The original translator is unknown and is now cataloged in the Later Han records.
Chapter Seven: Kindness
At that time, the World-Honored One was surrounded by the great assembly, who were making offerings, honoring, respecting, and praising him. At that time the Tathāgata, having cultivated in immeasurable and profound practices, wished to remove the intense sufferings of beings within the three realms; he wished to break through the five hindrances and untie the ten fetters; he wished to enable all beings to attain liberation and dwell in the state of the unconditioned. Therefore, he revealed to beings two kinds of fields of blessings: one is the field of blessings with action, the other is the field of blessings without action. As for what is called the field of blessings, it includes father and mother and teachers, the Buddhas, the Dharma, the Saṅgha, as well as the Bodhisattvas. By cultivating and making offerings to them, all beings can obtain merit and virtue, and thereby accomplish the Buddha’s Path.
At that time, the World-Honored One told Śāriputra and the other great disciples of vast wisdom: “You should know, the Tathāgata will soon enter Nirvāṇa.” When Śāriputra heard these words, all the joints of his body ached as though pierced by needles. Distressed and grieving, he fainted and fell to the ground. With cold water sprinkled on his face, after a long while he revived. Śāriputra immediately rose, joined his palms, and with verses praised the Buddha, saying:
“The Buddha is like nectar. One should never grow weary of hearing.
If one becomes negligent toward the Buddha, it brings no benefit at all.
Within the sea of birth and death of the five destinies, it is like sinking into the mud;
bound by craving and desire, without wisdom, one goes astray in the world.
By practicing upright conduct in past lives, and in giving treating beings equally,
it has brought forth the white curl of hair between the brows, whose radiance shines without boundary.
The Buddha’s eyes are like the newly risen moon, penetratingly seeing the lands of the ten directions,
enabling minds and eyes to behold and give rise to great joy.”
At that time Śāriputra spoke hundreds and thousands of verses such as these. Having finished praising the Tathāgata, he performed the rite of bowing his head to the Buddha’s feet, circumambulated the Buddha hundreds of thousands of times, and proclaimed to the great assembly, to the devas, nāgas, spirits, humans, and non-humans: “Virtuous men! The world has become empty, strange indeed, strange indeed, the world has become empty! Bitter indeed, bitter indeed, the eye of the world has been extinguished! Sorrowful indeed, sorrowful indeed! The Dharma bridge built of precious jewels is now to be broken and destroyed; the supreme Bodhi tree is now to be shattered and felled; the precious-jeweled victorious banner is now to be toppled; the supreme Buddha sun is about to sink into the mountain of great Nirvāṇa.” When the great assembly heard these words, their hearts trembled with fear, their hair stood on end, and they immediately felt immense dread. The sun lost its radiance, mountains crumbled and collapsed, and the great earth shook violently.
At that time Śāriputra, in the midst of the assembly, spoke a verse, saying:
“I behold the Buddha’s form, like the purple-gold mountain;
the marks of the Buddha and all the virtues shall be extinguished, leaving only the name to remain.
One should diligently exert oneself, to transcend the three realms;
practicing various wholesome deeds, Nirvāṇa is the utmost peace and joy.”
At that time, having spoken these verses to console the great assembly, Śāriputra manifested vast and wondrous spiritual power. His body rose into the sky, transforming into a thousand-headed jeweled elephant. Each elephant’s body intertwined with the others, and each of the thousand heads faced outward. Each elephant bore seven tusks, upon each tusk there were seven bathing ponds, in each pond were seven lotus blossoms, upon each lotus throne were seven manifested Buddhas, and each manifested Buddha had an attendant Śāriputra. Each of these Śāriputras emitted great radiance, illuminating the ten directions of immeasurable worlds as numerous as the sands of the Ganges River, afar calling forth those with affinities. All those with affinities assembled. At that time Śāriputra further manifested a vast body filling the entire sky, yet he could also transform the great body into a small one; he could merge like water into the earth, appear without a gate, enter without a hole. From the lower part of his body flames blazed forth, from the upper part of his body water gushed out, then he vanished into the sky. Again he manifested hundreds of thousands of bodies, even countless bodies. After performing various transformations through his spiritual powers, he descended from the sky, entered into the great assembly, broadly expounded the Dharma, instructing and guiding, bringing benefit and joy, causing immeasurable hundreds of thousands of beings to give rise to the mind of Anuttarā Samyaksaṃbodhi. Again immeasurable hundreds of thousands of beings attained the path of Srotāpanna up to the fruition of Arhatship; again immeasurable hundreds of thousands of beings aroused the aspiration toward the Śrāvaka and Pratyekabuddha paths.
At that time, after Śāriputra had thus brought forth immeasurable benefit, he told the great assembly: “How can I now bear to see the Tathāgata enter Nirvāṇa?” Having spoken these words, he rose into the sky, flames issued from his body, and at once he burned his body and entered Nirvāṇa. Then the entire great assembly longed for Śāriputra, gazing unblinkingly, their hearts filled with attachment. They cried out in grief, their bodies covered in dust; the sun lost its radiance, and heaven and earth quaked violently. At that time the great assembly gathered Śāriputra’s relics, built a stūpa for him, and made offerings. At that time, innumerable hundreds of thousands of the great assembly surrounded the stūpa; because they were grieving for Śāriputra, their minds gave rise to affliction, they wandered in frenzy, and lost right mindfulness.
At that time, the Tathāgata, through the power of great compassion, manifested a transformed Śāriputra appearing among the great assembly. When the great assembly beheld Śāriputra, their hearts rejoiced, and their sorrow and pain were instantly extinguished. Because of the joy in their hearts, the assembly all aroused the mind of Anuttarā Samyaksaṃbodhi. At that time Ānanda, relying on the Tathāgata’s spiritual power, observed that in the hearts of the assembly there remained doubt. He then rose from his seat, arranged his robe properly, bared his right shoulder, knelt with his right knee on the ground, joined his palms, and long knelt before the Buddha, saying: “World-Honored One! By what cause and condition did Śāriputra enter extinction before the Tathāgata, causing the great assembly such grief and sorrow?”
