Dharma Torch

Seven Parables Concerning Arhats

(Sixty-four)

In former times, the Buddha sent Śāriputra westward to the splendid Buddha-land of the Buddha Vipaśyin to ask that Buddha three questions: “Is the Buddha’s body in good health? Can He expound the Dharma in the usual way? Are those who receive the Dharma progressing?” Śāriputra, relying on the Buddha’s majestic spiritual power, went there and asked exactly as instructed. That Buddha replied, “All is well.”
At that time, that Buddha was preaching the Dharma gate of Avinivartanīya for Bodhisattvas who had reached the Seventh Stage. Śāriputra, having heard it, returned. His countenance shone, and his manner of walking surpassed that of the past. The Buddha asked Śāriputra, “Why is it that after going there, you are so light of step and joyful?” Śāriputra said to the Buddha, “It is as if a person in a poor household, suffering hunger and cold, were to obtain a treasure as great as Mount Sumeru—how could he not rejoice?” The Buddha said, “Very good.” Śāriputra said, “When I reached that land, I heard that Buddha explain the profound principles of Avinivartanīya; thus I leaped for joy and could not restrain myself.” The Buddha said, “Excellent, as you have said.”

The Buddha then said to Śāriputra, “It is like a great elder, a great kulapati, who regards only pure gold and jewels as his treasures. When sweeping his household, he casts away copper, iron, lead, and tin into the refuse heap. A poor man, seeing this, joyfully picks them up and takes them home, saying, ‘I have obtained much of the kulapati’s treasure.’ But are these truly the kulapati’s treasures?” Śāriputra replied, “They are not.” The Buddha said to Śāriputra, “What you have heard is like that poor man. What that Buddha spoke of was the matters of the Bodhisattvas of the Ten Stages, and the pure Dharma of confessing and expiating offenses. What you heard is not worth mentioning.”

Śāriputra was greatly grieved and said, “I thought I had obtained treasure, but it is merely like lead or tin.”

When Śāriputra told of this matter, countless beings gave rise to the unsurpassed and equal mind of the Way, and countless beings attained the stage of Avinivartanīya.

(Sixty-five)

In former times, the great Maudgalyāyana was sitting beneath a tree and, using the divine eye, tried to observe. He beheld eight thousand Buddha-lands, and thus he thought to himself, “What the Tathāgata can see is surely not greater than what I see.” So he strode forth toward the Buddha with the majestic gait of a lion.

The Buddha then admonished Maudgalyāyana, saying, “You are a Śrāvaka disciple—why is it that today you walk with the lion’s gait?”

audgalyāyana replied to the Buddha, “I can see eight thousand Buddha-lands in the eight directions. I thought that what Buddha sees is not more than what I see; thus I walked with the lion’s gait.” The Buddha said, “Well done, Maudgalyāyana, for your vision is indeed so vast and far-reaching!”

The Buddha said to Maudgalyāyana, “It is like lighting a lamp—the lamp’s light is far inferior to the light of a precious jewel. What I behold is such that in the ten directions there are as many Buddha-lands as there are sands in ten Ganges Rivers, and in each grain of sand there is a Buddha-land, and within each I can see all that is therein. There are those descending from the Tuṣita Heaven into their mothers’ wombs, there are those already born, there are those who have gone forth from home to cultivate, there are those subduing evil Māras, there are those receiving encouragement and assistance from Śakra and Brahmā, there are those turning the Dharma wheel to teach the Dharma to all beings, there are those about to enter parinirvāṇa, and there are those who have already entered parinirvāṇa, whose bodies are being cremated and relics gathered. Beings of such kinds are beyond calculation, and with my eyes I see them all.”

At that moment, from between the Buddha’s white eyebrows there shone forth light, illuminating above; light radiated from His body, pervading and shining upon eight directions; light radiated from beneath His feet, illuminating thousands upon thousands of Buddha-lands below. Instantly, the Buddha-lands of the ten directions quaked six times, and the great light met no obstruction.
At that time Maudgalyāyana, standing before the Buddha, beheld the Buddha-lands along the countless Ganges Rivers—so many that they could not be reckoned—and within them all the scenes exactly as the Buddha had described. He then stepped forward and asked the Buddha, “What is now displayed—are these the Buddha-lands You just spoke of, as numerous as the sands of ten Ganges Rivers?” The Buddha said to Maudgalyāyana, “Because you did not believe, I spoke only a little. What was shown now is nothing compared to what I actually saw.”

