諸經要集 9

English (machine translation) 9

Language: English

9.1

Compiled by the śramaṇa Shi Daoshi of Ximing Monastery

9.2

Division 16: Choosing Companions (This has five sections)

9.4

Section on Expressing the Intent
Section on Wholesome Friends
Section on Evil Friends
Section on Debts and Obligations
Section on Chastening Transgressions

Now, that to which ultimate principles lead is simply good and evil. When looking at these two paths, their distinction is instantly clear: in the unseen realm, there are sin and merit, suffering and joy; in the manifest realm, there are wisdom and folly, honor and disgrace. Loving honor and hating disgrace, heading toward joy and turning away from suffering—in this, all conscious beings are surely identical. Yet today, people love honor but do not know to emulate the wise; they seek blessing but do not know to avoid calamity. This is like sowing chaff and weeds while expecting to harvest fine grain at the end of the year, or driving a tired, lame nag while hoping to outrun and leave all far behind—is this not delusion? If the instinct of birds, beasts, insects, and plants still knows to take advantage of the wind, rely on dew, hitch a ride on swiftness, and attach to the high so as to accomplish their ends, how much more so for humans—should they not rely on friends to achieve goodness? Therefore, when one relies on a wholesome friend, one preserves one's reputation and accomplishes virtue; when one is intimate with the obtuse and corrupt, one's person is withered and one's reputation is evil. Thus, the foundation of the profound path emerges from high models; the spirit of mutual polishing and refining rests upon our friends. Furthermore, it is like a gadfly that attacks cattle: flying on its own, it reaches at most a hundred paces; but if it attaches to the tail of a luan bird, with one soaring flight it covers ten thousand li. Is this not because its wings skillfully relied upon swiftness? It is likewise for ordinary beings: when drowning and lost, the utmost destination they reach does not exceed humans and devas; but if they rely upon the majestic power of the Great Sage, they ascend high to the ten stages and are born together in the pure realm."

9.7

Section 2: Wholesome Friends

9.8

As the Nirvāṇa-sūtra says: 'The monk Ānanda said: "One who practices half of the brahmacarya is called a good spiritual friend (kalyāṇamitra)." The Buddha said: "It is not so. Only one endowed with the complete brahmacarya is called a good spiritual friend." It also says: 'A good spiritual friend speaks in accord with the Dharma and acts in accord with what they speak. What is meant by speaking in accord with the Dharma and acting in accord with the Dharma? One does not take life oneself, and teaches others not to take life, up to personally practicing right view and teaching others to practice right view. If one can be like this, then one may be called a true good spiritual friend. One cultivates bodhi oneself, and can also teach others to cultivate bodhi; by this meaning, one is called a good spiritual friend. One is personally able to cultivate faith, morality, dāna, extensive learning, and wisdom, and is also able to teach others to cultivate faith, morality, dāna, extensive learning, and wisdom; again by this meaning one is called a good spiritual friend. A good spiritual friend possesses good qualities. What are these? In whatever good matters they undertake, they do not seek their own pleasure, but constantly seek pleasure for sentient beings. Seeing others' faults, they do not speak of their shortcomings, and their mouths constantly proclaim purely good matters. By this meaning, they are called a good spiritual friend. Good sons, just as the moon in the sky gradually waxes from the first day to the fifteenth day, a good spiritual friend is also like this: they cause all learners gradually to depart from evil dharmas and increase in good dharmas. Good sons, if there are those who draw close to a good spiritual friend, even if they originally lacked concentration, wisdom, liberation, and the knowledge and vision of liberation, they immediately come to possess them; and those who have not perfected them will increase and expand them.' It also says: 'A good friend should observe: among this person's greed, dveṣa, delusion, and discursive thoughts, which one is particularly predominant? If they know this person has much greed, they should explain for them the method of the contemplation of impurity. If dveṣa is predominant, they explain maitrī-karuṇā for them. If discursive thoughts are predominant, they teach them to count breaths. If attachment to the self is predominant, they should analyze for them the eighteen elements (dhātu) and so forth. Having heard this, they cultivate, progressively attaining the contemplations of the four foundations of mindfulness: body, feelings, mind, and dharmas. Having attained these contemplations, they next contemplate the twelve links of dependent origination. Having contemplated in this way, they next attain the stage of warmth (uṣmagata). From attaining the stage of warmth, they gradually attain up to the fruit of an arhat, the fruit of a pratyekabuddha, and the Great Vehicle fruit of a bodhisattva and a Buddha. Arising in reliance on this, they have no further doubt or hindrance. Benefiting oneself and benefiting others without adding water to milk—this is called a true good spiritual friend. As for the position of a Dharma master, if they are not endowed with this, they are not a good spiritual friend; a teaching with water added cannot be relied upon.' Therefore, a verse from a sūtra cited in the Foxing lun (Treatise on Buddha-nature) says:

9.9

"Without knowledge and without a good friend, / Bad companions ruin right practice; / When a spider falls into milk, / That milk turns entirely into poison."

9.10

Therefore, one must truly benefit sentient beings: first tame oneself and only then teach others. One must be free from the fault of scant learning, free from the fault of regression in practice, free from the fault of distraction, free from the fault of arrogance, free from the fault of inverted views, free from the fault of greed, free from the fault of dveṣa, free from the fault of wrong conduct, free from the fault of attachment to the self, and free from the fault of inferior practice. One who is endowed with these ten dharmas is called a good spiritual friend. Therefore, a verse in the Zhuangyan lun (Mahāyānasūtrālaṃkāra) says:

9.11

"Extensively learned and seeing the truths, / Skillful in explanation and also diligent and compassionate, / Never regressing—such a great person / Is the bodhisattva's supreme refuge."

