Translated by śramaṇas Hui Jue etc. from Liangzhou of the Yuan Wei Dynasty in Gaochang Commandery
Section Thirty-One: The King Moonlight Offered His Head (In the Tanjur version this section is in the Fifth Scroll, as Section Twenty-Eight)
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was staying in the country of Vaiśālī, in the grove of Āmrapālī. At that time, the World-Honored One said to the venerable Ānanda, “One who has attained the Four Bases of Spiritual Power can sustain his life for one kalpa. I have cultivated the Four Bases of Spiritual Power most excellently. Now, Ānanda, how much longer should the Tathāgata’s lifespan remain?” He asked in this way three times. At that time, Ānanda was deluded by Māra, the Evil One, and although he heard the Buddha’s words, he remained silent and did not reply. Then the World-Honored One said again to Ānanda, “You may rise and go to a quiet place to contemplate in stillness.” The venerable Ānanda then stood up and went into the forest.
After Ānanda had departed, Māra Pāpīyān came to the Buddha’s dwelling and said to the Buddha, “World-Honored One, you have stayed long in this world, teaching and transforming living beings. The work of liberating beings has already been accomplished. Those who have escaped from the suffering of birth and death through your guidance are as countless as the sands of the Ganges River. Now you are already advanced in years; you may enter Nirvāṇa.”
Then the World-Honored One took up a small handful of earth from the ground and placed it on his palm. He said to Māra, “Which is greater, the earth in my hand or the earth upon the great earth?” Māra replied, “The earth upon the great earth is greater.” The Buddha said, “Those who have been liberated are like the earth in my palm, while those yet unliberated are like the earth of the great earth.” Then the Buddha told Māra, “After three months, I shall enter Nirvāṇa.” When Māra heard these words, he rejoiced greatly and departed.
At that time, Ānanda was seated in stillness within the forest. Suddenly he fell asleep and dreamed of a great tree that covered half the sky. Its branches and leaves were luxuriant, and its flowers and fruits were abundant. All living beings depended upon it for shelter and benefit. The tree possessed innumerable and wondrous merits and virtues. Suddenly, a fierce wind arose, breaking the branches and scattering the leaves, turning them into fine dust that drifted away toward the realm of the strong men. The beings who beheld this sight were all filled with sorrow and lamentation.
Ānanda awoke in fright from this dream, shaken and restless, unable to stay in peace. He thought to himself, “The tree I just saw in my dream was wondrous beyond measure; all beings under heaven relied upon its grace. Why then was it shattered by the great wind? Now the World-Honored One protects and nourishes all beings just like that great tree in my dream. Is this omen showing that the World-Honored One is about to pass away, to enter Nirvāṇa?”
Thinking thus, Ānanda was seized with fear. He went to the Buddha’s dwelling, made obeisance to the Buddha, and said, “I have just dreamt of such a thing. I suspect that the World-Honored One may intend to enter Nirvāṇa?” The Buddha said to Ānanda, “Just as you have said, after three months I shall enter Nirvāṇa. Earlier I asked you, ‘One who has attained the Four Bases of Spiritual Power can sustain his life for one kalpa. I have cultivated the Four Bases of Spiritual Power most excellently. Now, Ānanda, how much longer should the Tathāgata’s lifespan remain?’ I asked you this three times, but you did not reply. After you left, Māra came to persuade me to enter Nirvāṇa, and I consented to him.”
When Ānanda heard this, he was overwhelmed with grief, his mind thrown into confusion, distressed and angry, unable to control himself. The Buddha’s disciples, hearing of this one from another, were all stricken with sorrow and came together to the Buddha’s dwelling. Then the World-Honored One said to Ānanda and to all the disciples, “All things in the world are subject to change and transformation; who can remain forever? What should be done for you, I have already done; what should be spoken, I have already spoken. You should be diligent, vigorous, and earnestly cultivate the practice. Why give way to grief and sorrow? Such lamentation is of no avail.”
At that time, when Śāriputra heard that the World-Honored One was about to enter Parinirvāṇa, he sighed deeply and said, “The Tathāgata is entering Parinirvāṇa—why is it so swift? From this moment onward, the world will fall into darkness, and all living beings will lose their refuge.” Then he said to the Buddha, “I cannot bear to see the World-Honored One pass away before me. I now wish to enter Nirvāṇa before the World-Honored One, and I pray that the World-Honored One will permit it.” Thus he spoke three times. The World-Honored One said to him, “You should know that when the time is due, all sages and saints must enter extinction.”
Then Śāriputra, having received the Buddha’s permission, arranged his robe neatly, knelt upon the ground, and approached the Buddha on his knees. He circumambulated the Buddha a hundred times, then stopped before him and, with many verses, praised the Buddha’s virtues. He took up the Buddha’s two feet and placed them upon his own head three times. With palms joined, he said to the Buddha, “Now I take my final look at the World-Honored One.” With reverent hands folded, he withdrew walking backward, and taking the sāmaṇera Cunda, he returned to Rājagṛha, the place of his birth. There he immediately said to the sāmaṇera Cunda, “Go to the towns and villages and announce to the king, ministers, old friends, and all the dānapati, that they may come to bid farewell.”
Then Cunda paid homage to his teacher and set forth to announce everywhere: “My teacher, the venerable Śāriputra, is now here and intends to enter Nirvāṇa. Those who wish to see him once more may come.” At that time, King Ajātaśatru, together with the noble and virtuous men of the country, the dānapati, and the four assemblies of disciples, hearing Cunda’s words, were all filled with grief. They spoke in one voice, saying, “The venerable Śāriputra is a great general of the Dharma, beloved and revered by all beings. Now he is about to enter Nirvāṇa—why is it so swift!” They hastened to him, paid homage, and after offering their salutations, said, “We have heard that the venerable one wishes to enter Nirvāṇa. We beings will lose our refuge.”
At that time, Śāriputra said to them, “All things in the world are impermanent. Those who are born must all die. Within the three realms, there is nothing but suffering. Who can attain everlasting bliss? You should rejoice that you have encountered the arising of the Buddha in the world. Know that the Dharma is difficult to hear, and the human body is difficult to obtain. You should constantly reflect upon this and be diligent in accumulating merit and virtue, so as to free yourselves from the afflictions of birth and death.” Thus he expounded various wondrous Dharma teachings. He also, understanding the proper time and conditions, prescribed medicines to heal the ailments of those present according to their illnesses.
At that time, among those who heard him speak the Dharma, some attained the first fruit, some up to the third fruit; some renounced the household life and attained Arhatship, and there were also those who made the firm resolve to seek the path of Buddhahood. After hearing the Dharma, all paid homage and departed.
Then Śāriputra, in the later part of the night, composed his body and mind, gathered his concentration, and entered the first dhyāna; raised from the first dhyāna, he entered the second dhyāna; raised from the second, he entered the third dhyāna; raised from the third, he entered the fourth dhyāna; raised from the fourth dhyāna, he entered the sphere of boundless space; raised from the sphere of boundless space, he entered the sphere of boundless consciousness; raised from the sphere of boundless consciousness, he entered the sphere of nothingness; raised from the sphere of nothingness, he entered the sphere of neither perception nor non-perception; raised from the sphere of neither perception nor non-perception, he entered the cessation of perception and feeling; and raised from the cessation of perception and feeling, he entered Parinirvāṇa.
At that time, Śakra, Lord of the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven, having learned that Śāriputra had entered extinction, came together with many gods and with hundreds of thousands of attendants, bearing flowers, incense, and various offerings. They filled the sky above his dwelling, weeping and lamenting in sorrow, their tears falling like torrential rain. From the heavens flowers rained down, carpeting the earth to the height of the knees.
The celestial beings all said, “The venerable one’s wisdom is deeper and vaster than the ocean. His discernment is swift, his eloquence boundless, and his voice as melodious as a gushing spring. Perfect in morality, concentration, and wisdom, he was a great general of the Dharma, always accompanying the Tathāgata in turning the wondrous Dharma wheel far and wide. Why has he so soon entered Nirvāṇa?”
When the people of the cities and villages, within and without, heard that Śāriputra had entered Nirvāṇa, they all took ghee, incense, and flowers as offerings and hurried there, gathering together in grief and longing beyond control, each carrying incense and flowers to make offerings before him.
Then Śakra, Lord of the Heaven, commanded Viśvakarmā to gather precious treasures and construct an adorned high chariot. Śāriputra’s body was placed upon this high chariot. The gods, nāgas, yakṣas, kings, ministers, and common people all escorted the chariot, wailing and lamenting as they went, until they arrived at a broad and level place. Śakra then instructed the yakṣas to go to the seashore and fetch candana wood from the head of the bull. The yakṣas accepted the command and soon returned with it, piling it up into a great mound. They then placed Śāriputra upon it, poured ghee over it, and set it aflame jhāpita, paying reverent homage before departing.
When the fire was extinguished, the sāmaṇera Cunda gathered his teacher’s relics, placed them in a bowl, took up Śāriputra’s three robes, and carried them all together to the Buddha’s dwelling. Bowing in homage, he knelt before the Buddha and said, “My teacher, Śāriputra, has entered Nirvāṇa. These are his relics; these are his robes and bowl.””
At that time, the venerable Ānanda, hearing this, was overcome with sorrow and distress, deeply moved and full of emotion. He said to the Buddha, “Now the venerable one, the great general of the Dharma, has entered Parinirvāṇa. Upon whom may I now rely?”
The Buddha said to him, “Though Śāriputra has entered extinction, his Dharma-body—the precepts, concentration, wisdom, liberation, and the knowledge and vision of liberation—does not perish. Moreover, it is not only in this life that Śāriputra, unable to bear seeing me enter Nirvāṇa, entered extinction before me. In past lives as well, he could not bear to witness my passing and died before me.”
Then the venerable Ānanda, with palms joined, said to the Buddha, “World-Honored One, I do not know what is meant by Śāriputra’s having in past lives died before you. I pray that you will explain this matter for us.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “In a distant past, countless kalpas ago, within Jambudvīpa there was a great kingdom named Candraprabhā (which in the language of Jin means ‘Moonlight’). This king ruled over eighty-four thousand small countries, sixty thousand rivers and mountains, and eight billion villages. The king had twenty thousand consorts and maidens, and his chief queen was named Sumadāna (which in the language of Jin means ‘Flower Donation’). Among his ten thousand ministers, the foremost was named Mahācandra (which in the language of Jin means ‘Great Moon’). The king had five hundred princes, the eldest of whom was named Śīlabhadra (which in the language of Jin means ‘Virtue and Worthiness’). The city where the king resided was called Bhadrajīva (which in Chinese means ‘Noble Life’).
“The city was vast and deep, four hundred yojanas in height, built of gold, silver, beryl, and crystal. On its four sides there were one hundred and twenty gates. The streets and lanes were orderly and beautiful. Within the city there were four rows of trees, made of gold, silver, beryl, and crystal—some with golden branches and silver leaves, some with silver branches and golden leaves, some with beryl branches and crystal leaves, and others with crystal branches and beryl leaves, each with its distinct appearance. There were also precious ponds built of gold, silver, beryl, and crystal, with sands at the bottom made of these same four treasures. The inner palace of the king extended twenty miles in circumference, wholly constructed from gold, silver, beryl, and crystal. The kingdom was prosperous and at peace; the people lived in harmony, and there were countless rare birds and precious treasures.
