Translator’s Note:
In this sūtra the Buddha mentioned his two sons, Rāhula and Upamāna. In English Buddhist books and articles, Rāhula is often described as the only son of Śākyamuni, and Wikipedia likewise gives this explanation (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R%C4%81hula).This conclusion was also obtained by Google’s AI search summary. However, according to different traditions, there are records in certain scriptures stating that before renouncing the household life Śākyamuni had three wives and three sons. Apart from Rāhula and Upamāna, who attained the state of an Arhat, another, named Sunakṣatra (Auspicious Star), fell into hell.
In The Twelve Wanderings Sūtra (T0195 佛説十二游經), translated during the Eastern Jin period (317 to 420 AD), it is written:
In the house of the Bodhisattva’s wife’s family, the clan name was Gautama. The Bodhisattva’s father-in-law was the elder named Water Light. The mother of the Bodhisattva’s wife was named Moon Maiden. There was a city located near their border; at the time she gave birth to the daughter, the sun was about to set, and the remaining light shone upon her house, illuminating the entire interior of the room. Therefore she was named Gopī, which in the Jin language is called Bright Woman. Gopī was the first consort of the Prince, and her father was the elder Water Light. The Prince’s second consort, who gave birth to Rāhula, was named Yaśodharā, whose father was the elder Move-Gift. The third consort was named Mrigaja, whose father was the elder Śākya. Because there were three consorts, the father of the Prince, the king, built three seasonal palaces.
According to generally accepted biographies of the Buddha, Śākyamuni left the palace while Yaśodharā was pregnant with Rāhula, and therefore had no opportunity to father the other two sons afterward. Thus in Chinese Buddhist literature it is generally believed that Rāhula was the youngest of the three sons, whereas the mothers of the other two sons and their seniority in birth order are not clearly recorded.
These accounts are found in numerous Chinese Buddhist writings and were not considered any secret in the Buddhist community from the Northern and Southern Dynasties period through the Tang and Song dynasties. Works such as The Genealogy of Śākyamuni (T2040 釋迦譜) by Sengyou, The Profound Meaning of the Avataṃsaka Sūtra (T1733 華嚴經探玄記) by Fazang, and Commentary on the Avataṃsaka Sūtra (T1735 大方廣佛華嚴經疏) by Chengguan all mention this to varying degrees.
Jizang, a monk at the end of the Sui and the beginning of the Tang and the founder of the Sanlun school, in his Commentary on the Lotus Sūtra (T1721 法華義疏), even quoted: “The sūtra says: The Buddha had three sons — the first, Sunakṣatra; the second, Upamāna; the third, Rāhula.”
Of the three sons of Śākyamuni, Rāhula was the most accomplished in practice and achievement, and was most widely known. Although as a sāmaṇera he once engaged in various improper behaviors and was thus admonished by the Buddha, he later strictly upheld the precepts, diligently cultivated the path, attained the fruit of an Arhat, and was ranked among the Buddha’s ten great disciples, renowned as “foremost in hidden practice.”
As for the deeds of the second, Upamāna, there are not many recorded in the sūtras. He too renounced the household life to follow the Buddha in practice and later became an Arhat who had attained the Way. He once answered questions for the bhikṣu Atimukta concerning the skillful practice of the “seven factors of enlightenment” (T0099.719, Saṁyutta Nikāya S.46.8, Upavāṇa). In the Pāli Canon, the participants in this event are given as Upamāna and Śāriputra.
Before Ānanda, Upamāna also served as an attendant to the Buddha, and later, together with Ānanda, cared for the Buddha in his later years until the Buddha entered parinirvāṇa (Rāhula having predeceased the Buddha).
As for Auspicious Star, he was a negative figure in Buddhism. In the Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra he is mentioned alongside Devadatta, who betrayed and sought to harm the Buddha; in the Śūraṅgama Sūtra he is even placed alongside the evil King Virūḍhaka, who destroyed the Śākya clan. He embraced the heretical doctrine of causelessness and resultlessness, ultimately falling into hell. This was perhaps the reason why the sūtras are reluctant to speak of him.
