諸經要集 15

English (machine translation) 15

Language: English

15.1

Compiled by the śramaṇa Shi Daoshi of Ximing Monastery

Now, birth, old age, sickness, and death offer no time for spontaneous escape; bodhi and nirvāṇa possess a path of practice and entry. The reason why all Buddhas attained the Way was through practicing the four means of embracing, and so both commoners and sages take refuge [in them]. The reason why bodhisattvas achieve sagehood is through practicing the six pāramitās, and so both black and white admire and look up to them. Nowadays, we see worldly persons specifically fabricating covert words, evilly transmitting [them] between parties, causing others' relatives to separate and friends to scatter, taking pleasure in planting the karma of discord and bringing about the suffering of living separation. Even when one instructs with a good intention to separate from an evil person, it is still a disruption, yet having benefit, it is without guilt. Hence the Tattvasiddhi-śāstra says: "If one instructs and transforms with a good intention, though it causes separation, one incurs no guilt. If with an evil intention one causes others to fight and become confused, that is malicious speech and incurs the deepest guilt, namely falling into the hells, animal realm, and hungry ghosts. If born among humans, one is slandered by others, obtaining only wretched and ruined relatives." As stated above regarding the fault of false speech, that which is spoken falsely in order to alienate parties from one another is, according to this definition, malicious speech. As for the suffering incurred in the three times for this fault, it has already been explained above and need not be repeated.

15.4

As the Dharmaguptaka-vinaya says: The Buddha addressed the monks: "Listen! In ancient times there were two vicious beasts that were companions: one was named Lion Good-Tooth, and the second was named Tiger Good-Striker. Day and night they watched for and caught herds of deer. At that time, there was a jackal that followed behind those two beasts, eating their leftover meat to preserve its life. Then that jackal secretly thought: 'I cannot follow them for long. By what expedient means can I set these two beasts at odds so that they no longer accompany one another?' The jackal then went to Lion Good-Tooth and spoke thus to Good-Tooth: 'Tiger Good-Striker spoke such words: "My place of birth is superior, my lineage is superior, my form and color are superior to yours, and my power and might are superior to yours. Why? Daily I get fine, delicious food, and Lion Good-Tooth follows behind me, eating my leftover meat to preserve his life."' Then it spoke a verse:

15.5

"Form, color, and lineage,
Possessing great power and superior besides;
Good-Tooth cannot be good—
Good-Striker has spoken thus."

15.6

Good-Tooth asked the jackal, 'From what matter do you know this?' [The jackal] replied, 'You two beasts gather together in one place; looking at each other, you will know for yourself.' Then the jackal, having secretly spoken to Good-Tooth, went and spoke to Tiger Good-Striker, saying: 'Do you know? Good-Tooth spoke such words: "Today my lineage and place of birth are entirely superior to yours, and my power and might are also superior. Why? I constantly eat fine meat, and Tiger Good-Striker eats my leftover meat to preserve his life."' Then it spoke a verse:

15.7

"Form, color, and lineage,
Possessing great power and superior besides;
Good-Striker cannot be good—
Good-Tooth has spoken thus."

15.8

Good-Striker asked, 'From what matter do you know this?' [The jackal] replied, 'You two beasts gather together in one place; looking at each other, you will know for yourself.' Later, the two beasts gathered together in one place and glared at each other with angry eyes. Lion Good-Tooth then thought: 'I should not strike him first without asking.' Then Lion Good-Tooth turned to Tiger Good-Striker and spoke a verse:

15.9

"Form, color, and lineage,
Possessing great power and superior besides;
Good-Tooth is not equal to me—
Did Good-Striker say this?"

15.10

The other thought to himself: 'Surely it is the jackal who is setting us at odds.' Tiger Good-Striker spoke a verse answering Lion Good-Tooth, saying:

15.11

"Good-Striker did not say:
'Form, color, and lineage,
Possessing great power and superior besides;
Good-Tooth cannot be good.'
If one accepts unprofitable words
And believes others' divisive speech,
Those of close affection will naturally break apart
And then become sworn enemies.
If one has known the truth,
One should eliminate anger and distress.
Now we can speak with utter sincerity,
Causing our bodies to obtain benefit.
Now we should thoroughly subdue
And destroy this evil companion;
We can kill this jackal
Who set us at odds!"
Thereupon he struck the jackal dead.

15.12

At that time, the Buddha addressed the monks: "These two beasts were divided by him, and gathering together in one place, they saw each other with displeasure. How much more so for humans—divided by others, how could their minds not be troubled?"

15.13

Furthermore, the Saddharmasmṛtyupasthāna-sūtra says that King Yama rebuked the sinners, speaking a verse:

15.14

"Excessively fond of many words,
Increasing greed and making others afraid;
Faults of the mouth boasting and exaggerating—
Malicious speech ranks first."

15.15

Furthermore, in the Kuśalamūlasaṃparigraha-sūtra the Buddha spoke a verse:

15.16

"Harsh speech and malicious tongue,
Fond of exposing others' faults;
Such unwholesome persons
Leave no evil uncommitted."

15.17

Furthermore, the Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa says: "One who speaks truth does not rely on dāna, upholding precepts, learning, or extensive hearing; merely by cultivating truthful speech, one obtains immeasurable merit."