Hearing these words, Maudgalyāyana immediately threw himself to the ground, weeping aloud like the collapse of a great mountain, and cried, “I had once remembered that the Buddha had such merit and virtue, yet now I have been so deluded! Am I to fall into the great hells? And if the Buddha were to enter parinirvāṇa, even after a hundred kalpas I would not obtain the fruition of Arhatship!” Maudgalyāyana then addressed the entire assembly, saying, “The Buddha once said that I am foremost in miraculous powers, but it is truly not worthy of praise; the merit I have cultivated cannot even behold clearly what the Buddha has just described—how much less so for those who have not yet attained fruition! When arousing the mind to practice, one should have the aspiration of the Buddha. Do not imitate me and become a withered seed.”

All the nāgas, devas, spirits, and humans in the assembly, innumerable beyond counting, all gave rise to the unsurpassed and equal mind of the Way. Those who gave rise to the great mind of the Way at once attained the stage of Avaivartika; those who had already attained non-retrogression all reached the stage of Avinivartanīya.

(Sixty-six)

In former times there was a nāga king named Bhati, whose majestic power and spiritual might were vast, and could be felt by many living beings. Yet his temper was violent, and he often acted with cruelty, gathering nāgas together to stir up unlawful storms, thunder, and hail; he slew people, birds, beasts, and insects, committing countless offenses.

There was a venerable group of ten thousand Arhats who together discussed the matter: “Even killing one person causes one to fall into hell for a whole kalpa, and a hundredfold repayment of life would still not be enough to settle the debt. Now this nāga has slaughtered living beings beyond reckoning. If it continues without stopping, it will be difficult to save. Let us go together to admonish it.” When the Buddha heard of this, he praised them, saying, “Excellent! You have gone forth from home to cultivate the Way and seek Buddhahood in order to rescue all living beings in distress and to deliver those who have committed evil—this is most heartening and is repaying the kindness of your teacher.”

At that time the Arhats discussed among themselves: “Our strength alone is insufficient. We need ten thousand to go together.” So they went one by one in turn, yet each who approached was struck by disaster and injured, unable to draw near to the nāga, and thus returned. They then said, “Since going alone cannot subdue it and bring it to goodness, we should rely on the combined merit and power of ten thousand together.” So they went again. But the nāga unleashed wind and rain, thunder and lightning, hail and storm; the ten thousand were struck with fear and did not know what to do, and were shamed and driven back.

Ānanda said to the Buddha, “This nāga has slaughtered so many people and animals, its sins are beyond reckoning. Now it has again cast hail to frighten ten thousand Arhats, drenching their robes so they were soaked like those drowned—its offenses are immeasurable.”

At that time the Buddha was on Gṛdhrakūṭa Mountain with ten thousand Bodhisattvas and ten thousand Arhats. The Buddha went to another mountain, to the place where the nāga dwelt. The nāga, in anger, roused violent rain, fierce thunder, hail, and lightning. One hailstone it cast was four hundred feet in size; if it fell to the ground it would sink four feet deep, and it sought to harm the Buddha and the assembly of Bodhisattvas.

But as the hailstone fell, it stopped in mid-air and turned into heavenly flowers. The Buddha emitted light, illuminating sky and earth. The hunters in the mountains had been caught in black storm clouds and torrential rain, and in the darkness lost their way, not knowing east from west. Over ten thousand hunters gathered together and, following the light, came to the Buddha. The nāga then hurled a lightning-struck boulder four hundred feet in size; if it fell to the ground it would sink four feet deep. Yet above the Buddha it merged with the heavenly flowers and became a jeweled canopy. The hailstones and stones hurled by the lesser nāgas, each ten feet in size, also became thus.

