Translated by śramaṇas Hui Jue etc. from Liangzhou of the Yuan Wei Dynasty in Gaochang Commandery
Section Forty-Five: Ānanda’s Universal Holding (In the Tanjur version this section is Forty-Three)
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was dwelling in the Jeta Grove, in Anāthapiṇḍada’s Park, in the country of Śrāvastī. At that time, all the bhikṣus gave rise to doubt and wondered among themselves, saying: “What kind of deeds did the virtuous Ānanda cultivate in the past, that he has now attained such Universal Holding, so that whatever words he hears spoken by the Buddha, he does not forget a single one?” Then they all together went to where the Buddha was, and said to the Buddha: “What kind of meritorious deeds did the virtuous Ānanda accumulate in the past, that he has now obtained such immeasurable universal holding? We only wish that the World-Honored One would kindly explain this to us!”
The Buddha told the bhikṣus: “Listen carefully and bear this well in mind. This kind of universal holding arises from the accumulation of merit. In the distant past, beyond innumerable asaṃkhyeya kalpas, there was a bhikṣu who took in and raised a sāmaṇera. He constantly used strict commands to instruct him in reciting the sūtras, setting daily lessons. If the amount of recitation was sufficient, he rejoiced; if it was insufficient, he would scold him sternly. Thus, the sāmaṇera often held affliction in his heart—though he could complete the recitations, his food was not always adequate. When he went to beg for alms, if he obtained food quickly, his recitation could be completed; but if he obtained food late, his recitation would be lacking, and if the recitation was lacking, he would be harshly reproached. Bearing grief and distress in his heart, he would walk while crying.
“At that time, there was a elder who saw him crying, stopped him, and asked, ‘Why are you so distressed?’ The sāmaṇera replied, ‘Elder, you should know that my master is very strict. He commands me to recite the sūtras and sets a fixed amount each day. If the amount is sufficient, he rejoices; if it is not, he reproaches me severely. When I go to beg for alms, if I obtain food quickly, my recitation can be finished; if I obtain food late, my recitation is incomplete; and if it is incomplete, I am severely rebuked. For this reason, I am sorrowful.’ Then the elder said to the sāmaṇera, ‘From now on, come often to my house. I will provide you with food and drink so that you need not worry. After eating, concentrate diligently on your recitations.’
When the sāmaṇera heard these words, he was then able to focus and practice diligently in reciting and studying the sūtras. The set amount of lessons did not decrease, and every day he could complete them. Thus, both master and disciple were joyful together.”
The Buddha told the bhikṣus: “That teacher at that time was the Tathāgata Dīpaṃkara; the sāmaṇera at that time was myself; and the elder who offered food and drink at that time is now Ānanda. Because of the deeds performed in that past life, he has now attained dhāraṇī and never forgets.”
At that time, when all the bhikṣus heard what the Buddha had spoken, they rejoiced in faith and received it with reverence, placing it upon their heads in acceptance and practice.
Section Forty-Six: Upasena Slain by His Elder Brother (In the Tanjur version this section is Forty-Four)
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was dwelling in the Jeta Grove, in Anāthapiṇḍada’s Park, in the country of Śrāvastī. At that time, in Rājagṛha there lived two merchant brothers who shared the same household. The elder sought to marry the daughter of a certain householder, wishing her to be his wife, but the girl was still young and not yet of marriageable age. Then the elder set out on a distant journey together with many merchants, and after many years he tarried and did not return in due time. As the girl grew older and reached the age for marriage, the householder said to the younger brother, “Your elder brother has gone abroad and has been detained there; you may now take my daughter in marriage.” The younger brother replied, “That cannot be — my elder brother is still alive; I dare not act contrary to him.”
The householder repeatedly urged and admonished, but the younger brother’s resolve was firm and never changed. The householder, finding no other recourse, forged a letter from afar and entrusted it to other merchants to deliver, saying that the elder brother had already died. When the younger brother heard that his elder brother was dead, he was struck with astonishment. The householder again went to him and said, “Your elder brother is already dead; what shall become of my daughter? If you will not marry her, I shall find another means.” Pressed urgently, the younger brother married that daughter. After some time the daughter became with child. Later the elder brother returned from the foreign land; when the younger brother heard that his elder brother had come home, filled with shame and fear he fled to Śrāvastī. As his wife’s belly grew, relatives and friends pressed upon her abdomen and caused the fetus to be aborted.
Fleeing in this way, he came before the Buddha, driven by a heart of shame, and requested ordination. The Buddha, knowing that he could be delivered, immediately permitted it. Having received the Buddha’s permission, he became a śramaṇa and was named Upasena. He observed the precepts, practiced the discipline, and, diligent and energetic without laxity, he forthwith attained the Path of Arhat; the six kinds of supernormal powers were pure and clear, and all forms of wisdom were fully complete.
At that time the elder brother returned home and, seeing that his younger brother had taken his wife, a jealous anger arose within him. He set out in pursuit to kill his younger brother, making inquiries everywhere until he learned that his younger brother had gone to Śrāvastī. Filled with poisonous hatred and agitation, he offered a great reward: “Whoever brings me my younger brother’s head, to him I will give a heavy reward — five hundred taels of gold.”
At that time, there was a man who came forward and said, “I can go and take his head.” The elder brother then brought forth the gold and gave it to recruit that man, and together they set out toward Śrāvastī. When they arrived there, they saw the younger brother sitting in meditation and contemplation. At that moment, the man suddenly gave rise to a mind of compassion and thought, “How can I kill this bhikṣu? But if I do not kill him, I will lose my reward.” He then drew his bow, intending to shoot an arrow; but just as he drew and aimed at the bhikṣu, when the arrow was released, it struck the elder brother instead.
The elder brother, harboring resentment, died in anger and vexation. After death he was reborn as a venomous serpent, taking form within the hinge of that ascetic’s door. His malicious mind had not ceased and he intended to harm him. As the door was opened and closed many times, the serpent was crushed to death. After dying, his nature had not yet changed, so he made a vow and was again reborn as a small poisonous insect, dwelling within the same ascetic’s dwelling place. When the ascetic was seated in meditation, it fell from above the roof and landed upon his head; its venom was fierce and violent, and it killed the bhikṣu.
At that time, Śāriputra, seeing what had happened, went to the Buddha’s dwelling and said to the Buddha, “What causes and conditions did that deceased bhikṣu create in the past, that now, although he attained the Way in this present life, he was poisoned and died? May the World-Honored One kindly explain this to us.”
The Buddha told Śāriputra, “Listen well, listen carefully! I shall now explain this to you in detail. In the countless ages of the past, there was a Pratyekabuddha who appeared in the world. He dwelt in the mountains and forests and, through cultivation, fulfilled his aim. At that time there was a hunter who constantly caught birds and beasts, setting up many devices in hopes of taking prey. The Pratyekabuddha startled and scattered his game, so that the hunter waited in vain and caught nothing. The hunter, overcome with anger and distress, shot the Pratyekabuddha with a poisoned arrow.