15.18

Furthermore, in the Bao'en jing the Buddha spoke a verse:

15.19

The Buddha addressed Ānanda:
Human life in the world—calamity emerges from the mouth.
One should guard the mouth
More strictly than fierce fire.
When a fierce fire blazes,
It burns worldly wealth;
When harsh speech blazes,
It burns the seven noble treasures.
For all sentient beings,
Calamity emerges from the mouth;
It is the axe that cleaves the body,
The disaster that destroys the person.

15.20

A verse on direct retribution says:

15.21

Persons of malicious speech who set others at odds
Are torn apart in the hells;
The hell-wardens wrench open their mouths,
And flaming knives sever their tongues.
Such pain already endured,
Hunger and thirst are added to it;
Helpless under evil karma,
They turn to drink the blood from their own bodies.

15.22

A verse on habitual retribution says:

15.23

Slander and harm to others run deep;
Together they suffer the pain of the three paths.
Even if they attain a human body,
Residual retribution still clings to them;
Their relatives are mostly wretched and wicked,
Defiant and freely venting wrath.
If only evils are not forgotten,
The hells know no past or present.

15.24

7. Conditions for Frivolous Speech

15.25

Now, loyal words are that by which principle is revealed; frivolous speech is that by which truth is compromised. Due to loyalty, there is reality; because of reality, virtue arises; because virtue arises, one achieves sagehood. Due to frivolous speech, there is falsehood; because of falsehood, guilt arises; because guilt arises, one suffers pain. Therefore, know that in approaching principle and seeking sagehood, one must speak truthfully. If speech is empty and false, it ultimately contradicts principle. Any speech that is improper is called frivolous speech. However, all frivolous speech does not benefit self or others; it merely increases heedlessness and fosters all unwholesome things. This causes one to fall into the three paths. Later, when born as a human, even if one speaks correct words, people will not believe them. Whenever what one speaks is unclear and incoherent, it is also called frivolous speech. Thus the Tattvasiddhi-śāstra says: "Even though words are true, if spoken at the improper time, they also fall under frivolous speech." As a verse in the Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa says:

15.26

"There are those who fall among the hungry ghosts,
With flames emerging from their mouths,
Crying out loudly in the four directions:
This is retribution for faults of the mouth.
Though one may have much hearing and sight,
And expound the Dharma before the great assembly,
Because one did not establish the karma of trustworthiness,
No one believes or accepts it.
If you wish for widespread fame
And to be believed and accepted by others,
You should therefore be utterly sincere
And not engage in frivolous speech."

15.27

Furthermore, the Sarvāstivāda-śāstra says: "The four faults of the mouth, when interrelated, each form a tetralemma. First, there may be malicious speech that is neither false speech nor harsh speech. For example, a person transmits this person's words to that person: because they speak truthfully, it is not false speech; because they speak with gentle words, it is not harsh speech; because of a divisive intent, it is called malicious speech. Second, there may be malicious speech that is false speech but not harsh speech. For example, a person transmits this person's words to that person: because of a divisive intent, it is malicious speech; because it is spoken falsely, it is false speech; because it is spoken with gentle words, it is not harsh speech. Third, there may be malicious speech that is harsh speech but not false speech. For example, a person transmits this person's words to that person: because of a divisive intent, it is malicious speech; because of coarse words, it is harsh speech; because they speak truthfully, it is not false speech. Fourth, there may be malicious speech that is both false speech and harsh speech. For example, a person transmits words to that person: because of a divisive intent, it is malicious speech; because it is spoken falsely, it is false speech; because it is spoken with an evil tone, it is harsh speech. Outside of this, false speech and harsh speech each forming four lemmas are also like this. Frivolous speech alone is never separate from each of them, and so it is not stated separately. Thus the Tattvasiddhi-śāstra says: 'The other three verbal karmas may either combine or separate; frivolous speech alone is necessarily inseparable from them.'"

15.28

A verse on direct retribution says:

15.29

Frivolous speech devoid of meaning and principle
Causes people's minds to be confused and disordered.
Because it destroys the wholesome roots of others,
Molten copper is poured into wrenched-open mouths;
Blazing iron burns their tongues,
And internal organs are entirely scorched and rotten.
This pain cannot be endured;
In weeping and wailing, they constantly scream.

15.30

A verse on habitual retribution says:

15.31

Frivolous words obscure the true principle;
Because of this, one sinks into evil destinies.
Leaving there to return briefly as a human,
One's spoken words lack understanding.
Lacking a faithful mind throughout life,
One is constantly an object of others' ridicule.
If as a human one perceives shame,
Why not utter canonical verses?

15.32

8. Conditions for Stinginess and Greed

15.33

Now, the confused affliction of sentient beings begins with grasping at the self; the erroneous delusion of common sorts has stinginess and greed as its root. For this reason, wholesome actions are as light as fine hair, while evil ones are as heavy as hill and mountain; blessings are as scant as spring ice, while poverty is as abundant as autumn rain. The net of the six sense faculties is not easily transcended; the ferry of the three poisons offers no means to cross. With bodies heavy, they constantly sink, just like fish in a river; flapping their wings desiring to fly, their difficulty equals that of birds in the heavens. This causes poverty upon poverty to succeed one another, competing to infringe and oppress, and suffering upon suffering to continue uninterruptedly, vying to come and inflict harm. They are like flying moths brushing against flames, bringing incineration upon themselves; like silkworms making cocoons, bound by no other. This truly stems from stinginess and the hindrance of greed, incurring the guilt of hunger and cold. Giving is the cause of wealth, constantly bringing abundance and joy.