Many Han Buddhist sūtras record Auspicious Star’s misconduct. For example: Once, while the Buddha was expounding the Dharma for Śakra, the Lord of the Heaven of the Thirty-three, he became unaware of how much time had passed. According to the rules of the Saṅgha at that time, disciples should go to rest after their master had gone to rest. Auspicious Star became impatient, and so conceived a malicious thought, frightening the Buddha by saying: “Come back quickly! The Bakura ghost is coming to seize you!” For this he received the Buddha’s rebuke.
On another occasion, a heretic named Suffer-Gain denied the law of cause and effect, yet Auspicious Star praised him, saying: “If there is any Arhat in the world, Suffer-Gain is supreme.” The Buddha told him that this man was not an Arhat and did not even understand the path of an Arhat. Yet Auspicious Star thought that the Buddha said so out of jealousy. The Buddha continued to teach him patiently, and predicted that Suffer-Gain would, in seven days, die of abdominal swelling and be dragged by his companions to the charnel forest. In order to prevent the Buddha’s prophecy from being fulfilled, Auspicious Star told Suffer-Gain of it in advance. Nevertheless, seven days later the Buddha’s prophecy was indeed fulfilled. Yet Auspicious Star still embraced the heretic’s view, not only denying cause and effect, but also holding that there is no Buddha, no Dharma, and no Nirvāṇa. To save Auspicious Star, the Buddha, together with Mahākāśyapa, went to Auspicious Star’s dwelling. Seeing the Buddha from afar, Auspicious Star gave rise to evil and perverse thoughts, and thereupon, in that very body, fell into hell, beyond rescue.
(Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra, T0374, T0375 大般涅槃經)
According to the Buddhist teaching on cause and effect, each person receives the consequences of their own actions; what one does oneself, one must oneself bear; others cannot take one’s place. Auspicious Star “brought this upon himself through his own delusion, and himself came to receive it.” Even the Buddha, honored as Teacher of gods and humans, could not alter this.
According to The Extensive Mahāyāna Sūtra on the Three Categories of Pure Precepts (T0311 大方廣三戒經, T0310.1) and the Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra, Auspicious Star had served by the Buddha’s side for twenty years, receiving the Buddha’s personal admonition and direct teaching, yet in the end still proceeded step by step toward downfall. In response, the eminent Tang dynasty monk, founder of the Chinese Vinaya school, Dao Xuan, remarked in his Extensive Collection for the Propagation and Clarification of the Teaching (T2103 廣弘明集): “Ānanda and Devadatta were both brothers of the World-Honored One; Rāhula and Auspicious Star were both descendants of the Tathāgata. Yet Ānanda always attended upon him, while Devadatta was ever involved in harming and opposing him; Rāhula safeguarded the pearl without allowing it to be violated, whereas Auspicious Star shattered the vessel beyond repair.”
Translated by the Tripiṭaka Master Zhu Fahu from Yuezhi Country of the Western Jin Dynasty
The Buddha said: In the past, there were several hundred deer dwelling together in a herd. They followed the water and grass, gradually migrating, until eventually they came near and encroached upon the dwellings of humans. One day, the king went out hunting and pursued the herd of deer, causing the herd to scatter in all directions. Among them was a female deer who was in the midst of pregnancy, traveling alone and apart. After being chased, hungry and exhausted, having also lost the company of the herd, she became despondent and dejected. At that time, the mother deer gave birth to two young fawns. In order to search for food, overwhelmed by solitude and sorrow, panicked and confused, she carelessly fell into a snare set by hunters. The mother deer cried out in anguish, desiring to escape, but was unable to break free.
