharmas regarding necessary goods.'

92.18

Furthermore, the Kāśyapa-sūtra states: At that time five hundred bhikṣus said, 'We are unable to be vigorous, and we fear we cannot digest offerings given in faith; we request to return to lay life.' Mañjuśrī Bodhisattva praised them, saying, 'If one cannot digest food given in faith, it is better to return to lay life hundreds of times in a single day rather than break the precepts for a single day while receiving offerings given in faith from others.' Then the World-Honored One said to Mañjuśrī Bodhisattva, 'Good man, if there are those who cultivate dhyāna and liberation, I permit those persons to receive food given in faith.'

92.19

Furthermore, the Saṃgharakṣita-sūtra states: At that time in the country of Śrāvastī there were five hundred merchants who together made an oath, wishing to enter the great ocean. The merchants conferred together to seek out a Dharma master to take into the ocean: 'At that time we can hear the benefits of the Dharma and safely make the journey.' Among the assembly there was an elder who told the merchants, 'I have a family preceptor named Saṃgharakṣita; we may invite him as our master. He is eloquent and vastly wise, and very capable of preaching the Dharma.' The merchants then went to Saṃgharakṣita's place, bowed their heads in homage, and said, 'We wish to enter the great ocean; now we invite the Venerable One to be our preaching Dharma master. By hearing the Dharma we may safely make the journey.' Saṃgharakṣita replied, 'You may inform the preceptor Śāriputra.' Receiving this instruction, the merchants went to inform him. Śāriputra said, 'We should ask the Buddha together.' Then Śāriputra and Saṃgharakṣita took the merchants to the Buddha, paid homage, and explained the reasons in detail. At that time the World-Honored One, knowing that the bhikṣu Saṃgharakṣita would broadly deliver sentient beings, immediately granted permission. The merchants were overjoyed and danced with delight, and then entered the great ocean together with the Dharma master Saṃgharakṣita. Before reaching the place of jewels, a dragon king seized and stopped [the ship]. The merchants were greatly frightened and terrified; kneeling on their right knees with palms joined, they looked up and asked, 'What deity is seizing and stopping the ship? If you have need of something, please reveal your bodily form.' Then the dragon king suddenly revealed his body. The merchants then asked, 'What do you seek?' The dragon king replied, 'Give me this bhikṣu Saṃgharakṣita.' The merchants replied, 'We requested him from the Buddha, the World-Honored One, and from Śāriputra, and brought him along; how could we give him to you?' The dragon king replied, 'If you do not give him to me, I will drown and kill you all.' The merchants were greatly terrified and immediately reflected, having once heard from the Buddha a verse such as this:

92.20

'To protect one family,
Better to sacrifice one person;
To protect one village,
Better to sacrifice one family;
To protect one country,
Better to sacrifice one village;
To protect life,
Better to sacrifice the wealth of the country.'