15.34

As a verse in the Karma-vibhaṅga-sūtra says:

15.35

"Constantly delighting in cultivating wisdom
Without practicing dāna,
Wherever born, one is always intelligent and wise,
Yet destitute without property.
Delighting only in practicing dāna
Without cultivating wisdom,
Wherever born, one obtains great wealth,
Yet foolish, dark, and devoid of knowledge and vision.
Cultivating both giving and wisdom,
Wherever born, one is endowed with wealth and intellect;
One who cultivates neither
Dwells in poverty and darkness throughout the long night."

15.36

Furthermore, the Mahāyānasaṃgraha says: "Stinginess is a hindrance to abundant wealth; jealousy is a hindrance to noble status." Furthermore, when sentient beings give rise to greed, nothing surpasses lust and wealth. First, loving lust has many faults, as explained above. For those who do not yet agree, it is now briefly discussed again. As the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra says: 'For example, suppose a man takes a rākṣasī as his wife and concubine. This rākṣasī, whenever she bears a child, devours it immediately after birth. When the children are all gone, she then devours her husband. Loving lust, like the rākṣasī, is also like this: whenever sentient beings give birth to the children of wholesome roots, it devours them as soon as they are born. When the wholesome children are gone, it then devours the sentient beings, causing them to fall into the hells, animal realm, and hungry ghosts. Furthermore, for example, suppose a person by nature loves fine flowers, but does not see the fault and peril of the poisonous snake on the flower stem, and immediately approaches to seize it. Having seized it, the snake bites him; having been bitten, his life ends. All common worldlings are also like this: greedy for the flowers of the five desires, they do not see the fault and peril of this poisonous snake of lust, and directly accept and take them; they are then bitten and stung by the poison of lust, and after their lives end, they fall into the three evil destinies.'

15.37

Furthermore, the Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa says: "Wealth and material goods are the causes and conditions for various afflictions and sinful karmas. If one maintains precepts, dhyāna-concentration, wisdom, and various wholesome dharmas, these are causes and conditions for nirvāṇa. For this reason, wealth and goods should be discarded by oneself, so how much more should they be given away in a good puṇyakṣetra? For example, there were two brothers, each carrying ten pounds of gold as they traveled. Along the road there were no other companions. The elder brother thought: 'Why shouldn't I kill my younger brother and take the gold? In this vast road no one will know.' The younger brother also gave rise to the thought of wanting to kill the elder brother and take the gold. The brothers each harboring an evil mind, their speech and looks were both unusual. The brothers then each awoke to themselves and gave rise to repentance: 'We are not humans; how are we different from beasts? Born of the same parents as brothers, yet for a little gold we gave rise to an evil mind!' The brothers together came to the side of a spring. The elder brother threw his gold into the water; the younger brother said, 'Excellent, excellent!' The younger brother also cast his gold into the water; the elder brother said, 'Excellent, excellent!' The brothers asked one another, 'Why did you say "Excellent"?' Each answered the other, 'Because of this gold, I gave rise to an unwholesome mind, wanting to harm you; now having been able to discard it, I therefore said "Excellent."' Both had spoken in the same manner. By this cause and condition, one should always abandon [wealth] oneself."

15.38

The Da zhuangyan lun also says: I once heard that in the country of Śrāvastī, when the Buddha and Ānanda were walking through the wilderness, by the border of a field they saw a hidden treasure. The Buddha told Ānanda, “That is a great poisonous snake.” Ānanda said to the Buddha, “It is an evil poisonous snake.” At that time, a plowman in the field heard the Buddha and Ānanda say there was a poisonous snake, and he thought to himself: “I will go and look at it. What does the śramaṇa consider an evil poisonous snake?” He immediately went to the place and saw a pile of pure gold, and he said: “What the śramaṇas called a poisonous snake is actually fine gold!” He at once took this gold and brought it home. This man was previously poor, lacking food and clothing; but having obtained the gold, he became increasingly wealthy, indulging freely in food and clothing. The king’s officials in charge of discipline were suspicious of his sudden wealth; they investigated him, arrested him, and bound him in prison. Though the gold he had earlier obtained had already been completely spent, he still could not be acquitted and was about to be executed. The man cried out, “Poisonous snake, Ānanda! Evil poisonous snake, Bhagavat!” Bystanders heard this and reported the situation to the king. The king summoned the man and questioned him, saying: “Why did you cry out, ‘Poisonous snake, Ānanda! Evil poisonous snake, Bhagavat’?” The man said to the king: “In past days, when I was plowing in the field, I heard the Buddha and Ānanda say ‘poisonous snake’ and ‘evil poisonous snake.’ Only now have I come to understand it.” Hearing this explanation, the king thereupon released him.

