Dharma Torch

The original translator is unknown and is now cataloged in the Later Han records.

Chapter Five: Discussion

At that time, the Tathāgata for ninety days expounded the Dharma for his mother Lady Māyā and the hosts of devas, and in Jambudvīpa for ninety days no one knew where the Tathāgata was. Mahāmaudgalyāyana, foremost in supernatural power, exhausted all his supernatural power, yet searched through the ten directions and still did not know; Aniruddha, foremost in the heavenly eye, observed throughout the ten directions and the three thousand great thousand worlds, and still did not see; even the five hundred great disciples did not see the Tathāgata, and in their hearts they cherished sorrow and affliction. Great King Udayana, longing for the Tathāgata, kept grief and suffering in his heart, so he used ox-head candana wood to make an image in the form of the Tathāgata’s body, and bowed to it, attended it, offered to it, just as when the Buddha was in the world, without any difference.

At this time the king summoned all the six masters and asked by divination where the Tathāgata was. Then the six masters said: “Great King! You should know that the śramaṇa Gautama is precisely a magical illusion. The Dharma of magical transformation has no true substance in its original nature. Great King! You should know that our four Vedic scriptures say: ‘After a thousand years, after two thousand years, there will be a man of illusion appearing in the world.’ The śramaṇa Gautama is precisely this man.”

Then Aniruddha went to the king and told him, saying: “Great King! You should know that the Tathāgata is presently in Trāyastriṃśa Heaven, and after seven days he will return to Jambudvīpa.” When the king heard these words, in his heart he gave rise to joy, and proclaimed an order throughout the whole country to sweep clean, sprinkle water, and burn incense, to hang banners and canopies, to come forth competing and assembling together, to establish great offerings of all kinds of dishes and foods, flowers, incense, music and dance.

At this time the six masters saw the people assembling and establishing various offerings, and all kinds of dishes and foods. The six masters asked: “You people set up these offerings—do you intend to invite the king? The princes?” They answered: “No.” “If not thus, is it to invite the ministers? The Brahmin householders? If not thus, is it a family gathering?” They answered: “No. We intend to invite the Buddha.” The six masters asked: “Who is the Buddha?” They answered: “The All-knowing One.” Again they asked: “Who is the All-knowing One?” They answered: “Great Compassionate Father, do you not know? From the lineage of King White Purity, most noble and supreme, from the beginning of the kalpa down to now, generation after generation in direct succession, they became Wheel-turning Kings. In recent times for two generations they did not become Wheel-turning Kings, although not Wheel-turning Kings, they became Kings of Jambudvīpa. There were three brothers: the eldest was named King Pure Rice; the next younger brother was named King Fragrant Rice; the youngest was named King Nectar Rice. King Pure Rice had two sons: the elder was named Siddhārtha, the younger was named Nanda. King Fragrant Rice also had two sons: the elder was named Devadatta, the younger was named Ānanda. King Nectar Rice had one daughter, named Lady Nectar Flavor. At that time, the eldest brother, Prince Siddhārtha, went outside the city to view, and saw old age, sickness, and death. He became sorrowful and reflective, could not eat, grieved and thought upon how in human life there must always be such afflictions—whether noble or lowly, any embodied being cannot avoid these. Therefore that very night he fled from the palace city, practiced austerities beneath the Bodhi tree for six years, and then was able to accomplish All-knowing Wisdom. Therefore he is called the All-knowing One, who alone awakened to the Way and became a Buddha, complete with the Ten Powers, the Four Fearlessnesses, the Eighteen Unique Qualities, and even up to All-knowledge. After he was born for seven days, his mother’s life came to an end and she was born in Trāyastriṃśa Heaven. For ninety days the Buddha expounded the Dharma for his mother, and after another seven days he will return to Jambudvīpa.”

At that time, when the six masters heard these words, in their hearts they gave rise to jealousy, sorrow, resentment, and affliction. Immediately the six masters and their followers assembled together and discussed, saying: “If the śramaṇa Gautama returns to Jambudvīpa, then all the people will abandon us and go to make offerings to Gautama. We will be left desolate and poor, and we fear we will not be able to sustain ourselves.”

At this time the six masters again thought: “We should now quickly go before the great crowds of people and proclaim these words: ‘All of you should know! The śramaṇa Gautama in truth knows nothing. He is but a fledgling child who only recently came forth from the palace of the Śākya clan, and beneath the Bodhi tree he claimed himself to have attained All-knowing Wisdom. You should know that this is false speech. Why is this so? When King Agnidatta invited Gautama, the offering given was but horse-feed barley, and Gautama, not knowing it was vile food, still accepted the invitation. Therefore, you should know he is not All-knowing.’ Furthermore, we should ask Ānanda: ‘How many days remain of the rains retreat?’ Ānanda will say: ‘Seven days remain.’ Again we should ask Ānanda: ‘Why are there so many black crows calling in Jetavana?’ Ānanda will say: ‘The many birds are fighting for food; these birds after seven days of birth had their mother’s life end.’ Because of these matters, you should know he is a man of meager fortune marks, and also an extremely evil man. Why is this so? For after his birth he lost his mother. Moreover, he is not benevolent and filial, nor does he make offerings. Morning and evening, with provisions before his eyes, he instead cast them aside and entered the deep mountains. He is also a man without gratitude, for when his father the king married him to Gopī, he did not perform the rites of husband and wife, and caused Gautami to suffer great distress. Therefore, you should know he does not know gratitude nor remember gratitude. The śramaṇa Gautama’s followers have no distinction of superior or inferior. Five hundred disciples each one calls himself foremost. The teacher has no regulation, the disciples have no cultivation of practices. Even Dravya the bhikṣu, who manages trivial affairs, calls himself foremost; Śāriputra of sharp wisdom is also among them; Śuddhipanthaka of slow dullness is also among them; Yaśodharā the bhikṣuṇī of few desires is also among them; the woman of Śrāvastī, Lotus-color, of lust and misconduct, is also among them; the childish and ignorant boy Cunda is also among them; the very old Subhadra of one hundred and twenty years is also among them; the noble Śākya clan members are also among them; the most lowly dung-carrier of Rājagṛha is also among them. Therefore you should know that in Gautama’s Dharma there is mixture and confusion, with all competing to enter, and there is no superior or inferior, not worthy of reverence. It is like a great wind blowing together leaves of various trees, gathering them in one place—Gautama’s Dharma is also thus. It is like birds following after the clothing and food cast away by worldly men—the followers of Gautama likewise take and eat whatever comes. Why then do you people today wish to invite Gautama?”