9.12

Furthermore, the Fo benxing jing (Abhiniṣkramaṇa-sūtra) says: 'At that time, the Bhagavat, together with the Elder Nanda, went to a shop selling incense. Seeing many bundles of incense in that shop, having seen them, he then told the Elder Nanda, speaking thus: "Nanda, come and take these bundles of incense from this shop." At that time, Nanda, following the Buddha's instruction, took the bundles of incense from that shop. The Buddha told Nanda: "Hold these bundles of incense for the duration of a single tick of the water clock, and then place them on the ground." At that time, the Elder Nanda, having heard the Buddha speak in this way, held this incense in his hands, and after a moment placed them back on the ground. At that time, the Buddha told the Elder Nanda: "Now you should smell your own hands and see." At that time, Nanda, having heard the Buddha's words, smelled his own hands. The Buddha said to Nanda: "What scent does your hand have when you smell it?" He said to the Buddha: "Bhagavat, the fragrance of the hands is wondrous and boundless." The Buddha told Nanda: "Just so, just so. If a person draws close to good spiritual friends, constantly dwelling together and becoming imbued and habituated in accord with them, because of drawing close to each other, they will certainly attain vast and great renown."' At that time, on account of this matter, the Bhagavat spoke a verse, saying:

9.13

"If someone holds aloeswood incense in their hands, / As well as agastache, musk, and the like, / Holding them even for a moment, the fragrance naturally imbues them; / Drawing close to a good spiritual friend is also like this."

9.14

At that time, the Bhagavat again spoke verses, saying:

9.15

"If a person draws close to bad spiritual friends, / In the present life they will not gain good renown; / Because they certainly draw close to bad companions, / In the future they will also fall into the Avīci Hell. / If a person draws close to good spiritual friends / And follows along with their actions and conduct, / Although they may not presently realize worldly benefits, / In the future they will certainly exhaust the causes of suffering."

9.16

Furthermore, in the Dharmaguptaka-vinaya, regarding the intent of a close friend, one must be endowed with seven dharmas before becoming a close friend: first, being able to do what is difficult to do; second, being able to give what is difficult to give; third, being able to endure what is difficult to endure; fourth, confiding secret matters to each other; fifth, concealing each other's [faults]; sixth, not abandoning each other when encountering suffering; seventh, not despising each other when poor and lowly. If a person can practice these seven dharmas, they are a close, good friend and one should draw close to them. Furthermore, in the Dazhuangyan lun (Kalpanāmaṇḍitikā), a verse spoken by the Buddha says:

9.17

"Freedom from disease is the foremost gain; / Contentment is the foremost wealth; / A good friend is the foremost kin; / Nirvāṇa is the foremost bliss."

9.18

Furthermore, the Jialuoyue liu xiang bai jing (Siṅgālovāda-sūtra) says: 'There are four classes of good spiritual friends: first, appearing like an enemy externally, but possessing deep goodwill internally; second, remonstrating directly before a person, but speaking of the person's goodness elsewhere; third, when [the friend] is emaciated by illness or summoned by officials for litigation, resolving their worries for them; fourth, seeing a person poor and lowly, one's heart does not cast them aside, and one thinks to make them wealthy. There are another four classes of good spiritual friends: first, when one is arrested by officials, taking them home to hide them and afterward resolving it; second, when one is emaciated and weakened by illness, taking them home to nurse and look after them; third, when a spiritual friend dies, officially preparing the burial and looking after them; fourth, when a spiritual friend has died, continuing to look after their family.'

9.19

Causes and Conditions of Bad Friends, Part 3

9.20

As the Shijialuoyue liu xiang bai jing (Siṅgālovāda-sūtra) says: 'There are four classes of bad spiritual friends: first, harboring an antagonistic mind internally, but forcefully pretending to be a spiritual friend externally; second, using fine words before a person, but speaking evil of the person behind their back; third, when an emergency arises, showing grief before the person, but rejoicing behind their back; fourth, appearing close and affectionate externally, but hatching antagonistic plots internally. There are another four classes of bad spiritual friends: first, flying into a great rage over a slight infringement; second, refusing to go when asked to run an errand; third, seeing that a person has an emergency, running away to avoid them; fourth, seeing a person die, casting them aside without looking after them.'

9.21

Furthermore, the Nirvāṇa-sūtra says: 'A bodhisattva-mahāsattva views a vicious elephant and a bad spiritual friend as equal and without difference. Why? Because both destroy the body. A bodhisattva-mahāsattva has no fear in mind toward a vicious elephant or the like, but gives rise to dread toward a bad spiritual friend. Why? Because this vicious elephant and the like can only destroy the body, but cannot destroy the mind; whereas a bad spiritual friend destroys both. This vicious elephant and the like only destroys a single body; a bad spiritual friend destroys immeasurable good bodies and immeasurable good minds. This vicious elephant and the like can only destroy an impure, foul body; a bad spiritual friend can destroy a pure body as well as a pure mind. This vicious elephant and the like can destroy the physical body; a bad spiritual friend destroys the dharmakāya. Being killed by a vicious elephant does not lead to the three evil destinies; being killed by a bad friend will certainly lead to the three evil destinies. This vicious elephant and the like is only an enemy of the body; a bad spiritual friend is an enemy of good dharmas. Therefore, a bodhisattva should constantly stay far away from all bad spiritual friends.' Furthermore, in the Ekottarika-āgama, the Bhagavat spoke in verse, saying:

9.22

"Do not draw close to bad spiritual friends, / Nor serve the foolish; / One should draw near to good spiritual friends, / The most supreme among people. / If there is no evil in a person, / Yet they associate with and draw near to bad spiritual friends, / They will later certainly plant evil roots / And forever walk in darkness."