“At that time, the king sat upon his main throne and suddenly gave rise to this thought: ‘There are those who, being born into the world, enjoy honor and wealth, revered by all under heaven, whose words none dare oppose, and who freely possess the pleasures of the five desires. The reason they receive such rewards is entirely due to their former accumulation of virtue and merit. It is just like a farmer who broadly sows seeds in the spring and reaps abundantly in the autumn and summer. When spring returns, if he does not diligently sow, upon what could he rely for harvest in autumn or summer? I am now the same. Because I once cultivated merit, I have attained this wondrous result today. If I do not now continue to accumulate virtue and merit, in the future I shall have no hope of receiving such fruits again.’
“Having thought thus, he said to his ministers, ‘Now I wish to bring forth my treasured possessions and place them at the city gates or in the marketplaces, to perform a great act of generosity. Whatever the people may need, I shall give to the utmost of my ability. Also, instruct the rulers of the eighty-four thousand small kingdoms to open their treasuries and bestow alms upon all the people.’
“The ministers said, ‘Very well, we shall respectfully follow the king’s command.’ Then they raised golden banners and struck golden drums, proclaiming widely the compassionate edict of the king, so that all the people knew of this decree.
“At that time, the śramaṇas, brāhmaṇas, the poor, the old, the orphans, and those lacking food and clothing, both strong and weak, all came swiftly together to the place of almsgiving. Those who needed garments received garments; those who needed food were given food. Gold, silver, treasures, medicines—whatever anyone lacked, all were given according to their needs until all were satisfied.
“All the subjects within Jambudvīpa received the king’s benevolence and were filled with joy. Songs and praises of the king’s compassion and virtue resounded through every street and alley. The fame of the king’s great charity spread far and wide in all directions, and everyone admired and revered his kindness and teaching.”
“At that time, in a border region there was a small kingdom whose king was named Vimasenā. Hearing that the King Moonlight’s renown and virtue were widely spread, he became jealous and could not sleep peacefully. Secretly he thought, ‘Unless I remove the King Moonlight, my name will never be known abroad. I must find a way to employ some ascetics and recruit them to do this deed.’ Having formed this resolve, he sent for the brāhmaṇas of his realm and entertained them with exquisite foods and careful hospitality. Yet he did not abandon his plan. After three months he said to those brāhmaṇas, ‘A certain vexation has long beset me, robbing me of sleep day and night; hitherto I have found no good remedy. You ascetics whom I support ought to find a way to remove my sorrow.’ The brāhmaṇas said to the king, ‘If the king has cares, he should tell us what they are.’ The king told them, ‘That King Moonlight’s fame and virtue reach the four quarters, while I remain unknown; therefore I desire to remove the King Moonlight. Think: what means can accomplish this?’ The brāhmaṇas, hearing this, answered, ‘That King Moonlight waters living beings like rain and dew; he has compassion for the poor and destitute and is like the father and mother of the people. How could we bear to plot such a wicked scheme? We would rather die than commit such a vile deed.’ They therefore forsook the king’s hospitality and dispersed. Vimasenā’s worry only increased, and he then posted a proclamation throughout the land: ‘Whoever brings me the head of the King Moonlight shall receive half my realm to govern jointly, and I will give my daughter in marriage to him.’
“At that time a brāhmaṇa dwelling on a mountainside, named Raudrākṣa, heard the king’s proclamation and came to offer himself. The king was exceedingly pleased and said to him, ‘If you can accomplish this, I shall never go back on my oath. If you are to go, when will you depart?’ The brāhmaṇa replied, ‘Provide me with provisions for the road, and I will leave in seven days.’ The brāhmaṇa then protected himself by reciting spells, and seven days later he returned to take his leave of the king. The king supplied all that he requested, and the brāhmaṇa set out.
“Meanwhile within the King Moonlight’s realm many strange portents occurred: the earth cracked, the stars fell, daytime was shrouded in mist and gloom, darkness spread, lightning flashed and thunder rolled without pause. The birds in the air cried out sadly, their cries piercing; some plucked out their feathers and fell. Tigers, leopards, jackals, and similar beasts threw themselves to the ground, leaping and howling. The rulers of the eighty-four thousand little kingdoms each dreamed that the king’s golden banners and pennants suddenly snapped, and the golden drums suddenly broke. The minister Great Moon dreamed that spirits had taken the king’s golden crown; all were filled with sorrow and uneasy alarm. At this time the guardian of the city gate discovered that a brāhmaṇa intended to beg for the king’s head and was furious. He barred that brāhmaṇa from entering the city, so that even after circling the gates many times the man could not approach.
“The deity Śuddhāvāsa, perceiving that the King Moonlight intended to give his head in alms and wishing the gift to be perfected, appeared to the king in a dream and said, ‘You have resolved to give; do not go against the wishes of the people. Now the supplicant waits at the city gate but cannot enter — if you truly intend to be the donor, you should not act thus.’ The king awoke astonished after a while and immediately ordered his minister Great Moon, ‘Go to the city gates and command the gate-keepers not to keep people out.’ Great Moon went to the gates, and then the gate-spirit manifested and said to Great Moon, ‘A brāhmaṇa has come from another land with evil intent, seeking to beg for the king’s head, therefore I would not permit him to enter.’ The minister replied, ‘If that be so, it would be a disaster. But since the king has commanded it, we should not disobey—what are we to do?’ Thereupon the gate-spirit ceased to block the way, and Great Moon secretly conceived this thought: ‘If that brāhmaṇa is indeed determined to beg for the king’s head, we shall make five hundred jeweled heads of each of the seven treasures and use them to exchange for the king’s head.’ He then issued orders to have the jeweled heads widely manufactured.
“At that time, the brāhmaṇa came straight to the front of the palace and cried out in a loud voice, “From afar I have heard of the king’s virtuous name and great renown—that you are willing to give alms of all things without ever going against the wishes of others. Therefore I have not spared myself the toil of a long journey to come here, hoping to obtain what I seek.” The king, hearing this, was greatly delighted. He advanced, made obeisance, and asked, “You must have been weary from your long travel. Whatever your heart desires—be it country, city, wife, precious jewels, chariots, palanquins, elephants, horses, the seven treasures, servants or attendants—whatever you wish, I shall bestow it upon you.”
“The brāhmaṇa said, “All external possessions may indeed be given in alms, yet the merit thereby gained is not truly vast. But when one gives the flesh of one’s own body, the merit is sublime and incomparable. I have come from afar for the sake of obtaining the king’s head. If you do not oppose it, please bestow it upon me.” When the king heard this, he rejoiced immeasurably. The brāhmaṇa then asked, “If the king will grant me his head, upon what day shall the offering be made?” The king replied, “After seven days I shall give it to you.”
“Then the minister Great Moon came bearing the jeweled heads and sought to dissuade the king. He reasoned with him and, before the brāhmaṇa, keep his abdomen on the ground and said, “The king’s head is but flesh, bone, and blood, an impure thing—of what use is it to you? Now we offer these jeweled heads in exchange for the king’s head. Take these jeweled heads instead; by trading them, you will gain wealth enough for a lifetime of enjoyment.” The brāhmaṇa said, “I do not want those jeweled heads. Only by obtaining the king’s head will my wish be fulfilled.”
“Then the minister Great Moon, with countless reasons, tried to persuade him, but he remained unmoved. Great Moon was filled with boundless indignation; his heart split into seven parts, and he died there before the king.
“The king then commanded his attendants to mount elephants that could travel three thousand miles and go forth to all the smaller kingdoms proclaiming, “Seven days from now, the King Moonlight will offer his head in alms to a brāhmaṇa. Those who wish to witness it, come quickly.”
At that time, the rulers of the eighty-four thousand small kingdoms came in succession to see the king. Each, standing before the king, keep his abdomen on the ground and said, “All the people of Jambudvīpa rely upon the king’s grace, living in wealth and peace, free from worry and fear. Why, for the sake of one man, would you forever abandon countless beings, showing not a trace of pity? We beg the great king to grant mercy once more and not to give away your head in alms.”
The ten thousand ministers all prostrated themselves upon the ground before the king, keeping their abdomens on the ground and saying, “We only beseech your compassion and kindness—do not offer your head, leaving us forever desolate.”
The twenty thousand consorts likewise fell to the ground and looked up toward the king, saying, “May the great king continue to protect and shelter us, and not abandon us. If you offer your head in alms, upon whom shall we depend?”
The five hundred princes, weeping before the king, said, “We are still young and helpless. If our father the king dies, what shall we do? We beg our father to show loving-kindness, not to give away your head, but to nurture us, that father and sons may live together in affection.”
“Then the king said to his ministers, people, consorts, and princes, ‘From the very first time I took on a body until now, I have long endured the sufferings of birth and death through countless kalpas. In the hells, within a single day, I have died innumerable times, passing through the River of Ashes, the Iron Bed, the Boiling Excrement, the Fire Cart, the Pit of Embers, and other hells as well. My body has been burned, pierced, boiled, and roasted under cruel punishments, casting away life again and again, never once gaining any merit.
‘Among the animals, I have devoured others and been devoured in turn; I have been slaughtered by men, my flesh becoming food for them. My body and life have been slain, torn apart, digested, and rotted away countless times—all were vain sacrifices of life without the least gain of merit. When fallen among hungry ghosts, flames arose from my body, or my head was cut off by flying wheels; though severed, it grew again, only to be cut off once more, endlessly without cease. Such slayings I have suffered again and again, yet never have I gained any merit thereby.
‘When born among humans, out of desire for wealth or lust, I glared with anger, fought, and killed; or in raising armies, waged war, slaughtering one another. In such ways too, I have passed through countless lives. Because of greed, anger, and delusion, I have often brought death upon myself innumerable times, yet never once have I given up my life to accumulate merit.
‘Now my body, full of impurities, has come upon the finest opportunity for giving. Human life cannot endure long. To cast away this frail and filthy head in exchange for great benefit—what joy could be greater than this? I shall give my head to the brāhmaṇa, and with the merit of this deed I resolve to seek the Buddha’s Way. If the Buddha’s Way can be fulfilled, then my merit will be perfected, and I shall find a means to deliver you all from suffering. My mind for giving is now firm; I pray that none of you obstruct my supreme resolve for enlightenment.’
“All the lesser kings, ministers, consorts, and princes, hearing the king’s words, remained silent and speechless.
“Then the king said to the brāhmaṇa, ‘If you wish to take my head, now is the time.’ The brāhmaṇa said, ‘The king is now surrounded by ministers and the multitude. I alone am weak and have no strength to cut off your head here. If you truly wish to give it to me, let us go to the rear garden.’
“The king then said to the small kings, princes, and ministers, ‘If you truly love and revere me, then above all do not harm this brāhmaṇa.’ Having spoken thus, the king and the brāhmaṇa went together into the rear garden. The brāhmaṇa then said to the king, ‘Your body is strong and powerful like that of a warrior. If you suffer the pain of beheading, you may regret it. Therefore you should tightly bind your hair to a tree, so that I may cut it off.’
“The king then requested aid from a great tree, whose branches and leaves were dense and strong beyond compare. Before binding his hair, he knelt and bowed to the tree, then tied his hair firmly to it and said to the brāhmaṇa, ‘Strike off my head so that it falls into my hands, and then take it from my hands. Today I offer my head to you, and by the merit of this gift I seek not the pleasures of Māra, of Brahmā, of Śakra, or of the Cakravartin within the three realms, but rather I seek the unsurpassed true Path, resolved to bring salvation to all beings and attain the bliss of Nirvāṇa.’”
“At that moment, as the brāhmaṇa raised his hand to strike, the spirit of the tree, seeing what was about to happen, was filled with indignation, thinking, ‘Such a virtuous man—why should he be slain?’ The spirit then seized the brāhmaṇa by the ear, twisting his neck backward, and the brāhmaṇa’s limbs lost their strength; his knife fell to the ground, and he could not move.