When the hunter heard the cries of the deer, he came to investigate. Seeing that a deer had fallen into the trap, he was overjoyed and stepped forward to prepare for slaughter. The mother deer bowed to the hunter and recounted her circumstance: “I have just given birth to two young ones. They are still so small and ignorant. They have only just arrived in this world, dim and unaware, not even knowing east from west or north from south. I beg you to grant me a short while, so that I may return and see my children one last time. Let me teach them to distinguish water from grass, and to learn the way of survival. Then, having poured out the sorrow in my heart with my children, I shall part from them in death and separation. May you show consideration, forgiveness, kindness, and compassion for a living being. If I am fortunate enough to receive your mercy and see my children one last time, then this kindness is truly beyond what any deer or beast could ever repay. Heaven will surely bless you and bestow upon you boundless merit and fortune. If you are willing to let me return, I vow I will not break our agreed time of return. Once I have returned, I will come again to meet death. As a beast, I shall never go back on my word.”
At that time, the hunter, upon hearing the mother deer’s words, was both astonished and amazed, and the hair on his whole body stood on end. He sighed and said: “This deer has miraculous abilities—it has even spoken with human emotion.” He then asked the deer: “Are you a ghost, a spirit of mountain or forest trees? Have you intentionally borrowed the body of a deer to confuse me, making me think this is truly a deer? Please tell me the truth and let me understand the origin of all this.”
The deer immediately replied: “Because in a former life I committed the evil deeds of greed and cruelty, I now suffer the karmic retribution of being born as a deer in this present life. Yet because I single-mindedly care for my children, I am thus able to speak human words. I am not a ghost or spirit of any sort. I sincerely hope you will discern the truth and show mercy! If I am released while still alive, I will surely return to face death, willingly and without regret, in full accordance with my vow.”
The hunter, having heard this, believed her words. Yet, because his heart was filled with greed, he was unwilling to grant release. The hunter said to the deer: “Even among the people of the world, there is no true sincerity, let alone from you, a mere beast! You feel pity for your children and wish to preserve your own life—that is why you are pleading to survive. But once you escape from death, how could there be any return date? The king has issued an edict, and he is eager to capture the deer herd. You surely must know this. I fear that His Majesty will blame me for letting a deer escape, and I will suffer severe punishment. Though I do feel pity for you, I have not yet secured my catch, so I cannot let you go.”
At that time, the mother deer, frightened and uneasy, desperately pleaded: “Though I am a deer and merely a lowly beast, I am nonetheless willing to face death without turning back or regretting it. I earnestly beg you to grant me a period of time. I will surely return as promised. How could I dare to defy your command? When people receive retribution for their evil deeds, they merely pray for vain blessings and in doing so, plant further karmic seeds. If I return, my children will survive. If I remain here, the children will surely die. I beg you to let me return. When the time comes, I will come back. Heaven believes my words. My death is of no importance—how could I ever violate my solemn vow? Because I care deeply for my two children, I plead with you again and again. My children have just been born. If they cannot receive their mother’s guidance, they will each perish. I would rather endure the pain of this death and separation, in order to preserve the lives of my children and thus bring an end to the vast and unceasing suffering of countless lifetimes.””
The mother deer bowed her head and cried mournfully, and spoke this verse:
“I am reborn in the body of a deer, Roaming and foraging through the forest.
Lowly by nature, clinging to this body, unable to bear hunger and surrender to death.
Today I’ve fallen into your snare, and should rightly suffer the pain of blade and trap.
Do not pity my foul and filthy body, but grieve instead for my two children.
It is because in former lives, I was violent and insincere by nature,
Unbelieving in the bitter truth of birth and death, though the retribution of karma is plain to see.
Those who do evil surely reap evil. Today I suffer the form of a beast.
If I can survive for but a moment longer, still I would not dare to break my vow.”