At that time, the Pratyekabuddha felt compassion for this man and wished to lead him to repentance. He then manifested his supernormal powers—flying freely through the air, stretching and contracting at will, appearing and disappearing as he wished, displaying every kind of transformation. When the hunter saw this, he was filled with awe and reverence, struck with fear and remorse. He turned in repentance, confessed his offense sincerely, and begged forgiveness. The Pratyekabuddha accepted his confession, and after the confession was complete, he died from the poison.
That man, when his life ended, fell into hell. After emerging from hell, for five hundred lifetimes he was constantly killed by poison. Until this day, although he has attained the Path of Arhat, he was still slain by a venomous creature. Because in that past life he first gave rise to an evil mind, but soon repented and made a vow, saying, ‘May I in a future life meet a sagely and enlightened teacher, and may the supernormal powers I gain be like those of this holy one today,’ therefore, in this life he was able to encounter me and receive the Dharma of the Path.”
At that time, Śāriputra and the entire assembly, hearing what the Buddha had spoken, rejoiced in faith and accepted it, reverently upholding and practicing it.
Section Forty-Seven: The Son Mistakenly Kills His Father (In the Tanjur version this section is Forty-Five)
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was dwelling in the Jeta Grove, in Anāthapiṇḍada’s Park, in the country of Śrāvastī. At that time, there was an old man who had lost his wife in his early years and lived alone with his son. Their life was poor and lacking in wealth and treasure. Realizing the impermanence of the world, he gave rise to the thought of renunciation and went to where the Buddha was, requesting to leave home and cultivate the Way. The Buddha, out of compassion for him, permitted him to go forth. Thus, the father became a bhikṣu. The son, being still young, became a sāmaṇera, and he constantly went together with his father into the villages to beg for alms and returned to their dwelling in the evening.
There was one village most remote; they went there to beg for alms and, as it neared evening, should have been returning. The father, being old, walked slowly. The son, in his heart, felt fear, worrying that they might encounter poisonous snakes or ferocious beasts. In haste he supported his father and pushed him forward to hurry the way. Because his grip was unsteady, the father was pushed to the ground, and right then he died under his son’s hands.
After the father’s death, the son returned alone to the Buddha’s dwelling. The bhikṣus there asked the sāmaṇera, “This morning you and your master went to the village for alms; where is your master now?” The sāmaṇera replied, “Earlier I went with my master to beg for alms. As we were returning at dusk, my master walked somewhat slowly. I was afraid in my heart and, in haste, pushed him. My hands pressed too hard, and he fell to the ground and died there on the road.” The bhikṣus then scolded and reproached the sāmaṇera, saying, “You great evildoer! You have killed your father and your master as well!” They then reported the matter to the Buddha.
The Buddha said to them, “Though this master has died, it was not from any evil intention.” He asked the sāmaṇera, “Did you kill your master?” The sāmaṇera answered, “Indeed, I pushed him, but it was not from an evil mind that I killed my father.” The Buddha accepted his words and said, “Yes, sāmaṇera, I know that your mind bore no evil intention. In past lives it was the same—you killed each other without any malicious thought.”
Then the bhikṣus, hearing the Buddha’s words, together said to the Buddha, “We do not understand, World-Honored One. In past lives, what causes and conditions did this father and son have that they should come to kill each other?”
The Buddha said, “Listen carefully, and I shall explain it for you. In the boundless asaṃkhyeya kalpas of the past, there was a father and son who lived together in one place. At that time the father was gravely ill and lay resting. Many flies continually came to disturb him, so the father told the son to drive away the flies so that he could sleep peacefully and ease his fatigue. The son hurried to drive them off, but the flies still came again and again without ceasing. The son then became angry and, taking up a large stick, waited to strike and kill the flies. At that time, many flies alighted upon the father’s forehead, and the son struck with the stick, killing his father. In that case too, it was not done with evil intent.
Bhikṣus, you should know that the father at that time is now this sāmaṇera, and the son who struck his father’s forehead with the stick is now that bhikṣu who has died. Because at that time there was no evil intention, though the father died from the blow, it was not out of malice; therefore, in this life as they repay one another, there was likewise no deliberate killing.”
Thus the sāmaṇera gradually studied and cultivated, diligent and unwavering, and in the end attained the fruit of Arhatship.
At that time, when the bhikṣus heard what the Buddha had spoken, their hearts were filled with understanding and faith, and they rejoiced in acceptance and put it into practice.
Section Forty-Eight: Sudatta Builds a Monastery (In the Tanjur version this section is Forty-Six)
Thus have I heard:
The Buddha was dwelling in the Bamboo Grove of Rājagṛha. At that time, in the kingdom of Śrāvastī, there was a minister of King Prasenajit named Sudatta. His household was exceedingly wealthy, possessing countless treasures. He delighted in giving alms, aiding the poor, the destitute, and the lonely elderly. Because of his conduct, people at that time gave him the name “The one who gives alms to the unprotected.”
At that time, the venerable elder had seven sons. As they each grew up, he arranged marriages for them one after another, until it came to the sixth. His seventh son, however, was exceptionally handsome and remarkable in appearance. He was especially fond of him and wished to arrange a marriage for him, seeking a woman of supreme beauty and perfect features as a wife for his son. Therefore, he said to the brāhmaṇas: “Whose family has a maiden of complete and auspicious features? You should go and seek a marriage proposal for my son.”
The brāhmaṇas then went searching. Wandering from place to place while begging for alms, they eventually arrived at Rājagṛha. In that city there was a great minister named Gomin, who possessed immeasurable wealth and who faithfully revered and honored the Three Jewels. At that time, the brāhmaṇas went to his house to beg for food. In that country, it was the custom that when alms were given, a virgin must personally present the offering.
Now, Gomin the elder had a daughter of dignified demeanor and exquisite beauty. She came forth carrying the food to offer to the brāhmaṇas. When the brāhmaṇas saw her, their hearts were filled with joy and delight: “The one we have been seeking—we have found her today!” They asked the maiden, “Has anyone come to seek you in marriage?” The maiden replied, “No one has.” The brāhmaṇas then asked, “Maiden, is your father at home?” She answered, “He is.” The brāhmaṇas said, “Please tell him to come out; I wish to see him and speak with him.”