The Buddha told Ānanda and the great assembly: “Śāriputra is not only in this one life entering extinction before the Tathāgata. In past lives as well, he could not bear to see me enter extinction, and therefore he entered extinction before me.”
Ānanda said to the Buddha: “World-Honored One! When Śāriputra in past lives entered extinction before the Tathāgata, how was this matter?”
The Buddha said: “Listen attentively! In incalculable kalpas in the past, there was at that time a country named Benares. The king of that country was called Great Radiance. King Great Radiance ruled over sixty small kingdoms and eight hundred counties. This king constantly cherished a heart of compassion, giving wealth and goods to all beings, never opposing the wishes of others. At that time, there was a king of a small border country who constantly harbored evil thoughts, rebellious and without the Way. At that time King Great Radiance, on each fasting day of the month, had five hundred great elephants carry treasures, money, clothing, bedding, and food, and placed them in the great marketplace as well as outside the four city gates, giving alms to all beings. At that time the enemy countries and foes, having heard that King Great Radiance gave alms to all and did not oppose the wishes of people, knew that those who had need of clothing, food, gold, silver, and treasures could freely take them and leave.
At that time a king of the small border country, having heard of the virtue of giving of King Great Radiance, gave rise to jealousy in his heart, and immediately summoned his ministers, saying: ‘Who is able to go to the country of Benares and ask King Great Radiance for his head?’ None of the ministers was able to go. Again the small king issued a command: ‘Who is able to go to the country of Benares and ask King Great Radiance for his head? Whoever is able to go, I shall reward with one thousand catties of gold.’ Then among them a brāhmaṇa said: ‘I am able to go and ask, but you must provide me with travel expenses and provisions.’ That small border country was more than two thousand miles distant from the country of Benares. The king then gave him travel expenses and provisions, and dispatched him toward the country of Benares. At that time the brāhmaṇa went and arrived at the border of Benares. At that place there occurred six kinds of tremors, frightening all manner of birds and beasts, which scattered and fled; the sunlight was obscured, the moon lost its brilliance; the five planets and all constellations departed from their proper courses; red, black, and white rainbows constantly appeared day and night; meteors fell down; and in that country many flowing springs, bathing pools, flourishing flowers, grasses, and fruits, the places where people loved to amuse themselves, all dried up. At that time the brāhmaṇa came to the city of Benares, standing outside the city gate. At that time the guardian deity of the gate spoke to the gatekeepers, saying: ‘This extremely wicked brāhmaṇa has come from afar, desiring to ask for the head of King Great Radiance. Do not let him enter the city.’
At that time the brāhmaṇa stayed outside the city gate for seven days, unable to enter, and he spoke to the gatekeepers, saying: ‘I have come from afar, wishing to see the great king.’ The gatekeepers immediately went in to report to the king: ‘There is a brāhmaṇa, having come from afar, now waiting outside the gate.’ King Great Radiance, hearing these words, then went out to greet him respectfully, just as a son meets his father, going forward to bow and say: ‘From where have you come? You have journeyed long and far, perhaps you must be weary?’ The brāhmaṇa said: ‘In other countries I heard of your virtues, great king, that when you give alms you never oppose the wishes of others; your fame spreads far, reaching up to the heavens and down to the Yellow Springs; those near and far all praise and extol you, every word truly as spoken. Therefore I have come from afar, journeying long, crossing mountains and ridges. Now I wish to obtain something from you.’ King Great Radiance said: ‘Now I am named the One Who Gives to All. If there is something you seek, do not hesitate.’ The brāhmaṇa said: ‘Is it truly so? I have no need of other things. Now I am to conduct a great sacrifice, and I beg of you, great king, your head.’
The king, hearing this, deeply reflected: ‘Since the beginningless cycle of birth and death, I have vainly wasted this body, never having expended it for the Dharma; I have in vain endured the sufferings of birth and death, toiling my spirit. Now this body earnestly aspires, for the sake of the vow to seek Bodhi and to benefit beings. If now I do not give the head to him, then I would violate my own true resolve. If I do not use this body for giving, by what means could I accomplish Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi?’
The king said: ‘Excellent! Please first allow me to arrange a few matters, to entrust the throne, the queen, and the crown prince. After seven days have passed, I shall then give you my head.’””
At that time the great king entered the palace and told his consorts: “All affection in the world must end in separation; whoever has birth must also have death; affairs that succeed will also have failure; all things sprout in the springtime, and in autumn and winter they naturally wither away.”
The consorts and the crown prince, having heard these words, were as if a person were choked, unable either to swallow or to spit out, and said: “Great king! For what cause and condition do you now speak such words?”
The king said: “There is a brāhmaṇa who has come from afar, desiring to beg for my head. I have already consented to him.”
The consorts and the crown prince, having heard these words, threw themselves prone upon the ground, cried aloud with wailing voices, tore out their own hair, rent their garments, and then said: “Great king! In all the world, nothing is more precious than one’s own body. Why today must you abandon this body so hard to abandon, giving it in alms to another?”
At that time the five hundred ministers spoke to the brāhmaṇa, saying: “What do you want with this stinking, rotting, pus-oozing head?”
The brāhmaṇa said: “I have come of my own to ask for it. Why do you question me?”
The ministers said: “You have entered our country. We should question you, and you should answer us.”
At that time the brāhmaṇa was about to answer truthfully, but in his heart was filled with fear, fearing the ministers might kill him.
At that time the five hundred ministers spoke to the brāhmaṇa: “Do not be afraid. We now bestow on you the assurance of fearlessness, it is for the sake of the great king. You poor brāhmaṇa, why are you so urgent to use this pus-oozing head? We five hundred ministers, each of us shall fashion for you a head adorned with many kinds of precious treasures, exchanging them with each other, and we shall supply you with all the things you require, so that for seven lifetimes you shall lack nothing.”
