諸經要集 7

English (machine translation) 7

Language: English

7.1

Compiled by the śramaṇa Shi Daoshi of Ximing Monastery

7.2

Section 12: Encouraging the Way (containing seven circumstances)

7.3

1. Expressing Intent / 2. Admonishing Men / 3. Admonishing Women / 4. Exhorting the Way / 5. Kinfolk / 6. Detaching from Attachment / 7. Instruction and Admonition

Transmigrating within the three realms, one drifts through the six destinies like duckweed. The spirit is imperishable, yet consciousness and thought are dim and bewildered. Now dying, now being born, now coming, now going, one casts off life like grass, tallying beyond calculation. Truly, the hills and mountains of the great earth are nothing other than our former dust; the flowing rivers of the azure sea are entirely the same as our tears and blood. Looking at it this way, who is not a friend or relative? Although humans and ghosts are distinct, birth and extinction are truly the same. Feelings of affection and love occasionally echo back and forth. The multitudes of the misguided and ignorant, not recognizing near or distant kin, cause the destruction of others' bodies to nourish their own physical lives. Mutually butchering and slicing one another, together they become bitter adversaries, holding grudges against each other for eons, their painful retribution difficult to exhaust. When quietly reflecting upon this matter, how could it not break one's heart?

7.6

2. Admonishing Men

7.7

As for men who dwell at home, there are two kinds of noble and base: first, the exalted; second, the lowly; first, the wealthy; second, the poor. Among the wealthy and exalted, people are mostly unrestrained, haughty, and arrogant, slighting and oppressing their inferiors. Some rely on majesty and take advantage of their authority, honouring themselves and bullying others. Some are widely learned and thoroughly perceptive, relying on talent to bully others. Some have eloquent mouths and sharp words, fluent in speech to bully others. Some boast of grandeur and extravagance, negligent and contemptuous to bully others. Some have handsome features and charming bearing, relying on looks to bully others. Some ride plump horses and race steed, relying on mounts to bully others. Some possess wealth and retain male and female slaves, relying on riches to bully others. Such varieties are so numerous they cannot be fully recounted. Sentient beings in their folly are exceedingly pitiable: unaware that impermanence is about to arrive, they falsely raise lofty thoughts. The retributions to come—scalding soup and burning coals to boil and roast—await them; hell wardens holding pitchforks have long been lying in wait. Not worrying over these matters, they openly make merry. How does this differ from pigs and sheep unaware that death has come? How does it differ from flying flies greedily delighting in a corpse? When reflecting on antiquity and contemplating the present, wealthy and exalted persons have not been few. Birth and extinction pass in an instant; the noble and the base return to the same dust. For the wealthy and exalted, one sees only desolate tombs; the poor and lowly have already become the same as ash and soil. Having recognized that birth and extinction press closely upon us, one must humble oneself and respect those above. Thus near and distant are unfixed, noble and base are inconstant, and pain and pleasure exchange positions, rising and sinking taking turns.

7.8

One should further reflect: since nobility and baseness are inconstant, just like water and fire alternating in dominance, or cold and heat arriving in turn, we therefore see some who possess wealth and a warm home, with an abundance of clothing and ample food, coming to them naturally without the toil of seeking. Again, we see those who suffer in poverty, hungry and destitute, labouring with all their might and rushing in pursuit, rising at dawn and sleeping at night, their bodies becoming haggard and emaciated, and their minds weary and disturbed; even if they obtain something, it disperses in a hundred directions, and though they spend all day wishing for abundance, abundance has never been theirs even for an instant. Because of such suffering, they are exhorted and encouraged to give generously and vigorously cultivate merit. If again there are people whose clothes, furs, and fine articles are fresh, resplendent, fragrant, and clean, and as the seasonal atmospheric orders of cold, warmth, coolness, and heat change through the four seasons, they lack nothing according to their needs; yet again we see those who lack even a full foot of cloth, with only torn rags of silk, soiled with dirt and blackened with soot, foul-smelling, greasy, and rotted through, who in the blazing summer heat know nothing of fine and coarse linen, and in freezing ice and snow know nothing of silk and padded garments, even to the point where their bodies are uncovered, men and women naked—this is not only shameful, but truly an extraordinary torment. If one sees this suffering, how could one not wish to be far from it? Therefore they are exhorted and encouraged to cultivate merit: they should give clothing and lodgings. How can one fail to see that everyone else has them while I alone have none? For this reason, one must bravely and vigorously practice. If again there are people whose food consists of delicious flavours presented together, with fine delicacies served in order, rows of tables and double stands, couches filled and mats laid end to end, fragrant fats and perfumes fully set out in fragrant array; yet again there are those who do not have enough unhusked millet to eat, are constantly devoid of wild greens broth, have long lacked both salt and plums, and have long missed both fish and vegetables, even to the point of eating once every two days, living consecutively on watery gruel, mixed with wild fruits and accompanied by weeds and grasses, withered, jaundiced, destitute and ailing, without means of self-support. If one sees this suffering, how could one not wish to be far from it? Therefore they are exhorted and encouraged to cultivate merit: they should give food, drink, and liquids. How can everyone else be satisfied while I alone am impoverished? For this reason, one must bravely and vigorously practice. If again there are people whose glorious status is illustrious and prominent, who ride plump horses and wear light furs, doing as they please with ease, who when moving are looked up to by devas and humans, and when abiding are revered by ghosts and spirits; yet again we see those who are lowly, vulgar, and mean, disregarded by others, where people neither know when they are born nor know when they die, wallowing in mud beside ditches and channels, sitting and lying amid dung and soil, and though they utter shouts of distress, it merely incurs the suffering of being beaten and whipped, not only despised by spirits and ghosts, but even viciously attacked by dogs. If one sees this suffering, how could one not wish to be far from it? Therefore they are exhorted and encouraged to cultivate merit: they should extinguish arrogance and practice humility and respect. How can others be always noble while I am forever base? For this reason, one should bravely and vigorously practice. If again there are people whose appearance is upright and dignified, whose words and tones conform to the musical scale, whom people delight to see and hear, who constantly maintain broad benefit, possessing humaneness, compassion, and universal love, whose words do not harm living beings; yet again there are people whose faces are stunted and ugly, whose speech is treacherous and violent, who know only self-benefit and have no consideration for others. Because the former practiced forbearance, they achieved superiority; because the latter had much anger, they brought about evil. If one sees this suffering, how could one not wish to be far from it? Therefore they are exhorted and encouraged to cultivate merit: they should extinguish anger and practice forbearance. How could one let everyone else remain always in superior realms, while I am forever separated from pure conditions? For this reason, one must bravely and vigorously practice. If again there are people whose mental fortitude is sturdy and capable, who have few illnesses, and are constantly able to practice the Way without obstruction; yet again there are people who are emaciated and suffer many afflictions, whose breath and strength are exhausted, whose distress increases whenever they move, resting and sitting in discomfort. Seeing such evil, it is truly fitting to cast it far away. Therefore they are exhorted and encouraged to cultivate merit: they should give medicine and offer timely relief. How can everyone else be constantly free from sickness and collapse, while I am forever burdened with lingering ailment? For this reason, one must bravely and vigorously practice. All matters such as these are truly what should most be encouraged. If they are not exhorted to one another, then students will not be diligent.