The maiden then entered the inner chamber and said to her father, “Outside there is a mendicant who wishes to see you.” The father came out. The brāhmaṇas greeted him, saying, “May your life be peaceful and auspicious! In the kingdom of Śrāvastī there is a minister of the king named Sudatta. Vice Minister, do you know him?” Gomin replied, “I have not met him, but I have heard his name.” The brāhmaṇas said, “Do you know? In the kingdom of Śrāvastī, this man is foremost among the wealthy, just as you are the foremost among the wealthy here. Sudatta has a son of excellent and extraordinary appearance, outstanding among men. He wishes to marry your daughter. Would you agree?” Gomin replied, “I agree.”
At that time, some merchants were preparing to travel to Śrāvastī. The brāhmaṇas wrote a letter, entrusting it to them to deliver to Sudatta, explaining the matter in full. When Sudatta received it, he was overjoyed. He went to consult the king about arranging the marriage for his son, and the king granted permission. He loaded a great quantity of treasures and set forth toward Rājagṛha, giving alms to the poor and needy along the way.
Upon arriving in Rājagṛha, he went to Gomin’s house to request the marriage for his son. Gomin the elder joyfully welcomed him, arranged a seat for him, and invited him to stay the night in his house. The household bustled with activity, preparing food and offerings. Sudatta thought to himself, “Now this elder is making grand preparations and elaborate arrangements—what could this be for? Is he inviting the king, the prince, the ministers, elders, laymen, and relatives for a great assembly?” He pondered the cause but could not discern it, so he asked Gomin, “Elder, tonight you personally attend to these affairs and prepare so many offerings. Are you inviting the king, the prince, and the ministers?” Gomin replied, “No.” “Then are you hosting a gathering of relatives for a marriage?” “No.” “Then what is it for?” Gomin replied, “It is to invite the Buddha and the bhikṣu Sangha.”
At that time, when Sudatta heard the names of the Buddha and the Sangha, the hairs on his body suddenly stood on end, as though he had realized something profound. His heart became filled with joy and ease, and he asked again, “What is the Buddha? Please explain its meaning.”
The elder replied, “Have you not heard? The prince of King Pure-Rice, named Siddhārtha, on the day of his birth, thirty-two auspicious signs appeared in the heavens, and countless devas attended upon him. Immediately upon being born, he walked seven steps, raised one hand, and said: ‘Among heaven and earth, I alone am the Most Honored One.’ His body shone with the color of pure gold, adorned with thirty-two marks and eighty excellent characteristics. He was destined to become a Golden Wheel-Turning Sage King, to rule over the four continents. Yet, upon seeing the sufferings of aging, sickness, and death, he found no joy in the household life. Thus he renounced the world and cultivated the path. After six years of austerity, he attained perfect wisdom, eradicated all defilements, and became the Buddha. He subdued eighteen trillion of māras, and is called Śākyamuni. He possesses the Ten Powers, the Four Fearlessnesses, and the Eighteen Unique Qualities. His radiance illuminates all directions, his Three Knowledges perceive far and wide; therefore, he is called the Buddha.”
Sudatta then asked, “What is the Sangha?” Gomin replied, “After the Buddha attained enlightenment, the great Brahmā entreated him to turn the wondrous Dharma wheel. Then he went to the Deer Park in Benares and expounded the Four Noble Truths to Kauṇḍinya and the other four. They eradicated all defilements and attained liberation. They became śramaṇas endowed with the six supernormal powers. The Four Foundations of Mindfulness, the Seven Factors of Enlightenment, and the Noble Eightfold Path—all were cultivated and perfected by them. In the sky, eighty thousand devas attained the fruit of Srotāpanna, and innumerable heavenly beings aroused the aspiration for the Unsurpassed True Path.
“Afterward, he converted the disciples of Uruvilvā Kāśyapa and his brothers, one thousand in number; they eradicated all defilements, attained liberation, and were like the first five. Then he further converted the disciples of Śāriputra and Maudgalyāyana, five hundred in all, who likewise attained arhatship. Such beings possess mastery of supernormal powers, and are excellent fields of merit for all sentient beings; therefore, they are called the Sangha.”
When Sudatta heard of such extraordinary and supreme matters, he was overjoyed, filled with faith and reverence, and resolved that at dawn he would go to see the Buddha. His sincere heart moved the devas in response—he saw the ground before him grow bright, and following the light, he went forth. The gates of Rājagṛha were opened three times during the night: in the first watch, the middle watch, and the last watch—these were the three periods. He departed during the middle watch and, upon leaving the gate, saw a shrine where offerings were made to the gods. He approached and paid homage, but in that moment forgot to recollect the Buddha. His mind became clouded in darkness again, and he thought to himself, “The night is indeed dark. If I proceed, perhaps fierce spirits or wild beasts might harm me. I should return to the city and wait until dawn before going.”
Then a close friend of his, who after death had been reborn in the Heaven of the Four Great Kings, saw that he was wavering and came down to admonish him, saying, “Householder, do not turn back in regret! If you go to see the Buddha, you will gain immeasurable benefit. Even if you were to obtain a hundred carts filled with treasures now, it would not equal the merit of taking one step toward the World-Honored One; the benefit gained far surpasses those treasures. Householder, go! Do not turn back! Even if you were now to gain a precious white elephant, it would not equal the merit of lifting one foot toward the World-Honored One; the benefit exceeds that. Householder, go! Do not turn back! Even if you were to gain all the treasures filling the entire Jambudvīpa, it would still not equal the merit of turning one step toward the World-Honored One; the benefit is vast beyond measure. Householder, go! Do not turn back! Even if you were to gain treasures filling the whole four continents, it would still not equal the merit of raising one foot toward the World-Honored One; the benefit surpasses those by hundreds of thousands of times.”
When Sudatta heard the deva speak such words, his joy and faith grew even stronger. His heart became filled with reverence toward the World-Honored One. Instantly, the darkness gave way to brightness again, and following the path, he went onward and arrived at the place of the World-Honored One.
At that time, the World-Honored One knew that Sudatta was coming and went outside to walk in meditation. From a distance, Sudatta saw the World-Honored One, whose appearance was like a mountain of gold—his marks and bearing, his dignified countenance, his solemn and radiant majesty exceeded beyond ten thousandfold what Gomin had described. Upon seeing him, Sudatta’s heart was filled with joy. Yet not knowing the proper manners of reverence, he directly addressed the World-Honored One, saying, “How has Gautama been in health and repose?” The World-Honored One invited him to be seated.
At that moment, the devas of the Śuddhāvāsa Heaven saw from afar that although Sudatta had met the World-Honored One, he did not yet understand the manner of making reverent obeisance or offering homage. They then transformed themselves into four persons, who approached in order, came before the World-Honored One, performed the obeisance of touching his feet, knelt long upon the ground, inquired respectfully about his well-being, circumambulated him three times to the right, and then withdrew to stand respectfully at one side.
When Sudatta witnessed this, he was astonished and thought to himself, “So this is the proper way of showing reverence.” Then he rose from his seat and did as they had done—he bowed in respect, inquired about the World-Honored One’s health, circumambulated him three times to the right, and withdrew to stand at one side.