The brāhmaṇa said: “I do not need them.”
At that time the ministers, not having attained their wish, gave rise to distress in their hearts, cried aloud with lamentation, and spoke to the great king: “Great king! How can you now endure, desiring to abandon this country, the people, the consorts, the crown prince, and for the sake of a single brāhmaṇa, forever cast them aside and betray them?”
The great king said: “Now, for your sakes and for the sake of all beings, I abandon my own body in giving alms.”
At that time the chief minister, hearing the king’s words and knowing the king surely would give his body to the brāhmaṇa, reflected within himself: ‘How can I now bear to see the great king abandon this life?’ Having thought thus, he entered a quiet chamber and took a knife to end his own life.
At that time the great king entered the rear garden, summoned the brāhmaṇa to come forward, and said: “You have come from afar, begging me for my head. Out of a heart of compassion I pity you, and therefore will not oppose your wish. May I in future lives obtain a head of wisdom, to give in alms to you and others.” Having spoken these words, he immediately rose, joined his palms together, worshiped toward the ten directions, and then said: “May the Buddhas of the ten directions, with compassion and pity, and the honored Bodhisattvas with their majestic power and protection, let this deed surely be accomplished and fulfilled.”
The king said to the brāhmaṇa: “Take it away with you.”
At that time the brāhmaṇa said: “The great king has the strength of a mighty hero. When facing the pain, perhaps you will repent, unable to endure the suffering, and in turn seek to harm me. If the great king truly is able to do this, why not bind yourself with your own hair to the branches of a tree?”
The king, hearing these words, felt pity: “This brāhmaṇa is old and weak. If he is unable to cut off my head, he will lose a great profit.” Thus the king, according to his words, bound himself with his hair to the tree, and spoke to the brāhmaṇa: “Come and cut off my head, and then place it in my hand. I will with my own hand give it to you.”
At that time the brāhmaṇa himself took up a blade, came forward, and approached the base of the tree. At that time the spirit of the tree extended a finger and touched the brāhmaṇa on the head, and he fell faint to the ground.
At that time King Great Radiance said to the spirit of the tree: “Not only do you not aid me, but you obstruct my good deed.” At that time the spirit of the tree, hearing these words, felt distress in his heart, and cried aloud: “Strange indeed! Sorrow indeed!” In the sky, though there were no clouds, blood-rain fell; the earth quaked violently, and the sun lost its brilliance.
At that time the brāhmaṇa immediately cut off the head of the great king, and carrying it, returned to his own country. At that time the five hundred princes and all the ministers gathered the remains and bones of King Great Radiance, and built a stūpa to make offerings.
The Buddha told Ānanda: “At that time the chief minister, having heard that King Great Radiance gave his head in alms, could not bear it in his heart, and immediately abandoned his life. That was Śāriputra of today. At that time King Great Radiance was myself, Śākyamuni Tathāgata. The Bodhisattva in such a way practiced ascetic austerities, vowing for the sake of beings to remember the kindness of the Buddhas, and thus was able to transcend and accomplish Unsurpassed Perfect Complete Enlightenment. Therefore, Śāriputra, upon hearing that the Tathāgata was about to enter Nirvāṇa, could not bear to witness it with his own eyes, and so entered extinction before the Tathāgata. This is the very same cause and condition as in the past. In former lives he could not bear to see me abandon my life. In this rear garden, beneath this tree, I gave away the head of a Wheel-Turning King in alms, and the number of such givings has already been a thousand times. How much more so with other parts of the body, such as the body itself, the hands, and the feet?”
When this account of the ascetic cause and condition was spoken, there were immeasurable hundreds of thousands of beings who gave rise to the mind of Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi; again, there were immeasurable hundreds of thousands of people who attained realization from the path of Srotāpanna up to the fruit of Arhatship; again, there were immeasurable hundreds of thousands of people who gave rise to the mind of Śrāvakas and Pratyekabuddhas. All the great assembly, including the devas, nāgas, spirits, humans, and non-humans, having heard the Dharma spoken by the Buddha, rejoiced and departed.
Furthermore, in the country of Magadha there were five hundred bandits who constantly blocked the roads, robbing travelers, falsely accusing the innocent, and thus cutting off the royal highways.
At that time the king of Magadha sent forth the four kinds of armies to seize them, and drove them into a steep and perilous mountain place. Thereupon he ordered that each bandit’s two eyes be gouged out, their noses cut off, and their ears severed. At that time the five hundred bandits, their bodies enduring great suffering, with their lives hanging by a thread, were near to death. At that time among the five hundred bandits there was one who was a disciple of the Buddha. He told the assembly of men: “Now our lives are soon to end. Why not with sincere hearts return and take refuge in the Buddha?”
At that time the five hundred men immediately raised their voices together, chanting these words: “Namo Śākyamuni Buddha.” At that time the Tathāgata, dwelling on Gṛdhrakūṭa Mountain, by the power of compassion, reached the mountain of Yugaṁdhara. At once a great wind arose, shaking the forests and raising up sandalwood dust that filled the entire sky. The wind then carried the sandalwood dust to the place in the steep mountain where the bandits were. The sandalwood dust covered the eyes of the bandits and the sores of their whole bodies, and the wounds at once became healed as before.
At that time the bandits’ two eyes regained sight, the wounds upon their bodies were healed, and the blood turned into milk. They all said together: “We now, having received the great kindness of the Buddha, have bodies that are at ease and peaceful. To repay the kindness of the Buddha, one should quickly bring forth the mind of Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi.” Having spoken thus, all the great assembly with one voice said: “Those beings who have not yet obtained safety, I should cause them to obtain safety; those beings who have not yet obtained liberation, I should cause them to obtain liberation; those beings who have not yet been delivered, I should cause them to be delivered; those beings who have not yet attained the Path, I should cause them to attain Nirvāṇa.”