7.9

3. Admonishing Women

7.10

Now, laywomen at home have abundant faults of wrath and poison; the Buddha stated that their crookedness and flattery exceed that of men. Some artificially powder their faces and adorn their hair, ornamenting their figures and appearances. Some wear brocades, silks, and floral garments, deceiving and enticing foolish men. Some flirtatiously move their lips, casting crooked glances with song and laughter. Some sigh and hum, shifting their glances. Some bare their chests and expose their hands; some cover their faces and hide their heads. Some take measured, slow steps, swaying their bodies and sporting with their shadows. Some open their eyes and close their gaze, suddenly sorrowful and suddenly joyful, magically bewitching foolish men and making their minds falsely attached. Such seductive deceit can hardly be fully recounted. Ordinary people, infatuated and intoxicated, are all deluded by them. It is like deceitful bandits with manifold tricks; it is also like a painted vase storing dung to deceive people; it is also like a high net into which flocks of birds fall; it is also like a dense net into which schools of fish plunge; it is also like a dark pit into which the blind plunge; it is also like flying moths seeing fire and hurling themselves into it; it is also like flies coveting and delighting in a foul corpse. Drawing near to them ruins the state and destroys the family; touching them is like grasping a poisonous snake. Their outward speech is like honey, but their inner mind is like deadly venom. Families being poor and wretched is entirely due to women; going abroad and losing one's life is also due to women; discord among household members is also due to women; sons and daughters being rebellious is also due to women; brothers being separated is also due to women; clansmen becoming estranged is also due to women; falling into the evil realms is also due to women; failing to be born among humans or devas is also due to women; obstruction of the path of wholesome karma is also due to women; not attaining the noble fruits is also due to women. Faults and perils such as these cannot be fully recounted. Sentient beings are thus, which is truly terrifying; constantly burned by the fire of desire, they are unable to escape, thereby incurring disaster and suffering continuously without break. Furthermore, the Mātaṅgī Sūtra says: At that time, Ānanda, having taken his bowl and gone begging for food, was walking along the water's edge. He saw a woman drawing water by the water's edge, and Ānanda begged for water from the woman. The woman then gave him water. The woman followed Ānanda, observing where he stayed. The woman returned and told her mother; the mother's name was Mātaṅgī. The woman then collapsed on the bed at home and wept. The mother asked, 'Why are you weeping?' The woman said, 'If you wish to marry me off, mother, do not give me to another. By the water's edge I saw a śramaṇa, who begged water from me. I asked his name, and he answered that his name is Ānanda. Only if I get Ānanda can I be married, mother; if I do not get him, I will not marry.' The mother went out and inquired about Ānanda, and learned that Ānanda was an attendant of the Buddha. Having found out, the mother returned and told the daughter, 'Ānanda is a man of the Way who serves the Buddha; he will not agree to be your husband.' The daughter wept and would not eat. The mother knew the arts of sorcery, so she invited Ānanda for a meal. The daughter was overjoyed. The mother said to Ānanda, 'My daughter wishes to be your wife.' Ānanda said, 'I keep the precepts and do not keep a wife.' She said again, 'If my daughter cannot have you as her husband, she will commit suicide.' Ānanda said, 'My teacher is the Buddha; I do not have sexual relations with women.' The mother went inside and recounted this intention to the daughter in full. The daughter wept before her mother, saying, 'Just shut the door for me and do not let him leave; by evening he will become my husband on his own.' The mother then shut the door and bound Ānanda with the methods of sorcery. When late afternoon came, the mother laid out mats and bedding for the daughter. The daughter was overjoyed and thereupon adorned herself. Ānanda would not comply. The mother caused fire to burst from the ground in the courtyard, grabbed Ānanda's robe, and said, 'If you do not become my daughter's husband, I will throw you into the fire.' Ānanda reproached himself: 'Having become a śramaṇa for the Buddha, now, on the contrary, I cannot get out.' The Buddha, knowing Ānanda in his mind, then recited a divine dhāraṇī, and thus rescued him back to the Buddha's place, where he reported the previous events in full. Seeing Ānanda leave, the woman wept continuously at home, continuing to long for Ānanda. The next day, the woman went on her own to seek Ānanda. She saw Ānanda going about begging for food again, followed behind Ānanda's back, looked at Ānanda's feet, and looked at Ānanda's face. Ānanda bashfully tried to avoid her, but the woman followed without stopping. Ānanda said to the Buddha, 'The Mātaṅga girl is following behind me again today.' The Buddha sent someone to pursue and summon her. The Buddha asked the woman, saying, 'You pursue Ānanda—what is it you seek?' The woman said, 'I hear that Ānanda has no wife, and I also have no husband. I wish to be his wife.'