When the crowd heard this, it was like the great earth, unshakable. The great assembly thirsted for the Tathāgata; though they heard the six masters say these words, their hearts were like vajra, without increase or decrease, thirsting for the Tathāgata as a parched man longs for the attainment of water.

After seven days the Tathāgata came down from heaven and descended to Jambudvīpa. Innumerable hundreds of thousands of devas followed the Tathāgata, radiating great light; through his supernatural power there were stirred heavenly music of hundreds of thousands of kinds. Even all the devas, all the nāgas, spirits, gandharvas, kiṃnaras, mahoragas, humans and non-humans, all the great assembly all gathered completely, bowing and making offerings. At that time Great King Udayana, with the great assembly surrounding him, went afar to welcome the Tathāgata, bowed his head and prostrated at his feet, then withdrew to stand at one side.

At this time the six masters with their followers assembled together and thought again: “Our decline and misfortune are now approaching. Though among the crowds we proclaimed these words, they were not believed and accepted. We should now once again go among the great assembly of devas and humans, and announce such words, so that it may be known that our purity is preserved.” Thus having thought, the six masters together with their eight thousand followers, surrounding before and behind, went toward the great assembly, and when they arrived they withdrew to sit at one side.

At that time there was a Gandharva’s son named Dhava-Mala, who played a seven-jeweled lute. He went before the Tathāgata, bowed his head and prostrated at his feet, then withdrew to stand at one side. He struck the instruments and sang with strings and voice, producing subtle and marvelous sounds—the tones were harmonious and elegant, delighting and pleasing the hearts of the multitude. The Śrāvakas, Pratyekabuddhas, and others, without being aware, moved their bodies and rose to dance, while Mount Sumeru surged, sank, rose, and fell.

At that time the Tathāgata entered the Samādhi of Marks, and by the power of samādhi made the sound of that lute be heard throughout the three thousand great thousand worlds. That sound fully proclaimed suffering, emptiness, impermanence, impurity, and non-self. The heedless beings, hearing this marvelous sound fully proclaiming how the Tathāgata knows gratitude and repays gratitude, for immeasurable, boundless asaṃkhyeya kalpas had practiced filial piety and nurtured his parents, all beings followed the sound and came to Jambudvīpa, going to where the Buddha was, bowing their heads and prostrating at his feet, then withdrawing to sit at one side.

At that time the great assembly gazed at the Tathāgata, their eyes not leaving him even for a moment. The Tathāgata then abided in samādhi in serene silence, and the whole assembly likewise remained in silence. In the midst of the assembly, a seven-jeweled stūpa arose from the earth, halting in midair. Innumerable banners were suspended upon it, and hundreds of thousands of jeweled bells, without being struck, themselves resounded. A subtle wind blew, bringing forth wondrous sounds.

At that time the assembly saw this jeweled stūpa rising up from the earth, and in their hearts gave rise to doubt: “For what cause and condition does this jeweled stūpa arise from the earth?” All the assemblies of Śrāvakas, Śāriputra and the rest, exhausted their minds in reflection and measurement, yet did not know. Even the Bodhisattva-Mahāsattvas dwelling in the Saha world, and even Maitreya Bodhisattva, did not know.

At that time the six masters thought: “Again, for what cause and condition is there this jeweled stūpa? If someone comes and asks me, and I do not know—if I do not know, then how could I still being called All-knowing and All-seeing?” Again they thought: “Why does Gautama not quickly explain this matter for the great assembly?”

At that time the Tathāgata emerged from samādhi. Śakro devānām indraḥ, Lord of the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven, then spread heavenly garments to prepare a lion seat. Then the Tathāgata ascended to that seat and sat cross-legged, like Mount Sumeru standing in the great ocean.

At that time Maitreya Bodhisattva observed the minds of the multitude and saw that all harbored doubt, and he himself also did not understand. He rose from his seat, went before the Buddha, bowed his head and prostrated at his feet, joined his palms together and spoke to the Buddha, saying: “World-Honored One! For what cause and condition has this jeweled stūpa arisen from the earth?”

The Buddha told Maitreya Bodhisattva: “In the past, in inconceivable asaṃkhyeya kalpas long ago, there was a Buddha who appeared in the world, whose name was Vipaśyin, the Tathāgata, the Worthy of Offerings, the Perfectly Awakened One, the Perfect Clarity and Conduct One, the Well Gone, the Knower of the World, the Unsurpassed Leader, the Teacher of Heavenly and Human Beings, Buddha, the World-Honored One. He taught and transformed innumerable hundreds of thousands of myriads of koṭis of asaṃkhyeya beings, leading them all to become firmly established in Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi. After that Buddha’s parinirvāṇa, during the period of the semblance Dharma, there was a country named Benares. The great king of Benares was wise, intelligent, benevolent, and sagely, always governing the nation with the true Dharma, never wronging the people. The king presided over sixty small kingdoms and eight hundred towns. The king himself had no son. For twelve years he constantly offered and served the mountain spirits, tree spirits, and all deities, without pause or fatigue, seeking a son. Then the first queen conceived, and after a full ten months bore a son. That son was upright in appearance, complete in human marks of excellence. After his birth the king assembled all the ministers and the small kings to examine his signs and fortune, and bestowed upon him a name. Because the prince by nature was gentle and without anger, he was named Kṣānti.