15.39

The Zengyi ahan jing also says: Formerly, when the Buddha was in the world, there was a householder in the city of Śrāvastī named Bhaddiya. His household was immensely wealthy, his possessions and property boundless, his gold and silver beyond count. Although his family was rich, he was stingy and guarded his wealth, neither wearing [fine clothes] nor eating [fine food]; his clothing and food were extremely coarse and vulgar. Nor would he give anything to his wife, children, relatives, slaves, servants, friends, acquaintances, or to any śramaṇas or brāhmaṇas. Furthermore, he gave rise to wrong views and severed his roots of goodness, and he had no children. After he died, all of his wealth and treasures were confiscated by the government. King Prasenajit went in person to collect it. When the collection was completed, he returned and went to the Buddha's place, and said to the Buddha: “The householder Bhaddiya died today; where has he been reborn?” The Buddha told the king: “The householder Bhaddiya's past merit was exhausted and he had not created any new karma. Because he gave rise to wrong views and severed his roots of goodness, upon his death he was reborn in the Crying Hell (Rorava).” King Prasenajit, hearing what the Buddha said, shed tears and said to the Buddha: “What karma did the householder Bhaddiya perform in the past to be reborn into a wealthy family, and what evil did he perform that he could not enjoy the pleasure of this supreme wealth?” The Buddha told the king: “Long ago in the past, after the Buddha Kāśyapa entered nirvāṇa, at that time this householder was born in the country of Śrāvastī as the son of a farming family. There was a pratyekabuddha who came to his house to beg for food. At that time, this householder took food and gave it to the pratyekabuddha. Having received the food, he flew into the air and departed. When the householder saw this, he made this vow: ‘By the power of this root of goodness, may I, in whatever place I am reborn life after life, not fall into the three bad destinies and always possess abundant wealth.’ But after making the gift, he subsequently gave rise to regret, thinking: ‘The food I just gave should have been given to the servants, not to this shaven-headed śramaṇa.’ The Buddha told the king: “Because of the householder Bhaddiya's past merit from giving food to a pratyekabuddha and making his vow, in whatever place he was reborn he always had abundant wealth and lacked for nothing. Yet because he felt regret after giving, in the places where he was born, though he lived in wealth and nobility, he could not enjoy the pleasure of this supreme wealth: he was stingy and guarded it, neither clothing nor feeding himself properly, nor giving it to his wife, children, relatives, nor donating it to friends, acquaintances, or to any śramaṇas or brāhmaṇas. Therefore, when the wise hear of this cause and condition, if they possess wealth, they should practice dāna and not give rise to stinginess. When giving, they should offer it with a sincere heart and their own hands; having given, they should rejoice and not give rise to regret. One who can give in this way will obtain a great fruit of boundless and limitless reward.”

15.40

The Chuyao jing also says: Formerly, when the Buddha was in the world, there was a householder in the country of Śrāvastī named Nanda. He was immensely wealthy, with boundless gold, silver, precious jewels, elephants, horses, carriages, male and female slaves, servants, garments, and landed estates; in the wealth of the entire kingdom, none surpassed him. Although he dwelt in such luxury and wealth, he had no faith; he was stingy, greedy, and jealous. His gates were sevenfold, and he ordered the gatekeepers: ‘If anyone comes begging, do not let a single one enter.’ In the open courtyard above, he installed an iron mesh cage for fear that flying birds would eat the grain. Beneath the four walls, he smeared white plaster for fear that rats would burrow holes and damage his property. He had an only son named Candana. Approaching death, he instructed his son: ‘My illness will surely be fatal. After I die, do not waste or squander any of the wealth and treasures. Do not give any to śramaṇas or brāhmaṇas; if there are beggars, do not give them a single coin. These riches are sufficient to supply seven generations.’ Having given these instructions, he died. He was reborn in that very same Śrāvastī in the womb of a blind mother in a caṇḍāla household. Later, when he was born from the womb, he was blind from birth and had no eyes. The blind mother thought: ‘If I give birth to a boy, since my eyes are now dark, I will need him to attend and support me.’ Hearing that the child was born blind, her sorrow doubled. Weeping bitterly, she spoke a verse, saying:

15.41

“The child is blind and I too am blind; / both of us lack two eyes.
Meeting with such an unfortunate creature / only increases my sorrow and suffering.”

15.42

At that time, the blind mother raised the child until he was grown, eight or nine years of age, and capable of walking about. Giving him a staff and an eating vessel, she told her son: “Beg for your own living; you must not stay here. I too have no eyes and must also beg to sustain what remains of my life.” This blind little child went from house to house begging, and gradually he reached the house of Candana. Standing outside the gate, he called out, “A blind child begs!” At that time, the gatekeeper in anger seized his hand and threw him into a deep pit, breaking his left arm and fracturing his head; the food he had begged was all spilled upon the ground. Someone who saw it felt great pity and grief, and went to tell the blind mother. Hearing this, the blind mother crawled with her staff to where the blind child was, took him onto her lap, and said to her son: “What fault did you commit to suffer such hardship?” The son replied to his mother: “Earlier I went outside the gate of Candana’s house to beg, and I met an evil man who struck and threw me like this.” The Buddha, knowing this at the time, said to Ānanda: “How disastrous! How disastrous! The householder Nanda died and became the child of that blind caṇḍāla woman, born without two eyes. His former estate was boundlessly wealthy, with elephants, horses, and the seven jewels beyond count; yet can he personally use them now? It was because of stinginess and greed that he received this retribution of blindness, and after this life ends he will enter the Avīci Hell.” After midday, surrounded by the assembly of bhikṣus and the citizens of the capital, the Buddha went to the gate of Candana, to the place of the blind child. At that time, Candana, hearing that the Buddha was outside, came out of the gate, bowed, and stood to one side. The Buddha, knowing the assembly had gathered and seeing Candana, broadly explained to the assembly that stinginess, greed, and jealousy incur limitless punishment, and furthermore explained that giving receives inexhaustible blessings, wishing to cause them to leave the realms of rebirth and proceed toward the unconditioned path. At that time, the Bhagavat, wishing to pull Candana out of the suffering of hell, said to the child: “Are you not the householder Nanda?” The child replied: “I am indeed Nanda.” This occurred three times. Hearing this, the great assembly was astonished and said, “Can it be that the householder Nanda has taken such a form?” At that time, hearing and seeing this, Candana wept tears uncontrollably. He bowed to the Buddha and pleaded for rescue, wishing to eradicate the root of sin. He then invited the Buddha and the Saṃgha to have a meal at his home the next day. The next day, when the meal was finished, the Buddha spoke the wondrous Dharma for him, and Candana attained the fruit of srotāpanna. The Buddha told Ānanda: “If a person amasses wealth, neither clothing and feeding himself nor practicing dāna, he is the most foolish of the foolish. Therefore, the wise should practice giving to seek freedom from saṃsāra, and not give rise to stinginess to suffer boundless torment.”