Again, the compassion, skillful means, and divine power of the Tathāgata are Inconceivable. When the Buddha was in Śrāvastī, at that time on Gṛdhrakūṭa Mountain there were five hundred men dwelling, who robbed travelers on the roads and committed various unlawful deeds. At that time the Tathāgata, employing skillful means and the power of spiritual transformation, manifested as a single man, riding upon a great noble elephant, clad in armor and weapons, carrying bow and arrows, and holding a long spear in his hand. The great elephant he rode was adorned with the seven treasures, and he himself was adorned with the seven treasures, wearing jewels and ornaments all shining forth with light. Alone he entered the perilous paths toward Gṛdhrakūṭa.
At that time the five hundred bandits on Gṛdhrakūṭa Mountain, seeing from afar this man, said to each other: “We have been bandits for so many years, yet never have we seen such a man.” Then the leader of the bandits asked them: “What have you seen?” They replied: “We saw a man riding a precious noble elephant, adorned with necklaces of jewels, and the trappings of the elephant, all made of the seven treasures. Radiating great light, he illuminated and shook heaven and earth. He is coming along the road, and he is alone. If we can seize this man, then food and clothing for our lives will be sufficient for seven generations without lack.” At that time the bandit chief, hearing these words, rejoiced in his heart, and secretly gave the order, saying: “By all means do not strike with blades or shoot with arrows. Seize him slowly and carefully.” At once they surrounded from front and rear and rushed in together. At that time the five hundred men shouted aloud together.
At that time the manifested man, with a heart of compassion, pitying and grieving for the bandits, immediately drew his bow and set his arrow, and shot at them. At that time all the five hundred men were each struck by an arrow. The wounds caused pain unbearable, so that they fell to the ground, rolling about and crying out loudly, then rose again and together tried to pull out the arrows. The arrows were very firmly fixed, and they could not at all pull them out. At that time the five hundred men, their hearts filled with fear, said: “Now surely we shall die, there is no doubt. Why is this? This man is impossible to resist, such as we have never before encountered.” Thereupon they all together, in one voice, recited verses and asked:
“Who are you? Is it by the power of incantations,
or are you a nāga, a spirit, or a god, that with but a single bow you can strike five hundred men?
Our suffering is beyond words. We take refuge in you.
Please draw out these poisoned arrows for us. We will follow you and dare not disobey.”
At that time the manifested man answered in verse, saying:
“Though I cause wounds there is no fault, the shooting of arrows is not from anger,
These arrows cannot be withdrawn, only by reliance on unremitting hearing Dharma can they be undone.”
At that time, when the manifested man finished speaking the verse, he then returned to the body of the Buddha, radiating great light that shone throughout the ten directions. All beings who encountered this light—the blind recovered their sight, the hunchbacked straightened their spines, the lame could move their hands and feet; those deluded by evil and confusion were able to behold the true words. In short, all matters of dissatisfaction were brought to fulfillment.
At that time the Tathāgata instructed and taught the five hundred men, bringing them benefit and joy, and proclaimed various Dharmas. At that time the five hundred men, having heard the Dharma, rejoiced greatly; the sores of their bodies were healed, and the flowing blood was transformed into milk. They immediately brought forth the mind of Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi., and then together in one voice recited a verse, saying:
“We have now aroused the mind of Bodhi, to broadly benefit all beings;
We should constantly revere the Buddhas,and follow the Buddhas in learning.
Reciting the compassionate power of the Buddha, can remove suffering and bring peace to body and mind;
We should remember the kindness of the Buddha, the Bodhisattvas, virtuous friends,
Teachers and parents, and the kindness of all beings.
Toward enemies and toward kin alike, one must regard them equally. Their kindness is without difference.”
At that time, the devas of the Desire Realm heavens, Kausika and others, scattered various heavenly flowers, played marvelous heavenly music, and made offerings to the Tathāgata. With one voice they recited a verse, saying:
“The blessings we cultivated in former lives, now shine forth with majestic radiance,
Complete with all wondrous offerings, able to benefit all beings.
The World-Honored One is exceedingly hard to encounter, the subtle Dharma is also hard to hear;
We in the past accumulated roots of many virtues, now we have met the Sage of the Śākya clan.
We remember the kindness of the Buddha, and should arouse the mind that seeks the Path;
Now that we have been able to behold the Buddha, all our three karmas are wholesome;
For the sake of all beings, we dedicate toward the Unsurpassed Buddha Way.”
At that time, after the devas had spoken this verse, they circumambulated the Buddha a hundred thousand times, bowed in reverence to the Buddha, and then flew and departed.
Furthermore, the skillful means of the Tathāgata and the faculty power of his compassion are Inconceivable. At that time in the country of Vaiśālī there was a brāhmaṇa, attached to false views, greedy, arrogant, and full of pride. Śāriputra and Mahāmaudgalyāyana often went to his house to speak the Dharma to him, to console and admonish him, yet he did not believe, did not accept, but still clung to debates of false views. His household was exceedingly wealthy, possessing treasures beyond reckoning, but he had no son. Once he died, his wealth and property would be confiscated by the officials.
The brāhmaṇa, having thought through these matters, made offerings and sacrifices to various mountain deities and various tree deities. After ninety days had passed, his wife became aware that she had conceived. When the months of pregnancy were fulfilled, she gave birth to a boy. This child’s appearance was upright and his form complete. His parents cherished him, and all people respected him. When he reached twelve years of age, he went out together with companions to play and to look around.
This child on the road encountered a drunken elephant. The elephant charged forward trampling, and at once he died. His parents, upon hearing this news, cried aloud with wailing voices, threw themselves upon the ground, and fell into a state of madness and delusion. Dust covered their bodies, they tore out their own hair, and said: ‘How wretched is our fate! We have lost our treasure!’ They rushed to where their son was, embraced his corpse, and wailed aloud in grief, weeping until they fainted away and then revived again. Their minds already deranged and deluded, they went about naked. At that time they encountered the Tathāgata. By the strength of his compassionate roots, the Tathāgata transformed and manifested their son before them.