At that time, the World-Honored One expounded the Dharma to him—the subtle Four Noble Truths, the suffering, the emptiness, and the impermanence. Hearing the Dharma, Sudatta rejoiced in faith and received the sacred teaching. He attained the fruit of Srotāpanna, just as pure white cloth easily takes on the color of dye. He then knelt with joined palms and asked the World-Honored One, “In the city of Śrāvastī, are there companions like me who, upon hearing the Buddha’s teaching, can readily accept it? Are there others like me?”
The Buddha said to Sudatta, “There is no second person like you. In the city of Śrāvastī, most people adhere to false doctrines and are difficult to lead toward the sacred teaching.”
Sudatta then said to the Buddha, “I only wish that the Tathāgata, out of compassion, would graciously condescend to come to Śrāvastī, so that the beings there may abandon wrong views and turn toward the right path.”
The World-Honored One said to him, “The discipline of those who have renounced the household life is different from that of laypeople. The place where they dwell and rest must also be distinct. Since there is no monastery there, how could I go?”
Sudatta said to the Buddha, “I, your disciple, am able to build one. I earnestly beseech the World-Honored One to permit it.” The Buddha silently gave consent. Sudatta then took leave of the Buddha. After completing the marriage of his son, he bade farewell to the Buddha and prepared to return home. He said, “When I return to my country, I shall build a monastery, yet I do not know the proper design or arrangement. I only wish that the World-Honored One would appoint a disciple to go with me and instruct me.”
The World-Honored One contemplated, “Within the city of Śrāvastī, the brāhmaṇas and the people mostly follow false doctrines and hold inverted views. If I send others, they will surely not succeed. Only Śāriputra, who was born of a brāhmaṇa family, has been wise and intelligent since youth and possesses both supernormal powers and strength; if he goes, it will certainly be beneficial.” Therefore, he commanded Śāriputra to accompany Sudatta.
Sudatta asked, “How many leagues does the World-Honored One travel on foot in one day?” Śāriputra said, “Each day he travels half a yojana. It is the same as the manner in which a Wheel-Turning Sage King proceeds on foot; the World-Honored One follows the same rule.”
Then Sudatta arranged to establish resting houses along the road every ten miles, calculated the work, hired laborers, stationed attendants, and prepared food and bedding in full supply. From Rājagṛha to the kingdom of Śrāvastī, everything was thus arranged. Upon returning home, he and Śāriputra together surveyed the land, seeking a place that was level and spacious, suitable for constructing a monastery. After inspecting the surroundings, they found no satisfactory place except for a garden belonging to Prince Jeta. The land there was even and orderly, with lush trees and groves, neither too near nor too far—truly a perfect site.
Then Śāriputra said to Sudatta, “This garden is suitable for building a monastery. If it were built too far away, alms-seeking would be difficult; if too near, the noise would disturb the practice of meditation.”
Sudatta was overjoyed and went to the prince, saying, “I now wish to build a monastery for the Tathāgata. The prince’s garden is an excellent place, and I wish to purchase it.” The prince laughed and said, “I lack nothing. This garden is flourishing, and I use it for amusement and leisure.” Sudatta earnestly entreated him again and again, but the prince, being greedy and miserly, demanded an extravagant price, thinking that Sudatta could never afford it. He said to Sudatta, “If you can cover the entire ground with gold, leaving not the slightest gap, then I will give it to you.” Sudatta replied, “Good! I will buy it at that price.” Prince Jeta said, “I was only jesting.” Sudatta said, “As a prince, you should not speak falsely. To utter falsehood and deceit—how could such a one inherit the throne and care for the people?” Then he and the prince went together to settle the matter before judgment.
At that time, a deva from the Śuddhāvāsa Heaven, knowing that a monastery was to be built for the Buddha and fearing that the ministers might side with the prince, transformed himself into a man and descended to render judgment. He said to the prince, “As a prince, you should not speak falsely. Having already agreed upon the price, you must not repent midway.” Thus, he adjudicated that the garden belonged to Sudatta.
Sudatta was filled with joy and ordered his attendants, “Bring forth the gold upon elephants!” The tract of eighty oxgangs was soon almost completely covered, with only a small portion of land remaining. Sudatta thought to himself, “From which treasury can more gold be brought to complete it?” Prince Jeta said, “If you think it too costly, you may abandon it.” Sudatta replied, “Not so. I am only considering from which treasury I may take more gold to finish filling the ground.”
Prince Jeta thought to himself, “Surely this Buddha must possess great virtue to make this man so indifferent toward treasure.” Then he said to Sudatta, “Do not bring out any more gold! The ground of the garden shall belong to you, and the trees shall belong to me. I myself shall make offerings to the Buddha and jointly participate in the construction of the monastery.” Sudatta rejoiced greatly and agreed, then returned home to prepare for the work.
When the six heretical teachers heard of this, they went to the king and said, “The elder Sudatta has purchased Jeta’s garden and wishes to build a monastery for the śramaṇa Gautama. We request permission for our disciples to compete in magical powers with his disciples. If the śramaṇa’s followers prevail, he may build the monastery; if they do not, he shall not. Since the followers of Gautama dwell in Rājagṛha, our followers should be allowed to reside here.”
The king summoned Sudatta and said, “The six teachers now report that you have bought Jeta’s garden and intend to build a monastery for the śramaṇa Gautama. They request a contest of miraculous powers between their disciples and his. If they win, the monastery may be built; if not, it shall not be allowed.”
Sudatta returned home, his garments soiled, his heart filled with anxiety and sorrow. The next day, Śāriputra came at the appointed time, wearing his Dharma robe and carrying his alms bowl. Seeing Sudatta troubled and dispirited, he asked, “Why are you unhappy?” Sudatta replied, “I fear that the monastery I intend to build may not succeed, and therefore I am distressed.” Śāriputra said, “What is the matter that makes you fear failure?” Sudatta replied, “The six teachers have gone to the king and demanded a contest—if the venerable one wins, the monastery may be built; if not, they will prevent it. These six teachers have been ascetics for a long time, sincerely cultivating and possessing deep foundations. Their mastery of arts and powers is unmatched by others. I do not know whether the venerable one’s skills can stand against them.”
Śāriputra said, “Even if the disciples of those six teachers filled the entire Jambudvīpa, as numerous as a bamboo forest, they would still be unable to shake even one hair upon my foot. Whatever contest they wish to hold—let them choose as they please.”
Sudatta was filled with joy. He changed into new garments, bathed in fragrant water, and went at once to report to the king, saying, “I have already inquired; the six teachers wish to compete—let it be as they desire.” The king then said to the six teachers, “You are now permitted to hold a contest with the śramaṇas.” The six teachers thereupon announced to the people, “Seven days hence, outside the city, in a spacious open field, we shall compete with the śramaṇas.”