Prince Kṣānti grew up that same year, delighting in giving, wise, compassionate, and kind, and toward all beings gave rise to a heart of equal compassion. At that time the great king had six ministers whose dispositions were fierce and wicked, treacherous, deceitful, and fawning, perverting the law and unrighteous, whom the people abhorred. Those six ministers, knowing themselves guilty in conduct, always harbored jealousy and hatred toward the prince.”

At that time the great king was afflicted with grave illness, tormented and emaciated, his life hanging by a thread. Prince Kṣānti went to tell the ministers: ‘My father the king is gravely ill; what should be done now?’ The ministers, upon hearing, in their hearts gave rise to anger and replied to the prince: ‘The great king’s life will not be long. Why is this so? Because the wondrous medicine that could be sought cannot be obtained, therefore you should know his life will not be far from its end.’ When the prince heard this, grief and distress arose in his heart, and he fell to the ground unconscious.

Then the six ministers entered a quiet chamber and plotted together, saying: ‘If Prince Kṣānti is not removed, we shall never be secure.’ Having thought thus, the first minister said: ‘Without any fault there is no way to depose Prince Kṣānti.’ Another minister said: ‘I have a method to remove him.’ He then went before the prince and reported: ‘I have just now gone outside and searched among the sixty small kingdoms and eight hundred towns for medicinal herbs, but could not obtain any at all.’ The prince asked: ‘What is the medicinal herb being sought?’ The minister reported: ‘Prince, the herb being sought is precisely the eyes and the marrow of one who, from birth to death, never gives rise to anger. If this medicine can be obtained, the great king’s life may be preserved; if it cannot be obtained, his life will not be long. In all the lands there is no such person.’

When the prince heard this, grief and distress arose in his heart, and he replied to the minister: ‘Now it seems that I am such a person. Why is this so? From the time of my birth I have never once given rise to anger.’ The minister said: ‘If the prince is such a person, still this matter is difficult. Why is this so? Of all things in the world, none is valued above one’s own body.’ The prince said: ‘What the ministers have said is not right. If only my father the king’s suffering and illness may be alleviated, even if I were to cast aside a hundred thousand bodies, it would not be difficult—how much the less this impure body of mine today?’ The minister said: ‘If it is such, then this matter may follow the prince’s wish.’

At that time Prince Kṣānti gave rise to joy in his heart and thought: “If this medicine can remove my father the king’s illness and suffering, I should quickly accomplish this matter.” Prince Kṣānti then entered the palace and went to his mother, bowed his head and prostrated at her feet, joined his palms, and spoke to his mother, saying: “This body now I wish to make into medicine to cure my father the king’s illness. I fear that his life cannot be preserved, therefore I bid farewell to my mother. May my mother not give rise to sorrow, affliction, or longing for her son.” When his mother heard these words, in her heart she lost herself, unconscious, like a person choking, unable to swallow, unable to spit out, unable to persuade to advance, unable to restrain from stopping. She rushed forward and embraced the prince, and fell unconscious. They sprinkled cold water on her face, and after a long time she revived. Then the prince told his mother: “My father the king’s life is but within moments, he cannot remain long. This should be done in due time and swiftly, that the great king may take it.” Then the prince summoned the ministers and all the small kings, and in the midst of the assembly proclaimed these words: “This body of mine today I bid farewell to the assembly.” Then the ministers summoned a caṇḍāla to break the bones and extract the marrow, and to gouge out his two eyes.

At that time the minister ground the medicine and offered it to the great king. The king took it, and his illness was removed and healed. When the illness was healed, he asked the ministers: “From where did you obtain this wondrous medicine, that has removed my suffering and preserved my life?” The ministers told the king: “Now this medicine was accomplished by Prince Kṣānti. It was not by the power of the ministers that this could be done.” When the king heard these words, his hair stood on end, and in a low voice he asked the ministers: “Where is Prince Kṣānti now?” The ministers replied: “The prince is now outside, his body injured and destroyed, his life will not be long.” When the king heard these words, he cried aloud, saying: “Alas! Alas!” He threw himself to the ground, his body covered with dust: “As I am now, I am truly without feeling. How could I have borne to take this medicine from my son?” He went to the place where his son was, but his life had already ended. The king, the queen, the ministers, and the innumerable multitude surrounded before and behind. His mother, anguished, cast herself upon his corpse, saying: “Because of my former evil deeds of many kinds, today my son’s body has endured such suffering. Now why does this body of mine not crumble into dust, but has caused my son to lose his life?” Then the father king and the small kings used ox-head candana wood, heaped it together into a pyre, and cremated all the bones of the prince’s body, and then with the seven treasures raised up a stūpa to make offerings.

At that time the World-Honored One told Maitreya Bodhisattva, the virtuous men, and the great assembly: “You should know that at that time the great king of Benares was my father King Śuddhodana of today; at that time the mother was my mother Lady Māyā of today; and Prince Kṣānti was my own body of today. For immeasurable asaṃkhyeya kalpas the Bodhisattva practiced filial piety and nurtured his parents, clothing, food, dwellings, beds and seats, even to his very body, flesh, bones, and marrow, such was the practice. By this cause and condition he himself accomplished Buddhahood. Now this jeweled stūpa that has arisen from the earth is precisely where I once gave up my marrow and my life for the sake of my parents, and a stūpa was raised here for offerings. Now that I have accomplished Buddhahood, this stūpa has arisen and manifested before me.”