At that time the parents immediately came forward and embraced him, overjoyed beyond measure. Their madness and delusion at once disappeared, and their minds returned to clarity. At that time the Tathāgata then expounded the Dharma for them. Because of hearing the Dharma, they immediately brought forth the mind of Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi.
Furthermore, the faculty power of the Tathāgata’s compassion is Inconceivable. At that time King Virūḍhaka dispatched the four kinds of armies to attack the country of Śrāvastī. He captured many sons of the Śākya clan, dug a pit and buried them in it, the depth of the pit reaching just up to their armpits so that they could not move. Thus they remained for seven days.
At that time the Tathāgata, by the strength of his compassionate roots, transformed that ground into a bathing pool. The water of the pool possessed the eight qualities of merit of the water, and within it were wondrous fragrant flowers: padme flowers and pundarīka flowers of blue, yellow, red, and white, as large as chariot wheels, filling the entire pool. All kinds of birds echoed each other with cries and songs. At that time those sons of the Śākya clan, seeing these events, gave rise to joy in their hearts, and immediately brought forth the mind of Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi.
After the sons of the Śākya clan brought forth the Bodhi mind, King Virūḍhaka at once poured liquor into five hundred black elephants, making them drunk and staggering. He placed iron armor upon their feet, tied sharp swords to their trunks, and immediately struck the evil drums, releasing that herd of elephants to trample the sons of the Śākya clan. Their body joints, skin, and bones were crushed and broken, scattered in disorder upon the ground. Yet by the compassionate power of the Tathāgata, their bodies and minds were at peace and at ease. Because their bodies and minds were at peace and at ease, they gave rise to the Bodhi mind; because they gave rise to the Bodhi mind, they gave rise to minds of equality toward all beings; because their minds were equal, they did not give rise to hatred; because they did not give rise to hatred, at the end of their lives they were reborn in the heavenly realms.
Having been reborn in heaven, they immediately used the heavenly eye to look back upon their former causes and conditions, and then said to one another: “We, having received the compassionate kindness of the Buddha, have been reborn in the heavens. The palaces adorned with the seven treasures, the precious clothing and fine garments, the radiance emitted from our bodies, the subtle music of song and dance, all instruments of delight—these are all due to the divine power of the Tathāgata. Therefore we must arouse the great compassionate mind to benefit beings. Wherever the Dharma of the Buddha is transmitted—whether in cities, villages, forests, under trees, palaces, or houses—wherever there are those who read, recite, write, or explain the meaning of the Dharma, in those places where the Dharma is transmitted, we shall provide them with all they need, so that they will not be lacking. If there are wars, epidemics, or famines, we must protect them day and night, with minds never abandoning them.”
At that time, after the devas had made these vows, their bodies, lifespans, colors, powers, and radiance all doubled, becoming even more splendid and magnificent. They rejoiced with delight, and flew into the sky and departed.
Furthermore, the skillful means and the compassionate faculty power of the Tathāgata are Inconceivable. At that time King Virūḍhaka attacked the country of Śrāvastī and, after destroying and killing all the Śākya clan people, he selected certain Śākya women—those of upright appearance, endowed with great abilities, each skilled in many arts—choosing five hundred of them. Surrounding them front and back, he returned to his own country with music, song, and dance.
The consorts and palace women ascended to the main hall, sat in full lotus posture, and spoke to the assembly, saying: “Now I am very joyful, praising limitless good deeds.” At that time those Śākya women asked King Virūḍhaka: “Why are you now joyful?” He answered: “I have defeated my enemies.”
The Śākya women said: “You have not gained victory. Even if all the four armies of your country could not match a single man of the Śākya clan, it is because we Śākyas are disciples of the Buddha, not contending with all things, that you have gained success. If we had raised evil thoughts, then in the past when you raised armies three or four times to attack Śrāvastī, you would not have returned in retreat.
“When you first came, the Śākyas said: ‘This King Virūḍhaka does not understand gratitude, but instead brings forth evil rebellion. If we fight with him, there will be no distinction between the wise and the foolish, no clarity between black and white. We should now frighten him and cause him to withdraw.’ Then they established a vow and command: ‘Now let all shoot at him together, but let the arrows not injure him.’ Thus the fourfold army went forth to meet King Virūḍhaka. At a distance of forty li, they drew their bows and released arrows, each arrow following the other, the shafts connecting end to end. At that time King Virūḍhaka, seeing this, became fearful in his heart and retreated.
“After ninety days, again he raised the four armies to attack the Śākyas. At that time the Śākyas together deliberated, saying: ‘Virūḍhaka is a wicked man, shameless and without repentance, again coming to harm us.’ At that time the Śākyas again made a vow of restraint, saying: ‘Today let us all shoot together at the armor, and let no man be injured.’ At that time the Śākyas together released arrows, and the armor and weapons of all were shattered and broken with cracking sounds, leaving them standing naked. At that time King Virūḍhaka, his heart terrified, assembled his ministers and said: ‘Now I fear we cannot be safe.’ Among them the chief minister said to the king: ‘These Śākyas are all disciples of the Buddha, holding the precept of not killing, cultivating compassion. If it were not so, our very lives would already have perished.’ The king said: ‘If this is indeed the case, then we may advance again.’
“At that time the Śākyas stood firm, and King Virūḍhaka’s army and horses then pressed close. Among the Śākyas there was a brāhmaṇa who said to the sons of the Śākya clan: ‘Now calamity has arrived. Why do you remain still, adorned and unmoving?’ The Śākyas answered: ‘We now do not contend with all things. If we were to contend, we would not be disciples of the Buddha.’ Then that brāhmaṇa, disdaining their words, rushed forward out of the Śākyas’ ranks and fought with King Virūḍhaka, loosing one arrow that struck seven men. Before long, casualties increased more and more, and King Virūḍhaka’s fourfold army retreated. At that time the Śākyas then thought: ‘We now should not remain in company with this evil man.’ They gathered together the Śākya assembly and expelled that brāhmaṇa. After he was expelled, King Virūḍhaka’s fourfold army destroyed Śrāvastī. Because of this cause and condition, it came to be that you gained victory.”