“Then the king said to the tree spirit, ‘From the past until now, beneath this very tree I have offered nine hundred and ninety-nine heads. Now, offering this one more, the number will reach one thousand, and thereby my perfection in giving will be complete. Therefore, do not hinder my aspiration for the unsurpassed true Path.’ When the tree spirit heard these words of the king, he restored the brāhmaṇa’s body to its former state.
“The brāhmaṇa then rose from the ground, took up his blade again, and struck the king’s neck. The king’s head fell into his own hands. At that moment, heaven and earth quaked greatly; the palaces of the heavenly realms trembled and swayed, and the gods were all seized with fear, not knowing the cause. After a while, they saw that it was a Bodhisattva who, for the sake of all beings, had given his head in alms. Then all the gods descended from the heavens. Moved by the wondrous act of the king, they wept as rain, praising together, ‘The great King Moonlight has given his head in alms; now in the perfection of giving he has become complete.’ The voices of praise spreaded on earth.
“When King Vimasenā heard that sound, he was seized with both terror and rage; his heart split apart, and he died on the spot. Then the brāhmaṇa carried away the king’s head. The lesser kings, ministers, consorts, and princes, upon seeing the king’s severed head, all threw themselves to the ground, wailing aloud in grief, their cries rising and falling as though life and death alternated within them. Some were overcome with sorrow, coughed blood, and died; some stood motionless in dazed bewilderment, struck senseless with fear; some cut or tore out their own hair; some tore apart their garments; some clawed at their own faces with their hands. In countless forms of anguish, all were drenched in tears, writhing upon the ground.
“Then the brāhmaṇa, finding the king’s head foul-smelling, cast it upon the earth, trampled it with his foot, and went away. People said to him, ‘You are truly cruel! Since the head is useless to you, why did you demand it from the king?’ As the brāhmaṇa went along the road, wherever he was seen, people reviled him, and none gave him food. Worn by hunger, exhausted and destitute, he wandered in misery. Meeting travelers on the way, he inquired of them and learned that King Vimasenā was already dead. Overcome by despair and regret, his heart split into seven parts, and he vomited blood and died. Both Vimasenā and Raudrākṣa, at the end of their lives, fell into Avīci Hell. The rest of the ministers and subjects, remembering the kindness and virtue of their king and cherishing his memory, were reborn in the heavens.
“Such was the course of events. Ānanda, do you wish to know who that King Moonlight was at that time? He is none other than I myself now. King Vimasenā of that time is now Pāpīyān. The brāhmaṇa Raudrākṣa of that time is now Devadatta. The spirit of the tree at that time is now Maudgalyāyana. And the minister Great Moon of that time is now Śāriputra. In that past age, he could not bear to see me die and thus died before me; and so now again, being unable to bear seeing me enter Parinirvāṇa, he has entered extinction before me.”
When the Buddha had spoken thus, the venerable Ānanda and the other disciples, hearing the Buddha’s words, were filled with both grief and joy. With one voice they praised the Tathāgata’s inconceivable virtue. The assembly diligently and single-mindedly cultivated practice: some attained the Four Fruits, and some aroused the resolve for the unsurpassed, perfectly true Path. All rejoiced greatly, revering the teaching and earnestly cultivating the Way.
Section Thirty-Two: The Causal Conditions of King Well-Eyesight Giving Away His Eyes
Thus have I heard:
Once, the Buddha was residing in Śrāvastī, in the Jeta Grove of Anāthapiṇḍada’s Park. At that time, the World-Honored One was surrounded by a great assembly, expounding the Dharma for them. The people in the city, desiring to hear the Dharma, came in an unbroken stream to the Buddha’s abode. At that time, there was a blind brāhmaṇa in the city who sat by the roadside. Hearing the hurried footsteps of the people passing by, he asked a traveler, “Where are all these people going?” The traveler replied, “Do you not know? The Tathāgata has appeared in the world — it is extremely rare to encounter such an occasion. He is now in this country, expounding the Dharma and teaching living beings. We are going to listen to his teaching.”
This brāhmaṇa possessed a certain mystical ability: among sentient beings, there are eight types of voices, and he was able to recognize them all, discerning a person’s character merely by hearing their voice. What are these eight types of voices? The first is the voice of a crow; the second, the voice of a three-foot crow; the third, a broken voice; the fourth, the voice of a wild goose; the fifth, the sound of a drum; the sixth, the sound of thunder; the seventh, the sound of a golden bell; and the eighth, the Brahmā voice.
Those who utter the voice of a crow are people who do not know gratitude, are shameless, and fail to keep themselves pure. Those with the voice of a three-foot crow are fierce in temperament, fond of harming others, lacking in kindness and obedience. Those who utter a broken voice — for instance, when a man speaks with a woman’s voice or a woman speaks with a man’s voice — are people lacking in virtue, poor, and of low birth. Those who emit the voice of a wild goose are intelligent, wise, clear-minded, possessing many relatives and friends, and able to form connections in all directions. Those who produce the voice of a drum are eloquent, skillful in debate, able to expound great principles, and will certainly become teachers of the nation. Those who produce the voice of thunder are vast in wisdom, well-versed in the nature of the Dharma, and able to teach and transform the world. Those who produce the sound of a golden bell possess great wealth and will surely accumulate trillions of gold. Those who utter the Brahmā voice are of the highest virtue and merit — if they remain at home, they will become a wheel-turning sage king; if they renounce and study the Way, they will certainly attain Buddhahood.
Then the brāhmaṇa said to the traveler, “I can discern all kinds of human voices. If he truly is the Buddha, he must possess the Brahmā voice. Please take me to him; I wish to listen and find out whether he indeed is the Buddha.” The traveler then led him forward. When they were near the Buddha’s dwelling, he heard the Buddha preaching the Dharma — the Brahmā voice complete, profound, and harmonious, its sound flowing far and wide. The brāhmaṇa, overjoyed, leapt in delight; his eyes opened, and he beheld the Buddha — golden-purple in color, with the thirty-two marks of excellence, radiant as the sun. The brāhmaṇa immediately bowed in reverence to the Buddha, filled with immeasurable joy. The Buddha spoke the Dharma for him, and he listened with single-minded attention. Thus, he shattered two billions of afflictions and attained the fruit of Srotāpanna. Having obtained the wisdom-eye, the brāhmaṇa requested to renounce. The Buddha said, “Come!” and he became a śramaṇa. The Buddha again expounded the wondrous Dharma for him, and he swiftly attained Arhatship.
All those present were filled with astonishment. The venerable Ānanda rose from his seat, knelt with joined palms, and said to the Buddha, “The World-Honored One’s appearance in the world has brought boundless benefit to countless beings, delivering them from the blindness and darkness of ignorance — such grace is truly beyond comparison. This brāhmaṇa, in but a moment, has gained clear physical sight and also attained the pure wisdom-eye. How profound and vast is the Buddha’s benevolence toward this man!”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “Not only today have I given him eyes — in a past life, I also bestowed eyes upon him.”
Ānanda then said, “I do not know how the World-Honored One gave him eyes in a past life. May the World-Honored One, out of compassion, kindly explain this matter in detail for us.”
The Buddha told Ānanda: “Long, long, immeasurable, countless, inconceivable asankhyeya kalpas ago, in this Jambudvīpa there stood a great city called Puskarāvatī. At that time there was a king named Śudṛṣṭi (which in the language of Jin means ‘Well-Eyesight’). He was called Well-Eyesight because his eyes were supremely clear and bright; he could see through walls and perceive things within a radius of twenty miles, hence he bore the name ‘Well-Eyesight.’ He ruled over eighty-four thousand small states of Jambudīpa, sixty thousand mountain-ranges and rivers, and eight billion villages. The king had twenty thousand consorts and dancing women, ten thousand ministers, and five hundred princes; his first prince was named Śīlabhadra (which in the language of Jin means ‘Precept-Wise’).
The king was greatly compassionate and merciful, pitying all living beings, treating his people like a loving father. He taught and guided the people toward goodness, and the people followed his instruction, so that winds and rains were timely, the seasons were harmonious, the realm was peaceful and the people secure—everyone benefited from the king’s benevolence. The king reflected to himself: ‘Because in former lives I planted meritorious deeds, I am now sovereign, possessing wealth and the five desires, everything at my command, the riches of the four seas. When I speak and instruct the people, it is like a great wind toppling small grasses—people comply. If, after enjoying this life, there is no continuation, I fear that in the next life I shall suffer poverty and hardship. It is like a farmer who sows much in spring and surely reaps much in autumn; if the farmer is idle in spring, how can he harvest grain in autumn? Therefore I should now sow the seeds of merit without delay and not be lax.’
So he told his ministers: ‘Bring out from my treasuries the gold and silver, jewels, clothing, blankets, food and drink and all necessities; place them at the city gates or pile them in the market, and proclaim to every quarter: whatever any of the people lack, they may come and take.’ He also commanded the rulers of the eighty-four thousand small states to open their treasuries and give the people everything. The ministers obeyed the king’s decree—erecting golden banners and sounding great gold drums—and the king’s charitable edict spread throughout Jambudīpa. The śramaṇas and brāhmaṇas, the solitary poor and destitute, the aged and infirm, the sick—whatever any wished for, the king strove to give. All the people relied upon the king’s compassion and benevolence, dwelling in security and ease without anxiety, and everywhere the people sang praises and acclaim for the king’s kindness.
At that time there was a small border state whose king was named Bharatavarman. Because their territory lay at some distance from the great realm, they became proud and insolent and would not submit to the greater king’s teaching. Moreover, in ruling the country their administration deviated in five ways: he was rash in temper and lacked deliberation in action; he indulged in sensual pleasures and neglected state affairs; though there were loyal and wise men in the realm, he did not consult them when matters arose; burdens of corvée and military service on the border were excessive; and the duties levied on foreign merchants who came to his land exceeded proper bounds.
There was a minister of the king called Raudradatta, clever and knowledgeable in the principles of governance. Seeing the king acting against right custom, he admonished him: ‘Your Majesty, five matters in your rule are most injurious to the state; unless amended they will soon bring disaster. If you bear no grudge, listen to my words.’ The king said, ‘Speak.’ The minister prostrated himself and said, ‘Your quick temper and lack of reflection lead to improper handling of affairs, which will bring regret; your indulgence in sensuality causes neglect of state matters and leaves many grievances and unfinished tasks treated without reason; though the realm has loyal and worthy men, if you do not consult them you cannot avert impending danger; the heavy burdens of corvée and military duty at the frontier drive people away, who then seek the protection of other states; and the excessive taxation of foreign merchants, beyond custom, frightens traders from coming, causing domestic prices of treasures and goods to soar. These five faults are tokens of a state’s ruin. I beseech the king to reform his conduct and reconcile with the people. King Śudṛṣṭi’s virtue and compassion extend to all quarters—people of Jambudīpa receive his beneficence—yet our state alone refuses to submit and accept the greater king’s rule, so we in this remote place are deprived of Śudṛṣṭi’s care and kindness. If Your Majesty will change his policy and show submission to the greater lord, your descendants will long enjoy prosperity and rank.’
When Bharatavarman heard this, he was enraged; his countenance darkened and he would not hearken to the minister’s counsel. Raudradatta, indignant and resentful, thought to himself: ‘The king rules wrongly and corruptly, and I sought to help him govern; yet he grows angry and rejects my good counsel. Since my remonstrance is not received, I fear it will bring me to death. Therefore I should first remove him; that would rid the people of a great calamity.’ Yet before he could put that plan into effect, his design was exposed. The king raised troops and came to punish him.