Upon hearing the mother deer’s plea, the hunter was deeply astonished. But because he coveted the immediate benefit at hand, he was still unwilling to let the deer go. He reproached the deer, saying: “You are cunning and changeable by nature. These empty, extravagant, and endlessly deceitful words make you untrustworthy. You are of a violent and invasive kind, knowing only how to violate what others have cultivated. Because of your evil karma, you were reborn among the beasts. Now that you have fallen into the snare I have laid, you should be slaughtered to provide the king with fine cuisine. Do not utter more lies—you only want to deceive me in order to escape. In truth, you merely value your own life and fear death. Who would willingly offer their own life? Even when people run out of food, they cannot keep their promised time of return—how much less so with beasts and wild animals? To preserve life and escape death—how could there be any return day? You should prepare to die now—I will never let you go.”
At this moment, the mother deer, recalling her two young ones, was stricken with anxiety. She knelt on her front legs, lowered her head, wept with flowing tears, and cried out in deep sorrow. Once more, she spoke in verse:
“Though I am reborn in the body of a deer, and do not understand the great path of human virtue,
How could I, having received kindness from another, then leave and not return again?
I would rather endure the pain of torn flesh and bone, than harbor the slightest falsehood in my heart.
Grieving over my two children in utmost sorrow, I beg you to grant a brief moment of time.
The evil deeds of former lives naturally bring retribution, thus I am now born in the body of a beast.
People do not believe in karmic cause and effect, but disaster and misfortune inevitably manifest upon them.
Thus they must bear their own retribution. If one wishes to be freed from the form of a beast,
One must show their heart and liver, speak with full sincerity. I wish you would hear me re-declare my vow:
If in this world there are such evil beings, who beat and cast out bhikṣu saṃgha,
Who destroy stūpas and monasteries, who kill those who uphold the precepts,
Who rebel against Heaven and defy the path, who harm their fathers, mothers, brothers, wives, and children—
If I fail to return, then my sin exceeds even these evil ones.
Even if one commits the gravest sins in the world, so that until the end of the kalpa, their disasters are not exhausted,
And they fall into hell to be repeatedly burned and boiled, and pass through innumerable kalpas before returning to this world—
One can imagine how deep and terrible such suffering would be, endless agony without beginning or end—
If I do not return, then my sin is greater than all of these evil ones.”
At this time, the hunter, upon hearing again the words of the mother deer, felt a solemn reverence arise in his heart. He then sighed and said: “What I have seen is that worldly people, because they carry blessings from former lives, are now born as humans. Yet they are foolish, deluded, and benighted, betraying kindness, cold and unfeeling, disloyal and unfilial, lacking trust, devoid of compassion, greedy for gain, cruel and violent, without righteousness. They preserve themselves through deceit and disguise, and they do not honor the Three Jewels. But though this deer is only a beast, its words are sincere. Again and again it kneels, bows, and swears oaths, and its honesty surpasses that of humans. The genuine feeling revealed by its sincere heart is this clearly evident. Let me open my eyes and see—let me test whether its words are true, and discern its heart.” So, the hunter went and untied the snare. After agreeing with the deer upon the time of return, he let the mother deer go.
The mother deer, once freed from the snare, departed. With her heart fixed on her children, she ran swiftly until she reached them. The mother deer lowered her head, sniffed the scent of her young, and licked their bodies. Joy and sorrow surged together; she hesitated and lingered. She wept, cried out in grief, and sighed, then spoke the following verse:
“All love and affection, when meeting, arise from the conditions of causes and unions.
Yet all meetings must face parting, for impermanence and change allow nothing to endure.
In this life I am your mother, but I fear I cannot long preserve myself.
To be born in this world is to live in fear, life is like dew on morning grass.”
After the mother deer finished reciting her verses, she led her two young ones into the depths of the forest and marshlands, teaching them how to distinguish edible crops and suitable water grass. She admonished, instructed, and guided them in the ways of survival. The moment she thought about the impending separation from her children, and that the two little ones would soon become orphans, tears fell like rain, and she cried out in deep sorrow, evoking grief in others. The mother deer spoke her farewell in verse:
“In past lives I acted deceitfully, all because I was attached to love and affection, and thus became burdened with karmic debts.