At that time King Virūḍhaka gave rise to shame in his heart. He summoned the caṇḍālas, and ordered that the Śākya women’s ears and noses be cut off, and their hands and feet severed. After their hands and feet were severed, they were carried away on carts and cast among the tombs. At that time the Śākya women, twisting and struggling without hands or feet, wailed and cried in grief, their bodies oppressed with pain, with little life remaining. At that time some of the Śākya women called out for their fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters; some called out for heaven and for earth, their suffering immeasurable.
Among them there was one foremost Śākya woman who spoke to the others, saying: “Sisters! You should know that I once heard from the Buddha: ‘If there is one who in the midst of peril arouses even a single thought of mindfulness of the Buddha, with utmost sincerity takes refuge, that person will attain safety, each according to their wish.’”
At that time the five hundred Śākya women, with one voice and utmost sincerity, recollected the Buddha, saying: “Namo Śākyamuni Tathāgata Arhate Samyaksaṃbuddha.” Again they said: “Suffering! Suffering! Pain! Pain! Alas! Bhagavān! Sugata!”
When these words were spoken, then in the sky, by the power of the compassionate roots of the Tathāgata, arose a cloud of great compassion, and a rain of great compassion descended, falling upon those women. When the rain touched them, their bodies, hands, and feet grew back as before. The women rejoiced and said together: “The Tathāgata, compassionate father, unsurpassed World-Honored One, wondrous medicine of the world, eye of the world, who within the three realms can remove the sufferings of beings and bestow happiness—why is this so? Because now we have been delivered from affliction. Now we should remember the kindness of the Buddha, we should think of repaying the kindness.”
The women reflected, saying: “By what means should we repay the kindness of the Buddha? The body of the Tathāgata is a vajra body, an eternal body, a body free of hunger and thirst, a body complete with subtle form, possessing hundreds of thousands of samādhis, the faculties, the powers, the factors of enlightenment, the noble paths, the Inconceivable thirty-two marks, and the eighty subsidiary characteristics. Endowed with the twofold adornments, dwelling in great Nirvāṇa, he regards beings equally as he regards Rāhula, seeing enemies and kin alike with equal vision, and not seeking repayment. Now as we wish to repay the Buddha’s kindness, we should together go forth, uphold the precepts, and protect the true Dharma.”
Having so reflected, they sought robes and bowls, and went to the bhikṣuṇī monastery of the kingdom, requesting to go forth into the homeless life.
At that time the group of six bhikṣuṇīs who, seeing the Śākya women—young in years, upright in beauty and appearance—thought: “How is it that now they can abandon what is so difficult to abandon, and all go forth into the homeless life together? We should speak to them of the pleasures of the five desires of the world, let them wait until their years have passed, and then go forth. Would that not be delightful? If they return to lay life, they surely will offer up their robes and bowls to us.” Having reflected thus, they spoke these matters before the Śākya women.
The women, having heard, were distressed in their hearts, saying: “Why is it that in this place of safety there is such great terror? It is as though food and drink were mixed with poison. What these bhikṣuṇīs have said is just the same. The five worldly desires have many faults, and I already fully know them. Why then do they instead praise their beauty and urge us to return to our homes, dwelling in the five desires?” Having spoken these words, they cried aloud with tears, and withdrew from the nunnery hall.
At that time there was a bhikṣuṇī named Lotus Color, who asked the women: “Why are you weeping?” The women replied: “Our wish has not been fulfilled.” The bhikṣuṇī said: “What is your wish?” They replied: “Our wish is to go forth, but we have not been granted permission.”
At that time Bhikṣuṇī Lotus Color said: “If you wish to go forth, I am able to ordain you.” When the women heard this, joy arose in their hearts, and they immediately followed her, being ordained as disciples.
At that time the Śākya women, having now been permitted, were overwhelmed with both grief and joy, and said: “Master! You should know that when we were at home, there was no end to the many kinds of suffering. Relatives and kin perished, our ears and noses were cut off, our hands and feet severed, calamities extremely severe.”
At that time the master spoke to the disciples: “What hardship of yours is worth speaking of? When I was at home, I endured countless sufferings, those matters were many.” At that time the Śākya women knelt down before the master and said: “We wish to hear the causes and conditions of the sufferings in lay life.”
At that time Bhikṣuṇī Lotus Color immediately entered into meditation, and by the power of supernormal abilities released great light, illuminating the Jambudvīpa world, summoning those with affinities—devas, nāgas, spirits, humans, and non-humans. In the midst of the great assembly she herself said:
“When I was at home, I was a person of Śrāvastī. My parents married me into the north. There was there a custom that when a woman became pregnant and was near to giving birth, she must return to her mother’s house. Thus again and again, over the years I bore several children. Later once more I became pregnant, and when I was about to give birth, my husband and I together rode in a carriage returning to my mother’s home.
“On the way there was a river, and at that time the floodwaters were high, blocking the road, and many bandits were about. We came to the riverbank but could not cross, and had to stay lodging by the shore. At night my belly began to ache, I rose and sat, and before long I gave birth to a son. In the grass by the riverbank there was a great venomous snake, which, smelling the blood, followed the scent toward me. My husband and serving-maid lay asleep before me. The snake came to the maid and bit her to death; it came to my husband, who was sleeping soundly without awareness, and he too was bitten to death. At that time I cried out loudly: ‘The snake is here! The snake is here!’ Calling to my husband brought no response, and then I knew my husband and maid were already dead. At that time the snake also bit the oxen and horses.