In the kingdom of Śrāvastī there were one billion and eight hundred million of people. According to the law of that land, when the drum was struck, the citizens would assemble: if the copper drum was beaten, eight hundred million people gathered; if the silver drum was beaten, one billion and four hundred million gathered; if the golden drum was beaten, then everyone in the realm assembled. When the seven days had passed, the golden drum was sounded in the wide and level field, and the entire populace assembled. The disciples of the six teachers numbered three hundred million, and the people prepared lofty seats for the king and the six teachers. At that time, Sudatta also prepared a high seat for Śāriputra.
Śāriputra was then sitting in silence beneath a tree, absorbed in deep meditation, all his faculties tranquil, freely moving within the various dhyānas, his insight unhindered. He thought to himself, “This assembly has long pursued false doctrines, proud and self-conceited, regarding living beings as mere dust and grass. By what virtue should I subdue them?” After reflecting, he resolved upon two virtues and made this solemn vow: “If throughout innumerable kalpas I have been compassionate and filial toward my parents, and have reverently honored śramaṇas and brāhmaṇas, then when I first enter the assembly, all the multitude shall bow in reverence before me.”
At that time, the six teachers saw that the entire assembly had already gathered while Śāriputra alone had not yet arrived. They said to the king, “The disciple of Gautama knows that he has no magical powers. Pretending that he desired a contest, now that the assembly is complete, he fears to come.” The king said to Sudatta, “The time for the contest has arrived, yet your master’s disciple should come to discourse.” Then Sudatta went to the place where Śāriputra was, knelt down, and said, “Venerable one, the assembly has gathered; please come to attend.”
Śāriputra then arose from meditation, adjusted his robe, placed his niṣīdana upon his left shoulder, and proceeded with calm dignity, like a lion king, toward the place of assembly. When the multitudes saw his noble appearance and his Dharma robe distinct from others, they, together with the six teachers, could not restrain themselves—they all rose to their feet, as grass bends before the wind, and unconsciously bowed to him. Śāriputra then ascended the seat that Sudatta had prepared.
Among the disciples of the six teachers was one named Raudrakṣa, skilled in magical illusions. In the midst of the assembly, he recited incantations and conjured a great tree, which instantly grew to full height, shading the entire crowd with its branches and leaves luxuriant, and its flowers and fruits of many kinds. The people exclaimed, “This transformation is wrought by Raudrakṣa!”
Then Śāriputra, by his supernormal power, produced a fierce whirlwind that uprooted the tree entirely; it fell to the ground and was crushed into fine dust. The people all proclaimed, “Śāriputra has prevailed! Raudrakṣa is no match for him.”
Raudrakṣa then recited incantations again and conjured a great pond. The four sides of the pond were adorned with the seven precious substances, and within its clear waters grew various lotus flowers. The crowd exclaimed, “This is wrought by Raudrakṣa!” Then Śāriputra transformed himself into a great white elephant with six tusks. Upon one of its tusks grew seven lotus blossoms, and upon each lotus sat a celestial maiden. The white elephant, serene and majestic, walked to the edge of the pond and, with its trunk, inhaled all the water; instantly, the pond vanished completely. The crowd proclaimed, “Śāriputra has prevailed! Raudrakṣa is no match for him.”
Raudrakṣa then conjured a mountain, adorned with the seven precious substances, with springs, ponds, trees, and luxuriant flowers and fruits. The crowd said, “This, too, is made by Raudrakṣa.” Then Śāriputra transformed into a Vajra-wielding strongman. He pointed his vajra at the mountain from afar, and the mountain was immediately destroyed without remainder. The assembled multitude said, “Śāriputra has prevailed! Raudrakṣa is no match for him.”
Raudrakṣa again transformed a great nāga, whose body bore ten heads. In midair it rained down various precious jewels, while thunder and lightning shook the earth, startling the entire assembly. The crowd said, “This, too, is conjured by Raudrakṣa!” Then Śāriputra transformed into the king of golden-winged birds. He tore apart and devoured the nāga. The crowd all declared, “Śāriputra has prevailed! Raudrakṣa is no match for him.”
Raudrakṣa again transformed a mighty ox, tall and powerful, with strong limbs and sharp horns. It pawed the ground, bellowed fiercely, and charged forward. Then Śāriputra transformed into a lion king, who tore it apart and devoured it. The crowd exclaimed, “Śāriputra has prevailed! Raudrakṣa is no match for him.”
Raudrakṣa then transformed his own body into a yakṣa demon, huge in form, with flames blazing from his head, eyes red as blood, four long sharp fangs, and fire spewing from his mouth as he leaped forward to attack. Then Śāriputra transformed himself into Vaiśravaṇa, the Heavenly King. The yakṣa, terrified, turned to flee, but fire arose on all sides, leaving no path of escape. Only beside Śāriputra was it cool and without flame. The yakṣa at once submitted, prostrated himself with his five limbs touching the ground, and begged for mercy. When the thought of submission arose, the flames were instantly extinguished. The crowd shouted in unison, “Śāriputra has prevailed! Raudrakṣa is no match for him.”
Then Śāriputra’s body rose into the sky. He manifested the four deportments—walking, standing, sitting, and lying down. From the upper part of his body flowed water; from the lower part issued fire. He vanished in the east and appeared in the west; vanished in the west and appeared in the east; vanished in the north and appeared in the south; vanished in the south and appeared in the north. At times his body became vast, filling the sky; at times it became minute and subtle. Sometimes he divided one body into hundreds of thousands of koṭis of bodies, and then rejoined them into one. In midair he suddenly stood upon the earth; walking upon the earth was as walking upon water, and walking upon water was as walking upon the earth. After displaying these miraculous transformations, he withdrew his supernormal powers and returned to sit upon his original seat.
The entire assembly, beholding his wondrous powers, rejoiced in their hearts. Then Śāriputra expounded the Dharma for them. According to each one’s past cultivation and the merit and causes they had accumulated, each attained the fruit of the Path—some attained the fruit of Srotāpanna, some of Sakṛdāgāmin, some of Anāgāmin, and some attained Arhatship. Three hundred million of the disciples of the six teachers renounced the household life under Śāriputra and learned the Way. When the contest of magical powers concluded, the fourfold assembly dispersed, each returning to their own abode.