Before, all the Arhats had feared to approach when the nāga made storm; but now they came near to the Buddha. The nāga , seeing the hail and stones in the clouds transformed into a canopy suspended without falling, thought to itself, “I shall coil my body tightly, make myself four hundred feet in size, and strike down upon the heads of the Buddha and the Arhats.” At once it dove down, but missed, and instead struck the ground, its body in great pain, lying there for a long time. Lifting its head and opening its eyes, it looked up at the Buddha and said, “All I have done has failed to go as I wished; surely you are a most supreme and unsurpassed divine person.” The rest of the small nāgas also rushed down, but could do nothing.

At that time the nāga’s life came to an end, and it was reborn as a deva; the lesser nāgas also died then and were reborn as devas. They all descended from the heavens and came before the Buddha. The Buddha asked Ānanda, “Do you know from where this deva has been reborn?” Ānanda said, “I do not know.” The Buddha said, “Just now, when the nāgas were committing evil, you said their offenses were beyond measure; yet they, having fallen to the ground, gave rise to even the slightest wholesome thought, recognizing the Buddha’s supreme worth, and thus at the end of life they were reborn in the heavens. That is how it was.” The deva, hearing the Buddha’s words, together with the other devas, brought forth the unsurpassed and equal mind of the Way. At that time the hunters came from the mountains to the Buddha, each reflecting, “If even this nāga, with its great crimes, can obtain liberation, then the beings I have killed are little in comparison.” They wished to arouse the aspiration for the Way, but still held some hesitation.

The Buddha said to Ānanda, “These ten thousand Arhats wished to deliver beings with various offenses, yet their strength was not sufficient. Without me, they would surely have been overcome by the nāga; not only would they fail to deliver evil beings, but they would increase evil themselves. To deliver living beings, one should first enter dhyāna and then deliver them. What you cannot deliver, the Tathāgata can deliver.” At that time the hunters, hearing this, also gave rise to the unsurpassed and equal mind of the Way. All devas, nāgas, and humans present in the assembly heard the Buddha’s discourse, and all attained Avaivartika.

In former times, the nāga king Bhati and Śākyamuni Buddha were both brāhmaṇas. At that time Bhati had ten thousand disciples. When these disciples saw that Śākyamuni’s virtue and talent surpassed all, they abandoned their former teacher and followed Śākyamuni instead. Bhati harbored resentment, and because of this offense was reborn as a nāga. After Śākyamuni became a Buddha, he universally saved beings; the ten thousand disciples all attained the fruition of Arhatship. The nāga’s evil desires grew all the stronger, bringing harm everywhere. The ten thousand disciples, out of compassion for it, went to save it. Because the nāga had once been their teacher, though they had perfected the four fruits, still they were shamed by the nāga. If they had been Bodhisattvas, even had the nāga wished to harm them, it would not have dared.

(Sixty-seven)