At that time, Raudradatta, knowing that the king intended to arrest him, mounted a swift horse and fled. The king’s troops pursued closely behind. Raudradatta, being skilled in horseback riding and archery, also knew well that there were eighteen vital points in the human body where one could be killed by an arrow. Therefore, though the soldiers chased after him, none dared come near. He rode straight to the country of Puskarāvatī and, upon seeing King Well-Eyesight, bowed in greeting and paid his respects. When he conversed with the king, his words were reasonable and filled with wisdom, so the king treated him kindly and appointed him as a minister.
As their relationship grew closer, Raudradatta revealed everything that had happened in his former country. When the king heard this, he asked his ministers, “Is that small country not under my rule?” The ministers replied, “Its territory indeed belongs under Your Majesty’s domain, but because it lies in a remote region, they rely on their distance and do not submit to your authority.”
Raudradatta said, “Bharatavarman is obstinate, foolish, and cruel. He indulges in sensuality and debauchery, his mind is deluded and confused, he does not understand propriety, and relying on his remoteness, he clings to his own corrupt ways and does not follow the royal command. The people of his land loathe him greatly, viewing him as an enemy. If Your Majesty will grant me some troops, I am willing to go and subdue him.” The king, hearing his words, agreed to his proposal and commanded the subordinate states to select their finest warriors and generals. A date was set for them to gather and march toward Bharatavarman’s kingdom.
“At that time, a neighboring king of Bharatavarman’s country sent a messenger to inform him, saying, “Within Jambudvīpa, an order has been issued to raise troops. Before long, they will attack your nation. Why do you remain seated in ease?” When Bharatavarman heard this news, he was distressed and bewildered, not knowing what to do. Clothed in filthy black garments, he sat dazed in the darkness. Then a brāhmaṇa minister came to see him, not knowing why the king appeared thus, and asked, “What trouble burdens Your Majesty’s heart? I beg you to tell me.”
King Bharatavarman said, “Do you not yet know? Raudradatta fled to King Well-Eyesight and stirred up trouble, persuading him to gather the armies of the eighty-four thousand small kingdoms to attack our country. If they come, our nation will surely perish.” The minister said, “Then we should summon the other ministers and discuss this together.” So the ministers convened and deliberated. After discussion, they said to the minister, “We have heard that King Well-Eyesight has vowed to practice giving. Except for his father and mother, he would not refuse to give away anything, and he never goes against the wishes of those who ask. Now in our country there is a blind brāhmaṇa; we should persuade him to go to that realm and beg King Well-Eyesight for his eyes. If he can obtain the king’s eyes, the army will naturally withdraw.” The king, hearing this plan, immediately approved it and sent the minister to find the blind brāhmaṇa.
“The minister at once sent people to summon the blind brāhmaṇa and said to him, “There is now a matter of great importance concerning the nation, and we wish to trouble you for help. Please agree to assist us.” The brāhmaṇa replied, “I am now a blind man—how could I have any ability to help you in such affairs?” The minister said further, “King Śudṛṣṭi intends to gather troops to attack our land. When they arrive, though we are strong and may try to flee, we still fear being slain. How much more so for you, who are blind—how could you escape death? King Śudṛṣṭi has made this vow: ‘Whatever anyone asks of me, I shall give, never opposing the will of the beggar.’ If you go and ask for his eyes, you will surely receive them. Once you obtain his eyes, his army will certainly cease its attack upon us. If you can accomplish this, you shall be richly rewarded.”
The brāhmaṇa said, “Now that I cannot see anything, how can I accomplish such a matter?” The king urged again, “I will send people to escort you there.” Then he provided him with provisions and all necessities for the journey, and sent attendants to lead him on the road.
At that time, within King Well-Eyesight’s kingdom, many strange omens appeared: cracks resounded in the sky; meteors fell trailing flashes of lightning; thunder rumbled, lightning struck, and dark mists gathered; the earth split open and became parched. Birds in flight wailed mournfully in the heavens, broke their own bodies, and plucked out their feathers. Fierce beasts such as tigers, wolves, and lions roared unceasingly, pacing and circling upon the ground. The king and his people, seeing these omens, were filled with great wonder.
At that time, the brāhmaṇa was approaching the great city. Upon entering, he went straight to the steps of the palace and cried aloud, saying, “In another country I heard of the king’s fame and virtue — that he gives all things in alms and never goes against the wish of any beggar. Therefore I have come from afar, desiring to obtain an offering from Your Majesty.”
When the king heard these words, he immediately descended from his throne and greeted him, saying, “You have come from a long journey and must be weary. Whatever you require — be it land, treasures, chariots and carriages, garments, bedding, food and drink, or medicines for healing — I shall give you all.”
The brāhmaṇa said, “To give away external possessions yields but little merit; only by giving away parts of one’s own body does one gain a vast and wondrous reward. Long ago I lost both my eyes and have ever since dwelt in darkness. Hearing that the great king bestows all things, I resolved to come and beg for your two eyes.”
When the king heard this, he rejoiced greatly and said to the brāhmaṇa, “If you desire my eyes, I shall give them to you.” The brāhmaṇa then asked, “If you are willing to give them to me, when will it be done?” The king replied, “After seven days, I shall bestow them upon you.”
The king then issued a proclamation to the eighty-four thousand small kingdoms, saying: “Seven days hence, King Śudṛṣṭi will gouge out his two eyes to give them to the brāhmaṇa. All who wish to witness this event should gather in the capital.”
When the many small kings and the people heard this royal decree, they all rushed toward the great king’s realm. The eighty-four thousand kings and their ministers and citizens threw themselves to the ground, keep their abdomens on the ground before the king, tears streaming down their faces, and said, “We, the people of Jambudvīpa, all depend upon Your Majesty’s protection. If you gouge out your eyes and give them to the brāhmaṇa, upon what shall all the people rely for their lives? We implore the great king to turn his heart and not forsake everything for the sake of one man!”
The ten thousand ministers also prostrated themselves, lifted their heads toward the king, and said, “Why will Your Majesty not have pity on us? For the sake of one person, you abandon us all. Please turn your heart and give him something else instead of your eyes.”
The twenty thousand consorts and ladies-in-waiting bowed with their heads to the ground, beating their bellies before the king, all pleading sorrowfully: “We beg the great king to change his mind. Do not give away your eyes in alms, that we may be at peace.”
The five hundred princes stood before the king, weeping endlessly, saying, “We earnestly beseech our father to have mercy upon us. Do not give away your eyes in charity, but cherish and raise us to adulthood.”
Then Prince Śīlabhadra spoke to the king, saying, “I am willing to gouge out my own eyes to replace those of my father. Though I should die, the nation would suffer no harm; but if the great king loses his eyes, the beings within the seas will have nothing upon which to rely.”
At that time King Well-Eyesight said to the assembled kings, ministers, consorts, and princes: “Since I first took a body, I have constantly wandered within birth and death. The heap of bones I have left behind is higher than Mount Sumeru; the blood I have shed from beheadings and stabbings exceeds the waters of the four seas; the milk I have drunk from mothers surpasses the four great rivers; the tears I have shed in partings are more than the waters of the four seas. In hells my body has been shattered countless times, burned, boiled, chopped, and pierced; my eyes have been destroyed innumerable times. Born as a hungry ghost, I have suffered many torments—fire bursting from my body, burning myself to ashes, thus ruining my eyes countless times. Born among animals, we devour one another, dying and wounding beyond count. When born as a human, most often I have died young; or, through greed and conflict over sensual desire, I have plotted and slain others, destroying my eyes innumerable times. Even when born in heavenly realms, the body and life are not lasting. If I reckon from my original existence until now, I have taken countless forms, revolving within the three realms and five destinies. Through greed, anger, and delusion, I have injured my body times beyond number, yet never once have I given it in charity to seek the Buddha Way. These foul eyes are fragile things that will soon decay of themselves. Now that I have the chance to use them in giving, how could I not give? I now offer these eyes in alms to seek the unsurpassed wisdom-eye of the Buddha Way. If my wish is fulfilled, I vow to grant you all the pure wisdom-eye; therefore do not obstruct my aspiration toward the true Path.” All who were present were silent and speechless.
The king commanded his attendants, saying, “You may gouge out my eyes.” But the attendants and ministers said, “We would rather have our bodies cut into particles as small as mustard seeds than lift a hand to touch the great king’s eyes.” The king said to his ministers, “Go and find a man of dark complexion whose eyes always look downward, and summon him here.” The ministers found such a man and brought him before the king. The king handed him a knife and ordered him to remove his eyes. Shortly thereafter, one eye was cut out and placed upon the king’s palm. The king then made a solemn vow, saying: “With this eye I make an offering, vowing to seek the Buddha Way. If I truly shall accomplish Buddhahood, may this brāhmaṇa, upon receiving my eye, immediately gain sight.”
When this vow was spoken, the king placed the eye into the brāhmaṇa’s eye socket. Soon the brāhmaṇa could see, beholding the king and the others around him. Overjoyed beyond measure, he said to the king, “Having received one eye from the great king, I can already see forms. I beg the king to keep the other eye for himself.” The king said again, “I have already promised to give you both eyes. I should not break my word.”
Then he gouged out the other eye, placed it upon his palm, and made another vow, saying, “I give away this eye solely to seek the Buddha Way. If I truly shall become a Buddha, may this brāhmaṇa, upon receiving my eye, immediately gain sight.” The brāhmaṇa then received the other eye, and at once he could see all forms clearly.
At that moment, the heavens and the earth trembled greatly, and the palaces of the gods shook unceasingly. The celestial beings were astonished and afraid, but when they saw that it was a Bodhisattva piercing his own eyes to make an offering, they all descended from the heavens, filling half the sky. They scattered flowers and incense as offerings, praising him, saying, “Excellent indeed! The great king’s deed is truly marvelous and rare!”
Then Lord of the Devas, stepped forward and asked, “Such an act is wondrous beyond measure! What reward do you seek to obtain?” The king replied, “I do not seek the happiness of becoming Māra, Brahmā, the Four Great Kings, Śakra, or a Wheel-Turning Sage King, nor do I seek the pleasures of the three realms. By this merit I vow only to pursue the Buddha Way, to deliver all beings from their afflictions and bring them to the bliss of Nirvāṇa.”
Lord of the Devas again asked, “Today, in gouging out your eyes, you have suffered extreme pain. Do you now feel any regret or anger in your heart?” The king answered, “I do not regret, nor am I angry.” Lord of the Devas said, “But I see blood flowing from you and your body trembling. When you say you feel no regret, it is hard to believe.”
Then the king made a solemn vow: “In giving away my eyes, I have not even the smallest thought of remorse. I do this solely to seek the Buddha Way. If it is truly as I wish and I shall attain Buddhahood, then may my two eyes at once be restored as before.”
No sooner had he spoken this vow than both his eyes were instantly restored—clear, bright, and even more radiant than before. The celestial beings, the people, and all those present rejoiced beyond measure at the sight.
Then the king said to the brāhmaṇa, “Today I have given you my eyes so that you may see the forms of things. When I attain Buddhahood, I shall cause you to gain the wisdom-eye.” Then he led the brāhmaṇa into his treasury, allowing him to take freely a load of precious jewels, and sent him back to his own country.
King Bharatavarman personally went out of the city to greet the brāhmaṇa. When they met, he first asked, “Did you obtain the eyes?” The brāhmaṇa replied, “I obtained them, and I can now see all things.” He then asked, “And that king—does he now live or die?” The brāhmaṇa answered, “The celestial gods descended to earth. The king made a solemn vow, and his eyes were restored, clearer and brighter than before.” When Bharatavarman heard this, rage and anguish filled his heart; his heart split, and he died on the spot.