15.43

The Shisong lü also says: When the Buddha was in the country of Śrāvastī, there was the Elder Kālodāyin who had attained the arhat path. Holding his bowl, he entered the city to beg for food and came to the house of a brāhmaṇa. The master was not at home; his wife had closed the door and was frying pancakes. The bhikṣu Kālodāyin immediately entered meditative absorption and raised supernatural powers, vanishing into the earth outside and welling up in the courtyard, where he snapped his fingers. The wife turned around and thought: “Where did this śramaṇa enter from? He must have come because he is greedy for pancakes. I will never give him any.” She then said to Udāyin: “Even if your eyes fall out, I still will not give to you.” Thereupon, by his supernatural power, both of his eyes immediately popped out. She thought again: “Even if your eyes swell as big as bowls, I still will not give to you.” His eyes then transformed into the size of bowls. She thought again: “Even if you stand on your head before me, I still will not give to you.” He then stood on his head before her. She thought again: “Even if you die, I still will not give to you.” He then entered the concentration of the cessation of sensation and thought (nirodhasamāpatti), his mind and thoughts completely devoid of awareness. At that time, the brāhmaṇa’s wife pulled and dragged him, but he could not be moved; she became terrified and thought: “This śramaṇa often visits the palace of King Prasenajit and is the teacher of Queen Mallikā. If it is heard that he died in my house, we will suffer great ruin.” She then said to the bhikṣu: “If you are alive, I promise to give you one pancake.” Kālodāyin then emerged from absorption. The wife looked at the pancakes; stingily reluctant to part with the good pancakes she had fried earlier, she scraped the edge of the basin and obtained a little dough. When she fried it, it turned out even better, so she decided to give him the previous one. Just as she picked up one pancake, all the others stuck to it. Kālodāyin said to her: “Sister, how many do you wish to give me?” She picked up four pancakes intending to give them to him. Kālodāyin said to her: “I do not need these pancakes; you may give them to the Saṃgha in the Jetavana.” This woman had already planted roots of goodness in past lives; she reflected: “This bhikṣu is truly not greedy for pancakes; he only came to beg out of pity for me.” She then carried the basket of pancakes to the Jetavana, gave them to the Saṃgha, and sat down before Kālodāyin. Kālodāyin examined her causes and conditions and spoke the wondrous Dharma for her; right upon her seat she attained the purity of the Dharma-eye and became an upāsikā. She returned home and told her husband. When the husband heard it, he went to Kālodāyin’s place; Kālodāyin spoke the wondrous Dharma for him, and he attained the purity of the Dharma-eye and became an upāsaka. He dedicated his full financial resources to making offerings to the ācārya, and even unto his death he instructed his sons to make offerings, ensuring it would not cease thereafter.

15.44

The Baiyuan jing also says: The Buddha was in the Kalandaka Bamboo Grove in Rājagṛha. At that time, Maudgalyāyana was beneath a tree and saw a hungry ghost whose body was like a scorched pillar, whose belly was as large as a mountain, whose throat was like a fine needle, and whose hair was like awls and knives wrapping around and piercing its body. Flames burned between all its joints; it was parched with thirst to the point of death, its lips and mouth scorched dry. Whenever it approached a river or spring, it would dry up; even if heaven sent down sweet rain, falling upon its body it all turned to fire. Maudgalyāyana immediately asked about its karmic causes. The hungry ghost replied: “I am too parched and exhausted to answer you; go ask the Buddha yourself.” Maudgalyāyana immediately went to the Buddha's place, recounted the previous events in detail, and asked the Buddha at length: “What karma did it commit in a past life to suffer such torment?” At that time, the Bhagavat told Maudgalyāyana: “Listen closely now; I shall analyze and explain it for you. In this Bhadrakalpa, in the country of Vārāṇasī, a Buddha appeared in the world named Kāśyapa. There was a śramaṇa traveling along the road who suffered severely from heat and thirst. At that time, there was a woman named Evil View drawing water beside a well. The monk begged for water from her. The woman replied to him: ‘Even if you die of thirst, I will never give to you; it would diminish my water and I could not carry it away.’ At that time, since the śramaṇa did not receive water, he continued on his way. That woman was furthermore stingy and greedy, and whenever anyone came begging, she never gave. Later, after she died, she fell among the hungry ghosts; because of these karmic causes, she suffers such torment.” The Buddha told Maudgalyāyana: “If you wish to know who that woman was who would not give water at that time, she is this hungry ghost.” When the Buddha explained this karmic condition of Evil View, various bhikṣus abandoned the karma of stinginess and greed, some attaining the four fruits of a śramaṇa, and some giving rise to the mind of unexcelled bodhi. Hearing what the Buddha said, they rejoiced and practiced accordingly.