9.23

Furthermore, the Madhyama-āgama says: 'At that time, the Bhagavat told the monks: "There are seven dharmas of an enemy that make one an enemy. First, one does not want the enemy to have good physical appearance; even though [the enemy] bathes well and smears their body with famous fragrances, yet because of appearance, dveṣa covers their mind and makes them an enemy. Second, one does not want the enemy to sleep in peace; even though they lie on a bed and pillow covered with brocade and silks, yet still anxious and miserable, dveṣa is not abandoned and covers their mind, making them an enemy. Third, one does not want the enemy to gain great benefit; even if they should gain benefit, they do not gain benefit, and when they should not gain benefit, they gain benefit—these two matters mutually contradict each other—dveṣa covers their mind and makes them an enemy. Fourth, one does not want the enemy to have friends; if they have close friends, they abandon them and stay away; because anger covers their mind, it makes them an enemy. Fifth, one does not want the enemy to have praise; their bad reputation and ugly rumors are heard all around in various directions; because anger covers their mind, it makes them an enemy. Sixth, one does not want the enemy to have immense wealth; if the rich people of that land happen to lose their property; because anger covers their mind, it makes them an enemy. Seventh, one does not want the enemy, when their body breaks up and life ends, to go to a good destination; their physical, verbal, and mental evils having been committed, when life ends they will certainly go to an evil destination, being born in hell, and making them an enemy."' Furthermore, an Āgama says: 'To stay far from evil and draw near to good, there are four conditions under which one should urgently depart and avoid them, staying a hundred yojanas away—one yojana is forty li; a hundred yojanas is four thousand li. The four conditions are: first, bad friends; second, a bad crowd; third, excessive talking, joking, and laughing; fourth, either anger or fighting.'

9.24

Furthermore, the Shansheng jing (Upāsakaśīla-sūtra) says: 'One who has received the precepts should not go to five places: namely, butchers, courtesans, taverns, kings, and the homes of caṇḍālas and the like. There are five kinds of livelihoods that should not be undertaken: namely, selling poison, brewing/tanning, dice gambling, weiqi and liubo, and singing, dancing, and theatrical performance.' Furthermore, the Baoyun jing (Ratnamegha-sūtra) says: 'A person who upholds the precepts is not permitted to go to the household of a precept-breaker to beg for food.'

9.25

Furthermore, the Jingangxian lun says: 'A renunciant is not permitted to beg for food at the homes of butchers, taverns, courtesans, vicious elephants, vicious dogs, and the like, nor may they frequently go to draw close to them.'

9.26

Furthermore, the Dafangguang zongchi jing (Sarvavaipulyavidyāsiddhisūtra) says: 'The Buddha said: "Good sons, after the Buddha's parinirvāṇa, if there is a Dharma master who skillfully accords with the inclinations and desires [of others] to preach the Dharma for people, and can cause bodhisattvas studying the Great Vehicle and the great assemblies to give rise to a single hair of joyful mind, or even briefly shed a single tear, you should know that all this is the divine power of the Buddha. If there is a foolish person who is not truly a bodhisattva but falsely claims to be a bodhisattva, slanders a true bodhisattva and the Dharma they practice, and furthermore speaks like this: 'What does that person know? What does that person understand?'—if those two parties are harmonious, they can maintain and disseminate my Dharma; but if they dispute and conflict with each other, then the true Dharma will not be practiced. This person who slanders the Dharma creates extremely great sinful karma and falls into the three evil paths, from which it is difficult to escape. If there is a foolish person who does not believe and accept what the Buddha has spoken, even though they recite a thousand Great Vehicle texts, explain them for others, and attain the four dhyānas, because of slandering others, they will suffer great torment for seventy kalpas. How much more so when that foolish person truly has no knowledge yet is arrogant themselves, up to slandering a single four-line verse! You should know that this karma will certainly cause them to fall into hell and never see a Buddha. Because of looking upon a person who has generated the bodhicitta with evil eyes, they receive the retribution of having no eyes; because of slandering a person who has generated the bodhicitta with an evil mouth, they receive the retribution of having no tongue."'