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “You should know that the king Śudṛṣṭi of that time was none other than myself. Bharatavarman is now Devadatta. The brāhmaṇa who sought my eyes in that life is this same brāhmaṇa who has now attained the path and stands before us. In that past life I gave him eyes, and in this life, because he came to see me, he has once again gained both the physical eye and the wisdom-eye. Through countless lives of austere practice and accumulation of merit, I have at last attained Buddhahood. You all should likewise cultivate diligently to seek the essential path that frees from birth and death.”
When the Buddha had spoken these words, all those present felt deep gratitude for his great compassion. Each restrained their minds and advanced in diligence; some attained the fruits of Srotāpanna, Sakṛdāgāmin, Anāgāmin, or Arhatship, while others gave rise to the aspiration for the unsurpassed Way. The venerable Ānanda and the entire assembly, having heard the Buddha’s words, rejoiced and faithfully practiced in accordance with them.
Section Thirty-Three: The Causal Conditions of the Five Hundred Blind Men Who Pursued the Buddha Back and Forth
Thus have I heard:
Once, the Buddha was residing in Śrāvastī, in the Jeta Grove of Anāthapiṇḍada’s Park. At that time, in the country of Vaiśālī, there were five hundred blind men who lived by begging for alms. They heard people say, “The Tathāgata has appeared in the world — this is something exceedingly rare. Whoever beholds him, whether weak or crippled, is instantly healed. The blind regain sight, the deaf hear, the mute speak, the hunchbacked stand upright, those whose limbs are paralyzed regain their arms and legs, the insane recover their right minds, the poor obtain food and clothing, and all those burdened by sorrow and distress find release.”
When those blind men heard this news, they gathered and discussed among themselves, saying, “We are laden with heavy sins and steeped in suffering; if we could but meet the Buddha, surely we would be saved.” Then they asked, “In which country does the World-Honored One dwell?” Someone replied, “He is now in Śrāvastī.” Hearing this, they all stood by the roadside, humbly calling out in plaintive tones, “Who among you, with a merciful heart and compassionate mind, will take pity on us and lead us to the country of Śrāvastī, to the dwelling place of the Buddha?”
They called out for a long time, yet no one responded. Then the five hundred men again consulted together, saying, “Our hands are empty, so naturally others will not agree to help. Let us each go begging. If each of us can obtain one gold coin, we can hire someone to take us there.” They then went separately to beg, and after some time, each obtained one gold coin, making five hundred coins in total. Then they again cried out, “Who will guide us to Śrāvastī? We will pay five hundred gold coins for your service.”
At that time, one man came forward. They agreed and handed the coins to him. He ordered the blind men to hold one another’s hands in a line, and he led them from the front. But when they reached the land of Magadha, he abandoned the five hundred blind men in a marshy swamp and fled.
The blind men did not know where they were. Holding one another’s hands, they walked on at random, stepping into people’s fields and trampling the crops, causing great damage.
An elder happened to pass by those fields and saw the five hundred blind beggars destroying the grain. Enraged, he ordered his servants to beat them severely. The beggars cried out for mercy and told him, from beginning to end, everything that had happened.
The elder took pity upon them and sent a man to guide them to Śrāvastī. But just as they arrived, they heard that the World-Honored One had gone to the land of Magadha. So the guide led them again toward Magadha.
The blind men revered the Buddha deeply and longed to see him at once. Though their physical eyes were sightless, the eyes of their hearts already beheld him. Filled with inner joy, they felt not the least fatigue. When they arrived in Magadha, they were told that the World-Honored One had returned to Śrāvastī. Thus these blind men went back and forth in pursuit of the Buddha seven times.
At that time, the Tathāgata, seeing that the five hundred blind men’s roots of goodness had matured and that their faith and devotion were firm, remained in Śrāvastī to await their arrival.
When the guide led the blind men near to where the Buddha was, the radiance of the Buddha shone upon them. Instantly they were filled with joy, and their eyes were opened — they could see the light of the world. They beheld the Tathāgata’s body, shining with brilliance like a mountain of purple-gold, surrounded by the fourfold assembly of disciples. Bathed in the Buddha’s grace, they were overwhelmed with gratitude and happiness beyond measure.
Coming before the Buddha, they prostrated themselves fully to the ground and paid him great homage. Then they all spoke with one voice: “We only wish to be permitted to enter the Buddha’s teaching and study the Way.” The Buddha said, “Come, bhikṣus!” and immediately their hair and beards fell away, and monastic robes appeared upon their bodies. The World-Honored One then expounded the Dharma for them, and they all attained Arhatship.
At that time, the venerable Ānanda saw that the former blind men now possessed bright and clear eyes, and that all their outflows had been extinguished. They had become Arhats. He knelt, joined his palms, and said to the Buddha, “The World-Honored One’s appearance in the world is truly extraordinary, and the virtuous deeds he performs are inconceivable. These blind men have received special grace — after gaining the clarity of physical sight, they have also obtained the wisdom-eye. Has the World-Honored One manifested in this world precisely for their sake?”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “Not only today have I removed their darkness — in immeasurable, countless, inconceivable kalpas of the past, I also once dispelled for them a great darkness.”
Ānanda asked, “I do not know how, in the past, the World-Honored One removed their darkness. May you, out of compassion, tell us of this matter?”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “Long, long ago, beyond measure in the past, countless asankhyeya kalpas ago, there were five hundred merchants traveling through the wilderness of Jambudvīpa. They came upon a perilous region, where the entire valley was enveloped in utter darkness. The merchants were stricken with sorrow, fearing the loss of their goods; moreover, that place was infested with robbers, and they were deeply afraid. So they cried and prayed to all the deities of heaven and earth, sun and moon, mountains and seas, pleading for deliverance.
At that time, the leader of the merchants took pity on his companions and said, ‘Do not be afraid. Take heart, for I shall bring you great light.’ Then he wrapped white cloth around both his arms, soaked it thoroughly in ghee, and set it aflame, making of them two great torches. With these lights he led the people for seven days until they emerged from the darkness. The merchants were filled with gratitude, rejoicing greatly for their safety.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “Do you suppose that the leader of the merchants was someone else? It was I myself. In former lives, I gave away my kingdom, my wife, and even my very body for the sake of all beings; because of such causes and conditions, I have now attained supreme Buddhahood. And those five hundred merchants of that time — who else could they be? They are these five hundred bhikṣus here today. In the past, I gave them light through the strength of my mortal life; now that I have attained Buddhahood, I grant them the light of wisdom, free from outflows.”
When the great assembly heard the Buddha’s words, some attained the fruits of Srotāpanna, Sakṛdāgāmin, Anāgāmin, or Arhatship; some planted the wholesomeroots that lead to enlightment of Pratyekabuddha; and some aroused the aspiration for the unsurpassed Way. Many were those who were delivered and set free. The venerable Ānanda and all who attended the Dharma assembly rejoiced at what they had heard and faithfully practiced in accordance with it.
Section Thirty-Four: The Causation of Pūrṇaka
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was staying in the Jeta Grove, Anāthapiṇḍada’s Park, in the country of Śrāvastī. At that time, in a country called “Bowl Placement,” there was a householder named Dharmasenā (which in the language of Jin means “Army of Dharma”). He was the foremost and wealthiest man in that land. When his wife gave birth to a son, it happened that the country was dispatching troops to wage war against another land, so the child was named Senā (which in the language of Jin means “Army”). Later, another son was born, just as the king returned victorious from conquest, so he was named Vijitasenā (which in the language of Jin means “Victorious Army”). When the two sons grew up, each took a wife.
At that time, the elder fell gravely ill and suffered extreme distress, summoning physicians many times to examine him. For those doctors who came to treat him, his household provided exquisite food and fine delicacies. However, because those physicians were greedy for profit and offerings, they did not wish to heal his illness completely, but left part of it lingering. Out of deceit, they gave him dregs of old medicine, causing his disease never to be cured.
There was then a female servant who attended upon the elder, preparing his food and medicine, and she understood matters clearly. She said to the elder: “From now on, do not summon these physicians again. Their hearts harbor wicked intent, and they are deliberately delaying your recovery, refusing to let you be cured. I will now follow the old prescriptions and decoct the medicines according to the needs of your illness; there is no need to seek those doctors anymore.” From then on, the elder relied solely upon the care of this servant woman, and before long he was restored to health.
Then the maid said to the elder: “Master, because I have attended upon you, your illness has now been cured. I only beg that you show mercy and grant me one wish.” The elder asked, “What is it that you wish to ask for?” The maid replied, “I wish to lie with my master. If there is nothing that would hinder it, please fulfill my desire.” The elder then consented to her request, and after they had lain together, the maid perceived that she had conceived.
When her ten months of pregnancy were fulfilled, she gave birth to a son. Because she had satisfied her own desire, she named her child Pūrṇaka (which in the language of Jin means “Fulfill Wish”). The boy grew up handsome and dignified, possessed of good fortune and merit. He excelled in managing wealth and was suited for commerce; in every trade and transaction he gained great profit, and wherever he went, prosperity followed him.
Though he inherited the elder’s natural talents, skills, and intelligence surpassing others, because he was born of a servant of lowly station, he was not counted among the sons, but was recorded among the household slaves.
At that time, the elder’s old illness returned with great severity, and he was confined to bed. When the end drew near, he earnestly exhorted his two sons, saying, “After my death, you must by no means divide the family estate.” Oppressed by illness, though he took medicines, he could not be healed, and before long he passed away.
At that time, the two sons followed their father’s instruction and lived together in one household for some years. Later, both brothers wished to travel to another country for trade, so they entrusted their wives, children, and all household affairs to Pūrṇaka, saying, “Take care of all the members of our household, both young and old, and handle all other domestic matters for us.” Having made these arrangements, they departed. Pūrṇaka, following their words, managed all affairs of the household accordingly.
The sons of the two elder brothers would often come to Pūrṇaka’s residence to ask for food and other things they desired. Pūrṇaka, according to whatever they requested, did his best to fulfill their wishes, purchasing and sending the items to them. One day, however, Pūrṇaka happened to have no money at his pocket. The son of Victorious Army said to him, “I am now hungry and thirsty; you must buy me something to eat.” Because he had no money in hand, Pūrṇaka was unable to buy food for him. The boy became angry and went to tell his mother, saying, “Today Pūrṇaka acted unfairly. When he saw my uncle’s son asking for things, he gave whatever was asked for, but when I asked for food, he refused.” When the mother heard this, she became filled with resentment and said, “How dare the son of a maidservant to show favoritism toward others!”
When Victorious Army returned home, his wife and son, still not free of anger, recounted to him what had occurred, just as the boy had said. Upon hearing it, Victorious Army became even more enraged, saying, “That son of a slave dares to defy my command and look down upon my son! I shall kill him!” Having formed this murderous intent, he then requested to separate from his elder brother and live apart.
The elder brother, honoring their father’s deathbed instruction, at first did not consent. Victorious Army, greatly angered, repeatedly pressed his request. Seeing that his younger brother was determined to separate and discerning the resentment in his heart, the elder, having no other choice, finally agreed. The younger then divided all the family property, including the lands and houses, into two shares, counting Pūrṇaka as one share. These two shares he allowed the elder brother to choose from. If the elder chose the property, Vijitasenā would take Pūrṇaka , so that he might kill him.
The elder brother, knowing that Victorious Army bore deep hatred toward Pūrṇaka , chose with a heart of compassion and mercy the share containing Pūrṇaka , and took only his wife and son away to live elsewhere, relying upon the shelter of another’s home.