I cruelly took the lives of sentient beings, not only plundering myself, but teaching others to kill as well.
The karma created through physical acts follows like a shadow, and today I must receive its retribution.
Once this retribution ends, I will no longer commit further evil. I shall certainly return, and fulfill the appointed time.
Because in previous lives I disobeyed Buddha and did not believe in Dharma, and my words and deeds went against the teachings, I disobeyed the instructions of my master,
And clung greedily to my own possessions. I indulged in love and obsession, and acted wantonly in delusion.
Because of this, I suffer karmic punishment—reborn as a beast, becoming food for humans.
Even if my body is chopped into pieces, I dare not utter resentment.
Even if life ends, I will not again resort to lies.
Because I gave rise to greedy desires, my actions deviated from the path of righteousness.
In past lives, I killed and plundered—thus each rebirth as a beast has been due to the pursuit of karmic retribution.
Bound by the knots of cause and effect,I now must face death. My heart is filled with dread, and my spirit is drained.
Fortunately, I recognize the teachings of the Three Jewels—That is what allowed me to be released and to fully express the love between mother and children.
This morning, through carelessness, I fell into the hunter’s trap. I was about to be slaughtered and torn to pieces.
Because I held concern for you in my heart, I begged the hunter to let me return. Today I go to meet death.
Pity only the two orphans, who must henceforth survive on your own.
In the future, when you walk, you must stay within the group. When you stop and rest, you must do so among the herd.
When foraging, go with companions. When lying down, remain alert. At the slightest sound, rise quickly.
Never wander off alone. When eating and drinking, stay near the edge of the path.
All that I should say, I have now said. From this moment forward, we part forever. I go now to die, never to return again.”
After saying these verses, the mother deer parted with her two children by death. She looked back again and again, filled with deep longing and reluctance to part. She lowered her neck, raised her head, and let out a mournful, sorrowful cry, then, in a state of despair, turned and departed. The two fawns cried and wept, sobbing in grief. Their hearts, full of attachment and yearning for their mother, compelled them to follow after her, but they soon found themselves without the strength to continue. Thus, with cries of sorrow, they spoke in verse:
“We are attached and clinging to this love and affection.
Why, having just come into the world, born as mother and children,
Do we now, in this lowly beast form, become orphans? Why must mother give up her life, and vanish into this end?
We yearn for a mother’s love, our hearts are shattered in grief. We plead to die together with mother.
Since the day we were born, we have not yet knownW the east and the west.
In light of mother’s compassion, we too must repay the kindness of her milk and nurturing.
How could we endure this long separation by death, this eternal loss?
In thinking of the suffering mother bears for us, we too should not merely live on alone, seeking to preserve our own lives.
We lack the blessings, and thus bear the form of beasts.
Protection is weak, and calamity arrives thus. All of this originates from deluded confusion, and so in this life we prematurely fall into abandonment.
All who are born must die, whether early or late, one must face it.
Today’s desperate plight, we shall face together with mother.”
When the mother deer heard the verses of her children, her heart was overwhelmed with sorrow and grief. She bowed her head and wept aloud, mourning and lamenting, turning her head to look back. She cried out mournfully and said to her children: “Do not come any closer. If I give up my life, it can protect you from an untimely death. Better that I alone be taken, than for both mother and children to be slain together. If I die, I do so willingly. I only grieve that you are not yet grown and understanding. The affairs of the world are impermanent and ever-changing. All things must eventually part. I myself have a thin destiny, but I pity you, for upon being born, you have no one to protect you. Why are you in sorrow? It is merely the futile increase of suffering and distress. You should quickly turn back. Today I go to repay the debts I owe.” The mother deer once more let out a cry and addressed her children in verse:
“In past lives I clung to love and affection, so in this life I suffer
The lowly form of a beast. All who are born must die. Without liberation, this great affliction will not end.