15.45

Furthermore, the Fu fazang jing states: At that time there was an arhat named Saṃghayaśas, who possessed great wisdom and clear, eloquent speech. In the past, though he had gone forth from the household life, he had not yet realized the path. Wandering along the shore of the great sea, he saw a palace adorned with the seven jewels, with an extraordinarily magnificent radiance. Saṃghayaśas, seeing that the time for the meal had arrived, went to that palace and recited a verse to beg for food, saying:

15.46

"Hunger is the foremost illness; / Formations are the foremost suffering. / One who understands the Dharma in this way / Can attain the path to nirvāṇa."

15.47

At that time, the master of the house came out to welcome him, laid out mats and cushions, and invited him to enter and take a seat. Yaśas saw inside the house two hungry ghosts, naked, emaciated, dark, starved, and enfeebled, with their bodies and heads chained, each bound to a bed. There was also a bowl filled with fragrant rice, with a jar of water placed beside it. The master of the house then took this food and offered it to the bhikṣu, saying: "O Venerable, take care not to give food to these hungry ghosts!" At that time, seeing their starvation and distress, the bhikṣu gave them a little rice. When the ghosts had received the food, they immediately vomited pus and blood, which flowed all over the ground and defiled the palace. The bhikṣu marveled at this and asked: "For what reason do these ghosts suffer this retribution for sin?" The master of the house answered: "In a past life, these ghosts—one was my son, and the other was my daughter-in-law. When I practiced dāna and performed various meritorious deeds, that husband and wife always harbored malice and stinginess. I repeatedly instructed and admonished them, but they would not accept it at all. I then made a vow, saying: 'For such sinful karma you will surely reap an evil retribution. When you undergo punishment, I shall watch you.' Due to this cause and condition, they suffer this agony." Going forward a little further, he reached another dwelling where the halls and pavilions were decorated and wondrously adorned in various ways, filled with monks doing walking meditation and dhyāna reflection. When the time arrived, the wooden mallet was struck to assemble them for the meal. Just as the meal was about to finish, the delicacies turned into pus and blood. They then struck and hurled their bowls at one another; their heads and faces were shattered and blood flowed, soiling their bodies. They said: "Why did we begrudge food, that we now suffer this agony?" Yaśas stepped forward and asked them the reason. They answered: "O Elder, in our past lives during the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, we dwelt together in one place. When visiting bhikṣus arrived, we all grew angry at them, concealed and begrudged food and drink, and did not share with them. Because of this cause, we now suffer this agony."

15.48

The verse on the direct retribution (vipāka) says:

15.49

"Craving and rejoicing, pretending to virtue, / Extorting and paring down [others] as their craft, / Deceitful and crafty, harboring myriad schemes, / Seeking profit with a thousand turns of mind: / They suffer punishment within the hells, / And by residual habit still commit robbery; / Intersecting blades cut away all their flesh, / Leaving white bones linked together."

15.50

The verse on the residual retribution (niṣyanda) says:

15.51

"Because of this indulgent greed, / They sink further into the evil destinies. / When their punishment ends and they are born among humans, / The lingering tendencies still cling to their bodies. / Constantly harboring the intent of jackals and wolves, / Who would be pleased to pity them? / Throughout their lives they never awaken to this; / Laughable indeed are such stubborn fools!"

15.52

Causes and Conditions of Hatred and Anger, Number Nine

15.53

Now, the four serpents agitate and stir; the three poisons rush forth; the six thieves mutually invade; and the hundred sorrows gather together. Sometimes from past conditioning people detest one another, watching and seeking out faults; or harboring long-standing resentment, they concentrate solely on harming each other. Utterly lacking benevolence and righteousness, they suddenly lose maitrī-karuṇā. Employing methods of killing and conditions for killing, they instruct others to die and praise death; or they secretly administer poison and covertly dispatch maledictions and sorcery, thereby causing the harbored venom to strike deep within, tearing liver and heart as poison birds do, causing the victim to bear grief through the long night and endure pain in the dark springs. Writhing in torment, what words can they utter? To whom can they lament their troubled resentment? Therefore, a sūtra says: 'In the elder's house many poisonous trees grow; on the rākṣasa's sea, he repeatedly begs for a floating bag.' It is also like ten thousand bundles of dry firewood that a tiny spark can burn, or a dark room of a hundred years that a single lamp can dispel. Thus we know that the mind of hatred is worse than a fierce fire; practitioners should guard themselves against it. Among the thieves that plunder merit, none surpasses this harm. If a single thought of the fire of malice arises, it burns the merits of all good deeds. For this reason, humans and beasts alike dread a person of evil nature. Making no distinction of good people, their words turn to venom; they delight in ruining the hearts of others and causing them disgust. No one loves them; all fear and avoid them as they would avoid wolves and tigers. In the present life they are despised and humbled; upon death, they fall into hell. Therefore, the wise, seeing such faults, extinguish them with patience and do not fear the myriad sufferings.