At that time, Pūrṇaka said to his sister-in-law, “Please give me a little money to buy firewood.” The sister-in-law said, “We have only five coins,” and gave them to him. Pūrṇaka then went to the marketplace to buy firewood and saw a bundle priced at five coins. He bought it and paid the seller. Later, when he examined it, he found among the firewood a piece of ox-head candana and was overjoyed. Bringing the firewood home, he took out the fragrant wood and cut it into ten pieces.
At that time, the queen of the country was gravely afflicted with a burning fever, and the only remedy required ox-head candana to be ground into powder and applied to her body. Yet the entire kingdom could not obtain any. The king issued a royal proclamation: “Whoever can provide even one tael of this fragrant wood shall receive a thousand taels of gold.”
Pūrṇaka thereupon went in response to the summons, offering one small piece to the royal household. As proclaimed by the king, he immediately received a thousand taels of gold. In this way, after several transactions, all ten pieces of fragrant wood were sold, and he altogether gained ten thousand taels of gold. With this gold, he purchased fields and gardens, houses and dwellings, elephants and horses, carriages, slaves, and livestock. Thus his wealth and estate became abundant, exceeding by several times what it had been when he lived together with his brothers.
At that time, five hundred merchants agreed among themselves to venture into the ocean to seek treasures, and they invited Pūrṇaka to accompany them. Pūrṇaka told his elder brother that he wished to join the five hundred merchants in sailing upon the sea to gather jewels. The elder brother consented and provided him with all that was needed. Thus, Pūrṇaka set forth together with his companions upon the ocean. Their expedition went smoothly; each one obtained abundant treasures and filled their ships to overflowing.
As their vessels were returning and had reached a perilous stretch of water, everyone suddenly saw, upon the continent of Jambudvīpa, three suns appearing in the sky. Astonished, they asked the navigator, “Today there are three suns—what auspicious omen is this?” The navigator replied, “You should know: among these three, only one is the true sun; the other two are the eyes of a fish. The whiteness in the middle is the fish’s teeth. The darkness where the current now flows is its enormous mouth—most dreadful indeed. Today, we have no way to survive; when we are drawn into the mouth of the fish, that will be the time of our death.”
Among them was one wise man, a devout believer in the Buddha’s path, who said to the merchants, “We can only single-mindedly and sincerely recite, ‘Namo Buddha.’ Within the three realms, none possesses merit greater than the Buddha. The Buddha is able to rescue beings from danger and distress, compassionate to all in times of peril, most willing to protect suffering sentient beings. Only the Buddha is supremely sacred, able to deliver us from calamity and preserve our frail lives.”
At that moment, the Makara fish, hearing the name of the Buddha being recited, closed its mouth, sank to the depths of the sea, and hid itself away. Thus, the merchants were delivered from danger and safely returned to their homeland.
Then Pūrṇaka took out a great golden table and piled upon it jewels such as maṇi gems and many wondrous treasures, offering them all to his elder brother Senā. Kneeling respectfully with joined palms, he raised his head and said, “I have now accumulated for my elder brother wealth, estates, and all the necessities for a prosperous life. These riches are sufficient for your descendants to enjoy for seven generations without exhaustion. I only wish that my elder brother would grant me permission to renounce.”
Senā replied, “I do not oppose your renunciation, yet you are still young and have never been with a woman. The Buddha’s Dharma is profound, and the discipline is strict. It would be better to wait some years before fulfilling this wish.”
Pūrṇaka said, “Elder brother, you should know that human life is impermanent; birth and death occur in but a single instant. Not long ago, when upon the sea, our ship was drawn into the mouth of a Makara fish, and life hung by a thread. Only through the grace of the Buddha was I able to preserve this life. Therefore, I desire solely to enter among the ranks of the cultivators of the Way.” His elder brother then consented.
At that time, Pūrṇaka, together with those five hundred treasure-seeking merchants, set forth with minds full of reverence toward the country of Śrāvastī. They arrived at the Buddha’s dwelling, bowed in homage, and, after inquiring respectfully, reported to the Buddha the events that had occurred upon the sea, beseeching to be allowed to renounce the household life. The Buddha, hearing their account, gave permission for them to renounce, accepted them into the path, and said in praise, “Come.” Immediately their hair fell away of itself, Dharma robes appeared upon their bodies, and they became śramaṇas.
The Buddha then expounded to them various teachings. The minds of the five hundred bhikṣus were opened and liberated; their afflictions were extinguished, and they all attained Arhatship. Only Pūrṇaka, whose defilements were still deep, though he listened to the Buddha’s discourse, did not yet gain complete understanding. Yet his faith was sincere and steadfast; he attained only the first fruit. He practiced with diligence and zeal, never once giving rise to indolence.
At that time, the season for the bhikṣus to enter the summer retreat drew near, and the Buddha permitted them to choose their dwelling places for the retreat according to their own wishes. Then Pūrṇaka went before the Buddha and said, “Disciple wishes to go to the country of Bowl Placement to dwell in retreat for three months. May the Buddha permit this.” The Buddha said to Pūrṇaka, “The people of that country are malicious and often harbor wrong views. You are now newly learning the Buddha Dharma and have not yet fully comprehended the sacred practices of the Way. If the people there revile and insult you, what will you do?”
Pūrṇaka said, “If others heap upon me extreme insults, it does not matter, so long as they do not harm me.” The World-Honored One said again, “The people there are exceedingly wicked. If they intend to harm you, what will you do then?” Pūrṇaka replied, “World-Honored One, even if the people there revile and injure me, so long as they do not end my life, I shall still be grateful for their kindness.” The Buddha further asked, “Suppose you go to that country, and some evil men there harm and take your life, and you gain nothing whatsoever from it—what then will you do?” Pūrṇaka replied, “World-Honored One, all conditioned things must in the end return to emptiness. If someone wishes to kill me, I shall calmly accept death.”
The World-Honored One said again, “If the wicked men of that country revile and harm you, before you die will you not feel anger toward them?” Pūrṇaka said, “No, World-Honored One. Even if they slander me without cause, without any evidence, and falsely accuse me of heinous crimes; even if they strike me with rods and blades, injure and cut me, yet before I finally die, I will never give rise to even the slightest thought of resentment.”
The Buddha then praised him, saying, “Excellent, excellent! Only by acting in this way can a disciple bring joy to others.”
Then Pūrṇaka took up his robe and alms bowl, paid homage to the Buddha, and departed for the country of Bowl Placement. The next morning, he entered the city to beg for alms and came to the house of a wealthy brāhmaṇa. When the brāhmaṇa saw that he was a bhikṣu, he felt disgust and drove him out with curses. The bhikṣu then went to another house to seek alms. The next day, he again went to that same brāhmaṇa’s house to beg. The brāhmaṇa struck him forcefully, yet the bhikṣu remained joyful, his expression unchanged. Seeing that this bhikṣu, though insulted, beaten, and tormented to the point of exhaustion, still bore no trace of anger, the brāhmaṇa repented deeply within himself.
At that time, Pūrṇaka diligently cultivated in that country without the least negligence. His afflictions were all extinguished; his mind suddenly opened and was liberated, and he attained the state of freedom from outflows. When the summer retreat ended, he bade farewell to his dānapatis and instructed his elder brother, saying, “Do not enter the sea. The sea is filled with perils. The wealth you possess is sufficient for seven generations.” Having spoken thus, he returned to where the Buddha was dwelling, bowed down and paid homage, and after greeting the Buddha, he stayed wherever he pleased.
At that time, his elder brother did not heed his admonition. Some merchants came to Senā and earnestly urged him in every possible way to enter the sea to seek treasures. Unable to resist their persuasion, Senā agreed to go with them. Once upon the ocean, each man sought his own treasures, and Senā alone obtained a great quantity of ox-head candana, filling his ship completely. The nāga king, by nature miserly and possessive of the fragrant woods of the sea, seized his ship midway. Though Senā raised his sails high, the vessel could not move. The merchants all thought their deaths were certain. Senā, in single-minded concentration, called out, “Pūrṇaka! We are now in dire peril and distress; may you come to save us!”
At that moment, Pūrṇaka was in the Jeta Grove Monastery of Śrāvastī, seated in meditation and contemplation. With his divine ear, he heard that his elder brother Senā was in danger, and, moved by sorrow and compassion, perceiving that his brother was sincerely invoking his name, Pūrṇaka, by means of the supernormal power of an Arhat, in a moment as brief as a strong man bending or stretching an arm, transformed himself into the form of the great Garuḍa king, flying swiftly to the ocean. He frightened the nāga king, who, seeing the Garuḍa, was terrified and fled into the depths of the sea. Thus, the merchants were able to return home safely and in peace.
When they arrived home, Pūrṇaka instructed his elder brother to build a small hall dedicated to the World-Honored One, with the outer structure entirely covered in candana wood. After the hall was completed, he further instructed his brother to invite the Buddha. Senā said, “By what means or offerings should we invite the World-Honored One to graciously come here?”
Then Pūrṇaka and his brother together prepared offerings, each holding a censer. They ascended a tall tower and, facing in the direction of the Jeta Grove Monastery, burned incense and paid homage to the Buddha and the holy Sangha, saying, “We earnestly beseech that tomorrow the World-Honored One will condescend to come to our humble country, to guide and awaken the beings lost in ignorance and delusion.”
After they made this vow, the censers, as they wished, flew through the sky to above the Buddha’s head, where the smoke gathered together to form a canopy in midair. Then, from afar, they offered water to wash the Buddha’s feet; the water, like split pins, parted in the air and flew straight to the Buddha’s feet.
At that time, Ānanda, seeing this marvel, was greatly astonished and asked, “Who has sent forth this smoke and this water?”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “It is the Arhat bhikṣu Pūrṇaka in the country of Bowl Placement, who is exhorting his elder brother Senā to invite the Buddha and the Saṃgha. Therefore he has sent forth smoke and water to manifest their sincere devotion.”
Then the Buddha said to Ānanda, “Go among the Saṃgha and count the number of those who possess supernatural powers. Tell them that tomorrow they shall all gather together and go to accept Senā’s invitation, and arrive at that country with their supernormal powers.” Ānanda then, as commanded, went to the Sangha and counted their numbers with tally tokens, saying, “Those who possess supernormal walking powers shall go tomorrow to accept the invitation.” At that time, each of the bhikṣus received a token in acknowledgment.
The next morning, the monk in charge of meals named Pratisaṃdhi (which in the language of Jin means “Rebirth”), who had already attained the fruit of the Anāgāmin, was responsible each day for providing food to the Sangha. At that time, he sat cross-legged, his body emitting radiant light that illuminated all directions. The cooking vessels, ladles, shallow iron pans, and the great cauldrons capable of holding a hundred bushels, all followed behind him, flying through the air toward the country of Bowl Placement.
Senā asked, “Is that your teacher?” Pūrṇaka replied, “No, that is the one who prepares meals for the bhikṣus; therefore, he has come first to arrange the offerings of food.” Thereupon Senā offered flowers, incense, and music in reverent worship. When the offering was complete, Pratisaṃdhi passed onward.
Next came sixteen sāmaṇeras, including one named Cunda. Each by his supernormal power transformed himself into groves of trees, gathering flowers and fruits of various kinds, radiating light that filled heaven and earth, gliding freely through the air as they arrived one after another. Senā again asked, “Is that your teacher?” Pūrṇaka replied, “No. They are disciples under the same teacher as we are. The very first one, at the age of seven, he attained Arhatship, his outflows forever extinguished, and his supernormal powers vast and unobstructed. Thus, today they have come first to gather flowers and fruits.” Senā then offered flowers, incense, and music in abundance. After the offerings were completed, they too passed onward.