Only by controlling the mind, and abandoning even a single thought of craving, can one attain great peace.
I would rather die with honesty and sincerity, than deceive again and cling to this perilous life.”
After the fawns heard their mother’s verses, their sorrow and attachment grew even deeper. The two children cried out mournfully and tearfully, and together they made their way to the place where the snare had been set. They looked around in all directions, searching, until they saw the hunter lying beneath a tree. The mother deer walked up to his side. In order to wake him, the mother deer lowered her head and, in a loud voice, spoke in verse:
“I fell into the trap, and was separated from my children. Only because of the sincerity in my heart was I granted release.
Even if it means ending this life of a beast, I do not dare delay a moment in returning to face the blade and slaughter.
The deer you once released has now returned to meet death.
Because of your kindness to me, a lowly beast, I was able to see my children again,
To bid them farewell, and guide them in recognizing water and grass. I expressed to them the pain in my heart, a sorrow beyond all words,
And now I hold no regrets. Remembering your kindness, I do not dare betray the trust you placed in me.”
At that moment, the hunter awoke in alarm, having heard the mother deer’s voice—so sincere in its vow. A sense of reverence stirred within him, and a feeling of compassion arose from deep inside his heart. Before he could speak, the mother deer had already knelt upon her two front legs, lowered her head, and once again expressed her gratitude with the following verse:
“O kind one, You released me earlier. Your great virtue exceeds Heaven and Earth.
That lowly deer children were granted mercy and nurture, my gratitude overflows beyond control.
All things in the world are impermanent and ever-changing. I now joyfully go to fulfill my vow by dying,
To end this karma through my own extinction. The knot of resentment entangled with all sentient beings shall be severed from this point onward.
Your kindness and mercy I can never forget. With heart full of gratitude, how could I dare betray my vow?
Even if I spoke ten thousand words of thanks, It would still fall short of repaying your mercy.
I can only offer these sincere admonitions so that good fortune may naturally come to you.
Today I willingly accept death, and offer this body to the benevolent one.”
The hunter, moved by the mother deer’s sincerity, felt as if he were in a dream. Hearing again the mother deer’s verses—each phrase filled with subtle beauty—he grew even more convinced that the mother deer had truly come to die, in complete alignment with her vow. The mother, her two fawns—grieving, crying—had all come here, one after another, in search of the trap site. He thought to himself: “This deer is certainly not of common kind. When I look at the people of the world, even those with knowledge and understanding do not compare to her. Though she has the body of a beast, her heart is like that of a divine being. And I have long been cruel and unkind. Yet this beast holds firmly to righteousness, speaks truthfully, and honors promises. Truly, she is a model of light and virtue—one worthy of bows and reverence! Who could still harbor thoughts of harming or attacking her?” At that moment, the hunter became even more solemn and respectful toward the mother deer. With reverent language, he released her and spoke this verse:
“The divine deer holds true to her vow, comparable to Heaven itself. She utters her oath, and raises a great resolve.
Today I am both fearful and moved—How could I dare oppose the will of Heaven, or harm such a divine being?
I would rather take my own life, even part from wife and children,
Than bear the thought of lifting a hand against one born from Heaven.”
After reciting the verse, the hunter—now filled with compassion—released the mother deer, and repeatedly declined her attempts to express thanks. He turned inward, overcome by remorse and self-reproach. When the mother deer saw that the hunter had released her, she returned to her children. The fawns, upon seeing their mother alive and well, were invigorated. They ran swiftly toward her, leaping and bounding with joy, and let out moving cries. Mother and children were reunited again, rejoicing in uncontainable happiness. Lowering and lifting their heads, they called out with gentle bleats. The mother deer deeply felt that her survival was entirely due to the immense kindness of the hunter. She raised her head again and, in verse, expressed her gratitude:
“This lowly beast was born into the world, meant to serve as slaughter for the kitchen—
Instantly to be cut into pieces, cooked, and eaten. Yet because I asked to see my children, I was granted mercy and spared.