In former times there was a certain country, populous with men and women, young and old, yet all of them engaged in evil deeds. They were fierce, impatient, violent, and difficult to teach or transform.The Buddha, leading his disciples, came to its neighboring country. Five hundred Arhats there were haughty and self-assured. The great Maudgalyāyana stepped forward and said to the Buddha, “I wish to go to that country and transform its people.” The Buddha permitted him to go. Maudgalyāyana went there to expound the Dharma, saying, “You should do good. If you commit all manner of evil deeds, the karmic offenses will be beyond reckoning.” But the people of the whole country beat and cursed him, refusing to heed his words, and so he had no choice but to return. Śāriputra said to Maudgalyāyana, “When teaching and transforming others, one should employ wisdom, yet you used no wisdom and so suffered slander.”
Śāriputra then said to the Buddha, “I wish to go there to exhort and deliver the people.” The Buddha permitted him. Śāriputra went to teach the Dharma and explain the precepts, but the people still refused to listen or put it into practice; instead they spat upon and reviled him. Mahākāśyapa and other venerable disciples, in all five hundred, went in turn, but they too could not deliver the people, and were all treated with contempt and insult.
Ānanda said to the Buddha, “The people of that country are evil, unwilling to receive good instruction, and constantly slander and insult others. To insult a single Arhat is no small offense—how much greater is the offense of rejecting the wholesome teachings of so many, such that their sins will be heavy indeed, so great that even empty space could not contain them.” The Buddha said, “Although their offenses are deep, in the eyes of a Bodhisattva they are seen as no offense at all.”
The Buddha then sent Mañjuśrī to deliver them. Upon arriving at the capital of that country, Mañjuśrī at once praised them, saying, “How delightful are the deeds of you worthy people!” When he came before the king, he also praised him to his face. Whether to the old or the young, he let each one know, “This one is brave and strong; this one is benevolent, righteous, and filial; this one is bold and wise.” Wherever he went, he spoke in accord with the people’s hearts, praising them; they were overjoyed, saying, “This great one’s words are marvelous—he understands our aims and integrity. How pleasing it is!” All took gold, jewels, fragrant flowers, and scattered them over the Bodhisattva’s head. They also brought fine cotton cloth, brocaded garments, sweet and crisp fruits, and delicious foods to offer to him. All gave rise to the unsurpassed and equal mind of the Way.
Mañjuśrī then said to the people, “Your offering to me is not as good as offering to my teacher. My teacher is called the Buddha. You may come with me to make offerings to him; your merit will be doubled and without limit.” They rejoiced greatly and followed Mañjuśrī to the Buddha. The Buddha spoke the Dharma for them, and they at once attained the Avaivartika. The three-thousandfold great-thousand world quaked greatly; mountains, forests, and trees all voiced praise, exclaiming, “How skillful is Mañjuśrī in delivering beings!”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “Where now are the deep offenses?” The five hundred Arhats prostrated to the ground, tears flowing, and said, “The Bodhisattva’s majestic virtue and spiritual power is so skillful in teaching and transforming—how much more so the Tathāgata! By what means could it be described? We are withered seeds, of no benefit to any being at all.””

(Sixty-eight)

In former times, the Buddha was seated beneath a tree expounding the Dharma to countless beings. Among them, some attained the fruition of Srotāpanna, some attained Sakadāgāmin, some attained Anāgāmin, and some attained Arhatship—such persons were beyond reckoning.
At that time, however, the Buddha’s countenance lost its radiance, appearing as if sorrowful. Ānanda, understanding well the Buddha’s mind, knelt before Him and said, “I have served You with utmost reverence for eight years, and never have I seen Your venerable face lacking radiance as it is today. What is the cause of Your sorrow? Who has committed great offenses? Who has, by doing evil, fallen into hell? Who has turned away from the truth?”

The Buddha said to Ānanda, “It is like a merchant carrying many precious treasures worth tens of millions, journeying to a far place to trade for profit. On the way he meets robbers, loses all his treasures, is left naked in the road, and has no means to live—would you say such a one would be grieved or not?” Ānanda replied, “He would be deeply grieved.” The Buddha said, “From innumerable kalpas until now I have labored to cultivate the Way, wishing to deliver all beings so that they might all attain the Way and become Buddhas. Now that I have attained Buddhahood, yet not one has practiced merit to be delivered, I feel no joy, and my complexion has changed.”
Ānanda said, “But among the Buddha’s disciples, there are those who have attained Arhatship in the past, those who attain it now, and those who will attain it in the future—these are beyond counting. And those who have attained Anāgāmin, Sakadāgāmin, and Srotāpanna are also beyond reckoning. Why then do You say that none have practiced merit and been delivered?”

The Buddha said to Ānanda, “It is like an old man and old woman who have given birth to more than ten daughters—can they support the household?” Ānanda replied, “They cannot.” The Buddha said, “Though I have countless Arhats, they are all born from my Dharma and not my sons; they cannot sit beneath the Bodhi tree. Thus it is like daughters—though many, they must marry away, and the old man and old woman are left alone. I am thus the same.”