9.27

Furthermore, the Xianyu jing states: In the past, when the Buddha was in the world, there was the bhikṣuṇī Subtle (Sūkṣmā), who had attained the fruit of an arhat. Together with the assembly of bhikṣuṇīs, she herself recounted the karmic retributions of the good and bad deeds she had performed in past lives, telling the bhikṣuṇīs: "Long ago in the past, there was an elder whose household was exceedingly wealthy, but he had no sons. He took a second wife, and her husband loved and cared for her dearly. Later, she gave birth to a boy; the husband and wife held him in high esteem and never tired of looking upon him. The principal wife felt jealous, thinking secretly to herself: 'When this boy grows up, he will take control of the family estate. What was the point of all my bitter toil and accumulation? It would be better to kill him.' Thereupon she took an iron needle and pierced the infant's fontanelle, and he subsequently died. The second wife suspected that the principal wife had killed him and immediately said, 'You killed my child!' At that time, the principal wife, believing that there were no calamities of retribution for good and bad deeds, swore an oath to her: 'If I killed your child, may it be that in life after life my husband is bitten by a snake; may the sons I bear be swept away by water and devoured by wolves; may I myself eat my own child's flesh; may I be buried alive in this very body; and may my parents' household burn in a fire and die!' Having made this oath, she died at a later time. Because of having killed the child, she fell into hell and suffered immeasurable torment. When her punishment in hell was exhausted, she was born among humans as the daughter of a brāhmaṇa. As she grew older, she married into her husband's family and gave birth to a son. Later, she became pregnant again, and when her months were full and she was about to give birth, husband and wife set out together toward her parents' house. Mid-journey, her abdomen began to ache, and she gave birth. They stayed the night beneath a tree, and her husband slept separately at the time. All that she had previously sworn as a curse she now suffered: at that time, a poisonous snake bit and killed her husband. Seeing her husband dead, the woman fainted away, only to revive later. At daybreak, she took the older boy and put him on her shoulders; holding the younger one in her arms, she went along the road weeping. On the road there was a river, deep and wide. She left the older boy on this bank and first carried the younger one across to the opposite bank. Returning to fetch the older boy, the boy saw his mother coming, entered the water, and went toward her. The water immediately swept him away and he drowned. The mother chased after him, but had not the strength to save him; in an instant, he suddenly sank and died. Turning back to the younger boy, a wolf had come and finished devouring him; she saw only blood scattered in disorder on the ground. At that moment the mother fainted in a stupor, reviving only after a long while. She then proceeded along the road and encountered a brāhmaṇa who was a friend of her father. She immediately related her bitter hardships in full to the brāhmaṇa. Pitiful, the brāhmaṇa wept with her. She then asked whether all was well in her family's house. The brāhmaṇa replied, 'A few days ago, your parents and relatives, old and young, were all killed at once when a fire broke out.' Hearing this, in agony and grief, she died and revived again. The brāhmaṇa took her back and provided for her like a daughter. Later, she married again. She became pregnant and was about to give birth. Her husband had been out drinking wine, returning only at nightfall. In the dark, the woman had shut the door and was sitting alone inside. In a moment, the woman gave birth. The husband called from outside the door, but the birth was not yet finished, and no one went to open it. The husband broke down the door, came in, seized the woman, and beat her severely. The woman explained that she was giving birth, but because the husband was furious, he immediately took the child, killed it, boiled it in clarified butter, and forced the woman to eat it. After the woman ate her child, her heart was filled with bitter pain and distress. Considering to herself that she must have meager merit to encounter such a man, she abandoned him, fled, and reached Vārāṇasī. She arrived at an orchard and sat down under a tree to rest. There was an elder's son whose wife had recently died; every day he went to her grave, weeping in longing. Seeing this woman sitting alone under the tree, he immediately questioned her, and they subsequently became husband and wife. After several days, the husband suddenly reached the end of his lifespan. At that time, according to the law of that kingdom, if husband and wife loved each other during life, when the husband died, the wife was to be buried alive with him. At that time, a gang of bandits came to unearth the grave. The bandit chieftain saw that the woman's face was lovely and fair, so he took her as his wife. After several decades of days, the husband raided another family's home and was killed by the master. His bandit companions brought the corpse, handed it over to his wife, and buried her alive with it as well. After three days, foxes and wolves dug up the grave, and thereby she managed to escape. She reproached herself, saying: 'What crime did I commit in a past life that within ten days I should meet with such disasters and misfortunes, dying and reviving again? Where can I go now to preserve the remainder of my life?' Hearing that Śākyamuni Buddha was residing in Jetavana, she went to where the Buddha was and begged for mercy to leave the household life. Because of the power of the vow she had made in the past when offering food to a pratyekabuddha, she was now able to meet the Buddha, leave the household life, cultivate the Way, and attain the state of an arhat. She came to know fully her past karma of killing, and that the oath and curse she had made caused her to fall into hell, and that in the present she suffered this evil retribution of bitter distress, with no one able to bear it in her place. Subtle herself said, 'The principal wife of old is my very self today. Although I have attained the state of an arhat, constantly a hot iron needle enters through the top of my head and exits from beneath my feet. Day and night I suffer from this, unable to endure it any longer. Such are calamities and misfortunes: in the end they never decay or perish.' Furthermore, in the Introduction to the Mahāyāna (Mahāyānāvatāra), Bodhisattva Sthiramati speaks in verse, saying:

9.28

"Slandering the Mahāyāna Dharma, / One is certain to head for the evil destinies. / Burning with extreme torment and pain, / Such indeed is the karmic retribution for this offense. / If one emerges from hell, / One later receives the remaining evil retributions: / One's faculties will ever be defective and ugly, / And one will never hear the sound of the Dharma. / Even if one should happen to hear it, / One will again give rise to slander of the Dharma; / Through the causal conditions of slandering the Dharma, / One will fall back into hell."