Heaven holds a heart of compassion—and you, too, will surely be blessed with mercy and return to the place you truly belong.
The merit and virtue you have gained shall bring forth boundless protection. This cannot be fully expressed through mere words alone.”
After the mother deer finished her verses of gratitude, she led her two children and returned deep into the forest. The deer herd called out with long, gentle cries, whistling and calling to one another. They traveled together like drifting clouds, at times settling in marshy grasslands, at times resting peacefully amid towering mountains. From behind, the hunter spoke from the depths of his heart: “Deer are merely beasts, and yet, by keeping their word and acting with righteousness and virtue, they were able to protect themselves. In the very moment of giving up life, they saved themselves. All those who witnessed this scene could not help but offer praise. And yet why was my heart filled with such cruelty?”
At that moment, the hunter became awakened. His heart turned toward compassion and kindness. He put down his bow and crossbow, destroyed his traps, and no longer harbored thoughts of killing. He went to a monastery and earnestly sought an audience with the śramaṇas. Kneeling and bowing, with his forehead touching the ground, he personally took refuge and confessed the deeds he had committed in the past. The hunter received a compassionate discourse and faithfully practiced the true Dharma. The hunter then went to the king and fully recounted all the words the mother deer had spoken. Upon hearing the hunter’s account, the king was filled with joy and astonishment. He exclaimed: “Deer, though mere beasts, speak of righteousness and virtue, while I have again and again been greedy and violent. Moreover, this deer possesses deep and vast wisdom, its words and teachings express meaning clearly, and it reveres the Three Jewels. Yet my people are benighted and ignorant, listening to the deceitful words of demons, and have committed acts of harm. Now, only by sincerely renouncing such things can lasting preservation be achieved. I will issue a proclamation throughout the land, so that none remain unaware: even beasts can act with righteousness and virtue. This now has credible confirmation. The teachings of the great path truly manifest everywhere!”
Thus the king immediately summoned his ministers for an assembly and proclaimed to his people: “In the past, I was muddled and unable to discern truth from falsehood. Misled by evil teachers, I revered false gods. The sacrifices to demons and monsters involved slaughtering sentient beings, lacking all righteousness—less even than deer beasts, who recognize and honor the Three Jewels. From this day forward, I shall lead the people of the entire nation to abandon all those wicked and demonic doctrines and wholly turn toward the correct and true path. We shall go to the Buddhist temples and request the virtuous and noble Saṅgha to offer their teachings and guidance. It is my hope that in future lives, lasting blessings and good fortune may be attained.”
From then on, all—whether ministers, officials, or commoners, regardless of status—placed faith in the Three Jewels, upheld the Five Precepts and practiced the Ten Virtuous Deeds. In three years, the nation was prosperous and at peace. The people, relying on the teachings revealed by the divine deer, corrected their course and followed the true path. As a result, they received blessings, enjoyed long life, and lived in happiness.”
The Buddha said to the venerable Ānanda: “Throughout countless kalpas, I have employed skillful means and methods to bestow kindness and aid, so as to deliver sentient beings. These beings then come to develop such faith. At that time, the mother deer was my former body; the two fawns were the former bodies of Rāhula and Upamāna; the king at that time was the former body of Śāriputra; and the hunter at that time was the former body of Ānanda. As for the one who whispered wicked and demonic words to mislead the king, that was the former body of Devadatta.”