92.21

At that time, the merchants hesitated endlessly, [but finally] took the bhikṣu Saṅgharakṣita and gave him up to the dragon king. The dragon king was delighted and led him to his palace. Then the dragon king took four dragons who were clever and wise to be disciples of Saṅgharakṣita. The dragon king addressed him, saying, 'May the Venerable One teach each of these four dragons one of the Āgamas for me. Teach the first dragon the Ekottarāgama; teach the second dragon the Madhyamāgama; teach the third dragon the Saṃyuktāgama; and teach the fourth dragon the Dīrghāgama.' Saṅgharakṣita replied, 'So be it.' Saṅgharakṣita then taught the first dragon, who received it in silence. The second dragon closed his eyes and recited aloud. The third dragon turned his head away while listening and receiving it. The fourth dragon stood at a distance while listening and receiving it. These four young dragons were clever and wise; within six months they had memorized the four Āgamas, grasping them entirely in their hearts without leaving anything out. Then the great dragon king went to Saṅgharakṣita's dwelling, bowed and prostrated, asking after his wellbeing, 'Are you not dejected?' Saṅgharakṣita replied, 'I am exceedingly dejected.' The dragon king asked, 'Why are you dejected?' Saṅgharakṣita answered, 'One who receives and upholds the Dharma requires proper comportment. These dragons, being in the animal destiny, have no mind for proper comportment, and have not received, upheld, recited, and practiced in accordance with the Buddha's Dharma.' The dragon king addressed him, saying, 'Venerable, do not speak reproaching these dragons. Why is this? It was to protect the Master's life that they listened in this manner. Dragons possess four poisons, so they could not receive, uphold, and recite according to the normal rules. Why? The first, who received it in silence, did so because of his voice-poison; he could not act according to the normal rules, for if he uttered a sound, it would surely kill the Master; therefore he received it in silence. The second, who received it with closed eyes, did so because of his gaze-poison; he could not act according to the normal rules, for if he looked upon the Master, it would surely kill the Master; therefore he received it with closed eyes. The third, who received it with head turned away, did so because of his breath-poison; he could not act according to the normal rules, for if his breath blew upon the Master, it would surely kill the Master; therefore he received it with head turned away. The fourth, who received it standing at a distance, did so because of his touch-poison; he could not act according to the normal rules, for if his body touched the Master, it would surely kill the Master; therefore he received it standing at a distance.' Meanwhile, the merchants, having gathered their jewels and returning, reached the place where they had lost their master. They said to one another, 'Originally, we lost our master here. If we now return to the Buddha's dwelling, and the Venerables such as Śāriputra and Maudgalyāyana ask us where the Dharma Master Saṅgharakṣita is, how shall we reply?' At that time, the dragon king knew that the merchants had returned; he then brought Saṅgharakṣita and handed him back to the merchants, saying to them, 'This is your master, the bhikṣu Saṅgharakṣita.' Then the merchants leaped with joy, and they departed safely.

92.22

At that time, Saṅgharakṣita asked the merchants, 'Between water and land, by which road shall we proceed?' The merchants said, 'The water route is exceedingly distant and takes more than six months; our provisions are nearly exhausted, and we cannot make it.' Thereupon they deliberated together and decided to proceed by the overland route. Lodging mid-journey along the way, Saṅgharakṣita told the merchants, 'I must lodge apart from the assembly. When you depart at night, call out to me loudly.' The merchants respectfully agreed. Saṅgharakṣita left the assembly and lodged for the night to sit in meditation. In the middle of the night he fell asleep and rested. When the merchants departed at night, they called out to one another in turns, but Saṅgharakṣita did not awaken, and they just abandoned him and departed. As the night was about to end, a great wind and rain arose. Only then did Saṅgharakṣita awake; he raised his voice and cried out loudly, but in the end no one answered. He thought in his mind and spoke to himself: 'This was a great sin; my companions have abandoned me and departed.'