9.29

Conditions of Debts and Liabilities, Part 4

9.30

As the Dharmapada-avadāna-sūtra says: In the past, when the Buddha was in the world, there was a merchant king named Pukkusāti who entered the city of Rājagṛha to beg for alms. At the city gate, there was a newly calved cow by which he was gored to death. The cow's owner was terrified, so he sold the cow to someone else. As that person was leading the cow to drink water, the cow again gored its master to death from behind. The master's family was enraged; they seized the cow and killed it, selling the meat in the market. A rustic bought the cow's head, hung it on a carrying pole, and carried it home. A little over a li from his home, he sat down under a tree to rest, hanging the cow's head from a tree branch. After a moment, the rope snapped, the cow's head fell down right onto the man, and the cow's horns pierced the man, who died on the spot. In a single day, it had killed a total of three people. King Bimbisāra heard of this, marveled at it, and immediately went with his ministers to the Buddha's presence to ask the meaning of it in detail. The Buddha told the king, "Long ago, there were three merchants who went to another country to engage in trade and lodged at the house of a solitary old woman. They were supposed to pay her the rent for the room. Seeing that the old woman was alone, they cheated her and did not wish to pay. Waiting until the old woman was away, they quietly left without paying. When the old woman returned and did not see the guests, she asked the neighbours, who all said they had left. The old woman was enraged, pursued them, caught up with them exhausted, and demanded the payment. The three guests reviled her, saying, 'We already paid you before; why do you demand it again?' With one voice they denied it and refused to pay the rent. The old woman, solitary and weak, could do nothing; in distress and anger, she cursed them, saying: 'I am now in poverty and distress; how can you bear to cheat and deny me? I vow that wherever I am born in future lives, if I meet you, I must kill you! Even if you have attained the Way, I will never let you be!'" The Buddha said to King Bimbisāra: "The old woman of that time is now this cow. The three merchants are the three men, Pukkusāti and the others, who were gored to death by the cow." Thereupon, the Bhagavat spoke this verse:

9.31

"With evil words and reviling, / Arrogant and contemptuous toward others— / When one engages in such conduct, / Resentment and enmity will proliferate. / With humble words and agreeable phrases, / Respectful toward others, / Giving up grudges and bearing evil, / Resentment and enmity will naturally be extinguished. / When a man is born, / An axe is within his mouth; / That by which he strikes down his own body / Is due to his evil words."

9.32

Furthermore, the Avadāna-sūtra says: Long ago, in the kingdom of Kaśmīra, there were two brothers. The elder brother left the household life and attained the state of an arhat; the younger brother remained at home, managing the household business. Often the elder brother would come to instruct him, urging his younger brother to practice generosity, keep the precepts, cultivate goodness, and produce merit: 'In the present you will have a good reputation, and upon death you will be born in a good realm.' But the younger brother replied, 'Brother, you have now left the household life; you have no worries about public or private affairs, nor do you care for wife, children, fields, estates, wealth, or treasures. I have these duties, yet you repeatedly admonish me. I have no use for your teachings.' Later, falling ill, he died and was born among oxen. Driven by men, he was laden with salt to enter the city. The elder brother, coming out from the city, happened to see him, and immediately preached the Dharma for him. At that time, having heard it, the ox choked with grief and became despondent. Seeing this, the ox's owner said to the man of the Way, 'What have you said that has made my ox so sorrowful and unhappy?' The man of the Way replied, 'This ox in its previous life was originally my younger brother. In the past, he owed you a debt of one coin for salt; therefore he fell among oxen to repay your labor.' Hearing this, the ox's owner said to the man of the Way, 'Your brother was formerly a close friend of mine.' At that time, the ox's owner said to the ox, 'I now release you and will no longer work you.' Hearing this, the ox was deeply moved, and with wholehearted focus practiced buddhānusmṛti. Casting itself into a deep ravine, it died immediately, and was born in the heavens, where it enjoyed supreme bliss. By these causal conditions, if a person incurs a debt, it must be repaid.

9.33

Furthermore, the Tattvasiddhi-śāstra states: If a person owes a debt and does not repay it, he will fall among cattle, sheep, roe deer, deer, donkeys, horses, and the like to repay his past debt.

9.34

Furthermore, the Vibhāṣā-śāstra states: It is heard that once there was a woman possessed by a hungry ghost. Using spells, someone questioned the ghost, saying, 'Why do you trouble this other woman?' The ghost replied, 'This woman is my enemy. For five hundred lifetimes, she has constantly killed me, and for five hundred lifetimes I have also ended her life. If she can abandon her heart of old enmity, I too will be able to abandon it.' At that time, the woman said, 'I have now abandoned my resentful heart.' The ghost observed that although the woman's mouth said she abandoned it, her heart did not let it go; so it immediately ended her life.

9.35

Furthermore, the Zabaozang jing states: Maudgalyāyana arrived at the bank of the Ganges River and saw a flock of five hundred hungry ghosts coming toward the water. A water-guarding ghost was driving them off with an iron staff, preventing them from approaching. Thereupon, the ghosts went straight to Maudgalyāyana, paid homage at his feet, and each asked about their offenses. One ghost said: 'Having received this body, I constantly suffer from burning heat and thirst. Having previously heard that the water of the Ganges River is clear and cool, I joyfully approached it, but it boiled with heat and destroyed my body. When I tried to drink a mouthful, my five viscera were scorched and rotted, foul beyond endurance. By what causes and conditions do I suffer such retribution?' Maudgalyāyana said: 'In your past life, you were once a physiognomist. When divining people's fortunes, there was little truth and much falsehood; either disparaging or praising them, you claimed to be accurate in order to manipulate people's minds, practicing deception and fraud to seek wealth and profit, misleading sentient beings and causing them to lose what they desired.'