7.11

The Buddha told the woman, 'Ānanda has no hair; you now have hair. If you can shave your hair, I will make Ānanda your husband.' The woman said, 'I can shave it.' The Buddha said, 'Go back, report to your mother, and return after shaving your head.' The woman returned and told her mother in full. The mother said, 'I gave birth to you and protected your hair; why do you wish to have a śramaṇa as a husband? There are many wealthy and noble men in the country; I will marry you off myself.' The woman said, 'I would rather live and die as Ānanda's wife.' The mother said, 'You bring shame upon my lineage.' The mother applied the blade for her and shaved her head; the woman returned to the Buddha's place and said, 'I have shaved my hair.' The Buddha said, 'What do you love about Ānanda?' The woman said, 'I love Ānanda's eyes; I love Ānanda's nose; I love Ānanda's mouth; I love Ānanda's ears; I love Ānanda's voice; I love Ānanda's manner of walking.' The Buddha said, 'In the eyes there are only tears; in the nose there is only mucus; in the mouth there is only saliva; in the ears there is only wax; in the body there are only feces and urine, foul places and impurities. For those who are husband and wife, there are vile discharges; amid vile discharges, sons and daughters are born; once there are children, there is death; once there is death, there is weeping. In this body, what benefit is there?' The woman then contemplated the vile discharges within the body, and her mind subsided on its own; she immediately attained the fruit of an arhat. Knowing that she had attained the Way, the Buddha said to the woman, 'Arise and go to Ānanda.' The woman, ashamed, lowered her head, knelt upright before the Buddha, and said, 'It was truly out of foolishness that I pursued Ānanda. Now my mind has opened, like a lamp in the dark, like a person riding a boat that breaks, who relies on the shore, like a blind person being supported, like an elderly person holding a cane. Now the Buddha has bestowed the Way upon me, causing my mind to open like this.' The bhikṣus all asked the Buddha, 'For what reason did this woman attain the Way?' The Buddha told the bhikṣus, 'In past lives, for five hundred lifetimes, this Mātaṅga girl was Ānanda's wife, and they constantly loved and respected each other. Therefore, she has attained the Way within my teaching. Now, as husband and wife, they see each other as brother and sister. What is there that the Buddha's Way cannot achieve?' When the Buddha had spoken this sūtra, the bhikṣus, having heard it, all rejoiced greatly.

7.12

Furthermore, the Avadāna-sūtra says: In the past, in the city of Śrāvastī, there was a woman who held her child and carried a jar to the well to draw water. There was a man of handsome appearance sitting to the right of the well, playing a lute for his own amusement. At that time, that woman had great lustful intent and was deeply attached to that man; that man also had blazing lustful intent and was deeply attached to the woman. Delirious with lustful intent, the woman tied the small child's neck with a rope and suspended him in the well. Immediately she pulled him back out, but the small child was already dead. Stricken with sorrow and grief, she cried out to Heaven and wept. (The rest is as recounted elsewhere.) Furthermore, when the Buddha was in the country of Kauśāmbī, the king of the country was named Udayana. In that country was an ascetic named Māgandiya, who fathered a daughter of upright and radiant appearance, rare in the world. Seeing that his daughter's appearance was rare in the entire country, the father named her Matchless (Anupamā). The kings of neighbouring states, along with officials and noble clans, all sought to marry her. The father replied, 'If there is a gentleman whose appearance equals that of my daughter, I will accept him.' At that time, the Buddha was traveling in that country. The ascetic beheld the Buddha's thirty-two marks and eighty minor signs, his body of purple-gold, majestic and imposing, his radiant demeanor unsurpassed. His heart rejoiced, and he said, 'My daughter has found her match—it is precisely this man!' He returned and said to his wife, 'I have found a husband for Matchless. Quickly dress and adorn the girl; we must take her there.' Husband and wife adorned her together; as the girl walked, she swayed with floral brilliance, her pearls, gems, and necklaces embellishing the entire country. The husband and wife brought her together to the Buddha's place. On the way, the wife saw the auspicious marks and patterns of the Buddha's footprints, their lustrous colour being unlike anything in the world. Knowing him to be the Lord of Heaven, she said to her husband, 'The patterns of this man's footprints are like this, unheard of in the world. This must be no ordinary man; he must surely be pure, with no more carnal desire. He will not take our daughter; let us not bring shame upon ourselves.' The husband said, 'How do you know this to be so?' The wife spoke a verse herself, saying:

7.13

A lustful person walks dragging their heels;
An angry person walks clenching their toes;
A foolish person treads heavily upon the ground;
These footprints belong to the Honoured One of gods and humans.