At that time, in the great assembly, innumerable humans, devas, nāgas, and spirits, hearing these words, with sorrow and joy intertwined, tears filled their eyes, and with one voice they all praised the Tathāgata’s hundreds of thousands of virtues. Immediately they brought forth the mind of Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi; and also innumerable hundreds of thousands of beings brought forth the mind of Śrāvakas and Pratyekabuddhas; and also innumerable beings attained Srotāpanna up to Arhat; and also innumerable hundreds of thousands of myriads of koṭis of Bodhisattva-Mahāsattvas will before long accomplish Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi. Therefore, you should know that the Tathāgata today is truly one who has practiced filial piety and nurtured his parents.

Furthermore, the Bodhisattva originally knew the virtue of his mother, that it was her own vow thus to give birth to the body of the Tathāgata. Because she gave birth to the Tathāgata and fulfilled her vow, she could not endure the reverence of the Tathāgata, therefore her life swiftly came to an end.

At that time the great assembly, with one voice, praised Māyā: “Well indeed, Māyā! To have given birth to the Tathāgata—among gods and humans in the world none can be compared with you.””

At that time Dhava-Mala rose from his seat, bared his right shoulder, knelt on his right knee, joined his palms, and addressed the Buddha, saying: “World-Honored One! What merit did Lady Māyā cultivate, by what cause and condition was she able to give birth to the Tathāgata?”

The Buddha said: “Listen attentively, I shall distinctly explain it for you.”

The Buddha said: “In the past, countless, immeasurable kalpas ago, there was a Buddha who appeared in the world, whose name was Vipaśyin, the Tathāgata, the Worthy of Offerings, the Perfectly Awakened One, the Perfect Clarity and Conduct One, the Well Gone, the Knower of the World, the Unsurpassed Leader, the Teacher of Heavenly and Human Beings, Buddha, the World-Honored One. After the true Dharma and the semblance Dharma had passed and perished, there was then a country named Benares. Not far from the city there was a mountain called ‘Abode of the Sages,’ because hundreds of thousands of Pratyekabuddhas dwelt in that mountain, and innumerable divine immortals possessing the five supernormal powers also lived therein. Because many sages and saints abided there, it was named ‘The Mountain Where Sages Abide.’ On that mountain, one sage lived in the southern cave, and another sage lived in the northern cave. Between the two caves there was a spring, and beside the spring there was a flat stone.

“At that time the sage of the southern cave, on that stone, washed his clothes and his feet, then returned to his dwelling. Not long after he departed, there came a doe to drink from the spring. Step by step she came to the place where the clothes had been washed, and there drank the water in which the dirty garments had been rinsed. After drinking that water of garment-filth, she turned her head and licked her own genitals.

“At that time the doe immediately conceived, and after the full months of pregnancy she gave birth. The custom of deer in giving birth is always to return to the place where they first conceived. She returned to the water’s edge, stood upon that same stone, cried aloud in lamentation, and gave birth to a daughter. Then the sage of the southern cave, hearing the great wailing cry of the deer, gave rise to compassion in his heart and went out to look. He saw that the doe had given birth to a daughter. The doe, having licked her for a while, when she saw the sage approaching, abandoned her and went away.

“At that time the sage saw this girl, her form upright and proper, complete with the human marks of excellence. When he beheld this, compassion arose in his heart. He wrapped her in grass garments, cleaned her, and took her back, gathering all kinds of wondrous fruits to feed her, raising her and nurturing her. She gradually grew up, until fourteen years of age. Her father cherished her deeply, and often made her guard the fire at night so that the fire would not be extinguished. One day she was careless in her mind, and allowed the fire to go out. Her father scolded and reproached her bitterly, and told her: ‘From the time I grew up I have never let this fire go out. Why did you today allow it to be extinguished? In the northern cave there is fire, you can go fetch it.’

“At that time Deer Maiden, following her father’s instruction, went to the northern cave. With every step she raised, there grew lotus flowers; following her traces, row upon row, they aligned like streets and avenues. When she arrived at the northern cave, she begged a little fire from that sage. That sage, seeing that this woman had such merit and virtue, with lotuses springing up under her feet, replied to her: ‘If you wish to obtain fire, you must circumambulate my cave to the right seven times.’ As she lifted her feet, lotuses sprang forth, row after row, distinct and clear. After she had circled seven times, the sage said to the girl: ‘If you wish to obtain fire, you must then return by the right side from here, and I will give you the fire.’

“At that time Deer Maiden, desiring to obtain fire, followed his instruction and departed. Not long after the girl had gone, the king of Benares, accompanied by his ministers and surrounded before and behind by countless multitudes, with thousands of chariots and ten thousands of horsemen, entered the mountains to hunt, chasing after herds of deer. The king of Benares, riding alone upon a famed elephant, went to where the northern cave sage dwelt, and saw those rows of lotus flowers encircling the cave. At that time the great king gave rise to joy in his heart and exclaimed in praise: ‘Well indeed! Well indeed! Great virtuous sage! Great immortal teacher! Such magnificent merit and virtue—such a marvel!’”

At that time the sage told the king: “Great King, you should know that these lotuses are not by my doing.” The king said: “If not by the master, then by whom were they caused?” He replied: “Great King, it is that the sage of the southern cave has a daughter, whose form is upright and proper, endowed with the marks of human excellence, rare in the world. When that girl walks, lotuses spring up beneath her feet.” When the king heard this, joy arose in his heart, and he went to the southern cave. He saw that sage and bowed his head, prostrating at his feet. Then the sage came forth to greet him, saying: “Great King, you have traveled far—are you not wearied?” Then the great king replied to the sage: “I have heard that you have a daughter, and I wish to request marriage.”

At that time the sage replied to the king: “This poor man has this one daughter, childish and without understanding, not knowing anything. Since she was small she has dwelt in this deep mountain, unacquainted with the affairs of men, clothed in grasses, eating fruits. Why does the great king now take thought of her? Moreover, this girl was born of a beast.” Then he explained in detail the former events to the king. The king said: “Though it be so, it does not matter.” He asked her father: “Where is Deer Maiden now?” He replied to the great king: “She is in this grass-thatched cave.”