9.36

Another ghost said: 'I am constantly beset by large dogs with sharp teeth, red and white, that come to devour my flesh until only bones remain. When the wind blows over me, my flesh grows back continuously, and the dogs come to devour it again. What is the cause of this suffering?' Maudgalyāyana replied: 'In your former life, you were the master of a heavenly shrine. You constantly taught sentient beings to slaughter sheep to sacrifice to the gods with their blood, while you yourself ate the meat. Therefore, today you repay it with your own flesh.'

9.37

Another ghost said: 'On my body there is constantly excrement smeared all over, and I also eat it. What is the cause of this offense?' Maudgalyāyana replied: 'In your former life, you were an evil and heretical brāhmaṇa who lacked faith. When a man of the Way begged for food, you took his bowl, filled it with excrement, put rice on top, and gave it to the man of the Way. When the man of the Way took it back, he ate the rice with his hand, and the excrement defiled his hand. Therefore, today you receive such retribution.'

9.38

Another ghost said: 'My belly is extremely large, like a vat, while my throat, hands, and feet are as thin as needles, so that I can get neither food nor drink. What is the cause of this suffering?' Maudgalyāyana replied: 'In your former life, you were a village chieftain. Relying on your nobility and wealth, you drank wine unrestrainedly, despised and cheated other people, and seized their food and drink. Because you starved and distressed sentient beings, you suffer this pain.'

9.39

Another ghost said: 'I constantly go to the latrine wanting to eat excrement, but a large troop of ghosts wielding sticks drive me away, so that I cannot approach the privy. My mouth is rotten and foul, and I am starved, distressed, and without recourse. Why is it like this?' Maudgalyāyana replied: 'In your former life, you were a monastery warden. There were laypeople who made offerings to the Saṃgha and prepared food vessels, but you served the coarse provisions to visiting monks while eating the fine food yourself. Therefore you suffer this pain.'

9.40

Another ghost said: 'My body is covered all over with tongues growing upon it; an axe comes to chop off the tongues, and as soon as they are cut off, they grow back continuously. It goes on like this without end. What is the reason for this?' Maudgalyāyana replied: 'In your former life, you were a man of the Way. The Saṃgha appointed you to make honey syrup and rock sugar. The chunks were large and hard to dissolve, so you chopped them with an axe, and with a larcenous mind you ate a mouthful. By these causal conditions, your tongues are chopped in return.'

9.41

Yet another ghost said, 'I always have seven hot iron pellets that go straight into my mouth. Entering my belly, they scorch and rot my five viscera; having exited, they enter again. For what cause do I suffer this retribution?' Maudgalyāyana answered, saying, 'In your past life you were a śrāmaṇera. When distributing melon seeds, you reached your own master's place. Out of respect for your master, you were biased and gave him more, actually seven extra seeds. Therefore you suffer this pain.'

9.42

Yet another ghost said, 'There are two hot iron wheels beneath both my armpits; as they turn, my body is scorched and rots away. For what cause is this so?' Maudgalyāyana answered, saying, 'In your past life, when making cakes for the monastic saṃgha, with a mind of theft you took two pieces and tucked them under both your armpits. Therefore you suffer this pain.'

9.43

Yet another ghost said, 'My goitre is extremely huge like an earthen jar. When walking, I carry it upon my shoulder; when stopping, I sit upon it. Moving or stopping, it causes suffering. For what cause is this so?' Maudgalyāyana answered, saying, 'In your past life you were a market magistrate. You always used light balances and small bushels when giving to others, and used heavy balances and large bushels when taking for yourself. You constantly sought great gain for yourself, encroaching upon and defrauding other people.'

9.44

Yet another ghost said, 'I constantly have eyes on both my shoulders, and a mouth and nose on my chest, constantly having no head. For what cause is this so?' Maudgalyāyana answered, saying, 'In your past life you were always an apprentice to an executioner. Whenever criminal offenders were put to death, you always rejoiced in your mind, tying them with ropes and dragging them away. Therefore you suffer this pain.'

9.45

Yet another ghost said, 'I constantly have hot iron needles entering and exiting my body; I suffer helpless misery. For what cause is this so?' Maudgalyāyana answered, saying, 'In your past life you were a horse-trainer, or an elephant-trainer. When the elephants and horses were hard to control, you pierced their feet with iron needles. Moreover, when oxen were slow, you also pierced them with needles. Therefore you suffer this pain.'

9.46

Yet another ghost said, 'From my body fire constantly emerges, burning itself in distress. For what cause is this so?' Maudgalyāyana answered, saying, 'In your past life you were a king's consort. There was another consort whom the king favoured and loved greatly. You constantly harboured jealousy, watching for an opportunity to harm her. It happened that the king got up from lying down and left. At that time, the beloved consort was still asleep and had not yet arisen to put on her clothes. You immediately conceived an evil thought. Just then cakes were being made with hot sesame oil; you thereupon poured it over her belly. Her belly rotted and she died immediately. Therefore you suffer this pain.'

9.47

Yet another ghost said, 'I constantly have a whirlwind spinning my body around; I have no freedom to go east or west as I wish, and my mind is constantly anguished and distressed. For what cause is this so?' Maudgalyāyana answered, saying, 'In your past life you were always a diviner. Sometimes you spoke the truth, and sometimes you spoke falsehoods, confusing people's minds so they could not follow their wishes. Therefore you suffer this pain.'