At that time the Buddha wept, and three tears fell, shaking the great-thousand world. Countless devas, nāgas, spirits, and humans all brought forth the unsurpassed, equal mind of the Way. The Buddha’s countenance at once became serene and joyful, emitting boundless light, changing in limitless ways, illuminating the four directions, brighter by many times than usual. All who saw the light were without exception delivered.

Ānanda said to the Buddha, “Why do You now emit such layers of radiance, with transformations so wondrous?” The Buddha said to Ānanda, “It is like an old man and old woman praying to heaven and earth to be granted a son; in their later years they gain a child who can uphold the household—how could they not rejoice and congratulate each other? Today, so many have brought forth the Mahāyāna mind, and I am overjoyed beyond measure—because I know that the seed of Buddhahood will not be cut off.”

The Buddha then sent the Bodhisattva Sumati to pass through as many Buddha-lands as the sands of six billion of Ganges Rivers, to bring from that Buddha-land lion thrones and food and drink. In the time it takes to stretch forth his arm, Sumati Bodhisattva returned. The high lion throne was adorned, and all were invited to the assembly. Those who had brought forth the unsurpassed, equal mind of the Way sat upon natural lion-thrones of thousand-petaled golden lotus flowers; some sat beneath jeweled canopies adorned with treasures; some sat beneath jeweled trees; various banners were raised, their poles made of the seven precious substances, their streamers made of heavenly brocade, their parasols made of heavenly silk.

The Buddha transformed the great-thousand world into a single bathing pool, whose surface was filled with lotus flowers of the seven treasures. The Buddha manifested various forms, now as a Bodhisattva, now as Śakra, now as Brahmā, now as the Four Great Heavenly Kings, performing great giving and offering to beings. Foods of every flavor were prepared, their fragrance reaching beings in the ten directions; all who smelled the aroma brought forth the unsurpassed, equal mind of the Way. The fragrance permeated their bodies and issued forth from their pores; those who smelled the fragrance from the pores of others likewise brought forth the unsurpassed, equal mind of the Way.

The Buddha-lands of the ten directions shook, boundless in number. The Buddha of each Buddha-land sent Bodhisattvas who were their left and right attendants to come and congratulate Śākyamuni, for the reason that so many people had brought forth the Bodhisattva mind. Some carried purple-gold lotus flowers, some carried maṇi-jewel lotus flowers, some carried bright moon-pearl lotus flowers; each held their lotus and scattered them upon the Buddha’s body. By the Buddha’s majestic virtue and spiritual power, the falling flowers merged into a single jeweled canopy, filling the countless Buddha-lands of the ten directions. The canopy emitted light, illuminating all Buddha-lands and even lighting the most obscure and hidden places.
In the hell realms, among hungry ghosts, birds, beasts, and domestic animals, all vowed to become Buddhas. The Buddha preached the Dharma to all present in the assembly; countless Bodhisattvas attained the Avinivartanīya stage, innumerable devas and humans attained the forbearance of the non-arising of dharmas, countless nāgas, spirits, and humans attained the Avaivartika stage, and all Bodhisattvas and monastic assemblies brought forth the unsurpassed, equal mind of the Way.

(Sixty-nine)

In former times there was a man, young and poor, who traveled to another country and there obtained a fruit of sweet taste, fragrant scent, beautiful color, and great size—a rarity in the world. He cherished it greatly, unwilling to taste it himself, thinking of his parents and wishing to bring it to them to eat. Thus, carrying the fruit, he set out to return to the country of Vaiśālī.
At that time it happened that the Buddha was entering the city, accompanied by Bodhisattvas and great disciples, going to the house of a certain elder to receive his offering of food. Before the young man reached home, the Buddha had already passed by. The young man placed the fruit at the spot where the Buddha had walked. Having never before seen the Buddha, he beheld the Buddha’s footprints, marked with the thousand-spoked wheel and shaped like the canopy of a parasol, their light and color changing unceasingly, with no flaw or break. He stopped to gaze, and could not gaze enough; in his heart he felt himself most fortunate, forgetting both sadness and joy. He thought, “If the footprints upon the ground are thus, how much more so the Buddha Himself? Surely this traveler will return; I should hold in hand the fruit I meant to give my parents, and wait here to present it to Him.”