At that time the king entered the cave and saw Deer Maiden. Joy arose in his heart. He bathed her with fragrant water, clothed her in fine garments, adorned her body with necklaces of a hundred jewels, and mounted her upon a great famed elephant, with hundreds of thousands following, accompanied by music and dance, and returned to his country. At that time Deer Maiden, since the time of her birth, had never before seen such a great multitude. In her heart she felt fear and terror.

Then her father ascended the high mountain peak, gazing from afar upon his daughter, his eyes not leaving her even for a moment, and thought thus: “Now I gaze from afar at my daughter, she goes far away until she is no longer seen. I should return to my dwelling, wailing in grief and sorrow, my tears filling my eyes. I bore and raised this daughter not knowing her destiny, and now we are parted far.” Again he thought: “Since I now dwell here, I should not turn elsewhere. Why? If my daughter turns back to look and does not see me, she will be grieved and distressed.” He stood for a long while, until the girl had gone out of sight, yet she did not turn back to look.

Then her father in his heart gave rise to anger and said: “Born of a beast indeed—this is truly not false. From her childhood I raised her until now she has grown. Desired by the king, yet she has abandoned me alone.” He then entered his cave, recited and upheld spells, and cursed his daughter, saying: “If the king treats you with neglect, then so be it. But if the king receives you with honor, then may it be made to decline and vanish, unable to bring fulfillment.”

At that time the king of Benares, having returned to the palace, honored her as his chief consort and named her Lady Deer Mother. All the minor kings, officials, and ministers came to offer congratulations. When the king beheld this, joy arose in his heart. After a few days she felt herself with children. The king himself attended to her, making her bed, clothing, food, and drink all soft and fine. When ten months were complete, he hoped she would give birth to a boy to inherit the throne. When the months were full, she gave birth to a lotus flower. Because of the sage’s curse, the king gave rise to anger, saying: “Born of a beast indeed—this is truly not false.” He deposed her from her rank as queen, and that lotus flower was cast aside.

A few days later the king of Benares, accompanied by his ministers, entered the royal garden to amuse himself and to watch. There were music and dance, contests of elephants and horses, and feats of strongmen. Among them was the foremost strongman, who staggered and stumbled, and when his foot struck the ground the earth shook, shaking the lotus pond. Beside the pond there was a great coral tree, and beneath that coral tree one lotus flower burst forth and fell into the water. That flower was crimson, with marvelous radiance. The king, seeing this flower, gave rise to joy in his heart and asked the ministers: “Such a flower has never before existed.” He then ordered an envoy to enter the pond and fetch it.

That lotus possessed five hundred petals, and beneath each petal was a boy, his face upright and proper, his form wondrous and beautiful. The envoy then reported to the king: “Such a lotus flower has never before been. Great King, this lotus has five hundred petals, and beneath each petal there is a boy of one day’s birth.” When the king heard these words, his hair stood on end, astonished, and he asked the envoy: “Is it truly so? Was this the flower born of Lady Deer Mother?” Then he asked the palace maids: “The flower borne by Lady Deer Mother—where was it cast away?” They replied: “Great King, it was buried beneath the great coral tree by this pond.” The king examined it and knew truly that it was born of Lady Deer Mother. The king himself returned to the palace, confessed and repented to Lady Deer Mother, saying: “I was indeed foolish and without wisdom, unable to recognize the virtuous and good, wrongly producing evil and baseness, opposing my lady.” After he repented and begged forgiveness, he restored her to her former position. The king was greatly joyful, and assembled all the ministers, the minor kings, and the Brahmin physiognomists. At this great assembly he embraced the five hundred princes and asked the physiognomists to examine their signs of fortune. The divination declared: “To them shall virtue return, and the country shall receive their blessings. If they remain at home, the four seas will admire them and spirits will protect them; if they renounce the household life, they will surely cut off birth and death, transcend the stream of desire, cross the ocean of saṃsāra, and attain the three knowledges, the six spiritual powers, and the four fruits of the path.” When the king heard this, joy increased, and he proclaimed throughout the whole land to select five hundred wet nurses.

At that time Lady Deer Mother said to the great king: “Great King! Please do not trouble the whole country to summon wet nurses. In the palace there are already five hundred consorts. These consorts are jealous because I bore sons. The king can now give one prince to each consort to nurse; would they not then be their sons as well?” The king replied to the queen: “The five hundred consorts always bear jealousy, harming Lady Deer Mother. Now, if you wished me to have them whipped, caned, banished, driven out, or deprived of their lives, I would not go against your will. Why do you now wish to set aside hatred and resentment? This is very difficult to accomplish. Yet you can extend heavenly grace and give the princes to each consort.”

At that time the five hundred consorts were greatly joyful, saying: “Lady Deer Mother has bestowed upon us peace and happiness—why moreover has she given us princes?” Their joy was boundless. Then innumerable hundreds of thousands of people, hearing of this matter, gave rise to joy in their hearts and aroused the mind of the Way.

At that time the great king said to the queen: “Such a thing has never been before! I am not equal to you.” The queen said: “Greed and anger arise only from jealousy. Evil is restrained by patience, anger is restrained by yielding. From birth until now I have never contended with others. The consorts themselves give rise to harm. It is like a man walking at night who sees a tree stump and mistakes it for a thief, or supposes it to be a demon. At once he becomes terrified, scatters, and flees, throwing himself from cliffs, or into water or fire, or into thorny forests, injuring his body. Because of false imaginings, calamity thus arises. All beings are also thus—self-born and self-dying, like silkworms binding themselves in cocoons, like moths throwing themselves into flame. None drives or pursues them; all evils arise only from false imagination. The consorts are also like this. Today I should not contend in quarrels with such ignorant ones.” Then the five hundred consorts came forward and bowed to Lady Deer Mother, repenting and begging forgiveness, serving Lady Deer Mother as though she were a sage or worthy, like sisters born of the same mother. The princes they nurtured they regarded as their own sons, without difference.