The elder Sudatta and Śāriputra went together to measure the site for the monastery. Sudatta personally held one end of the measuring cord, while Śāriputra held the other, and they measured the foundation of the monastery together. At that moment, Śāriputra smiled with delight. Sudatta asked, “Venerable one, why do you smile?” Śāriputra replied, “At the very moment you began to measure the ground here, the celestial palaces in the Six Desire Heavens have already been completed.” He then lent Sudatta the divine eye, and Sudatta saw with clarity the splendid and pure palaces within the Six Desire Heavens. He asked Śāriputra, “Among these Six Desire Heavens, which is the most blissful place?” Śāriputra said, “Among the beings of the lower three heavens, the attachment to sensual pleasures remains deep; among the two upper heavens, pride and indulgence prevail. In the fourth heaven, however, desires are light and satisfaction is constant. There, Bodhisattvas who are to attain final birth often descend to teach the Dharma.” Sudatta said, “It is there, in the Fourth Heaven, that I should be reborn.” When he spoke these words, all the other palaces vanished, and only the palace of the Fourth Heaven remains.
They continued to stretch and measure the cord, when Śāriputra’s countenance grew sorrowful. Sudatta asked, “Venerable one, why does your face now bear a look of sadness?” Śāriputra replied, “Do you see the ants upon this ground?” Sudatta said, “I see them.” Śāriputra then said to him, “In the time of the Buddha Vipasyin, you also built a monastery for that World-Honored One upon this very land, and these same ants were born here then. In the time of the Buddha Śikhin, you again built a monastery for that Buddha upon this land, and these ants were born here. In the time of the Buddha Viśvabhū, you built a monastery for the World-Honored One upon this same site, and these ants were born here. In the time of the Buddha Krakucchanda, you likewise built a monastery for the World-Honored One here, and these ants were born here. In the time of the Buddha Kanakamuni, you built a monastery for the World-Honored One here, and these ants were born here. In the time of the Buddha Kāśyapa, you again built a monastery for the Buddha upon this very land, and these ants were born here as well. To this very day, through ninety-one kalpas, they have continued to endure the same form of existence, without attaining liberation. The cycle of birth and death is so long and without end—therefore, merit and virtue are of utmost importance; they must be diligently cultivated.” Upon hearing this, Sudatta was moved to deep compassion and sorrow.
When the measurement of the land was completed, they began the construction of the monastery. For the Buddha’s quarters, they used fine sandalwood to make fragrant plaster. In addition, they built one thousand and two hundred monks’ chambers, and in all one hundred and twenty places hung bells for assembly.
When all were completed, Sudatta wished to go and invite the Buddha, yet he thought to himself, “Above me there is the king. I should inform him. If I do not report this matter, he might give rise to displeasure.” He therefore went to the king and said, “I have already built the monastery for the World-Honored One. I earnestly wish that Your Majesty would send an envoy to invite the Buddha.” Upon hearing this, the king immediately dispatched messengers to Rājagṛha to invite the Buddha and the Saṅgha, saying, “May the World-Honored One graciously come and bestow his blessing upon the kingdom of Śrāvastī!”
At that time, the World-Honored One, surrounded before and behind by his disciples of the four assemblies, emitted a great radiance that illumined all directions. The earth quaked in six ways as he proceeded toward Śrāvastī. Along the road, he stayed and rested in each of the guest houses that Sudatta had prepared, teaching and transforming countless beings on the way. As he gradually approached the outskirts of Śrāvastī, all the people came forth carrying various offering vessels to welcome the World-Honored One.
When the World-Honored One arrived in the kingdom, he came to a spacious open ground. There he released a great light that shone upon the three-thousand-great-thousand world system. As he pressed his toe upon the earth, the ground quaked throughout. The musical instruments within the city resounded by themselves; the blind gained sight, the deaf heard, the mute spoke, the hunchbacked stood upright, and those afflicted with every form of infirmity were restored to health. All the people, men and women, old and young alike, witnessing these auspicious omens and miraculous responses, were filled with joy and reverence and came to the Buddha’s abode. One billion and eight hundred million of people gathered together in assembly.
Then the World-Honored One, in accordance with the illnesses of sentient beings, dispensed the medicine, expounding the wondrous Dharma for them. According to each one’s past causes and conditions, they attained corresponding fruits of the Path: some attained the fruit of Srotāpanna, some of Sakṛdāgāmin, some of Anāgāmin, some of Arhat; some planted the causes leading to Pratyekabuddhahood; some aroused the aspiration for the Unsurpassed True Path. All rejoiced in heart and faithfully practiced according to the Buddha’s teaching.
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “Now this grove of land was purchased by Sudatta, while the trees and flowers belong to Prince Jeta. Since the two together, with one mind, have built this monastery, it should be named the Garden of Prince Jeta and the One Who Gives Alms to the Unprotected. Let this name be transmitted and spread abroad, to be known in future generations.”
Then Ānanda and the fourfold assembly, having heard the Buddha’s words, received them with reverence, bowed their heads, and faithfully upheld.
Section Forty-Nine: The First Arising of the Unsurpassed Aspiration by Great Radiance (In the Tanjur version this section is Forty-Seven)
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was dwelling in the Kalandaka Bamboo Grove in the city of Rājagṛha. At that time, Ānanda was sitting in quiet contemplation within the forest, when suddenly a thought arose in his mind: “The Tathāgata, the Perfectly Enlightened One, has faculties that are complete and perfect; his merits and wisdom are luminous, supreme, subtle, and beyond measure. What causes and conditions in former times moved the World-Honored One to give rise to this unsurpassed aspiration of the Great Vehicle? Through what did he cultivate and thus attain such wondrous and subtle merits?”
Having given rise to this thought, he rose from his meditation and went to where the Buddha was dwelling. Bowing down in reverence and worship, he approached and said to the Buddha, “The World-Honored One is the most exalted and supreme among all beings in the worlds of men and gods. His merits and wisdom are bright and boundless, lofty beyond measure. I do not know by what causes and conditions, in former times, the World-Honored One gave rise to this supreme aspiration of the Great Vehicle.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “Since you wish to know, you should listen carefully and keep it well in mind. I shall now explain this to you in detail.”
Ānanda said to the Buddha, “Yes, World-Honored One, I shall listen with full attention.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “In the distant past, beyond immeasurable, boundless, inconceivable asaṃkhyeya kalpas, in this very Jambudvīpa world there was a great king named Mahāprabhāsura (in the language of Jin means Great Radiance) who ruled over five hundred smaller kingdoms. At that time, the great king went out hunting together with his ministers. The elephant upon which the king was riding suddenly became inflamed with lust and, bearing the king, ran wildly in pursuit of a female elephant, charging straight into a dense forest and crashing through the trees. The elephant master urgently called to the king, saying, ‘Grasp a tree trunk firmly and hold yourself steady, that you may preserve your life.’ The king followed his advice, and together with the elephant master clung tightly to the tree. When the elephant had run off far away, the king was seized with great anger and harshly reproached the elephant master, intending to put him to death at once, saying, ‘It is because you failed in your training that I was nearly killed.’