7.14

The parivrājaka said, "This is not something you women understand. If you are not pleased, you may return on your own. I myself will take our daughter to the Buddha's place." Bowing his head to the Buddha's feet, he said, "O Great Benevolent One, you labor diligently in teaching, yet you have no one to attend on you. I have this coarse daughter, and I wish to offer her to sweep and clean for you." The Buddha said, "Do you consider this daughter to be beautiful?" He replied, "Having fathered this daughter, her facial features are truly beautiful, peerless in the world. Many kings and nobles from various lands have sought her, but I would not give her to them. I have seen that the Great Benevolent One's radiant light is towering and majestic, unseen in the world. Desiring to offer her into your service, I have ventured to come and take refuge." The Buddha said, "Wherein lies this girl's beauty?" The parivrājaka said, "From head to foot, wherever one looks around, there is nothing that is not beautiful." The Buddha said, "How deluded are the eyes of flesh! As I now see her, from head to foot there is not a single thing that is beautiful. You see hair upon her head, but hair is merely animal fur; the tails of elephants and horses are just the same. Beneath the hair is a skull; a skull is bone, and a pig's skull in a butcher shop is just the same. Inside the head is a brain; the brain is like mud, foul-smelling and offensive to the nose; if cast to the ground, no one could bear to step on it. The eyes are pools; pierce them and they are pure juice. In the nose is snot, and the mouth has only saliva. The belly conceals liver and lungs, all of which are rank and foul. The intestines, stomach, and bladder hold only feces and urine, rotten and fetid beyond description. The belly is a leather bag containing all manner of impurities. The four limbs, hands, and feet are bones propping up bones, with sinews drawn tight and skin stretched, relying only on the breath to move. It is like a wooden puppet operated by mechanisms: once operated and finished, when its parts are dismantled and peeled apart, joint is separated from joint, with head and feet strewn in disorder. Humans are also like this. What beauty is there, that you say she has few equals? In the past, when I was beneath the Pippala tree, the king of the sixth Māra heaven adorned three daughters, whose faces and adornments were peerless in heaven, far surpassing the likes of this. Wishing to destroy my resolve for the Path, I spoke to them of the foul filth within the body, and they immediately transformed into old hags, their forms ruined beyond restoration, and departed in shame. Now, what transformation could this sack of dung perform? Take her back at once; I will not accept her." Hearing what the Buddha said, the parivrājaka suddenly felt ashamed and speechless. He then addressed the Buddha again, "If the Benevolent One will not take her, may I give her as wife to King Udayana?" The Buddha did not reply. The parivrājaka then presented his daughter to King Udayana. When the king obtained the girl, he was overjoyed; he appointed the father as Grand Tutor, built a palace for the girl, and provided a thousand female musicians to attend upon her. The king's principal queen served the Buddha as her teacher and attained the fruit of srotāpanna. This girl slandered her to the king, and the king, deluded by her words, shot a hundred arrows at the queen. When the queen saw the arrows, she was not afraid and felt no anger at all. With single-minded devotion, she meditated on the Buddha with a mind of loving-kindness and knelt toward the king. The arrows all circled the queen three times and returned to halt before the king; all one hundred arrows did likewise. The king then came to his senses, dismayed and terrified. He immediately mounted a golden chariot with a white elephant and rushed to the Buddha's place. Before arriving, he stepped down from the chariot, dismissed his retinue, clasped his hands together, advanced on foot, bowed his head to the Buddha's feet, and knelt upright to confess, saying, "I have committed a grave offense, and I feel ashamed before the Three Honored Ones. Driven by lust, plotting to give rise to evil, I harbored poisonous and vile thoughts toward the holy assembly of the Buddha, and shot one hundred arrows at the Buddha's disciple." He related the matter as it happened: "Seeing this, my heart was filled with terror. I contemplate only the supreme, immeasurable loving-kindness of the Buddha. If a lay disciple possesses such power of loving-kindness, how much more so the unsurpassed, truly enlightened Buddha! I now confess my fault and take refuge in the Three Honored Ones. May the Buddha, in his vast loving-kindness, forgive and pardon my offense." The Buddha praised him, saying, "Excellent! The king perceives his evil and repents of his offense; this is the conduct of a wise person. I accept the king's good intention." The king bowed his head like this three times, and the Buddha also accepted it three times. The king then touched his head to the ground, withdrew to a seat, and said, "Endowed with a cruel and stubborn nature, I have indulged my anger and wilfulness, lacking a mind of patience, not eradicating the three poisons, and indulging in evil conduct for momentary pleasure. Beguiled by the alluring charms of a woman, I did not recognize her evil. Reflecting upon myself, after death I must surely enter hell. I pray the Buddha will show mercy and broadly explain the evil of women and their goblin-like guile. Once caught in their net, few can extricate themselves. Hearing of this calamity, I will surely take heed, and the people of my kingdom, great and small, may reform their ways." The Buddha said, "Must you ask about this? Let us speak only of other matters." The king said, "Other matters can be learned on another day without being too late. But women disorder and confuse the mind, causing great disaster and calamity; if one does not hear of their perils, by what means can one stay far from them? I pray the Buddha will explain fully for me the transformations of hell and the filth of women." The Buddha said, "Listen then. Men have the evils of madness and folly; turn back and examine the bewitchment of women." The king said, "Excellent. I wish to receive your luminous teaching." The Buddha said, "Men have four evils that must urgently be understood. There are lustful men in the world who constantly long to gaze upon women, who yearn to hear their bewitching voices, abandoning the true Dharma, doubting the genuine and believing in the perverse. Bound by the net of desire, they sink into blindness and darkness, driven by desire like slaves fearing their master. Greedy for the pleasure of female beauty, they give no thought to the foul filth of the nine orifices' discharges. Immersed in desire like pigs in a mire, they do not notice its stench, taking pleasant comfort in it. They do not consider that in future lives they will suffer endless agony in the Avīci Hell. Their minds fixed on lust, they suck their snot and saliva, play with their pus and blood, prizing it like jade and finding it as sweet as honey. Thus they are called slaves of desire; this is the first evil trait. Furthermore, when parents raise a child, conceiving, giving birth, and bringing him up to adulthood, their toil and hardship are beyond words. When the son grows up, the household is drained and wealth exhausted, crawling on knees and elbows to convey feelings through a matchmaker in order to bring that woman to be his wife. If she is in another city, he pursues her, heedless of distance or hardship. His attention fixed on lust, he abandons and forgets his aged parents. Once he has taken her as his wife, he values her like a jewel; wishing to take private pleasure with her, he resents seeing his parents. Believing her bewitching words, he may even enter into strife and litigation, failing to consider whence his body came and betraying the immeasurable kindness of his parents; this is the second evil trait. Furthermore, when a person lives in the world, toiling with his body and working hard to acquire wealth, he originally had sincere faith and respect for the Path, venerating śramaṇas and brāhmaṇas, recognizing the impermanence of the world, and giving alms to cultivate merit. Yet after taking a wife, his feelings are deluded by lust; blindly self-obstructed, he turns his back on the genuine and leans toward the perverse, entirely following the schemes of the woman. If he has the intent to give alms, he seeks only to speak of adorning female beauty, severing pure practice and degrading himself into a petty person, ignorant of the grave admonitions of the Buddhist scriptures and where fortune and misfortune ultimately lead. Simply driven by lust, he throws himself into the net, bound to fall into the evil destinies and never repenting to the end; this is the third evil trait. Furthermore, if as a son one does not think of the kindness of being raised, and in managing a livelihood to acquire wealth does not use it to support one's parents, but instead goes east and west widely seeking paths of lust, carrying treasures to seduce other men's wives, or slaughtering domestic animals to offer lewd sacrifices to ghosts and spirits, drinking wine, singing, dancing, and bringing men and women together, indulging in pleasure and revelry more and more all day long, feigning externally to pray for blessings while internally soliciting adultery; once drunk, they mutually seek expedients and beckon one another to fulfill their illicit passions; when they obtain a partner, their joy is beyond compare, their lustful fetters binding them so that they recognize nothing else. At that time, they take only this to be pleasure, unaware of the foulness of impure discharges and the agony of hell. On the one hand it is laughable; on the other, it is lamentable. Like the mad and raving who know not their own wrongs; this is the fourth evil trait. When men have these four evils, they fall into the three miserable destinies. One must examine and stay far from these to escape suffering. Now listen further as I explain the evils of women." The Buddha then spoke in verse (abridged to the essentials):