At that time the five hundred princes gradually grew in age. Each prince possessed strength equal to a thousand men. Whenever neighboring states rebelled and would not submit, they themselves went forth to subdue them, without mobilizing the four kinds of troops. Thus the kingdom was peaceful and stable, the heavenly spirits were joyful, the winds and rains came in due season, and the people prospered in abundance. At that time the five hundred princes, riding upon great famed elephants, went to the forests and fields to behold, playing freely, with boundless joy. Their father and mothers cherished them as though protecting their own eyes.

As the five hundred princes grew older, they once gathered together in one place, sitting by a lotus pond, and saw their own reflections appearing in the water. Then the princes said among themselves: “All dharmas are like illusions and transformations, like dreams seen, like images in water, without true substance. We now are also thus. Though we are noble and honored, dwelling in the deep palace, with freedom in the five desires, yet the vigor of youth and beauty cannot be preserved long; what is made shall be broken, human life must end in death; youth shall not remain long, but surely must become old; if food and drink are not moderate, there will be sickness; even with a hundred years of life, surely death will come.”

Then the princes became sorrowful and unhappy, unable to eat or drink. They returned to the palace and told their parents: “The world is all suffering, without what can bring joy. May our father and mother now permit us to renounce the household life.” The king replied to the princes: “Birth, old age, sickness, and death—these all are shared by everyone. Why do you alone grieve?” They told their father the king: “We cannot endure to revolve further in the wheel of birth and death, passing through the five destinies, to weary our spirits.” The king, unable to refuse, consented. Their mothers said to sons: “If you renounce the household life, do not abandon me and go far away. You may dwell in the rear garden. There it is pure, with flourishing trees, and the four requisites will be provided without lack.”

At that time the princes renounced the household life, accepted their mothers’ request, and dwelt in the rear garden. Each prince attained Pratyekabuddha. In this way, one by one, four hundred and ninety-nine princes attained the fruit of the Way. They then went to the palace, before their parents, and reported to them: “The benefit of renunciation we have attained today.” Then those bhikṣus ascended into the air, leaping east and sinking west, leaping west and sinking east, leaping south and sinking north, leaping north and sinking south. Or they manifested great bodies filling the sky, or from one body produced immeasurable transformation bodies; or from the upper body emitted water while the lower body emitted fire; or from the lower body emitted water while the upper body emitted fire. Having displayed various divine transformations before their father and mothers, they then burned their bodies and entered Parinirvāṇa. At that time Lady Deer Mother gathered their bones and in the rear garden erected four hundred and ninety-nine stūpas to make offerings. The youngest prince, after ninety days, also attained Pratyekabuddha, and likewise manifested great divine powers before his father and mother. After manifesting them, he too entered Parinirvāṇa. Then his mother gathered his bones and raised a stūpa to make offerings.

At that time Lady Deer Mother burned fine fragrances, made wondrous music, and daily entered the rear garden to make offerings to the five hundred Pratyekabuddha stūpas. Before the stūpas she grieved and was unhappy, and said: “Though I bore these five hundred princes, though they renounced the household life, not one of them brought forth the mind of Bodhi.” She then made a vow: “The offerings I have made to these five hundred Pratyekabuddhas, and the raising of these five hundred stūpas, the merit of making offerings to the śarīra—all of it I dedicate and turn toward all beings. May I in the future not bear many sons who do not bring forth the Bodhi mind, but only bear one son, who will bring forth the mind of the Way, renounce the household life in this very life, and attain All-knowing Wisdom.”

The Buddha told Ānanda: “At that time Lady Deer Mother was Lady Māyā of today. Because Lady Māyā made offerings to the five hundred Pratyekabuddhas and cultivated immeasurable good deeds, she was thereby able to give birth to the body of the Tathāgata today.”

When the Buddha spoke this Dharma, innumerable hundreds of thousands of humans and devas attained the first fruit up to the fourth fruit. Innumerable beings gave rise to the mind of Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi.

At that time Ānanda addressed the Buddha, saying: “World-Honored One, what deeds did Lady Māyā create in her past lives, such that she was born from a beast and became Deer Maiden?”

The Buddha told Ānanda: “Listen attentively, I shall distinctly explain to you the past-life causes and conditions of Lady Māyā. In the past, countless asaṃkhyeya kalpas ago, there was a Buddha who appeared in the world, named Vipaśyin, the Tathāgata, the Worthy of Offerings, the Perfectly Awakened One, the Perfect Clarity and Conduct One, the Well Gone, the Knower of the World, the Unsurpassed Leader, the Teacher of Heavenly and Human Beings, Buddha, the World-Honored One, who taught and transformed while in the world. After his parinirvāṇa, during the semblance Dharma period, there was a country named Benares. In that country there was a Brahmin who had only one daughter. When her father died, the Brahmin’s wife raised that daughter, and she grew in age. Their household possessed only one fruit orchard. The mother made the daughter guard the orchard while she herself went out to seek food. After eating herself, she then brought food to her daughter—this was the daily practice.