Then came an elder great Arhat, who transformed a thousand nāgas. The nāgas coiled their bodies to form a throne, their heads extending outward from the four directions, their roars like thunder shaking the heavens. From the mouths of these nāgas fell down seven precious jewels. Upon the seat of coiled dragons, the Arhat placed a magnificent jeweled throne and ascended into the sky, his body emitting radiant light that illumined the whole world as he came to that country.
Senā again asked, “Is that your teacher?” Pūrṇaka replied, “No. That is a disciple of the teacher, named Kauṇḍinya. When the Buddha had just attained enlightenment, in the Deer Park at Benares he first turned the Wheel of Dharma and widely delivered sentient beings. Those five men were the very first to be converted, and among the disciples, he is foremost, fully endowed with spiritual powers, unobstructed in all things.”
Hearing this, Senā felt even greater reverence, and with incense, flowers, and music made offerings. When the offering was finished, Kauṇḍinya passed onward.
Then Mahākāśyapa arrived, transforming himself into a jeweled preaching hall adorned with the seven precious substances, his entire body shining with radiant light as he came to that country. When Senā beheld him, he asked Pūrṇaka, “Is that your teacher?” Pūrṇaka replied, “No. That is our teacher’s disciple Mahākāśyapa—pure and frugal, ever content, constantly practicing the dhūta austerities, compassionate toward the lowly, and ever aiding the poor and destitute.” Senā then offered incense, flowers, and music in veneration. When the offering was complete, Mahākāśyapa too passed onward.
Then Śāriputra came next, riding upon a thousand lions. These lions coiled their bodies to form a seat, their heads stretching outward in the four directions. From their mouths they spewed forth the seven precious substances; their thunderous roars shook heaven and earth. Upon the lion seat, Śāriputra placed a great jeweled dais, solemn and magnificent, upon which he sat in dignity. His body emitted radiant light that shone throughout the four quarters as he soared through the sky, arriving at that land.
Senā asked, “Is that your teacher?” Pūrṇaka replied, “No. The one who has now arrived is the teacher’s great disciple, Śāriputra, endowed with vast and profound wisdom.” Hearing this, Senā’s joy and reverence greatly increased. He offered flowers, incense, and music in veneration. When the offering was completed, Śāriputra passed onward.
Shortly afterward came Mahāmaudgalyāyana. He transformed himself into a thousand elephants, each elephant’s head extending outward in the four directions, and from every mouth there grew six long tusks. On the tip of one tusk were seven ponds filled with water, and in each pond there were seven lotus flowers. Upon each lotus flower sat seven celestial maidens, performing countless marvelous transformations. The elephants emitted great light that moved the hearts of all nearby. Upon the thousand-headed elephants was placed a jeweled throne, upon which Mahāmaudgalyāyana himself sat, flying through the air to that country.
Senā asked, “Is that your teacher?” Pūrṇaka replied, “No. That is the teacher’s disciple named Mahāmaudgalyāyana, foremost in spiritual powers, of pure virtue and deep conduct.” Hearing this, Senā was filled with joy and reverence, and with incense, flowers, and music made offerings. When the offerings were completed, Mahāmaudgalyāyana passed onward.
Next came Aniruddha. He transformed a pond made of the seven precious substances, within which golden lotuses grew, their stems composed of the seven jewels fused together. Upon one of these lotus flowers he sat cross-legged in meditation. Around his neck shone a radiance like sunlight, illuminating the whole world, and wherever the light reached, all became golden in hue. Thus he came soaring through the air to that country.
Senā again asked, “Is that your teacher?” Pūrṇaka replied, “No. That is the teacher’s disciple Aniruddha, foremost among all beings in divine vision.” Hearing this, Senā rejoiced and venerated him, offering flowers and incense. When the offering was finished, Aniruddha too passed onward.
Then came the Buddha’s younger brother Nanda, who transformed himself into seven horses drawing a chariot of the seven precious substances. Upon the chariot was a great jeweled canopy emitting brilliant light that shone in all directions as he sped through the air toward the country of Bowl Placement. Seeing this, Senā asked Pūrṇaka, “Is that your teacher?” Pūrṇaka replied, “No. That is the World-Honored One’s younger brother named Nanda, fully endowed with the marks of all Dharmas and possessed of complete virtue.” Senā then made offerings of incense, flowers, and music. When the offerings were complete, Nanda passed onward.
Then Subhūti arrived next. He transformed himself into a mountain made of the seven precious substances, seated within a crystal grotto, his body emitting rays of many-colored light that illuminated heaven and earth as he came to that country. Senā asked, “Is that your teacher?” Pūrṇaka replied, “No. That is the teacher’s disciple named Subhūti, greatly learned and wise, foremost in understanding emptiness.” Senā then made offerings of flowers and incense. When the offerings were completed, Subhūti passed onward.
After him came Pūrṇa Maitrāyaṇīputra, who transformed a thousand Garuḍa kings. The Garuḍas joined their bodies together to form a seat, their heads extending outward in the four directions, each holding various jewels in their beaks and uttering harmonious sounds. Upon the backs of these birds a great jeweled throne was set, and he sat upon it, gliding through the sky as he came. Senā asked, “Is that your teacher?”
Pūrṇaka replied, “No. He and I share the same teacher. His name is Pūrṇa Maitrāyaṇīputra, and he is foremost among all in eloquence and exposition.” Senā then made offerings of flowers and incense. When the offerings were completed, he too passed onward.
The next disciple was Upāli, who transformed a thousand geese. The geese intertwined their bodies and sang harmoniously, and each held jewels in its beak as they flew through the air. Upon the thousand geese were placed a jeweled throne. Upāli emitted great radiance that shone in the four directions, and he sat upon those seats, traveling through the sky. Senā asked, “Is that your teacher?” Pūrṇaka replied, “No. That is the teacher’s disciple named Upāli, foremost among the bhikṣus in upholding the Vinaya.” Hearing this, Senā made offerings of flowers and incense. When the offerings were completed, Upāli too passed onward.
Then came the śramaṇa named Two-Billion, who transformed rows of trees arranged in the sky. The path between them was made of azure lapis lazuli, and on both sides of the trees were inlaid the seven precious substances, with all manner of marvelous jewels adorning the way. He walked calmly along the middle path, slowly approaching that country. Senā asked, “Is that your teacher?” Pūrṇaka replied, “No. He is the teacher’s disciple, the śramaṇa named Two-Billion, foremost among the bhikṣus in diligence.” Senā then made offerings of flowers, incense, and music. When the offerings were completed, he passed onward.
Then came Mahākapphina. He transformed a grove of trees made of the seven precious substances, upon which grew flowers and fruits of all kinds. Beneath each tree there stood a high throne adorned with the seven jewels. Seated upon the thrones, he emitted great radiance, illuminating all directions, and flew through the air to that country. Senā asked, “Is that your teacher?” Pūrṇaka replied, “No. That is the Buddha’s disciple named Kapphina, valiant and extraordinary, foremost in dignity and bearing.” Hearing this, Senā rejoiced greatly and made offerings of flowers, incense, and music. When the offerings were completed, Mahākapphina passed onward.
Next came the Buddha’s disciple named Piṇḍola Bhāradvāja. He was seated upon a jeweled lotus flower, a halo of sunlight encircling his neck, shining forth with boundless brilliance that illuminated heaven and earth as he ascended through the sky to that country. Senā asked, “Is that your teacher?” Pūrṇaka replied, “No. That is the teacher’s disciple named Piṇḍola Bhāradvāja, skilled in meditative absorption, foremost in dhyāna.” Senā then made offerings of incense and flowers. When the offerings were completed, he passed onward.
Then Rāhula arrived afterward. He transformed himself into a Wheel-Turning King, attended by a thousand sons and possessing the seven treasures, all following before and behind him as they came to that country. Senā asked, “Is that your teacher?” Pūrṇaka replied, “No. That is the Buddha’s son named Rāhula. Were he to remain a householder, he would rule over the four continents, and the seven treasures would come to him naturally. Without need of armies or weapons, all people of the four quarters would submit and return to his rule. Yet now he has renounced kingship, gone forth to cultivate the Path, and attained the fruit of Arhatship. His six superknowledges are clear and unhindered, and therefore he manifests himself in this form.” Hearing this, Senā made offerings of incense and flowers. When the offerings were complete, Rāhula passed onward.
In this manner, the miraculous manifestations of the five hundred disciples endowed with supernormal powers were beyond measure and beyond count.
At that time, the World-Honored One knew that all His disciples had already arrived in that country, so He emitted a great radiance that illuminated heaven and earth, and all things in the world were suffused with golden light. Then Pūrṇaka said to his elder brother, “Now the World-Honored One is preparing to come here; therefore, He first releases light as an auspicious sign.” The World-Honored One began to descend from His seat, and when His two feet touched the ground, the earth and heavens quaked six times. Pūrṇaka said to his brother, “Now the World-Honored One has just stepped down from His seat, therefore heaven and earth are greatly trembling.”
The World-Honored One then walked out of the monastery and stood outside. The eight great Vajra guardians took their positions at the eight directions. The Four Great Heavenly Kings went before Him leading the way. Śakra led hundreds of thousands of gods from the Desire Realm, standing on the left side of the Buddha. On the right side stood Mahābrahmā together with countless deities from the Form Realm. The disciple Ānanda followed behind the Buddha. The Tathāgata, surrounded by this great assembly, shone with boundless radiance that illuminated heaven and earth as He ascended into the sky and flew toward the country of Bowl Placement.
As they were midway on their journey, they encountered five hundred farmers who were plowing their fields with a thousand pairs of oxen and plows. When the oxen saw the Buddha gliding through the air, His body radiating golden light that illuminated the world, they fixed their gaze upon the World-Honored One with pure and faithful hearts and stood still upon the ridges, refusing to move forward. The farmers, seeing their oxen with heads raised and eyes lifted toward the sky, were astonished. Looking up, they beheld the Buddha and all fell to their knees, their hearts filled with devotion and reverence. They said, “We beseech the Tathāgata to take pity on us and kindly descend, to teach and transform us so that we may forever escape the sufferings of birth and death.”
The Buddha, regarding them with a heart of great compassion, knew that they were ripe for liberation. Therefore, He descended from the sky and expounded to them wondrous teachings in many ways. The five hundred farmers’ hearts opened and their minds were awakened; they cut off two billion afflictions and attained the fruit of Srotāpanna. The oxen, at that very moment, passed away and were all reborn in the heavenly realms. The multitude rejoiced greatly.
Then the Tathāgata continued on his way. Not far ahead, He saw five hundred maidens playing in an open field. They saw that the ground beneath them gleamed with golden light, and lifting their eyes to the sky, they beheld the Buddha flying through the air. Their hearts were filled with joy; joining their palms, they said to the Buddha, “We earnestly pray, O Divine One, that You show us compassion and grant us liberation.” The Buddha, knowing by His wisdom that through their past virtuous deeds they were ready to be liberated, fulfilled their wish. Descending to where they were, He taught them the Dharma according to their capacities and inclinations. They received His words with sincerity, their hearts were freed, and they attained the fruit of Srotāpanna.
After the Buddha had delivered them, He went on His way again. There were then five hundred ṛṣis dwelling in a forest marsh. Seeing the golden light shining everywhere, they lifted their gaze and beheld the Tathāgata and His retinue traveling through the sky. Their hearts filled with joy and reverence, they looked up and entreated the Buddha, saying, “We implore the Great Sage to condescend to labor His body and spirit to deliver us, that we too may enter among the ranks of the cultivators of the Path.” The Buddha, perceiving their former causes and knowing that they were due to be delivered, descended before them. They bowed to the Buddha and requested to become śramaṇas. The Buddha granted permission, saying, “Well come, bhikṣus!” and immediately they became śramaṇas. Then He expounded the Dharma to them, whereby their minds became pure and clear, their understanding opened, and all their defilements were forever extinguished—they attained the fruit of Arhatship.