7.15

"Thinking that desire can be obeyed, / indulging the mind without restraint, one cannot find peace. / Practicing close familiarity with what is contrary to Dharma, / how can one be considered virtuous? / Constantly in the three evil destinies, / turning round and round like a cartwheel; / even if a Buddha should appear in the world, / one is already unable to hear [his teaching]. / Women are the most evil, / difficult to form bonds with. / Once love and affection bind one fast, / they pull a person into the gate of sin. / What beauty is there in a woman? / It is nothing but all manner of impurities. / Why not carefully consider this, / instead of going mad for its sake? / Inside it is exceedingly foul and filthy, / though outside she adorns her appearance; / moreover, she harbors a poisonous sting, / fiercer than serpents and dragons. / It is also like a fish swallowing a hook, / or a flying moth entering a lamp flame: / wholeheartedly throwing oneself into lustful beauty, / heedless of the calamity to be suffered later."

7.16

When the Buddha had spoken thus, King Udayana was filled with joy, touched his head to the ground, and addressed the Buddha, saying, "Truly, since the year I was born, I have never heard that the evil traits of women were like this! Men become rebellious and chaotic, following them into evil, merely because they did not know and thus did not restrain their minds. From this day forward, for the rest of my life I will repent, take refuge in the Three Honored Ones, and never dare to transgress again." Making obeisance to the Buddha, he joyfully withdrew.

7.17

The classics say: Zhongni (Confucius) stated, "Only petty persons and women are difficult to rear; if you become close to them, they are insolent, and if you keep them at a distance, they resent it." Therefore, the scriptures state that bewitching women possess eighty-four traits, of which there are eight great traits despised by the wise: the first is jealousy; the second is baseless anger; the third is reviling; the fourth is cursing; the fifth is hexing; the sixth is stinginess and greed; the seventh is fondness for ornamentation; the eighth is harboring malice. These are the eight great traits. Therefore, women possess many bewitching wiles; may they abandon flattery and perversity to seek the true Dharma, and soon leave the household life to benefit themselves and benefit others.

7.18

Furthermore, the Dazhidulun states: As for the nature of women, if they receive respectful treatment, it causes the husband's mind to grow haughty; if respectful treatment is emotionally abandoned, it causes the husband's mind to be terrified. Women thus constantly bring affliction, anxiety, and fear. How could one become intimately close to a woman? As is told: A king had a daughter named Kumudā. There was a fisherman named Śūpaka who was walking along the road and saw the king's daughter from afar in a high tower. Seeing her face in the window, he imagined her and became attached, his mind unable to let go of her for a moment. As days and months passed, he could neither eat nor drink. His mother asked him the reason, and he answered his mother with his true feelings, "I saw the king's daughter, and my heart cannot forget her." The mother admonished her son, saying, "You are a lowborn person, and the king's daughter is noble and exalted; she is unobtainable." The son said, "My heart desires and yearns for her and cannot forget her for a moment. If it is not fulfilled, I cannot live." For her son's sake, the mother went into the royal palace, constantly delivering fat fish and bird meat to present to the king's daughter without taking any payment. Wondering at this, the king's daughter asked her, "What wish do you seek?" The mother addressed the king's daughter, "I pray you dismiss your attendants, and I will speak the truth. I have only one son; he reveres and longs for you, Princess, and his emotions have knotted into illness, so that his life will not last long. I pray you look upon him with pity and bestow life upon him." The king's daughter said, "Go, and on the fifteenth day of the month, wait behind the deity's image in such-and-such shrine of the gods." The mother returned and told her son, "Your wish has been granted," telling him as above. Having bathed and put on new clothes, he waited behind the deity's image. When the time came, the king's daughter addressed her father, the king, "I have an inauspicious omen, and must go to the shrine of the gods to pray for good fortune." The king said, "Very good." He immediately prepared five hundred chariots to go out to the shrine. Having arrived, she ordered all her attendants to stop at the gate and entered the shrine alone. The heavenly deity considered: "This ought not to happen; the king is a dānapati, and this lowborn person must not be allowed to defile and dishonor the king's daughter." He then cast a spell of sleep upon the man, causing him to sleep without waking. When the king's daughter entered and saw him sleeping, she pushed him repeatedly, but he did not awake. Thereupon, she left behind a necklace worth a hundred thousand liang of gold and departed. After she left, the man awoke. Seeing the necklace and inquiring among the people, he learned that the king's daughter had come. His desire unfulfilled, filled with grief, regret, and agony, the fire of lust erupted within him, burning him to death. By this it is known that the minds of women make no distinction between noble and base, but follow only lust.