9.48

Yet another ghost said, 'My body is constantly like a lump of flesh, without feet, hands, eyes, ears, nose, and the like, and is continually eaten by worms and birds. The suffering of my retribution is unbearable. By what cause and conditions is this so?' Maudgalyāyana answered, saying, 'In your past life, you constantly gave medicine to others to abort their children. Therefore you suffer this pain.'

9.49

Yet another ghost said, 'I constantly have a hot iron cage enclosing my body, scorching hot and anguished. Why do I suffer this?' Maudgalyāyana answered, saying, 'In your past life, you constantly used nets to trap and catch fish and birds. Therefore you suffer this pain.'

9.50

Yet another ghost said, 'I constantly cover my head with something, and also constantly fear that people will come to kill me. My mind is constantly terrified beyond endurance. For what cause is this so?' Maudgalyāyana answered, saying, 'In your past life you committed sexual misconduct with other women. You were constantly afraid of being seen by others, or feared that their husbands would seize, bind, beat, and kill you, or feared that the official law would execute you in the public market. Your terror continued uninterrupted. Therefore you suffer this pain.'

9.51

Yet another ghost asked, saying, 'Having received this body, upon my shoulder there is always a bronze jar filled with molten bronze. With a ladle in hand, I take it and pour it over my own head, and my whole body is scorched and rots away. Thus I undergo boundless, immeasurable suffering. What fault or offence did I commit?' Maudgalyāyana answered, saying, 'In your past life you left household life to practice the Way and managed food and drink for the saṃgha. You secretly placed a jar of ghee elsewhere; when visiting monks came, you would not give it to them. After they left, you brought out the ghee to distribute to the resident monks. This ghee belonged to the saṃgha of the four quarters, and all had a share in it. This person concealed it, and though it was distributed, it was not equal. Due to these causes and conditions you undergo this punishment.' The Avadāna-sūtra says: 'Formerly, in a foreign country, there was a man whose deceased spirit was whipping his own corpse. A bystander asked, "This person is already dead; why whip him again?" He replied, "This is my former body. It committed evil for me: seeing the scriptures and precepts it did not read them; it engaged in theft and fraud; it violated other men's wives and daughters; it was unfilial to parents and brothers; and begrudging its body and wealth, it refused to practice generosity. Now that it is dead, it has caused me to fall into the evil destinies, where the toil, suffering, and toxic pain cannot be expressed in words. For this reason I have come to whip it."'

9.52

Furthermore, according to the Amitāyus-sūtra, Gavāmpati had in a past life been a bhikṣu. Beside another's millet field, he plucked a stalk of millet to observe whether it was ripe or raw, and several grains fell to the ground; for five hundred lifetimes he became an ox to repay it. Therefore the Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa says that due to his residual conditioning, when he later obtained a human body, he was born with ox hooves and chewed the cud. The Buddha took pity on him and let him leave household life, and he attained the fruit of an arhat.

9.53

Circumstances of Punishing Transgressions, Part 5

9.54

As the Vimalakīrtinirdeśa-sūtra says, it is precisely with such bitter and severe words that they can be made to enter the discipline. The Book says that to hear remonstrance like flowing water is an utterance worthy of recording. Obstinate and unfaithful, a vicious horse is hard to tame; beating the chest with much shame, one should constantly admonish oneself, hoping that those who hear the discourse will express their innermost feelings. Now if one wishes to seal one's speech and regulate one's body, it is not as good as first subduing one's mind and next breaking one's thoughts. Therefore the scripture says, 'Restrain it in one place, and there is nothing that cannot be accomplished.' For example, it is like the cave of a golden mountain, where foxes and hares dare not dwell, or a deep abyss and clear sea, where frogs and toads will not lodge. Thus we know that if one cleanses one's mind and purifies one's thoughts, the retributions of the three destinies will cease and the four virtues will be ever full. Guard your thoughts like a city, and guard your mouth like a jar. One may say that the testamentary bequest of the Golden River rests upon such a person, and that the broad teaching of the Jade Gate is truly verified herein. Once one has spurred on these three karmas, one can eliminate the four afflictions. What are the four afflictions? They are birth, old age, sickness, and death. Therefore the Sutra on Entering the Womb says: 'When sentient beings receive a womb, they undergo every hardship, dim and obscure like floating dust. When the ten months are nearly full, the mother's womb experiences pain. Urged on by the wind of karma, the head faces the birth gate; falling to the ground, the hard contact is like being on a mountain of blades; the wind stirs cold contact as if it were freezing ice. At that very moment, birth is truly suffering.'

9.55

Furthermore, the Nirvāṇa-sūtra says: 'For example, a lamp wick depends solely on oil; when the oil is exhausted, its glow cannot last long. A person is also like this: one depends solely on the oil of youth; when the oil of youth is exhausted, how could the wick of old age abide for long?'

9.56

Furthermore, in the Udānavarga, the Buddha spoke a verse on the suffering of old age, saying:

9.57

'In youth, one's vigor is exuberant and robust, / yet it is pressed hard by old age;
the physical form withers and becomes extremely emaciated, / one's breath is exhausted, leaning on a cane to walk.'

9.58

Furthermore, the Buddha spoke a verse on the suffering of death, saying:

9.59

'Breath severed, the spirit departs; / the skeleton desolate and bare. / Men and things are unified under one rule: / nothing born does not come to an end.'