The Buddha did not return at once, and the young man sat beside the footprints, weeping in sorrow. Passers-by asked him, “Why do you sit here with a fruit, sorrowful?” He replied, “I am guarding these supremely precious footprints, awaiting the return of the wondrous person, wishing to offer him this fruit and see his venerable form. I have not yet been granted my wish; my virtue is shallow, and I grieve.” Crowds gathered to watch, thinking him strange, saying he must be mad: “How can you know where the one who passed has gone? Will you just sit here?”

The Buddha, seated at the elder’s house, with the assembly of monks washed and seated in order, was served by the elder’s household with every fine dish prepared and set forth in abundance. The Buddha then, for the young man waiting by the roadside with the fruit, performed a remote dakṣiṇā. The elder, seeing this, thought, “Does the fact that the World-Honored One makes a dakṣiṇā for someone far away mean that the food we have offered is in some way lacking?”

The Buddha said to Ānanda, “The elder sets forth food in hope of receiving blessings. Though what is given is abundant, it is given with seeking mind. He has four kinds of fear, and is seeking nirvāṇa. That young man outside, holding the sweet fruit, has a single-minded heart with no other seeking, guarding my footprints, with a mind of kindness and compassion toward me, wishing only to present the fruit. Because of this, he has generated the great mind toward the Way, and so I now make dakṣiṇā for him from afar.”

The elder thought, “This man offers only a fruit, not fine and rare dishes, yet the Buddha praises his merit as most sublime. Though I am wealthy and have laid out abundant food, when I weigh the light and heavy of it, my blessings are less than his. I wish to serve and follow the Buddha to meet the young man.” The Buddha then rose and went to where the man guarded His footprints. The Bodhisattvas, disciples, elders, laymen, and the rest all followed. The man, seeing the Buddha from afar, His form wondrous and beautiful, His radiance surpassing sun and moon, at once came forward to welcome Him, bowed his head in reverence, and knelt to offer the sweet fruit. In that moment, he gave rise to the unsurpassed, equal mind of the Way.

The Buddha emitted light, its reach boundless, shaking the great-thousand world. In the ten directions, all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas instantly manifested their forms, appearing as in a mirror, without distance preventing their display. The Buddha accepted the sweet fruit and passed it on to the Buddhas of the ten directions, sending it throughout measureless realms. The Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, each extending from their Dharma robes a golden, radiant hand, emitted a billion rays of light. In each ray there naturally appeared a jeweled lotus-canopy and lion throne, upon which sat a Buddha or Bodhisattva, each holding a jeweled alms bowl to receive the fruit. Each received a fruit, and with miraculous transformations performed dakṣiṇā, just as Śākyamuni Buddha did in this world, illuminating the ten directions.

In the sky appeared gods and devas, filling the eight quarters and above and below without gap, all rejoicing together, marveling and praising. The Bodhisattvas of the Three Realms received offerings from devas and humans. The man who had offered the fruit realized the forbearance of the non-arising of dharmas. The Buddha gave him a prediction: “In the future you shall become a Buddha, named Fruit-Honored King, the Unsurpassed Right Enlightened One. Your Buddha-land shall be like the land of Amitābha” Once he heard the Tathāgata’a prediction, he become pure and abide in the Avinivartanīya stage. The elder layman and tens of thousands of others who turned their minds toward the Way all attained the stage of non-retrogression. Such is the Buddha’s vast and universal merit in delivering beings.

(Seventy)

In former times, the Buddha ascended to the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven to speak the Sūtras for His mother. At that time there was a deva whose life was nearing its end, and seven signs appeared: first, the radiance of his neck faded; second, the flowers of his head-ornament withered; third, his countenance changed; fourth, dust gathered on his garments; fifth, sweat arose beneath his arms; sixth, his body became thin; and seventh, he left his original seat.