92.23

At that time, Saṅgharakṣita had lost his companions and proceeded alone. He had not travelled far along the road when he heard the sound of a gaṇḍī. Following the sound, he headed toward a monastery. On the way he met a person and asked, "For what reason is the gaṇḍī being sounded?" That person answered, "To enter the bathhouse to bathe." Saṅgharakṣita thought, "Having come from afar, I might join the saṅgha to bathe." He entered the monastic quarters and saw various people who looked like the community of monks, entering the bathhouse together. He saw that all the bathing utensils, robes, jars, basins, and vessels, as well as the bathhouse, were ablaze with fire. At that time, when the assembly of monks entered the bathhouse together, fire flared up as soon as they entered: their muscles and flesh melted away completely, and their bones became like charred wicks. Saṅgharakṣita, terrified, asked the monks, "Who are you?" The monks answered, "People of Jambudvīpa are by nature hard to make believe. When you reach the Buddha's place, you may ask the Buddha." Thereupon, terrified, he abandoned the monastery and fled. He had not advanced far along the road when he encountered another monastery. That monastery was majestic and spacious, extraordinarily splendid, and exquisite. He also heard the sound of a gaṇḍī and saw monks again, so he asked, "For what reason is the gaṇḍī sounded?" A monk answered, "The assembly of monks is having a meal." He immediately thought to himself, "Having come from afar, I am now very famished and exhausted; I also need food." Having entered the monastic quarters, he saw the monks gathering in harmony, but the food vessels and mats were all ablaze with fire. The people and the buildings were all ablaze with fire, no different from before. Saṅgharakṣita asked, "Who are you?" That person answered, "No different from before." Terrified, Saṅgharakṣita fled even more swiftly. He had not advanced far along the road when he encountered another monastery. That monastery was majestic and beautiful, no different from before. After entering the monastic quarters, he saw monks sitting on flaming beds, scratching one another; their flesh peeled away and their sinews protruded, and their five viscera, bones, and marrow were also like charred wicks. Saṅgharakṣita asked, "Who are you?" The monks answered, "People of Jambudvīpa are by nature hard to make believe. When you reach the Buddha's place, you may ask the Buddha." Terrified, Saṅgharakṣita fled swiftly again. He had not advanced far along the road when he encountered another monastery. Entering the monastery in this manner, he saw the community of monks sitting together and eating. The monks said, "You must go out now!" Saṅgharakṣita hesitated and had not yet gone out when he saw that within the bowls of the monks there was only boiling-hot human dung gushing forth. The monks all consumed it. After they consumed it, fire flared up: their throats and five viscera all turned to smoke and flame, pouring straight down and passing through. Having seen this, terrified, he departed swiftly again. Not far from there, he saw yet another monastery. That monastery was majestic and beautiful, no different from before. He went into the monastic quarters and heard the sound of a gaṇḍī. Saṅgharakṣita asked, "Why is the gaṇḍī sounded?" The monks answered, "We wish to drink sweet syrup." Saṅgharakṣita thought to himself, "I am now thirsty and exhausted; I need to drink sweet syrup." He went among the assembly and saw the food vessels, beds, and mats; the monks were reviling and abusing one another. The food vessels were filled with molten copper, and the monks all drank it together. After they consumed it, fire flared up: their throats and five viscera all turned to glowing charcoal, pouring straight down and passing through. Having seen this, terrified, he proceeded along the road. Not far away, he saw a great ground of flesh, where flames blazed fiercely, with wailing cries of agony, suffering distress hard to endure. Having seen this, terrified, he proceeded along the road. Not far away, he saw another great ground, no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a great vat of flesh, all ablaze with fire, enduring searing agony hard to bear, no different from before. Advancing further, he also saw a vat of flesh, all ablaze with fire, no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a jar of flesh, its flames blazing fiercely, wailing in agony and suffering severe pain hard to endure. Advancing further, he saw another jar of flesh, its flames blazing fiercely, no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a great spring of flesh, its flames blazing fiercely, boiling up with rotten skin, the agonizing cries and severe pain no different from before. Having seen this, terrified, he advanced further. He had not advanced far along the road when he saw a great vat of flesh, its flames blazing fiercely and the suffering as before. Advancing further, he saw a monk holding a sharp knife in his hand and cutting off his own nose; after cutting it off it grew again, and after growing it was cut off again, ending and beginning anew without cessation. Advancing further, it was no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a monk standing alone in water, his mouth constantly crying out, "Water! Water!" without cessation, enduring bitter torment. Advancing further, he saw a monk in an iron-thorn park standing upon iron thorns, his agonizing wailing cries no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a hall of flesh, its flames blazing fiercely, the agonizing wailing cries no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a flesh peg shaped like an elephant's tusk, its flames blazing fiercely, enduring suffering as before. Advancing further, he saw a camel, its body burned by fire, its agonizing wailing cries no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a horse, its body burned by fire, its agonizing wailing cries no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a white elephant, fierce fire burning its body, its suffering no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a donkey's body, fierce fire burning its body, its suffering no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a ram, fierce fire burning its body, its suffering no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a terrace of flesh, great flames blazing fiercely, its suffering no different from before. Advancing further, he saw another terrace of flesh, no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a room of flesh, fierce fire burning its body, its agonizing wailing cries no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a bed of flesh, bitter fire burning its body, no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a steelyard balance of flesh, burned by fire, extending and contracting, its suffering no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a measuring container of flesh, burned by fire, extending and contracting, its suffering no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a rope-bed of flesh, burned by fire and enduring suffering, no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a wall of flesh, burned by fire and shaking, its suffering no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a privy pit, faeces and urine boiling up, its suffering no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a high seat upon which a monk collected his mind and sat upright, while fierce fire burned him, the agonizing cries as before. Advancing further, he saw another high seat where the suffering borne above was also no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a gaṇḍī of flesh, burned by fire, the agonizing cries also no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a granary of flesh—in the western language called a kuśūla—fierce fire burning its body, enduring suffering as before. Advancing further, he saw a mountain of flesh, burned by fire, rotting and foul, shaking and roaring, its suffering no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a sumanā flower tree, burned by fire and enduring suffering, also no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a flower tree of flesh, burned by fire and emitting cries, its suffering no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a fruit tree of flesh, burned by fire, the agonizing cries also no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a tree of flesh, burned by fire and enduring suffering, also no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a pillar of flesh, burned by fire and enduring suffering, also no different from before. Advancing further, he saw a pillar of flesh being chopped with axes by hell wardens, enduring suffering as before. Advancing further, he saw fourteen trees of flesh, burned by fire and enduring suffering, also no different from before. Advancing further, he saw two monks striking each other with their fists, their heads and brains split open, pus and blood flowing forth; having perished, they were reborn, ending and beginning anew, their suffering never ceasing. The monk Saṅgharakṣita went out and advanced further, where he saw two novices lying down embracing each other, fierce fire burning their bodies, their suffering never ceasing. The monk Saṅgharakṣita, having seen this, was terrified and asked the novices, "Who are you to suffer such agony?" The novices answered, "People of Jambudvīpa are by nature hard to make believe. When you reach the World-Honoured One's place, you may ask the Buddha." Having seen this, terrified, he advanced further. Along the road, he saw from afar a forest of lush and luxuriant trees, pleasant to approach. Entering the forest, he saw five hundred ṛṣis living and resting in the forest. When the ṛṣis saw the monk Saṅgharakṣita, they ran away and scattered to avoid him, saying to one another, "A disciple of Śākya has defiled our park!" The monk Saṅgharakṣita asked the ṛṣis to lend him a tree under which to lodge for one night, saying he would leave early the next morning. Among the assembly of ṛṣis, the foremost elder, who had great compassion, ordered the junior ṛṣis, "Lend a tree to the śramaṇa." Saṅgharakṣita then obtained a tree; beneath that tree he spread his niṣīdana and sat cross-legged. In the first watch of the night he subdued and extinguished the five hindrances; in the middle watch of the night he rested in sleep; in the final watch of the night he sat upright and chanted pāṭha in a loud voice. At that time, when the ṛṣis heard the sound of chanting, they awakened to the emptiness of nature and attained the fruit of a non-returner. Rejoicing at seeing the Dharma, they went to the śramaṇa's place, bowed their heads in homage, and implored the śramaṇa to grant them the three refuges, seeking to go forth within the Buddha's Dharma. At that time, Saṅgharakṣita immediately brought the ṛṣis across, having them go forth according to the Dharma and instructing them in cultivating meditation methods. Before long they attained concentration and realized the fruit of an arhat. Just as a sandalwood grove surrounds itself, monks who had attained the Way and who were worthy and noble constituted the assembly.