“When the sun rose, my husband’s corpse was already swollen and decayed, his bones scattered, all in disorder. Seeing this, grief and terror struck me, and I fainted to the ground, crying aloud, beating my chest, stamping my feet, tearing my hair, my body covered in dust, then fainting again. Reviving, I crawled up and threw my husband’s bones into the river. With sorrow and grief I remained wretched by the bank. After several days the waters lessened. I carried one child on my back, with my hand supporting him from behind, and wrapped the newborn infant in cloth, holding him in my mouth, and entered the river to cross.
“When I had reached the middle of the river, I turned my head and saw my eldest son still on the bank, pursued by a fierce tiger leaping at him. In haste I opened my mouth to call out to my son. Unexpectedly the cloth in my mouth fell into the water, the baby within dropped as well. In panic I groped with my hands but could not grasp him. The child on my back slipped from my hand and also fell into the water, soon drowned. Looking back, the son on the bank was devoured by the tiger. Seeing this, my heart and liver seemed torn apart, I immediately vomited hot blood, and cried out aloud: ‘Strange! Strange! How is it that in a single day I have met with such cruel calamity!’ Reaching the bank, I fainted to the ground.
“After a long time, some travelers arrived. Among them was an elder who was an old acquaintance of my parents. I asked him news of my parents. The elder replied: ‘Last night at midnight, fire broke out in your parents’ house. All the household perished in the flames, and your father and mother also died in the fire.’ Hearing this, I again fainted to the ground, long before awakening. Not long after, there came five hundred bandits who killed the travelers. The bandit chief seized me as his wife, ordering me always to guard the house, and in times of urgency when they were pursued, I must open quickly to save him. Later, one day the bandit chief and the bandits went out again to plunder.
“They were met by rich men, the king, and villages joining together to chase them. The bandit chief returned home. At that time I was in the chamber giving birth. The bandit chief shouted again and again outside, and no one opened the door.
“Then he thought in his mind: ‘This woman intends to harm me.’ Thinking thus, he climbed the wall and entered, roaring at me: ‘Why did you not quickly open the door!’ I replied: ‘I am in childbirth, I cannot at once open.’ The bandit chief, seeing it was so, slightly calmed his anger, but again cried out: ‘If a woman can be pregnant, she will bear children. Because you gave birth to a son you endangered me. What use is this child? Quickly kill him!’ At that time, compassion arose in my heart, and I could not bear to kill the child.
“Then the bandit chief drew a knife and hacked, cutting off the child’s hands and feet, throwing them to me, saying: ‘You gave birth to this—now swallow it back! If you will not eat, I shall cut off your head!’ In extreme terror, I then swallowed the child’s hands and feet. After I had eaten them, his rage was appeased.
“Afterward, the bandit continued plundering. Finally one day he was seized by the king and punished according to law. Those who were bandits were beheaded, and the bandits’ wives, together with their husbands’ corpses, were buried alive. At that time I was adorned with gold and silver ornaments, wearing a necklace inlaid with pearls and jewels. I was buried alive. At night, one man, greedy for my necklace, dug open my grave, took the necklace, and dug me out. Before long, that man was seized by the royal guard, judged by law, and executed like the bandits, beheaded, and again buried alive together with me. The soil was not deep. In the latter half of the night tigers and wolves came, dug open the grave, and devoured the corpses. Taking that chance, I escaped.
“Escaping, my spirit was dazed and confused, I lost my way in the wilderness, unable to tell east, west, south, or north. I ran aimlessly, and when I met people on the road, I said: ‘Do you all know of my miserable fate and grievous sorrow? What method is there to forget grief and cast off affliction?’ At that time elders, brāhmaṇas, and others, with hearts of pity, told me: ‘We have heard that in the Dharma of Śākyamuni there are many ways to calm the mind, to remove sorrow and vexation.’ Hearing this, joy arose in my heart. I then went to the dwelling of the Bhikṣuṇī Mahāprajāpatī Gautamī, and there went forth into the homeless life. Step by step cultivating, I attained the fruit of the Path, the three knowledges and six supernormal powers, and the eight liberations. You should understand that before I went forth, my sufferings in lay life were thus profound. Because of these causes and conditions of suffering, I attained the Path.”
At that time the Śākya women, having heard this account, gave rise in their hearts to great joy, and at once attained the purity of the Dharma-eye. All those in the assembly also each made vows of their own, rejoicing and departing.
At that time the Buddha’s aunt, the Bhikṣuṇī Mahāprajāpatī Gautamī, spoke to all the bhikṣuṇīs, śikṣamāṇās, sāmaṇerīs, upāsikās, and to all women, saying: “The Dharma of the Buddha has great benefit, all merits, and the three kinds of karmic fruits are only fully complete in the great ocean of the Tathāgata’s Dharma. All beings have a share in them, yet we women are not permitted by the Tathāgata. This is because women have many doubts, attachments hard to abandon. Because of attachments, the various karmic bonds are countless in their entanglements, and infatuated love covers over the consciousness. Because the covering of consciousness is heavy, they are submerged in the water of craving and cannot escape on their own. Because of their inferior wisdom, because of laziness and sloth, with this present body they cannot adorn Bodhi, cannot obtain the thirty-two marks, and within birth-and-death they lose the supreme fruit of a Wheel-Turning Sage King. Again, because by the ten wholesome Dharmas they receive beings, they cannot become the unsurpassed Brahmā King, cannot establish the true Dharma for the Path, cannot exhort and request so that beings may obtain benefit and peace. Therefore the Tathāgata is not willing to let women be disciples. Māra Pāpīyān and all kinds of wrong-view outsiders, in long night of evil, clinging to false arguments, destroy the true Dharma, slander the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha. Therefore the Tathāgata is not willing to let women enter the Buddha’s Dharma.
“For the sake of all women, I three times requested of the Tathāgata, seeking the Dharma. Three times I asked, and three times I was not permitted. At that time, not having fulfilled my vow, I held grief and regret in my heart, sorrow and affliction, and walked out of the Jetavana Monastery, with eyes filled with sorrowful tears.