The elephant master explained to the king, ‘I have indeed trained according to the proper methods, but this elephant was overcome by desire. The mind of lust is the hardest to subdue. This truly is not the fault of your servant. I beg the great king’s forgiveness! Grant me three days’ time, and the elephant will return of its own accord. At that time, please observe how I shall tame it. Even if I must die, I shall have no regret.’ Thus, the king stayed his punishment.
After three days, the elephant indeed returned by itself to the royal palace. The elephant master then heated seven iron balls until they were glowing red and pressed them upon the elephant, forcing it to swallow them. The elephant dared not resist; having swallowed the burning iron, it died instantly. When the king saw this, his resentment dissolved, and he and his ministers together marveled and praised this unprecedented event. Then the king asked, ‘Such an intense and unrestrained mind of desire — who in all the worlds could ever subdue it?’
At that time, a deva, responding to the occasion, inspired the elephant master to speak, and he said to the king, ‘Only a Buddha can subdue it.’ When the king heard these words, he immediately made a vow, saying, ‘A mind so obstinate and difficult to tame — only a Buddha can quell it. May I in the future likewise attain Buddhahood.’ From then on he cultivated diligently, enduring innumerable kalpas of hardship without ever ceasing. Until this day, he has at last fulfilled his vow.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “You should know that the great king of that time was myself.”
When the great assembly present heard these words of the Buddha, all gave rise to the mind of unsurpassed, perfect, and complete enlightenment. Their hearts overflowed with joy and they could not restrain themselves; they reverently received and upheld the teaching, faithfully putting it into practice.
Section Fifty: Ratnajaya (In the Tanjur version this section is Forty-Eight)
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was dwelling in the Nyagrodha Saṃghārāma of Kapilavastu. At that time, the people of the Śākya clan personally witnessed the World-Honored One manifesting radiant light and miraculous powers, expounding subtle and wondrous Dharma principles. They felt deep amazement and reverence, knowing that such manifestations were extraordinary and beyond compare. The majesty and virtue of the World-Honored One were solemn and supreme, surpassing all beings. The people further praised, saying, “What wholesome deeds did Kauṇḍinya and the others cultivate in past lives, that when the Tathāgata appeared in the world and the Drum of the Dharma first resounded, they were the first to hear the true Dharma? When the nectar of the Dharma first descended as rain, they were the first to be moistened by it, forever freed from the defilements of affliction, and awakened to the profound principle of the mind’s true nature?” The citizens of the city gathered in crowds, their voices in unison, joyfully extolling without end.
When the bhikṣus heard these discussions, they went to the Buddha’s dwelling. After bowing down in reverence, they approached and asked, “Now, the people of this country have gathered together and, with one voice, are praising the immeasurable virtues of the World-Honored One. At the same time, they wonder what wholesome causes and conditions those five bhikṣus created in past lives that they were the first to be liberated.”
The Buddha told the bhikṣus, “It was not only in this present life that I first taught and liberated these five; in the distant kalpas of the past, I also once saved them. At that time, I used my own body as a boat to rescue them from drowning, preserving their lives and bringing them safely to the other shore. Now that I have accomplished Buddhahood, I am again the first to liberate them.”
The bhikṣus again asked, “We do not know how, in past ages, the World-Honored One rescued them and brought them to safety. We earnestly beseech the World-Honored One to explain this for us.” The Buddha replied, “If you wish to hear, I shall now tell you.” The bhikṣus all responded together, “We wish to hear.”
The Buddha then began to speak, saying, “In the distant past, during an immeasurable kalpa, there was a king in the city of Bārāṇasī in Jambudvīpa named Brahmadatta. At that time, there was a great merchant in that country named Ratnajaya. Once, while he was traveling in a forest, he saw a man weeping bitterly. The man had tied a rope to a tree and was about to place his head in the noose to hang himself. The merchant went forward and asked, ‘Why are you doing this? Human life is difficult to obtain, and this body is fragile. The world is impermanent and ever changing; all beings constantly live in fear of death. Why would you hasten it yourself?’ Then he spoke to him with many words of reasoning, trying to dissuade him and urging him to untie the rope.
The man replied, ‘My fortune is thin, my destiny ill, and I am sunk in the deepest poverty. I am burdened with debts piled high as mountains. My creditors pursue me on every side, pressing me day and night so that my heart finds no peace. Though the heavens and earth are vast, there is nowhere for me to dwell. I wish only to die to escape these sufferings. Though your kind words counsel me otherwise, to live now is worse than to die.’
The merchant immediately promised, saying, ‘First untie the rope. However much you owe, I will repay it all for you.’ Hearing these words, the man ceased his intent to die, rejoiced greatly, wept with gratitude, and followed the merchant to the marketplace, where the merchant publicly declared that he would repay all the man’s debts.””
“The creditors, upon hearing the announcement, all rushed over to demand repayment. Those who came to collect their debts arrived one after another without pause, and soon the merchant’s entire wealth was exhausted. Yet even then, the debts were not fully repaid. Because of this, the merchant’s wife and children suffered from hunger and cold, living only by begging for food. His relatives and clansmen all reproached him, saying, ‘This man is a fool! He has squandered his entire household fortune for others.’
“At that time, a group of merchants invited him to join them on a sea voyage for trade. Ratnajaya replied, ‘According to the custom of merchants, one must prepare one’s own ship and provisions. Now that I have lost all my property, how could I possibly accompany you?’ The others said, ‘We are five hundred in all, and we are willing to contribute together to provide ships and supplies.’ Hearing this proposal, he consented.
“All the merchants then gathered great quantities of gold, silver, and precious goods. Ratnajaya took three thousand taels of gold and divided them into three portions: one thousand taels to build the ship, one thousand taels to prepare provisions, and one thousand taels for the expenses of the voyage. The remaining wealth he left for his wife and children, so that they might sustain their livelihood. On the shore they built a seven-decked vessel, and when all preparations were complete, they pushed the ship into the water. It was secured to the shore with seven thick ropes and adorned with large golden bells. He proclaimed to the people, ‘Whoever wishes to enter the sea in search of rare treasures and inexhaustible riches, let them now assemble to journey together to the land of treasures.’ And he further cautioned them, saying, ‘Only those who are not bound by attachment to parents, wives, the pleasures of Jambudvīpa, or even to their own lives may embark. For within the great ocean there are perils beyond measure—whirlpools, tempests, giant fish, fierce demons, and countless other dangers that cannot all be told.’
“After this declaration, he cut the first rope. Each following day he severed one more, until on the seventh day all the ropes were cut, and the ship set forth upon the sea.
“Unexpectedly, midway through the voyage, they encountered a violent storm, and the ship was shattered. Those who fell into the sea cried out in vain for help. Some grasped planks or inflated skins and managed to float; others drowned and perished. Among them, five men said to the merchant, ‘We followed you to sea, and now we are about to die. In this desperate peril, we implore you to save us.’