92.24

At that time, the monk Saṅgharakṣita and his disciples went together to the Jetavana vihāra. Arriving at the Buddha's place, they bowed their heads in homage at his feet and withdrew to stand to one side. At that time, the World-Honoured One consoled the monks: "Were you not fatigued and distressed on the road? Was it easy to obtain almsfood?" At that time, Saṅgharakṣita addressed the Buddha: "We were not greatly fatigued or distressed on the road; it was easy to obtain almsfood without hardship, and we were able to see the World-Honoured One." At that time, the World-Honoured One preached the Dharma for the great assembly. The monk Saṅgharakṣita, amid the great assembly, proclaimed aloud the hell causes and conditions he had previously witnessed. The Buddha told Saṅgharakṣita: "The bathhouse of monks that you previously saw was not a bathhouse; they were hell beings. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, these sinful people were ordained monks who did not rely on the monastic precepts but indulged their own foolish desires, using the bathing utensils and vessels of the saṅgha as they pleased. Vinaya-holding monks constantly taught them the rules, yet they did not obey those instructions. Ever since the nirvāṇa of Kāśyapa Buddha, they have been enduring the torments of hell down to the present without cessation." The Buddha told Saṅgharakṣita: "The first monastery you saw was not a saṅgha monastery, nor were they monks; they were hell beings. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, they were renunciants who failed to accomplish the five virtues, and silently used the property of the saṅgha of the four directions together without sounding the gaṇḍī. Due to these causes and conditions, they have been suffering on flaming beds down to the present without cessation."