At that time Ānanda asked me: ‘Lady, why are you so grief-stricken, sorrowful, and heartbroken?’ I immediately answered the attendant Ānanda: ‘I wished to leave home to cultivate the Buddha’s Dharma. Three times I requested of the Tathāgata, and three times I was not permitted. Therefore I am sorrowful!’ Ānanda then answered me: ‘Lady, do not grieve. I will go for you to petition the Tathāgata, so that you may enter the Dharma.’ Gautamī, hearing these words, gave rise in her heart to great joy.
At that time Ānanda entered and said to the Buddha: “World-Honored One! Now I wish to request a vow from the Buddha.” The Buddha said: “Speak it.” Ānanda said: ‘World-Honored One, Lady Gautamī nursed and raised the Tathāgata. Today you have attained Buddhahood—it can be said that it is through her that you have come to this day. Lady Gautamī has a great kindness toward the Tathāgata. You, World-Honored One, permit all beings to enter the Buddha’s Dharma. Why do you not permit Lady Gautamī to enter the Dharma?’
The Buddha told Ānanda: ‘Just as you have said, Tathāgata I am not unaware of Lady Gautamī’s great kindness toward me. It is only that I am unwilling for women to enter the Buddha’s Dharma. If I allow women to enter the Buddha’s Dharma, the true Dharma will gradually decline, diminishing to only five hundred years. Therefore I, the Tathāgata, am not willing to permit women to enter the Buddha’s Dharma.’
At that time Ānanda bowed deeply at the Buddha’s feet, knelt with joined palms, and again confessed to the Buddha, saying: ‘World-Honored One, I, Ānanda, think that the Buddhas of the past all possessed the fourfold assembly of disciples. Why is it that my Śākya Tathāgata alone does not possess them?’
The Buddha told Ānanda: ‘If Gautamī loves the Dharma, arouses a mind of great vigor, and purely cultivates the Eight Rules of Respect, then she may be permitted to enter the Buddha’s Dharma.’
Ānanda immediately bowed to the Buddha, circumambulated three times to the right, and then left the monastery and told Lady Gautamī: ‘Ānanda has already entreated the Tathāgata, and the Tathāgata has permitted Lady to uphold the Dharma.’ Gautamī, hearing these words, was greatly joyful, and said to Ānanda: ‘Excellent indeed, Ānanda! You were able earnestly to entreat the Tathāgata, so that I might accomplish my wish.’
Then Ānanda proclaimed to her the earnest teaching of the Tathāgata. Lady Gautamī, hearing this, felt grief and joy intertwined, and thought: ‘Formerly my body was an impermanent body, now it has been exchanged for a precious body; formerly my life was moment by moment perishing, changing without certainty, now it has been exchanged for a precious life; formerly all my body, life, and wealth were compounded by various causes and conditions, not truly possessed by me. Today they are exchanged for precious wealth. Thinking of these merits and great benefits, I went to Ānanda’s dwelling with a heart of deep reverence and devotion. I said to Ānanda: ‘Venerable Ānanda! I wish not to trouble you. The secret and profound teaching of the Tathāgata, I shall devote myself to uphold. Even should my life be sacrificed, I will never retreat.’
Then the Tathāgata expounded the subtle Eight Rules of Respect, which must never be transgressed or destroyed.
At that time Lady Gautamī then cultivated her heart with great compassion, and universally for the sake of all women of the future again spoke to the Buddha, saying: “World-Honored One! If in the future evil age there are virtuous women who, with faith and joy, love and revere the Dharma of the Buddha, may it be permitted that they may receive such allowance.”
The Buddha said: “Excellent indeed! If there are women who uphold the Dharma of the Buddha, gradually cultivating precepts, generosity, much learning, and all kinds of wholesome Dharmas, whether at home or having gone forth, the Three Refuges, the Five Precepts, even up to the Complete Precepts, and all methods of deliverance and all Dharmas that assist the Path—all shall be permitted to practice freely. They will also be able to obtain these three fruits: human, heaven, and Nirvāṇa.”
At that time Gautamī, having heard this Dharma, rejoiced in her heart and spoke to the Buddha, saying: “World-Honored One! Such fruits of reward are truly the kindness of the Buddha.”
The Buddha said: “Do not speak in this way. The Tathāgata does not have kindness toward beings; the Tathāgata does not generate a mind of kindness toward beings. If there arises in speech the notion of having kindness, it would destroy the equality of the Tathāgata’s mind. Gautamī! You should know that if the Tathāgata in regard to beings were to reckon kindness or unkindness, then there would be no equality. Why is this so? If there is a being who harms the Buddha, the Tathāgata does not become angry; if there is a being who anoints the Tathāgata’s body with sandalwood paste, the Tathāgata does not become joyful. The Tathāgata universally regards beings—enemy and kin alike—with equal vision.
“It is due to Ānanda’s causes and conditions, not the Tathāgata’s. Because of Ānanda, women are able to enter the Dharma of the Buddha. Gautamī! In the future, in the last age, if there are bhikṣuṇīs and all virtuous women, they should constantly and sincerely recollect the kindness of Ānanda, recite his name, make offerings, pay reverence, honor, and praise him, so that it will not be cut off. If they cannot, then day and night, six times, they should not let their minds forget.”
At that time Gautamī told the bhikṣuṇīs and all the virtuous women: “We should sincerely and earnestly take refuge in the great master Ānanda. If there is a woman who wishes to obtain peaceful and auspicious fruits of reward, she should constantly, on the eighth day of the second month and the eighth day of the eighth month, wear clean and pure garments, and with utmost sincerity uphold the Eight Precepts and the fasting Dharma, day and night six times establishing a mind of great vigor. Ānanda will by his great majestic power respond to the sound and come to protect and aid her, and her wishes will thereby be fulfilled.”
At that time, the great assembly present, having heard the Dharma, rejoiced, circumambulated to the right, and departed.
Dharma Torch 