15.54

As the Zhengfa nian jing says: If one gives rise to hatred and anger, one burns one's own body. The mind becomes locked in venom and the facial expression alters; abandoned by others, all flee in alarm. One is unloved by the multitude, who disparage, revile, and despise one. When the body breaks up at the end of life, one falls into hell. Because of hatred and anger, there is no evil one will not commit. Therefore, the wise abandon hatred like fire; knowing the faults of hatred, they can benefit themselves. Wishing to benefit oneself and benefit others, one should practice patience. Just as when a great fire burns a house, a valiant person extinguishes it with water, so too the water of wisdom can extinguish the fire of malice. A person who can endure has the foremost good mind: they can abandon hatred and anger; they are loved by all and seen with joy by all; they are trusted and accepted by others; their complexion is clear and pure; their mind is tranquil and not agitated; they have a well-purified, profound mind; they are free from physical and verbal faults; they are free from mental sorrow and distress; they are free from fear of the evil destinies; they are free from resentment and hatred; they are free from bad reputation; they are free from sorrow and distress; they are free from fear of enemies; they are free from abuse and slander by evil people; they are free from fear of regret; they are free from fear of ill repute; they are free from fear of lack of gain; they are free from fear of suffering; and they are free from fear of pride. If a person can be free from such fears, they are fully endowed with all merits; their reputation is heard everywhere; they obtain the joy of both present and future worlds; all regard them as a father and mother; and all draw near to this patient person. Therefore, hatred and wrath are like poisonous serpents, and also like swords and fire: extinguishing them with patience can eliminate them entirely. To be able to endure hatred and anger is called patience. If there are good women who can practice wholesome deeds, they should reflect: 'Patience is in accord with reality; one should guard it well.' Yet among sentient beings, good and evil are visibly distinguished: fools insult and revile, considering surpassing others to be victory; wise people remain silent and humble, regarding this as foremost. A fool, from a small dispute, brings about great resentment: if they win, the other's resentment deepens; if their own reason is bent, they suffer added distress. If one can be prudent in speech and not speak of others' shortcomings, even if others revile oneself, it is all past karma and not an unjust retribution.

15.55

Furthermore, the Liudu ji jing says: In the past, the Bodhisattva was an elephant king. His mind was vast and far-reaching: he clearly knew of the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṃgha, and constantly took refuge in the three. He always used universal compassion to rescue and deliver sentient beings, making a vow that upon attaining Buddhahood he would liberate all. He was followed by five hundred elephants and had two wives. The elephant king obtained a lotus flower in the water, of extraordinarily exquisite color, and presented it to his senior wife. The senior wife received the flower and rejoiced, saying: 'The ice and cold are severe; how did you happen to obtain such a flower?' The junior wife was covetous and jealous, and made a vow: 'I shall surely kill you with potent venom!' She died from choked indignation. Her spirit was transformed and born as the daughter of a family of the four varnas, with beauty surpassing all people. Her wisdom flowed freely, broadly conversant with past and present; looking up, she observed the celestial signs and understood the seasons and their rise and decline. When the king heard of this, he took her as his consort. Upon arriving, she expounded governance for the state, her righteousness matching that of loyal ministers. The king was pleased and respected her, complying with whatever she said. The consort said: 'In a dream, I saw a six-tusked elephant; my heart desires its tusks to make an armrest and ornaments. If the king does not obtain them, I shall die.' The king said: 'Do not speak such ominous words; people will laugh upon hearing them.' At that time, the consort felt distress and anxiety. The king summoned four councilors, claiming it was his own dream, and asked: 'Has such an elephant existed from ancient times to the present?' One minister replied: 'There has never been such a thing.' One minister said: 'The king did not dream it.' One minister said: 'I have heard of it, but its whereabouts are extremely distant.' One minister said: 'If anyone can obtain it, it would be Śakra Devendra, but this must now be investigated.' The four ministers then summoned archers from the four quarters and questioned them. The southern archer said: 'My deceased father always said it existed, but it is distant and difficult to obtain.' The ministers reported to the throne: 'This man knows of it.' The king then granted him an audience. The consort said: 'Go straight south for three thousand li into the mountains. Traveling for about two days, you will reach the elephant's abode. Dig a pit beside the road, shave your hair and beard, put on the robes of a śramaṇa, and shoot it from within the pit. Sever its tusks and bring back two inches.' The elephant hunter obeyed the order, went to the elephant's place, and first shot the elephant in the foot. Wearing the Dharma robes and holding a bowl, he remained stopped in the pit. The elephant king saw the śramaṇa, bowed his head, and said: 'Vandana, man of the Way! For what reason would you slay my body and life?' He answered: 'I wish to obtain your tusks.' The elephant said: 'My pain is hard to bear. Quickly take the tusks and depart, lest you disturb my mind and cause evil thoughts to arise. One whose thoughts harbor evil will at death enter the realms of Mount Tai, hungry ghosts, or animals. Now, harboring patience and practicing benevolence, repaying evil with goodness—this is the supreme practice of a bodhisattva.' The man then severed the tusks. The elephant said: 'Man of the Way, you should walk backwards, so that the herd of elephants cannot track your footprints.' When the elephant had sent the man far off, the pain became unbearable; he collapsed to the ground with a great cry and suddenly died, being immediately reborn in heaven. The herd of elephants came from all four sides, all saying: 'Who killed our king?' They searched without finding the culprit, and returned to guard the king's corpse, weeping and howling in grief. The hunter returned with the tusks. When the king saw the elephant tusks, his heart was struck with grief and dread. The consort took the tusks in her hands; just as she went to gaze upon them, thunderbolts crashed, she vomited blood, and at death fell into hell. The Buddha told the bhikṣus: 'The elephant king at that time was myself. The senior wife was Gopā; the hunter was Devadatta; and the consort was Sundarī. The Bodhisattva holds fast to his intent to ferry beings across without limit, maintaining the precepts in this way.'

15.56

Furthermore, the Zhidu lun records that Śakra asked the Buddha, saying:

15.57

"What being slain brings peace? / What being slain brings no sorrow? / What is the root of poison / That swallows and destroys all good?"