92.25

As for the second temple, it too was not a temple or monks, but beings in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, they were renunciants who lacked the five virtues. Seeing that donors were constructing a monastery with an abundance of the four requisites, when the donors initially set out to build the monastery, they required the ghaṇṭī to be struck with the intention of providing broad relief. Yet these monks did not strike the ghaṇṭī, but tacitly enjoyed [the provisions]. When visiting monks arrived, they received no food or drink and departed with empty bowls. Because of these causes and conditions, they endure the torment of burning beds, clawing at one another until their flesh and sinews are consumed and their bones become like charred wicks, without ceasing down to the present day. As for the third temple, it was not a monastic temple, but beings in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, they were renunciants who dwelt together in indolence. They said to one another, 'Let us now jointly invite a monk who observes the Vinaya to perform the liturgical acts together with us, so that they may be done according to the Dharma.' Thereupon, they sought out a monk of pure conduct to reside, eat, and sleep together with them. This monk of pure conduct further sought out other monks of like practice, so that the number of practitioners of pure conduct gradually increased. The formerly indolent monks then chased them out and expelled them from the temple. In the middle of the night, those violators of the precepts set fire to the temple and destroyed the monks. Because of these causes and conditions, they hold iron clubs in their hands and shatter one another, suffering immense pain and affliction without ceasing down to the present day. As for the fourth temple, it was not a monastic temple, but also hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, they were renunciants who permanently resided in the temple. When donors offered assorted food to the Saṃgha, it should have been distributed to those present. At that time, when visiting monks arrived, the resident monks, out of stinginess, waited until the guests had left before distributing the goods. Before they could distribute them, maggots bred and [the food] rotted and stank, and was thrown out. Because of these causes and conditions, they entered hell to eat human feces as food, without ceasing down to the present day. As for the fifth temple, it was not a monastic temple, but beings in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, they were renunciants who, at the midday meal, did not eat in accordance with the Dharma and verbally abused one another. Because of these causes and conditions, they suffer the torment of iron beds; boiling fire overflows their food vessels, their flesh and sinews are consumed, and their bones are like charred wicks, without ceasing down to the present day. As for the sixth temple, it was not a monastic temple, but beings in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, they were renunciants who did not strike the ghaṇṭī, but secretly drank the Saṃgha's sweet syrup together out of fear that outside monks would come. By reason of such stinginess, they fell into hell to drink molten copper, without ceasing down to the present day.

92.26

Then the Buddha told the monk Saṃgharakṣita: 'The first hell that you saw—in the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant who privately planted crops for himself in the fields of the Saṃgha without paying rent to the Saṃgha; therefore he suffers in hell without ceasing down to the present day. The second hell—in the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a layman who planted crops in the fields of the Saṃgha without paying rent to the Saṃgha; therefore he suffers in hell, turned into a great expanse of flesh and enduring all kinds of afflictions without ceasing down to the present day. The first jar of flesh that you saw was not a jar of flesh, but a sinner. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a senior elder among the Saṃgha who was unable to sit in meditation and did not understand the Vinaya. He ate to the full, slept soundly, and could only utter useless talk. When exquisite offerings of food arrived, he would drink and eat first. Because of these causes and conditions, he entered hell and became a great jar of flesh, burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day. The second jar—he was a renunciant who managed the kitchen on behalf of the Saṃgha. When soft and delicious offerings arrived, he ate them first, while the coarse and foul ones he distributed among the Saṃgha. Therefore, he became a jar of flesh, burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day. The third jar—he was a monastery attendant who, when preparing food and drink, first tasted the fine and good portions himself or gave them to his wife and children, and only distributed the coarse and foul portions among the Saṃgha. Because of these causes and conditions, he became a great jar of flesh in hell, burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day.