He thought to himself, “When my life ends, my celestial throne, the seven-jeweled palace, the bathing pools, gardens, fruit trees, natural foods, and the company of many maidens skilled in music and dance, will all be abandoned. I will descend to the human realm and be reborn in the belly of a mangy sow in the country of Kuśinagara as her offspring.” Greatly distressed and sorrowful, he did not know what could be done to remove such a karmic fate. Another deva said to him, “The Buddha is here now, speaking Dharma for His mother. The Buddha is the deliverer of all beings of past, present, and future. Only the Buddha can free you from your offense.”

The deva went before the Buddha, bowed his head, and made obeisance. Before he could speak, the Buddha asked him, “All conditioned things are subject to impermanence; this is something you already know—why then do you grieve?” The deva said, “Although I know that heavenly bliss cannot last, I resent leaving my celestial throne to be born as a piglet to a mangy sow—this is why I worry. If I were to be reborn human, I would have no such concern.”

The Buddha said, “If you wish to avoid birth as a pig, you should undertake the Threefold Refuge. Recite, ‘Namo Buddha, Namo Dharma, Namo Saṅgha; I take refuge in the Buddha, I take refuge in the Dharma, I take refuge in the Saṅgha.’ Recite this three times daily.””

The deva followed the Buddha’s instruction, reciting the Threefold Refuge each morning and night. After seven days, his heavenly life ended, and he was reborn in the country of Vaiśālī as the son of an elder. Even while in his mother’s womb, he recited the Threefold Refuge daily. When he was born, he knelt at once and took refuge. His mother’s delivery was without the flow of lochia, and the maidservants attending her were frightened and fled; his mother, too, was astonished. The child, at birth, spoke words. The mother thought him a strange being and wanted to kill him, but then reflected, “If I kill the child because he is strange, the father will blame me. Better to tell the elder, and then decide.”

She carried the child to the elder and said, “I bore a son who, upon being born, knelt and folded his hands in reverence, reciting the Threefold Refuge. The whole household finds this strange and thinks him a monster.” The father said, “Silence! This child is surely no ordinary person. In this world, even those who live to a hundred years—or eighty or ninety—often do not know to take refuge in the Buddha, Dharma, and Saṅgha; how much more so for a newborn babe to chant ‘Namo Buddha’! Raise him well and never neglect him.”

As the boy grew, when he was nearly seven years old, he was playing by the roadside with companions. At that time the Buddha’s disciples Śāriputra and Mahāmaudgalyāyana happened to pass by. The boy came forward, bowed to their feet, and said, “Vandana! Śāriputra and Mahāmaudgalyāyana!”

The two were surprised that such a small child would greet bhikṣus with such reverence. The boy said, “Do you ascetics not recognize me? When the Buddha was in the heavens speaking Sūtra for His mother, I was a deva destined to be reborn as a pig. I followed the Buddha’s instruction, took refuge in the Three Jewels, and thus was able to be reborn human.”

The bhikṣus entered dhyāna and saw the truth of his words, and they blessed the boy, saying, “Cira­jīvita.” (Translator’s note: the original text gives the words “咨梨祇,” the meaning uncertain; but given that this was a blessing for the child, it may correspond to the Sanskrit word cira­jīvita, meaning “long life,” possibly rendered here in a form from a Central Asian language.)

The boy said to Maudgalyāyana and Śāriputra, “Please, by my words, invite the Buddha, all the Bodhisattvas, the Saṅgha, and yourselves as well.” They agreed. The boy returned home and said to his parents, “While playing just now, I met two of the Buddha’s disciples passing by, and I have invited them and the Fourfold Assembly to a meal. Please prepare delicious food.” The parents consented, amazed that one so young had set such a vast vow, and wondering that he knew his former lives. They prepared fine and rare delicacies, striving for utmost refinement, exceeding even the boy’s wishes.

The Buddha and the Saṅgha, each by their own merit, displayed miraculous powers and came to the boy’s home to partake of the meal. The entire household, young and old, served them, and after the offering was complete, perfumed water was brought for bathing, and all was done according to the Dharma. The Buddha then spoke the Sūtra for them; the parents, the child, and relatives near and far all attained the stage of Avaivartika. Such is the merit of taking refuge of one’s own accord—how much greater still for one who cultivates the Way all his life!