15.58

The Buddha answered:

15.59

"Slaying anger brings peace; / Slaying anger brings no sorrow. / Anger is the root of poison; / Anger destroys all good."

15.60

Furthermore, a verse in the Zabaozang jing says:

15.61

"Gaining victory increases enmity; / Defeat adds to sorrow and suffering. / One who contends neither for victory nor defeat / Enjoys the foremost happiness."

15.62

If one practices patience, there are five virtues: first, absence of resentment; second, absence of rebuke; third, being loved by all; fourth, having a good reputation; fifth, being reborn in a good destiny. These five virtues are called matters of peace and harmony. Furthermore, a verse in the Chang ahan jing says:

15.63

"When the fool reviles and the wise remains silent, / He stands superior to that other. / That fool, lacking knowledge and vision, / Thinks that I harbor fear. / I contemplate the ultimate truth: / Patient silence is supreme. / The worst of evil / Is to respond to anger with anger. / One who can refrain from anger when confronted with anger / Is foremost among warriors. / A person has two conditions: / For oneself and for the other. / When people have disputes, / The one who does not retaliate is victor. / A person has two conditions: / For oneself and for the other. / Seeing one who does not dispute, / Do not consider him foolish and stupid. / If a person possessing great strength / Can endure one without strength, / This strength is foremost, / Supreme among types of patience. / The fool considers himself strong, / But this strength is not true strength; / For one endowed with the strength of patience according to Dharma, / This strength cannot be obstructed."

15.64

Furthermore, a verse in the Xiuxing daodi jing says:

15.65

"His spoken words are gentle, / Yet his mind harbors venomous malice. / He looks upon others with great delight, / Accompanied by an agreeable manner; / His mouth speaks gentle compliance, / While his mind within conceals poison, / Like a tree whose flowers are brightly colored, / Yet whose fruit is bitter as venom."

15.66

Furthermore, the Chizuiwu yu jing says: Formerly there was a crow named Kaukkika (in the language of Liang, 'red-billed crow') that lived in a grove of trees and gave birth to young. Her chicks were in the tree. At that time, Kaukkika had a close friendship with a monkey. In the grove there was a poisonous snake, which watched until she went away and then devoured Kaukkika's chicks without leaving any behind. Having lost her chicks, Kaukkika wept and cried aloud, not knowing where they were. Thinking carefully, she realized they had been devoured by the snake. When the monkey returned and saw her, he asked what had happened. She replied: 'A snake devoured my chicks completely, leaving none behind.' The monkey said: 'I shall avenge them.' When the poisonous snake was moving, the monkey went forward and provoked it. Enraged, the snake coiled around the monkey. The monkey seized its head, dragged it onto a rock, smashed it to death, threw it aside, and returned. Kaukkika leaped with joy. Even beasts avenge one another, how much more so humans!

15.67

Furthermore, the Za piyu jing says: In the past, there was a snake whose head and tail argued with each other. The head said to the tail, 'I should be the leader.' The tail said to the head, 'I should be the leader.' The head said, 'I have ears that can hear, eyes that can see, and a mouth that can eat. When crawling, I am in front. Therefore I can be the leader. You have no such abilities; how could you be the leader?' The tail said, 'It is only because I let you go that you are able to go. If I do not go, I will coil myself around a tree three times for three days without stopping. You will not be able to seek food, and will starve nearly to death.' The head said to the tail, 'You may release me; I allow you to be the leader.' Hearing its words, the tail immediately released it. The head then said to the tail, 'Since you are the leader, I allow you to go in front.' The tail went in front, but before going several paces, it fell into a large, deep pit and died. This is an analogy for sentient beings who lack wisdom and forcibly assert self and other, ultimately falling into the three destinies.

15.68

Furthermore, the Mahāsāṃghika-vinaya says: In a past age, there was a flock of chickens living near a thicket of hazel trees. A wildcat preyed upon them until only one hen remained. A crow came, covered her, and together they gave birth to a son. When the son made a sound, the crow spoke a verse:

15.69

"This child is not mine alone:
A wild father, a village mother,
Coming together, have borne a son
Who is neither a crow nor a chicken.
If he wishes to imitate his grandfather's voice,
He was nonetheless born of a chicken;
If he wishes to imitate his mother's call,
His father, on the other hand, is a crow.
Imitating a crow, he sounds like a chicken's cry;
Imitating a chicken, he makes a crow's call.
If he imitates both crow and chicken,
Both will come to nothing."

15.70

This is an analogy for a practitioner who, although upholding the prohibitive precepts, is defiled and impure. In outward appearance he seems good, yet from his mouth come evil words. If one wishes to call him good, his mouth utters evil; if one wishes to call him not good, his appearance is that of a renunciant.

15.71

Furthermore, the Fa dushu jing says: In the past, in the kingdom of Śrāvastī, an official garden produced a poisonous tree. Whenever people walked beneath the tree, their heads ached as if splitting, or they suffered from lumbar pain. When felled, it grew back. It was wondrous among trees, and the crowd saw it with delight; those who did not know the truth all came and met death. A wise person said to them, 'You must eradicate its root.' Just as they wished to dig out the root, they were again afraid of certain death, deliberating whether to advance or retreat. Leaving home to cultivate the Way is also like this. The Buddha spoke a verse:

15.72

"If a tree is felled without eradicating the root,
Though felled, it will still grow back;
If craving is severed without eradicating its basis,
Suffering will arise again and again."

First 72 of 111 passages. Read on

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諸經要集 — Classical Chinese