92.27

Then the World-Honoured One further told the monk Saṃgharakṣita: 'The first bottle that you saw—was it not a bottle? It is a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant who managed the kitchen on behalf of the Saṃgha. What should have been eaten in the morning he kept until the next day, and what should have been eaten the next day he kept until the third day. Because of these causes and conditions, he entered hell and became a great bottle of flesh, burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day. The second bottle—he was a renunciant. When donors presented jars of ghee to offer to the Saṃgha present, which should have been distributed to each person, this person in charge saw that there were visiting monks and held [the ghee] back in secret, distributing it only after the visiting monks had left. Because of these causes and conditions, he entered hell and became a great bottle of flesh, burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.28

'The person you saw standing in the water—in the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant who managed the water for the Saṃgha. Seeing the monks using an abundance of water, he gave it only to those he favoured, keeping the water back and refusing to provide it to the others. Because of these causes and conditions, he entered hell, standing alone in the water and crying out, "Water! Water!", enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.29

'The great urn you saw—in the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant who had charge of fruits and vegetables for the Saṃgha. The fragrant, delicious, and fine items he first ate himself, and gave the sour fruits and bitter vegetables to the Saṃgha afterward, or arbitrarily selected the fine ones to give [to his favourites]. Because of his unfairness, he entered hell and became a great urn of flesh, burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.30

'The one whose nose you saw cut off with a knife—in the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant who defiled the clean ground of the Buddha and Saṃgha with snot and spittle. Therefore, he entered hell to have his nose cut off with a knife, burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.31

'The monk you saw holding an axe in his hand and chopping his own tongue was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was an ordained novice who was in charge of portioning out rock sugar for the Saṃgha by chopping it into pieces. When a little rock sugar adhered to the axe blade, the novice licked it. Therefore, he suffers the pain of having his tongue chopped, without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.32

Then the World-Honoured One further told the monk Saṃgharakṣita: 'The spring that you saw was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was an ordained novice who managed the honey for the Saṃgha. He tasted it first himself, and then gave the remnants to the Saṃgha, so that it was diminished and did not suffice for everyone. Therefore, he entered hell and became a great spring of flesh, boiling and rotting as it is burned by fire, enduring great anguish without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.33

'The monk you saw standing on thorns was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant who disparaged and reviled the monks with abusive speech. Therefore, he entered hell to stand upon iron thorns, burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.34

'The hall of flesh you saw was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant who lacked the five virtues. Managing the kitchen for the Saṃgha, he first ate the exquisite and fine food himself or took it to give to laypeople, giving only the leftover food to the Saṃgha. Therefore, he suffers the torments of hell without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.35

'The peg of flesh you saw was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant permanently residing in a temple who recklessly drove stakes into the walls of the Saṃgha for non-monastic purposes, merely to hang his own robes and bowl. Therefore, he entered hell and became a great peg of flesh, burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.36

Then the World-Honoured One further told Saṃgharakṣita: 'The first camel you saw was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant and a senior elder in the temple. He regularly took extra food portions, sometimes taking portions meant for one or two other people. When a Vinaya master instructed him in accordance with the Dharma, saying that the conduct of an elder should not be like this, the old monk answered the Vinaya master, saying, "You know nothing! Your voice sounds like a camel. I am an elder among the Saṃgha; I chant blessings, expound the Dharma, and at times chant hymns. Reckoning my toil, I deserve to receive this. Why do you constantly get angry and reprove me?" Because of these causes and conditions, he entered hell and took the body of a camel, wailing as he is burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.37

'The horse you saw was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a monastery attendant who appropriated offerings, eating more than his due share, or giving them to his kin and lay acquaintances. When the monks reproved him, saying, "You should not do this," the man abusively scolded the monks, saying, "You are just like horses, eating constantly without ever being full! I work extremely hard for the Saṃgha, and my labour deserves this." Therefore, he entered hell, took the body of a horse, and has his body burned by fire, enduring great anguish without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.38

'The elephant you saw was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant who managed the kitchen for the Saṃgha. Donors brought offerings to the temple to give to the Saṃgha. Sometimes donors arrived after the meal and said, "Venerable Sir, please strike the ghaṇṭī to assemble the Saṃgha and present the food offerings." The monk abusively answered the laypeople, saying, "Are the monks like white elephants, never full from eating? They just finished eating; keep it until tomorrow!" Therefore, he entered hell and took the body of a white elephant, burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.39