“One day her mother was delayed and did not bring food at the usual time. The daughter, sorrowful and pressed by hunger and thirst, gave rise to an angry mind and said: ‘Why has my mother today, for what reason, not brought me food and not come to see me?’ Repeatedly she lamented and grieved, and then in her anger said: ‘My mother today is not as good as beasts. I see wild beasts and wild deer—when their young are hungry and thirsty, their hearts do not abandon them.’ Not long after, her mother came bringing food. As she was about to eat, there came a Pratyekabuddha śramaṇa, traveling from the south, flying through the air northward. When the girl saw this bhikṣu, joy arose in her heart. She rose, joined her palms, bowed her head in reverence, then invited him, prepared a pure seat for him, gathered fine and lovely flowers, and reduced her own food to make an offering to the bhikṣu. When the bhikṣu had finished eating, he spoke wondrous Dharma for her, instructing, teaching, benefiting, and bringing her joy. At that time the girl made a vow, saying: ‘May I in a future life encounter sages and worthies, serve and make offerings, may my countenance be upright and proper, honored and noble, and when I walk may lotus flowers support my feet.’”

The Buddha told Ānanda: “That girl was Lady Deer Mother. Because of that one offering of food and covering with pure flowers made to a Pratyekabuddha, for five hundred lives she was honored and noble, her clothing and food came naturally, and lotus flowers supported her steps. By the power of her vow, today she was able to encounter and make offerings to five hundred Pratyekabuddhas. But because of that one evil word, failing to recognize her mother’s kindness and reviling her by comparing her to a beast, because of that evil speech she was born for five hundred lives in the womb of a deer.”

The Buddha told Ānanda: “When human beings are born into the world, calamity comes from the mouth. Therefore one should guard the mouth more than against fierce fire. A fierce fire blazing can burn for one life; evil speech blazing burns for innumerable lives. A fierce fire blazing burns away the wealth of the world; evil speech blazing burns away the seven treasures of the noble ones. Therefore, Ānanda, for all beings, calamity comes forth from the mouth. The tongue is the axe that chops the body, the calamity that destroys the body.”

When the Buddha spoke this sūtra, one thousand upāsakas and upāsikās carefully guarded against faults of speech and at once attained the first fruit. Also innumerable bhikṣus and bhikṣuṇīs attained the first fruit up to the fourth fruit. Innumerable humans and devas gave rise to the mind of Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi, or to the mind of Pratyekabuddhas. The whole assembly, hearing the Buddha speak Dharma, rejoiced, received it in practice, bowed in reverence, and departed.

At that time the World-Honored One together with Ānanda entered Rājagṛha. After begging for alms, they went out of the city. Outside the city gate there was a great deep pit. At that time the people of Rājagṛha carried dung and urine to discard into that pit, and when the sky rained, filthy waters also flowed into it. At that time in that foul water there was a worm, its shape like that of a man, with many hands and feet. From afar it saw the Tathāgata, raised its head above the water, gazed at the Tathāgata, with tears filling its eyes. When the Tathāgata saw this, he gave rise to compassion and sorrow, grieved and was not pleased, and returned to Gṛdhrakūṭa Mountain.

At that time Ānanda spread out a seat. The Tathāgata sat upon it, crossed his legs in meditation posture. Then Ānanda, observing the minds of the multitude, asked the Buddha, saying: “World-Honored One, the worm that we just saw in the foul water pit—what karma did it create in past lives, that it is born in this water, and how long has it remained here? And at what time will it gain liberation?”

The Buddha told Ānanda and the great assembly: “You should listen attentively, I shall explain it to you. Ānanda, in the past, countless thousands of kalpas ago, there was a Buddha who appeared in the world. After his teaching was complete, he passed into Nirvāṇa. After his extinction, during the semblance Dharma, there was a Brahmin who built a monastery and made offerings to the assembly of monks. At that time benefactors brought much ghee. Then there came guest bhikṣus. At that time the manager monk, Karmadāna, gave rise to anger and resentment, disliking that the guest monks had come in great number, and he concealed the ghee, withholding it and not giving it. The guest monks said: ‘Why do you not give us ghee and honey?’ The manager monk Karmadāna replied: ‘You are guest monks, I am a resident.’ The guest bhikṣus said: ‘This is what the benefactors offered to the present saṅgha.’ Then Karmadāna, fierce and terrifying, reviled them with abuse, saying: ‘Why do you not go eat feces and urine instead of demanding ghee from me?’ Because of this one evil word, from that time until ninety koṭis of kalpas, he has been continually reborn in this foul water. That manager then is now this worm in the foul water. It is due to that evil word of the past, reviling the saṅgha, that for countless thousands of generations he has dwelt in this dung and urine.”

The Buddha told the disciples: “You should guard your speech karma. The faults of the tongue are fiercer than blazing fire. Toward parents and the Saṅgha one should speak words of praise, soft and gentle words, always remembering their kindness. The Saṅgha is the field of blessings that transcends the three realms. Parents are the supreme field of blessings within the three realms. Why is this so? Within the Saṅgha there are the four pairs and eight ranks, the twelve worthies—making offerings to them one gains blessings and further can accomplish the Way. Parents carry for ten months in the womb, endure dryness and dampness, nourish with milk until grown, teach skills and arts, nurture at all times, until their children renounce the household life and cultivate to attain liberation, cross the ocean of birth and death, and accomplish benefit for self and others, liberating all beings.”

The Buddha told Ānanda: “Parents and the Saṅgha are the two fields of blessings for all beings. The fruits of humans, devas, Nirvāṇa, and liberation—all depend on them for accomplishment.”

When the Buddha spoke this sūtra, innumerable hundreds of thousands of beings, humans and non-humans, some attained the first fruit up to the fourth fruit, some gave rise to the mind of Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi, some gave rise to the mind of Śrāvakas and Pratyekabuddhas. Each joined their palms, bowed to the Buddha, circumambulated to the right, rejoicing, and departed.

At that time in the country of Benares there was a minister Brahmin, whose household was extremely wealthy, abundant in treasures, gold, silver, lapis lazuli, coral, amber, elephants, horses, cattle, sheep, farmland, and servants—nothing was lacking. When he was over eighty years of age, a son was born to him, upright and beautiful in form, endowed with the complete marks of a human. The parents rejoiced, and summoned physiognomists to examine his fortune and misfortune, giving him the name Cunda. When he was only seven years old, his parents, out of love, allowed him to renounce the household life. He went to Mount Kṣatriyas Indra, where the Tathāgata was dwelling.