At that time, after the Buddha finished speaking, from his deer-like calf muscles he emitted great radiance, which illuminated the east, west, south, and north, reaching the outermost boundaries in all four directions and extending across a thousand Buddha-lands in each of the ten directions. Wherever the radiance reached, lion thrones and jeweled lotus flowers manifested. Upon those seats, he appeared in various forms: at times as a Dharma-preaching bhikṣu, at times as a monarch, at times as a nobleman’s son, at times as a lowly commoner, and at times as a beast among the multitudes. Each of these manifestations emitted light to guide, tame, and expound the Dharma. In each place, they were speaking about the merit of the mother deer who kept her vow, and using it as a Dharma teaching. The sound of Dharma entered people’s hearts. There was not a single one who did not believe and accept it. All who heard turned toward the unsurpassed true path. The Buddha then drew back the light, which shone across the entire Jambudvīpa world, thoroughly illuminating it. All who were touched by that light gave rise to thoughts of peace and security in their hearts.
At that moment, within the great assembly were eight hundred bhikṣus who aspired toward the Four Fruitions of Śrāvakayāna. When they heard that even a mother deer, while in the body of a beast, had given rise to a great resolve and, through sincerity, had attained the true path—they were moved and transformed. Immediately, they awakened to self-reflection and remorse. They came before the Buddha and said: “We wish to establish vows and pursue the path of the Bodhisattva. May the Buddha show us compassion and aid us in attaining true benefit. We shall certainly take up the responsibility and burden of rescuing all sentient beings, never abandoning them, even unto death.” At that very moment, they were clothed in the sajnāha-sajnaddha, the Great Vow-Adorned Armor.
At that time, Ānanda arranged his robe, knelt on both knees, and said to the World-Honored One: “These bhikṣus previously were confused about the Great Vehicle and could not accept the true Dharma. Now they have received the Buddha’s confirmation and testimony, their hearts have awakened, they’ve escaped the abyss and crossed the pit—how swift and marvelous this is! Truly, such things cannot be believed or understood by those of the Lesser Vehicle. There are those in the assembly who harbor doubts. May the World-Honored One speak of the cause and conditions, so that future assemblies may gain understanding and clarity.”
The Buddha said: “Excellent, Ānanda, excellent indeed. This arises not from your present questioning, but from the insight of your past lives now bearing fruit. These bhikṣus were formerly the people of the land where the mother deer once wandered. They received the king’s edict, believed in, revered, and followed the Three Jewels. Moreover, they were transformed by the mother deer, and thus became willing to accept the unsurpassed true path. But later, having grown dull and unaware, they ceased to cultivate. Though they have met me again in this life and entered the monastic path, they abandoned their original aspiration, and thus became confused in the Mahāyāna. Now, upon hearing the full account of past events, the knot within their hearts has been untied, and they have attained the peace and security of no-thought. This is all the effect of recognition arising from previous lives.”
While the Buddha was expounding this teaching, all eight hundred bhikṣus attained avaivartika. Among the Dharma-protecting deities, eight thousand of them, upon hearing this testimony, attained clarity in their hearts, eliminated lax conduct, and all gave rise to the aspiration to pursue the unsurpassed true path. Upon hearing the profoundly faith-inspiring teachings, they immediately entered into the peaceful and thought-free concentration. Altogether, seven hundred and twenty million devas, nāgas, and humans gave rise to the resolve to seek the supreme, true, and correct path.
The Buddha said to Ānanda: “In former lives, even when I was in the body of a beast, I did not forget the great compassionate mind of the Bodhisattva, to guide and benefit sentient beings. Even now, I toil endlessly and tirelessly solely for the sake of all beings. Even if there remains but a single person who has lost their original nature and is drowning in the currents of the world, not yet rescued—I will never abandon or forsake them. All who wish to obtain peace, merit, and swiftly attain Buddhahood, must do so entirely from within—truly and sincerely place faith, and take refuge in the Three Jewels, life after life without ever forgetting. Just as I now manifest nirvāṇa, all of this arises from sincerity. Ānanda, you must accept, uphold, and recite this sūtra, and widely proclaim it. Do not allow it to be lost or destroyed.”
Dharma Torch 