'The donkey you saw was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant who lacked the five virtues and managed the kitchen for the Saṃgha. When distributing food and drink to the Saṃgha, he regularly took extra portions meant for two or three people. When a Vinaya master reproved him in accordance with the Dharma, this person answered, saying, "I take charge of the Saṃgha's kitchen and the garden fruits and vegetables, constantly labouring over monastic affairs with extreme hardship. You monks do not recognise my kindness; you are just like donkeys, merely nourishing your single bodies. Why don't you keep quiet?" Therefore, he entered hell and became a donkey, enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.40

'The ram you saw was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant and abbot of the Saṃgha. When inspecting the fields inside and outside, he did not instruct the disciples and junior monks, so that the ghaṇṭī was not struck according to the Dharma. When the Vinaya masters said to him, "Abbot, why do you not sound the ghaṇṭī at the proper times to assemble the monks?" the monk answered, saying, "I manage monastic affairs with great toil. You monks are just like rams, merely eating and sitting around. Why don't you strike it yourselves?" Therefore, he entered hell, took the body of a ram, and endures the excruciating poison of burning fire, suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.41

Then the World-Honoured One further told Saṃgharakṣita: 'The platform of flesh you saw was actually not a platform of flesh, but a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant who was in charge of the Saṃgha's bedding and rooms. He locked the doors of the Saṃgha's rooms, took the keys of the Saṃgha's doors, and went wandering through the four quarters, so that the Saṃgha subsequently had neither bedding nor rooms. Because of these causes and conditions, he entered hell and became a great platform of flesh, burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.42

'The second great platform of flesh you saw was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant and abbot of the Saṃgha. He selected the good rooms for his own use and for his acquaintances, rather than assigning the rooms in proper sequence according to the Vinaya. Because of this inequality, he entered hell and became a great platform of flesh, enduring myriad kinds of suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.43

'The room of flesh you saw was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant who occupied a room of the Saṃgha, treated it as his own property, and never relocated throughout his whole life, rather than assigning rooms in sequence according to the Vinaya. Therefore, he became a great room of flesh, burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.44

'The corded bed of flesh you saw was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant who took possession of a corded bed belonging to the Saṃgha not in accordance with the Vinaya, treating it as his own property rather than having beds distributed in order. Therefore, he entered hell and became a great corded bed of flesh, burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.45

'The second corded bed you saw was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant who broke up a corded bed of the Saṃgha to use for lighting a fire for himself. Therefore, he entered hell and became a great corded bed of flesh, burned by fire and enduring suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.46

'The bedding you saw was a person in hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a renunciant who used the bedding of the Saṃgha as if it were his own property and stepped on it with his feet, not in accordance with the Vinaya. Therefore, he entered hell and became bedding of flesh, stretched and contracted as it is burned by fire, enduring myriad kinds of suffering without ceasing down to the present day.'

92.47

"The flesh ladle you saw is a denizen of hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a monastic. He treated the sangha's ladle as his own personal property, did not observe the vinaya rules, and damaged it through misuse. Therefore, he entered hell, where he became a flesh ladle burned by fire, suffering pain without respite even to this day.

92.48

The rope bed you saw is a denizen of hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a monastic. Relying on the power of kings, he appeared to possess noble virtue. The four classes of disciples praised him with holy esteem. That monk then silently received the praise, the fine rope beds, and the various fine drinks and foods offered to him. Because he received them pretending to have a holy mind, he entered hell, where he became a flesh rope bed burned by fire, suffering pain without respite even to this day.

92.49

The flesh wall you saw is a denizen of hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a monastic. He drove pegs into the walls of the sangha, breaking the walls, to hang his robes and bowl. Therefore, he entered hell, where he became a great flesh wall burned by fire, suffering pain without respite even to this day.

92.50

The flesh rope you saw is a denizen of hell. In the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he was a monastic. He took the rope of the sangha for his own private use. Therefore, he fell into hell, where he became a great flesh rope burned by fire, suffering pain without respite even to this day.

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法苑珠林 — 道世, Classical Chinese