At that time the Tathāgata, surrounded by the four assemblies, was widely preaching to devas, nāgas, spirits, and the great multitudes, expounding both worldly discourses and supramundane Dharma. Then the Brahmin addressed the Buddha: “World-Honored One, in my old age I begot this son. The World-Honored One, with great compassion covering all, may today let this child become a disciple of the Buddha.”

The Buddha said: “Come, bhikṣu!” Immediately his hair fell off and robes clothed his body. The Buddha spoke Dharma for him, instructing, teaching, benefiting, and delighting him. He at once attained the fruit of the Way, the three knowledges, the six spiritual powers, and the eight liberations.

Then Ānanda, observing that the minds of the multitude were all filled with doubt, rose from his seat, arranged his robe, bared his right shoulder, joined his palms, and addressed the Buddha: “World-Honored One, Cunda the sāmaṇera, in what past deeds and cultivation of conduct did he engage, that upon encountering the World-Honored One he attained the fruit of the Way so swiftly?”

The Buddha told Ānanda: “This is not only so today. In past lives he made offerings to parents and to the saṅgha, cultivated wondrous merits, and encountered good friends; therefore today he attains the fruit of the Way.”

Ānanda said to the Buddha: “May the Buddha explain in detail.”

The Buddha told Ānanda: “Listen carefully! In the past, countless thousands of ages ago, there was a Buddha who appeared in the world, named Vipaśyin. While in the world he taught and transformed, benefiting gods and humans. When his work of transformation was complete, he entered parinirvāṇa. After his extinction, during the period of the true Dharma, there was a young bhikṣu who mastered the three baskets—the Abhidharma basket, the Vinaya basket, and the Sūtra basket. His appearance was upright, his human marks complete, eloquent in preaching Dharma, with a wondrous voice, known to many, honored and supported by kṣatriyas and brahmins.

“At that time there was another bhikṣu, coarse and ugly in form, lacking in human marks, and his voice was dull and heavy, but he constantly delighted in praising the Three Jewels. Then the young Tripiṭaka bhikṣu, seeing that his voice was so unpleasant, reviled him, saying: ‘Such a voice is no better than a dog’s bark.’ Then that elder bhikṣu said: ‘Why do you revile me? Do you not recognize me?’ The Tripiṭaka youth said: ‘I recognize you. You are the Mahallaka elder bhikṣu in the true Dharma of Vipaśyin Buddha. How could I not know you?’ Mahallaka said: ‘What I have to do is already done, the holy life has been established, I shall not receive further existence.’ When the Tripiṭaka bhikṣu heard these words, his hair stood on end. Then Mahallaka raised his right hand and emitted great light, universally illuminating the ten directions. Then the Tripiṭaka bhikṣu came forward, bowed his head at his feet in reverence, and begged for forgiveness, saying: ‘I, in my ignorance and foolishness, did not recognize the sage, and created such evil karma. May I in a future life draw near good friends, encounter noble teachers, end the outflows and untie the bonds, and be like the great virtuous one.’”

The Buddha told Ānanda: “At that time the Tripiṭaka bhikṣu, because of one evil word reviling an elder, for five hundred lives was always reborn as a dog. “When the great assembly heard this Dharma from the Buddha, they all trembled in fear and with one voice exclaimed: “Strange indeed! Strange indeed! In the world, of all poisons and calamities, none surpasses the mouth.”

At that time innumerable hundreds of thousands of beings all made vows, and spoke in verse, saying:

‘Though a wheel of heated iron should turn upon my head,

Never for such a suffering would I speak an evil word.

Though a wheel of heated iron should turn upon my head,

Never for such a suffering would I revile the sages and the good.’

The Buddha told Ānanda: “Śāriputra is a virtuous friend for beings. Day and night in the six periods, he always uses the eye of the Way to observe the beings of the five destinies. Those who are to be saved, he seeks them out and saves them.

“At that time between the two countries of Magadha there were five hundred merchants passing through a dangerous road. The leader of the caravan had a white dog. In the first watch of the night the caravan master cooked meat for food. In the later watch the dog stole and ate it. The next day the master wished to eat early, but could not find the meat. Pressed by hunger and thirst, anger arose within him. He himself seized a knife, cut off the dog’s four feet, cast it into a pit, and abandoned it. The dog lay curled and twisted, suffering great torment. Then Śāriputra, in the first watch of the night, with the eye of the Way saw this from afar. When night had passed and morning came, he donned his robe, took his bowl, entered the city to beg alms, and afterward went to the dangerous road where the dog was. He gave it food and spoke Dharma for it, instructing, teaching, benefiting, and delighting it. When the dog heard the Dharma, it was ashamed and not at ease. After seven days, its sins were ended, and it was reborn among humans.”

The Buddha told Ānanda: “That white dog was Cunda the sāmaṇera of today. Because of reviling a sage in the past, he fell into the evil paths. But because he was able at once to reform, to feel shame and repent, and to vow sincerely, therefore he was able to meet good friends. Because of meeting good friends, when his sins were ended, he was reborn among humans. Because he encountered the Buddha, the World-Honored One, he attained the ending of outflows.”

The Buddha told Ānanda: “One should ever remember the kindness of parents and good friends. Therefore one should know gratitude, and always repay gratitude. Good friends are a great condition.”

When the Buddha spoke this Dharma, innumerable hundreds of thousands of beings gave rise to the mind of Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi, or the minds of Śrāvakas and Pratyekabuddhas. The whole assembly, hearing the Buddha speak Dharma, rejoiced greatly, bowed in reverence, and departed.