9.60

Furthermore, the Nirvāṇa-sūtra says: 'Death is such that in dangerous and difficult places there are no provisions; the place to go is distant and there are no companions; day and night one constantly travels without knowing its limits; it is profound and dark without any light; entering, there are no doors yet there is a place; though there is no painful spot, it cannot be cured; going, there is no stopping it, and once arrived, there is no escape.'

9.61

Furthermore, the Amitāyus-sūtra says: 'Alone one is born and alone one dies; alone one comes and alone one goes. To places of suffering or pleasure, the body undergoes it by itself without any substitute. In deep darkness, separation is long; their paths are different and there is no appointed time for meeting. It is very difficult, very difficult ever to encounter one another again. In life there is joy: relatives happily gather, expressing their utmost love and affection. In death, passing away in the morning and encoffined in the evening, there is the appearance of fearful parting. Singing and weeping, they see the dead off, yet the departed one knows nothing. Returning to an empty hall, silent and with nothing to behold; existence and non-existence, living and dying, transform in a fleeting moment.' Therefore, in the Udānavarga, the Buddha spoke again a verse on the suffering of death, saying:

9.62

'Life is like fruit waiting to ripen, / constantly fearing it will fall.
All that is born has suffering; / who is able to bring about immortality?'

9.63

'Just like a condemned prisoner / being taken to the execution grounds, / each step heading toward the path of death;
human life is like this. / Like a river's swift current, / going and never returning;
human life is like this: / those who pass on do not return.'

9.64

Furthermore, the Avataṃsaka-sūtra says: 'There are ten kinds of karmic actions of arrogance that should be avoided. First, in the presence of respected fields of merit, upādhyāyas, ācāryas, parents, śramaṇas, and brāhmaṇas, failing to respect, revere, and make offerings to them—this is the karmic action of arrogance. Second, when there are Dharma masters who have attained the supreme, wondrous Dharma, and regarding the profound Dharma of the Mahāyāna know the path to transcend birth and death, have attained dhāraṇī, accomplished vast learning, are endowed with the treasury of wisdom, and are skilled in expounding the Dharma, failing to faithfully receive, revere, and make offerings to them—this is the karmic action of arrogance. Third, when listening to and receiving the Dharma, if one hears the profound Dharma, one should give rise to the mind of detachment and immeasurable joy, yet fails to praise the Dharma master to cause the assembly to rejoice—this is the karmic action of arrogance. Fourth, giving rise to an arrogant mind, exalting oneself and slighting others, not examining one's own reality, and not taming one's own mind—this is the karmic action of arrogance. Fifth, giving rise to an egoistic mind, seeing those with merit and wisdom yet not praising their virtues, and seeing those without merit yet conversely speaking of their good qualities, and if hearing praise of others, giving rise to jealousy toward those persons—this is the karmic action of arrogance. Sixth, if there is a Dharma master who knows what is Dharma, what is Vinaya, what is true, and what is the Buddha's word, yet out of hatred and jealousy says it is not Dharma, not Vinaya, not true, and not the Buddha's word, wishing to destroy the faith of others—this is the karmic action of arrogance. Seventh, setting up a high seat for oneself, thinking: "I am a Dharma master and should not engage in manual work, nor should I respect and make offerings to other people; all those practicing brahmacarya who are senior and virtuous should respect and make offerings to me"—this is the karmic action of arrogance. Eighth, while turning away from scowling or looking upon others with hostile eyes, constantly viewing sentient beings equally with a gentle countenance, words ever soft without roughness, free from anger and resentment, yet seeking faults and defects in that Dharma master—this is the karmic action of arrogance. Ninth, with a mind of arrogance, failing to approach those of vast learning with respect to listen to the Dharma, and in the face of difficulties failing to inquire: "What is wholesome? What is unwholesome? What should be done? What should not be done? What kind of karma benefits all sentient beings through the long night? What kind of practice does not benefit sentient beings? What kind of practice leads from light into light? What kind of practice leads from darkness into darkness?" Persons like this are submerged by their self-conceit and cannot see the genuine path of liberation—this is the karmic action of arrogance. Tenth, because of giving rise to an arrogant mind, failing to encounter the Buddhas and their rare Dharma, exhausting the roots of goodness planted in past lives, speaking what should not be spoken, giving rise to reproaches, and ridiculing one another. Abiding in such dharmas, one ought to enter the evil paths; yet because the bodhicitta is weak, one does not completely abandon the bodhisattva's practice. Although one does not abandon the bodhisattva path, throughout immeasurable hundreds of thousands of myriads of kalpas, one still does not encounter a Buddha, let alone hear the Dharma—this is the karmic action of arrogance.'

9.65

Furthermore, a verse in the Udānavarga says:

9.66

'Sentient beings are entangled by pride, / stained and attached to arrogance;
deluded by false views, / they cannot escape the bounds of birth and death.'

9.67

Therefore we know that although ordinary people commit only a little evil, in future lifetimes they will undergo deep suffering and obtain boundless retribution. It is like poison in the mind; people's inclinations differ. Laypeople manage their livelihoods without considering death; yet life cannot be preserved, and death is sure to arrive suddenly. Examining this perilous life, if not morning then evening, in a fleeting moment calamitous changes occur without constancy. In vain do they cultivate fields and residences, clinging with love to wives and children.

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諸經要集 — Classical Chinese