7.19

Furthermore, the *Sarvāstivāda-śāstra* states: It is better to place a limb into the mouth of a poisonous snake than to violate a woman. A snake harms people in three ways: it harms people by being seen; it harms people by touching; and it harms people by biting. A woman also has three harms: if one sees a woman, lustful thoughts arise in one's mind, destroying a person's wholesome qualities; if one touches a woman, one's body commits a middling transgression, destroying a person's wholesome qualities; if one engages in sexual intercourse with her, one's body commits a grave transgression, destroying a person's wholesome qualities. Furthermore, there are seven harms: First, if one is harmed by a poisonous snake, it harms only this single body; if one is harmed by a woman, it harms countless bodies. Second, if one is harmed by a poisonous snake, it harms the indeterminate body resulting from retribution; if one is harmed by a woman, it harms the wholesome Dharma-body. Third, if one is harmed by a poisonous snake, it harms the body of the five consciousnesses; if one is harmed by a woman, it harms the body of the six consciousnesses. Fourth, if one is harmed by a poisonous snake, one can enter the pure assembly; if one is harmed by a woman, one cannot associate with the Saṃgha. Fifth, if one is harmed by a poisonous snake, one may be born among gods or humans and encounter wise ones and nobles; if one is harmed by a woman, one enters the three wretched realms. Sixth, if one is harmed by a poisonous snake, one can still attain the four fruits of a śramaṇa; if one is harmed by a woman, one derives no benefit toward the Eightfold Noble Path. Seventh, if one is harmed by a poisonous snake, people feel compassion and rescue and protect one; if one is harmed by a woman, the multitude jointly abandons him, and no one takes joy in him. For these reasons, it is better to place a limb into the mouth of a poisonous snake than ever to touch a woman with it.

7.20

Furthermore, the *Ekottarika-āgama* states: A woman has five powers with which she holds her husband in contempt. What are the five? First, the power of physical beauty; second, the power of relatives; third, the power of agricultural wealth; fourth, the power of sons; and fifth, the power of self-restraint. These are called the woman's five powers by which she then holds her husband in contempt. A husband has one power that completely overshadows that woman: that is, the power of wealth and noble status. Now, the wicked Māra Pāpīyas also has five powers: namely, sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and tangible objects. Ignorant people attach to these five things and cannot attain liberation. If a noble disciple accomplishes the single power of non-negligence and is not bound by them, he is then able to discern the phenomena of birth, old age, sickness, and death, surpass the five powers of Māra, not fall into Māra's realm, and reach the unconditioned state. At that time, the Bhagavat spoke this verse:

7.21

Precepts are the path to the deathless;
Negligence is the trail to death.
Those without greed do not die;
Losing the path is to destroy oneself.

7.22

At that time, the Bhagavat addressed the bhikṣus: Women have five desires and aspirations. What are the five? First, to be born into an eminent and noble family; second, to marry into a rich and noble family; third, to have her husband follow her words and obey her instructions; fourth, to have many sons; and fifth, to have autonomy within the household. These are called having these five desirable aspirations.

7.23

Furthermore, the *Mahābalavīryadhāraṇī-sūtra* states: The Buddha told Ānanda: For example, suppose there is a great mound of sand, and one uses a single drop of water to moisten this mound of sand—can it permeate it throughout? Just so, if a woman experiences the retributions of desire with a thousand men, she cannot be made satisfied. That woman has three things in which she knows no surfeit: first, self-adornment; second, sensual pleasures experienced with a husband; third, plaintive and alluring words. Ānanda, that woman has five nests of ulcer-worms, whereas a man has none of these. Those five ulcer-worms reside in the vagina. Each worm nest contains eighty worms, with mouths at both ends, all sharp as needlepoints. Those ulcer-worms constantly torment that woman and feed upon her, making her fidget; having fidgeted, she moves about again. Because they make her fidget, she is called a tormented, lustful woman. This is a unique trait: through karmic retribution, lustful conduct is aroused, and she craves men without knowing surfeit. When that woman sees a man, she immediately speaks charming words, gazes intently, looks again after looking, looks up and observes him, and dwells on lustful matters. She looks sideways at his face, seeking to catch his gaze; she bites her lower lip with her teeth, and her face turns blue and purple. Because of lustful thoughts, sweat flows on her forehead. If she is seated, she does not wish to rise; if she stands, she does not wish to sit. She draws on the ground with a twig and fidgets with both hands; or she walks three steps and, on the fourth, looks left and right; or, standing by the doorpost, she sighs and yawns, twists and bends her body, lifts her clothes with her left hand, and slaps her thigh with her right hand. Furthermore, she scratches her teeth with her fingernails, picks her teeth with a piece of grass, scratches the back of her head with her hand, exposes her shins, kisses other people's children on the mouth, stumbles while walking on level ground, and darts her eyes in all directions. From such signs, know that the woman's lustful desire has been aroused. Disdain and abandon it; do not let it cause you to transmigrate and be born in great darkness.