The merchant replied, ‘I have heard that the great ocean does not retain corpses. All of you hold fast to me. I am willing to give up my life to save you from this danger, and I now make a vow to seek the attainment of Buddhahood. In the future, when I become a Buddha, I will, with the boat of the unsurpassed true Dharma, ferry you across the sea of birth and death.’ Having spoken these words, he took a knife and ended his own life.
After his death, the sea gods stirred up a great wind and carried his body to the shore. Because of this, the five men were delivered across the ocean; all of them reached the shore safely and returned unharmed.”
The Buddha told the bhikṣus, “You should know that the merchant Ratnajaya of that time is myself today, and those five who were saved are now Kauṇḍinya and the others. In the past, I saved their lives; and now, having accomplished the Buddha Way, I have enabled these five to be the first to realize the undefiled true Dharma, forever transcending the vast flood of birth and death and the great ocean of afflictions.”
At that time, all the bhikṣus present marveled at the Tathāgata’s great compassion, so deep and vast that it could not be measured. Each applied himself diligently to cultivation, and having heard what the Buddha had spoken, they rejoiced in faith and respectfully upheld and practiced it.
Section Fifty-One: Kapila with One Hundred Heads (In the Tanjur version this section is Forty-Nine)
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was in the Bamboo Grove in the country of Magadha. Then the World-Honored One, together with the bhikṣus, went to Vaiśālī and came to the bank of the River Reva. At that time, along the riverbank there were five hundred cowherds and five hundred fishermen. The fishermen had made nets of three sizes—small ones that required two hundred men to haul, medium ones that required three hundred men to haul, and large ones that required five hundred men to haul.
Then the Tathāgata sat down to rest not far from the river, and the bhikṣus sat down with him. By chance, the fishermen netted a great fish that even five hundred men, straining together, could not pull up. They then called the cowherds to help; in all, one thousand men gathered and only then were they able to drag the fish ashore. Upon its body there grew one hundred heads, of many kinds—donkey, horse, camel, tiger, wolf, pig, dog, ape, fox, and so forth. All were greatly astonished and crowded around to look.
Then the World-Honored One said to Ānanda, “What is happening over there that everyone has gathered together? Go and see.” Ānanda accepted the instruction and went to look. Seeing a great fish with a hundred heads upon its body, he returned and reported what he had seen to the World-Honored One.
Forthwith, the World-Honored One, together with the bhikṣus, came to the side of the great fish and asked it, “Are you Kapila?” The fish replied, “Indeed I am.” The World-Honored One solemnly asked again and yet again, “Are you Kapila?” Each time the fish answered, “Indeed I am.” The World-Honored One then asked, “Where is the one who first incited you now?” The fish answered, “That one has fallen into Avīci hell.” Then Ānanda and the great assembly did not understand the reason, and they asked the World-Honored One, “Why is this hundred-headed fish called Kapila? We beseech you to be compassionate and explain it to us!”
The Buddha told Ānanda, “Listen carefully, listen carefully! I shall now explain it for you. In former times, in the age of Kāśyapa Buddha, there was a brāhmaṇa who had a son named Kapila (in the language of Jin means Yellow-Head). He was clever and learned, and among the brāhmaṇa caste he was foremost in being much-hearing, though he did not surpass the śramaṇas. When his father was at the point of death, he earnestly admonished him, saying, ‘You must by all means not dispute with the śramaṇas of Kāśyapa Buddha. Why is this? Because the śramaṇas’ wisdom is deep and vast, and you will certainly not equal them.’”
“After his father’s death, his mother said to him, ‘You have always been exceptionally intelligent and wise. Now, is there anyone who surpasses you?’ He replied, ‘The śramaṇas are superior to me.’ His mother asked again, ‘In what way are they superior?’ He answered, ‘When I have doubts and go to ask the śramaṇas, the meanings they expound are clear and illuminating, dispelling confusion at once. But when they question me, I cannot answer. Thus I know I am not equal to them.’ His mother then said, ‘Why do you not go and learn their Dharma teachings?’ He replied, ‘To learn their Dharma, one must renounce the household life and become a śramaṇa. I am a white-clad layman—how could I study in that way?’ His mother then incited him, saying, ‘You may pretend to renounce the world and become a śramaṇa; after you have mastered their teachings, you can return home and resume lay life.’
“He followed his mother’s instructions and went forth to become a śramaṇa. Within a short time, he recited and mastered the Three Piṭakas and thoroughly understood the meaning of the Buddha’s Dharma. His mother asked him, ‘Now have you surpassed them?’ He answered, ‘In learning I have indeed surpassed them, yet in meditative concentration I am still not their equal. How do I know this? When I ask them, they can explain everything in full detail; but when they question me, there are still things I do not know. Therefore I have not yet reached equality with them.’
“His mother again urged him, saying, ‘From now on, whenever you engage in debate, if you find yourself at a loss for words and defeated in reasoning, you should directly revile them.’ Kapila said, ‘The śramaṇas have committed no wrong—how could I revile them?’ His mother persisted, ‘You must scold them; only then will you prevail.’ Kapila could not bear to disobey his mother. Later, when he again debated with the śramaṇas, whenever he was defeated and had no argument left, he broke out in insults, saying, ‘You foolish men! Lacking all understanding, you are more ignorant than beasts—what Dharma could you possibly comprehend!’ He used the heads of various animals as metaphors to ridicule and revile the Saṅgha, doing so repeatedly, not just once or twice. Because of such actions and their karmic retribution, he has now been reborn as a fish, bearing one hundred heads.”
Ānanda asked the Buddha, “When will he be released from this fish body?” The Buddha told Ānanda, “Even throughout this entire Fortunate Kalpa, though a thousand Buddhas arise and pass away in succession, he will still not be liberated.” At that time, Ānanda and the assembly, having heard the Buddha’s words, all felt dejected and sorrowful; grief filled their hearts, and with one voice they said, “Indeed, the three karmas of body, speech, and mind must not be treated carelessly!”
Then the fishermen and cowherds together folded their palms and entreated the Buddha to let them leave home and cultivate the pure Brahma conduct. The Buddha assented, saying, “Come, bhikṣus!” At that moment, their hair and beards fell away of themselves, robes draped upon their bodies, and they instantly became śramaṇas.
The World-Honored One then expounded for them subtle and wondrous Dharma principles. Through various forms of diligent cultivation, they cut off all afflictions, were freed from all bonds, and attained arhatship. The World-Honored One further explained in detail to the great assembly the teachings of the Dharma—suffering, origination, cessation, and the Path. Among those present, some realized the first fruit up to the fourth fruit, and many gave rise to the aspiration for the Great Way. The fourfold assembly of disciples, hearing the Buddha’s teaching, all rejoiced in faith and accepted it reverently, putting it into practice.
Dharma Torch 