After that, they followed behind the Buddha, and together they traveled through the air, arriving at the country of Bowl Placement.
At that time, Pūrṇaka, seeing from afar that the Buddha was coming—His radiance illuminating heaven and earth and a multitude surrounding Him in the sky—said to his elder brother Senā, “Now have the World-Honored One and the assembly arrived.”
When the Buddha reached their country, Senā beheld and rejoiced, and with incense, flowers, and various music made offerings. When the offerings were completed, they all proceeded together to the gathering place. The Buddha came to Senā’s residence and, as was customary, took His seat according to the proper rule. The whole household of Senā attended to sweet foods and drink; Senā himself provided water for bathing, and then with sincere devotion presented food to the Buddha, and the Buddha expounded the Dharma to him. When the meal, bathing, and rinsing were finished, the Buddha proclaimed wondrous Dharma for their entire country and for Senā’s household, both great and small. All members of Senā’s family attained the fruit of Srotāpanna; some attained the second, the third, and the fourth fruits; some aroused the mind inclined toward the Great Vehicle; some firmly abided in the stage of non-retrogression. When the Buddha had finished speaking the Dharma, the men and women of the whole country who obtained deliverance were beyond reckoning.
Ānanda knelt with joined palms before the Buddha and said, “World-Honored One, I do not know what evil deed Pūrṇaka committed in past lives that caused him to be born in a low station as another’s slave, and by what good fortune he has now encountered the World-Honored One and attained deliverance.” The Buddha said to Ānanda, “If you wish to know, compose your mind and reflect attentively, and I shall tell you.” Ānanda replied, “Aye, and pray that You explain in detail.”
The Buddha then said to Ānanda, “In the past, when Kāśyapa Buddha was in the world, there was a wealthy householder who built a sanghārāma for the Buddha and the Sangha, providing robes, food, and medicines for illness—these four requisites of sustenance—supplying all that was needed for the Buddha and the monks without allowing any deficiency. Later, the householder fell ill and passed away. One of his sons renounced the household life and entered the Path. After his father’s death, the stūpa and the offerings gradually diminished, the monks departed, and the monastery fell into ruin with no Sangha residing there.
“This bhikṣu, the son, exerted himself to gather dānapatis and friends, collecting funds to repair what had decayed and calling the monks back to dwell once again, continuing the offerings and support. At that time, many resided in that monastery, cultivating diligently, and some attained the fruits of the Path. That bhikṣu served those ascetics faithfully.
“Now, among them was one ascetic who had attained Arhatship. When it came to his turn for duties, he swept the weeds and dust, piling them in the middle of the courtyard, but had not yet removed them. Then that bhikṣu, with a mind of contempt, rebuked him, saying: ‘This bhikṣu is no different from a slave. Though he knows how to sweep the ground, he does not clear it away.’
“Ānanda, you should know that the bhikṣu who served the ascetics at that time is now the bhikṣu Pūrṇaka. Because he once, with a malicious heart, scolded an ascetic, calling him a slave, for that one sentence he was reborn as a slave for five hundred lifetimes. Yet because he encouraged and gathered people to offer support to the Sangha, and thereby atoned for his fault, he has now encountered Me in this life, received My teaching, and attained liberation. And furthermore, all those in this country who have now been delivered were, in past ages, those whom he urged to assist and support. Because of that karmic cause, they now have obtained liberation.”
Ānanda and the entire assembly, hearing what the Buddha had spoken, rejoiced with happiness and faithfully practiced according to His words.
Section Thirty-Five: The Causal Conditions of the Conversion of Niti
Thus have I heard:
Once, the Buddha was residing in Śrāvastī, in the Jeta Grove of Anāthapiṇḍada’s Park. At that time, the city of Śrāvastī was densely populated and space was narrow, while the number of latrines was very few. Therefore, the townspeople often went outside the city to relieve themselves. Some wealthy elders, however, did not need to go beyond the walls — they excreted into vessels and hired servants to carry and dispose of them. At that time, there was a man named Niti, who was extremely poor and of low caste. Having no other occupation by which to live, he made a living by emptying people’s waste.
The World-Honored One, knowing that Niti’s time for deliverance had arrived, went into the city accompanied only by Ānanda, intending to bring him to liberation. While walking in the city, they happened to meet Niti, who was carrying an earthen pot filled with filth, intending to dispose of it. From a distance he saw the Buddha approaching. Overcome with a deep sense of shame and lowliness, he turned aside, taking another path to hide. But when he came out again, he once more encountered the Buddha. Feeling even more humiliated, he turned away again, attempting to flee by another road. In his confusion and panic, he accidentally struck the pot against a wall, breaking it, and the foul matter spilled over his whole body. Greatly ashamed, he dared not face the Buddha.
Then the World-Honored One approached and said to him, “Would you like to renounce?” Niti replied, “The Tathāgata is noble and of highest honor, descended from the lineage of the Golden Wheel-Turning King. Those who follow you as disciples are all people of great virtue and high rank. I am extreme base and lowly — how could I be fit to go forth and live among them?”
The Buddha said, “My Dharma is supremely pure and wondrous, like clear water that can wash away all defilements. It is also like a great fire that can burn all things — whether great or small, good or evil, all are consumed alike. My Dharma is vast and boundless; whether rich or poor, noble or humble, man or woman — whoever cultivates the path may be freed from the fetters of desire.”
Hearing the Buddha’s words, Niti’s heart was filled with faith and a wish to renounce. Then the Buddha instructed Ānanda to take him to the great river outside the city to bathe and cleanse himself. After he was purified, Ānanda brought him to the Jeta Grove, where the Buddha expounded the Dharma to him — the truth of suffering, the terrors of birth and death, and the eternal peace of Nirvāṇa. Upon hearing this teaching, Niti’s mind was suddenly opened and illuminated; he immediately attained the first fruit.
Then, joining his palms, he bowed to the Buddha and requested permission to become a śramaṇa. The Buddha said, “Come, bhikṣu!” Instantly, Niti’s hair and beard fell away, and the monastic robes appeared upon his body. The Buddha further instructed him on the essential meaning of the Four Noble Truths, and he was thereby freed from all suffering, attaining the fruit of Arhatship. He perfected the Three Knowledges and the Six Supernormal Powers, all complete.
At that time, the people of the kingdom, upon hearing that Niti had renounced the household life and become a disciple of the Buddha, all gave rise to resentment and murmured among themselves, saying, “Why has the World-Honored One permitted such a low and despicable man to enter the Saṃgha and study the Way? How can we possibly bow to him or make offerings to him? When we invite the Buddha and the Saṃgha for offerings, if this man comes, he will defile our seats and mats!” These words spread from person to person until they reached the ears of the king. The king likewise felt displeased and resentful.
After pondering for some time, he ascended a chariot adorned with the feathers of birds, accompanied by many attendants, and went to the Jeta Grove Monastery to inquire of the Tathāgata how such a matter had come to be. Upon arriving at the gate, he rested for a moment. There, upon a large rock outside the entrance, he saw a bhikṣu sitting and mending his old robe. Around him were seven hundred devas, each holding flowers and incense, making offerings to him and circumambulating him with reverence to his right side.
When the king saw this, his heart filled with joy. Approaching the bhikṣu, he said, “I wish to pay homage to the World-Honored One. Please announce my arrival.” When the bhikṣu heard this, he immediately vanished into the stone, passed through it, and emerged inside the Jeta Grove Monastery. Standing before the Buddha, he said, “King Prasenajit is outside, seeking audience with the World-Honored One, wishing to ask a question.”
The Buddha said, “Return the way you came and tell him he may enter.” Then the bhikṣu again emerged from the stone, as if rising from water, without the slightest obstruction or trace. He said to the king, “I have informed the World-Honored One. You may enter.”
The king thought to himself, “I will set aside my earlier doubts for now and first ask who this bhikṣu is, for he clearly possesses great merit and extraordinary powers.”
Entering the monastery, the king bowed to the Buddha’s feet, circumambulated him three times to the right, stepped back, and sat to one side. Then he asked, “The bhikṣu whom I just saw possesses vast super powers — he entered the stone as though entering water, and when he emerged, there was no hole. What is his name, World-Honored One? I pray you will tell me.”
The Buddha said, “That bhikṣu is none other than the one in your own kingdom who was of the lowest and most despised birth. I have transformed him, and he has attained the fruit of Arhatship. You, great king, have come here today because of doubts concerning this matter, have you not?”
When the king heard the Buddha’s words, all feelings of disdain vanished from his heart, and he was filled with joy and reverence.
Then the Buddha said to the king, “All beings who dwell in the world experience high or low birth, wealth or poverty, happiness or suffering — all according to the karmic causes they have created in the past. Those who are gentle, humble, and respectful of elders, compassionate toward the young — such become noble and honored. Those who are cruel, violent, arrogant, and proud — such become lowly and despised.”
King Prasenajit said to the Buddha, “The Great Sage has appeared in the world to nurture and save all beings. Even one as wretched and base as this man, you have rescued from the sea of suffering, granting him peace and joy. I now wish to ask: through what karma was this Niti born into such a lowly state? And through what merits and virtues has he now encountered the Holy One, received the guidance of the sage, and attained the fruit of Arhatship? May the World-Honored One please explain this to us.”
The Buddha said to the king, “Listen carefully, and I shall tell you so that you may understand the reason behind this matter.
In a past age, when the Tathāgata Kāśyapa appeared in the world, after his passing into Nirvāṇa there remained a community of one hundred thousand bhikṣus. Among them was one śramaṇa who served the assembly of monks. When he once fell ill, he took medicine to purge himself, but relying on his position and influence, he became arrogant and proud. He refused to go outside to relieve himself, urinating instead into a golden or silver basin, and ordered a disciple to carry it out and dispose of it. That disciple, however, had already attained the fruit of Srotāpanna.
Because, in that former life, he lacked humility, relied on his wealth and status, and, though only mildly ill, grew indolent and refused to go out, forcing and exploiting a saint to remove his filth, he thus reaped the retribution of being born again and again in lowly forms, revolving in birth and death. For five hundred lifetimes he was reborn in servile stations, removing excrement for others, until this very life. Yet, because after he renounced he strictly upheld the precepts, by that merit, when I appeared in the world, he was able to hear my teaching and attain the Way.”
The Buddha then said to the king, “Do you wish to know who that arrogant monk of that time was? It is this very bhikṣu Niti of today.”
King Prasenajit said to the Buddha, “The appearance of the Tathāgata in the world is truly marvelous beyond measure. You have brought immense benefit to countless beings burdened with suffering and affliction.”
The Buddha said to the king, “Excellent, excellent! It is just as you have said.” Then the Buddha further explained, “The cycle of the three realms has no fixed station. Those who cultivate virtue and accumulate wholesome deeds are born into noble and honored families. Those who practice evil and indulge in arrogance and self-will are born into lowly and despicable states.”
The king rejoiced greatly; all feelings of pride and disdain vanished from his heart. Rising to his knees, he clasped Niti’s feet in reverence, confessing his fault and begging forgiveness so that his sin might be erased. At that time, the World-Honored One expounded broadly upon the wondrous principles of the Dharma — discoursing on generosity, on morality, on rebirth in the heavens, on the contemplation of desire and the perception of impurity, and on the bliss of liberation from the world.
When the multitude heard the Buddha’s words, each attained realization of the Path, and all gave rise to deep faith and reverent practice.
Dharma Torch 