7.24

Furthermore, the *Sūtra Explaining the Twelve Links of Dependent Origination in the Āgama* states: An arhat, seeing clearly with the divine eye, saw that those falling into hell were mostly women. He asked the Buddha: “For what reason is this?” The Buddha said: “It is due to four conditions: first, because they have much desire and craving for precious jewels, objects, and clothing; second, because of mutual jealousy; third, because of much gossiping; fourth, because of putting on coquettish postures and having much lustful intent. Due to these conditions, many fall into hell.”

7.25

Circumstance 4: Exhortation and Guidance

7.26

Consider that this mind of arrogance is common to both lay and ordained; the wise and foolish are not free of it, and the noble and base both possess it. But setting aside the minor and discussing the grave, it is most severe among the laity. There are also those who vainly claim 'I am fine,' passing judgment on the virtuous and slandering noble virtues; all laypeople practice this all day long, never once experiencing shame and repentance or confessing, never seeking the superior Path in their minds or examining themselves. Thus external texts say: 'Exerting oneself to admire the good path can be used to establish oneself; exerting oneself to admire filial piety and brotherly respect can be used to bring honor to one's parents.' There are also gentlemen of noble character who deeply revere the teachings of the Buddha, spurring themselves to cultivate practice; they are chaste, benevolent, yielding, upright, prudent, faithful, and compliant—all of which stems from seeds planted in past lives, endowed by nature, no different from the Path. There are also those who have left the household life who do not rely on the noble teachings, violate the precepts, and are unlearned and ignorant, no different from the laity. However, the monastic and the lay are visually distinct; their offenses differ in frequency, their minds in brightness and darkness, and their faults in lightness and gravity. Thus, before a person who has left the household life commits an offense, in thought after thought he enters the Path; his wholesome karma has already perfumed him, and the foundation of his merit is already thick. Although there may be slight evil, it is committed with light compunction, and it cannot shake him; with a little sense of shame, he becomes pure and clean again. As for the laity, in body they abide in a place devoid of shame, and in mind they harbor an attitude without compunction. Rearing wives and children, their halls and rooms are filled with wealth, beauty, and the five sensual desires; pungent roots, alcohol, and meat are obtained at their whim. Their feelings of attachment and craving run deep, never momentarily set aside; living together with evil conditions, how could they escape them? This is where the paths of light and dark divide, where black and white are distinctly separated. Thus we know that light can eliminate darkness, but darkness cannot eliminate light. The radiance of a small lamp has already shattered great darkness. Although a monastic may commit a minor fault, his previous brightness has already been achieved; at most, its light might not increase in brilliance, but the original brightness constantly shines, just as when a vessel is preserved and the wick remains upright, the eternal legacy is safely secured. Moreover, for one who has left the household life to commit evil is extremely difficult, like sailing a boat on dry land; for one in the household life to give rise to faults is extremely easy, like floating a boat upon the sea. Again, for one who has left the household life to cultivate the Path is easy, like floating a boat upon the sea; for one in the household life to cultivate merit is extremely difficult, like sailing a boat on dry land. Although the boat is the same, because the places differ, the speed differs; the ease and difficulty of cultivation and violation are just like this. Samsara is easily defiled, and wholesome qualities are difficult to achieve. Swiftly seek your own deliverance, and strive to admire leaving the secular life.

7.27

Furthermore, the Xianyu jing (Sūtra of the Wise and the Foolish) states: The merits of pravrajyā are exceedingly great in terms of blessings. Whether one permits sons and daughters or slaves and servants to leave the household, or whether one allows the common people to do so, or leaves the household to enter the path oneself, the merit is immeasurable and beyond comparison. The merit of leaving the household is higher than Mount Sumeru, deeper than the great ocean, and wider than empty space. Why is this? Because by leaving the household, one is certain to achieve the Buddha path. When the Buddha was in the world, in the city of Rājagṛha there was an elder named Fuzeng (Puṇyavardhana), who was over a hundred years old. Everyone in his household, young and old, detested and despised him. Having heard that the merit of leaving the household is immeasurable, he went to the Buddha's place to seek to leave the household. It so happened that the Buddha was not present, so he went directly to Śāriputra's place. Śāriputra saw that he was old and did not admit him. In this way, all five hundred great arhats refused to admit him. Thereupon he went outside the monastery gate, stood at the threshold, and wept loudly. The World-Honoured One arrived later, comforted and instructed him in various ways, and then told Maudgalyāyana to admit him to pravrajyā. Maudgalyāyana then gave him pravrajyā and administered the precepts. However, he was constantly provoked and ridiculed by the young bhikṣus, so he wanted to throw himself into the river to drown and die. Maudgalyāyana saw this with his supernatural sight, used his supernatural powers to retrieve him and set him on the riverbank, and asked him to learn the cause. Maudgalyāyana thought: 'If I do not terrify this man with [the perils of] saṃsāra, he will have no means to attain the path.' He then bade him take hold of the corner of his teacher's robe with single-minded devotion, and they flew through the air to the shore of the great ocean. He saw a recently deceased, beautiful woman. He saw a worm come out from her mouth and go back into her nose, come out from her eyes and go into her ears. Maudgalyāyana observed this and turned away to leave. The disciple asked: 'What woman is this?' He answered: 'This was the wife of a great merchant leader (sārthavāha) in Śrāvastī. Her appearance was beautiful and rare in the world. She would constantly hold a mirror on a tri-branched wooden stand to gaze upon her face. Seeing her own beauty, she gave rise to arrogance and deeply attached to herself. Her husband deeply loved and respected her, and took her with him onto the sea. The sea grew violent, the ship broke apart, and she drowned and died, her body drifting ashore. Because this merchant leader's wife loved her own body, after dying she was reborn back into her former body as this worm. When she sheds this worm's body, she will fall into the great hells to undergo immeasurable suffering.' Moving forward a little, he saw a woman carrying a bronze cauldron on her own body. She set down the cauldron, filled it with water, and brought it to a boil with fire. She stripped off her clothes, entered the cauldron, and when the flesh was cooked and separated from the bones, the boiling bubbled the bones out. When the wind blew upon them outside, they immediately turned back into a human again, and she took her own flesh to eat it. Fuzeng asked his teacher: 'What woman is this?' His teacher replied: 'In the country of Śrāvastī there was an upāsikā who had reverent faith in the Three Jewels. She invited a bhikṣu to receive offerings for one summer retreat, setting up a room for him at the end of a street. She prepared various fragrant and delicious foods herself and sent her maidservant to deliver them. The maidservant went to a secluded place, picked out the best food to eat first, and gave the remainder to the bhikṣu. Her mistress noticed and asked: "Did you steal and eat it?" The maidservant replied: "No. After the bhikṣu finished eating, there was leftover food which he gave to me, and only then did I eat it. If I ate first, may I eat my own body's flesh life after life." Due to these causes and conditions, she first receives this initial retribution, and later will fall into the hells.' Next, moving forward a little, he saw a tree of flesh, with many worms surrounding and gnawing upon its trunk, leaving no empty space, wailing and crying like the sounds of hell. The disciple asked his teacher: 'What kind of tree is this?' Maudgalyāyana answered: 'This was the bhikṣu who managed affairs, Tālīṭa. Because he had arbitrary authority, he squandered the Saṃgha's property, sending flowers, fruit, food, and drink as gifts to laypeople. Due to these causes and conditions, he receives this initial retribution, and later will fall into the hells. The worms gnawing upon the tree were the people who received those goods at that time.' Next, moving forward again, he saw a man surrounded by many evil ghosts and spirits with beast-heads and human-bodies, holding bows and crossbows with three poisoned arrows each, their points blazing with fire, vying to shoot him, his entire body scorched and burnt. Fuzeng asked his teacher: 'What person is this?' Maudgalyāyana answered: 'In a previous life, this man was a great hunter who killed many birds and beasts, and therefore he suffers this torment. When his life ends hereafter, he will fall into the great hells.' Next, moving forward again, he saw a great mountain with knives and swords set beneath it. He saw a person cast himself down from the top, his body impaled and destroyed; after casting himself down, he ascended again and did so as before without rest. Fuzeng asked his teacher: 'What person is this again?' The teacher replied again: 'This was the great battle-general of the king of Rājagṛha. Because of his bravery, he stationed himself at the vanguard, slaying and killing living beings. He first suffers this torment, and later will fall into the hells.' Next, moving forward again, he saw a mountain of bones. This mountain was seven hundred yojanas high, capable of blocking the sun and making the sea dark. At that time, Maudgalyāyana was walking back and forth in contemplation on one large rib-bone of this mountain of bones. The disciple asked his teacher: 'What mountain of bones is this?' The teacher answered Fuzeng: 'If you wish to know, these are the bones of your own former body.' When Fuzeng heard this, his heart was terrified, his hair stood on end, and he broke out in a fearful sweat. He said to the upādhyāya: 'Before my heart splits apart upon hearing this, I pray you will explain for me the causes and conditions from beginning to end.' Maudgalyāyana told him: 'The cycle of saṃsāra has no bounds. Good and bad deeds created never decay; one is bound to receive their retribution. Long ago in the past, in this Jambudvīpa there was a king named Fazeng (Dharmavardhana) who delighted in dāna, observed the precepts, and listened to the Dharma. He was compassionate toward sentient beings and did not harm living creatures. He ruled the country with the correct Dharma for a full twenty years. In his leisure time, he would play board games with others. At that time, there was a man who broke the law and killed someone. The ministers reported this to the king. It coincided with the king playing the game at dusk, and he casually answered them: "Punish him according to the laws of the realm." They judged him according to the statutes: one who kills a person must die, and they immediately killed him. After the king finished playing, he asked the ministers: "Where is the criminal?" The ministers replied: "We have already executed him." When the king heard these words, he fainted and collapsed to the ground, reviving only after being splashed with water. Shedding tears, he said: "The palace attendants, maidservants, elephants, horses, and seven treasures will all remain here; only I alone shall enter hell! By killing a man now, know that I am a caṇḍāla king! I know not to what realm I shall go life after life! I have resolved that I must not remain king!" He immediately relinquished the royal throne, entered the mountains, and guarded his conduct. After his life ended, he was born in the great ocean as a makara fish, seven hundred yojanas in length. Kings and great ministers who rely on their power to unjustly oppress the common people and commit boundless slaughter mostly fall to become great makara fish after death. There were many worms gnawing and feeding upon its body. When its body itched, it rubbed against the mountains, killing worms and polluting the sea, its blood flowing for a hundred li. When the fish slept once, a hundred years would pass. Thirsty and hungry, it sucked in water, which flowed into its mouth like a torrent in a great river. At that time, it happened that five hundred merchants entered the ocean to gather treasures. They encountered the fish opening its mouth, and their ship was rapidly drawn toward it. The merchants, terrified, wept aloud; as they were on the verge of entering the fish's mouth, they called out in unison, "Namo Buddhāya!" When the fish heard the Buddha's name, it closed its mouth and the water stopped flowing; the merchants survived. Starving, the fish's life ended, and it was born in Rājagṛha as your present body. After the fish died, yakṣas and rākṣasas hauled it out onto the seashore; the flesh decayed and the bones remained, forming this mountain of bones. King Fazeng was your very body. Because of killing a man, you fell into the sea to become a fish.' Having heard this, Fuzeng became deeply terrified of saṃsāra. Viewing his former body, he understood that phenomena are impermanent, and attained the fruit of an arhat.

First 27 of 63 passages. Read on

Linked texts (1)

諸經要集 — Classical Chinese