Translated by śramaṇas Hui Jue etc. from Liangzhou of the Yuan Wei Dynasty in Gaochang Commandery
Section Fifty-Four: Madhūla Śreṣṭha, Son of Śuddha (In the Tanjur version this section is Fifty-Four)
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was staying in the Jeta Grove, Anāthapiṇḍada’s Park, in the country of Śrāvastī. There was a brāhmaṇa named Vaśiṣṭha, who possessed vast wealth amounting to ten thousand treasures, yet he had no offspring. He went to the six heretical teachers to ask the reason for his childlessness. The six teachers replied, “Your countenance shows that you are destined to have no child.” Vaśiṣṭha returned home, wearing tattered garments, filled with sorrow and dejection. He thought to himself, “I have no son. If I die, all the wealth in my house will be confiscated by the king.” Thinking thus, his grief and distress deepened all the more.
The brāhmaṇa’s wife had a companion who was a bhikṣuṇī. By chance, this bhikṣuṇī came to their house and saw the brāhmaṇa’s face clouded with grief and his appearance wan and emaciated. She asked the wife, “Why is your husband so sorrowful and withered in spirit?” The wife replied, “Because we have no child, he went to the six heretical teachers to seek an answer. They examined his appearance and said that fate has decreed we shall have no offspring. Because of this, he grieves and worries day and night.” The bhikṣuṇī said to her, “Those among the six heretical teachers are not omniscient; how could they possibly know a person’s past deeds, karmic causes, and retributions? The Buddha is now dwelling in the world—He fully comprehends all Dharmas, knows the past and future without obstruction. You should go and ask Him; He will surely know this matter completely.”
After the bhikṣuṇī departed, the wife told her husband what she had said. Upon hearing it, the brāhmaṇa seemed to awaken to understanding. He put on new clothes and went before the Buddha. Making obeisance, he said to the Buddha, “Am I destined by fate to have a child?” The Buddha told him, “You will have a son. This child will possess great virtue, and when he grows up, he will renounce and cultivate the path.” When the brāhmaṇa heard this, he was filled with immeasurable joy and said, “As long as I can have a son, what hardship is there in cultivating the Way?” He then resolved to prepare a feast on the following day and make offerings to the Buddha and the community of bhikṣus. The Buddha silently consented.
When the next day arrived, the Buddha, together with the assembly of bhikṣus, went to Vaśiṣṭha’s house. After being seated, Vaśiṣṭha and his wife sincerely and earnestly served them, offering a variety of exquisite delicacies with utmost reverence. When all had eaten, the Buddha and the bhikṣus took their leave and went on their way. As they passed by a river islet, there was a spring of clear and sweet water. The Buddha and the bhikṣus stopped there to rest for a while. The bhikṣus went to wash their alms bowls. At that moment, a monkey came seeking Ānanda’s bowl. Ānanda was afraid it might break the bowl and did not wish to give it. The Buddha said to Ānanda, “Give it to him; do not worry.”
The monkey, having obtained the bowl, went beneath a tree where a beehive hung, and filled the bowl with honey to offer to the Buddha. The Buddha said to it, “Remove what is unclean.” The monkey immediately picked out all the bees and insects from the honey. The Buddha then said, “Add water to it.” The monkey followed the Buddha’s words, adding water and mixing it evenly, then presented it to the Buddha once more. The Buddha accepted it and shared it with the bhikṣus so that all could partake. The monkey was exceedingly joyful, leaping and dancing in delight. But suddenly, it fell into a deep pit and died on the spot. Its consciousness was then reborn into Vaśiṣṭha’s household.
Thereupon, Vaśiṣṭha’s wife conceived. When her term was complete, she gave birth to a boy whose appearance was noble and handsome, unmatched in the world. At the time of his birth, all the vessels in the house were naturally filled with honey. Vaśiṣṭha and his wife were overjoyed and invited an astrologer to divine the child’s future. After divination, the astrologer said, “This child is endowed with virtue; his blessings are immeasurable.” He then gave him the name Madhuvaśiṣṭha (which in the language of Jin means “Honey Superior”), signifying the auspicious omen of honey that accompanied his birth.
When the child grew older, he asked his parents to let him renounce. His parents could not bear to part with him and refused to let him go. The child repeatedly said to them, “If you insist on stopping me and do not allow me to follow my wish, then I shall take my own life, for I cannot remain and live in the mundane world.” His parents discussed among themselves, saying, “In the past, the Buddha foretold that he would renounce. If we now force him to stay, he might truly die. It is better to let him go.” Having decided thus, they said to their son, “Do as you wish.” The boy rejoiced greatly. He went before the Buddha, made obeisance, and requested permission to renounce. The Buddha consented. At that moment, his hair and beard fell off by themselves, and he donned the robe of the Sangha, becoming a bhikṣu.
The Buddha expounded to him the wondrous Dharma of the Four Noble Truths and many profound meanings. The bhikṣu comprehended them within his heart, became utterly free from attachment, and finally attained Arhatship. He often went together with other bhikṣus to the world of men to wander and receive alms.
Whenever they grew hungry or thirsty and weary, he would throw his alms bowl into the air, and it would naturally be filled with honey. They all took and drank from it and were fully satisfied.”
Ānanda said to the Buddha, “World-Honored One, what merit had Madhuvaśiṣṭha accumulated that he, upon renouncing and cultivating for only a short time, became an Arhat, and whatever he wished for was accomplished as he thought?” The Buddha said to Ānanda, “Do you still remember when Vaśiṣṭha invited us to a feast?” Ānanda replied that he remembered. The Buddha said, “Ānanda, after we left Vaśiṣṭha’s house and were on our way back, we passed through an open islet of water. At that time a monkey asked you for your alms bowl, filled it with honey, and offered it to me. I accepted it, and the monkey, rejoicing greatly, leapt about in delight, then fell into a deep pit and died. Do you recall this?” Ānanda replied, “I remember.” The Buddha said to Ānanda, “That monkey is now Madhuvaśiṣṭha. Because when it saw the Tathāgata it was joyful and offered honey with a sincere mind, it was reborn in Vaśiṣṭha’s house, with a dignified appearance, renounced to cultivate the Way, and swiftly attained freedom from all defilements.”
Ānanda knelt before the Buddha and again asked, “Why then was he once born as a monkey?”
The Buddha told Ānanda, “In the past, when Kāśyapa Buddha was in the world, there was a young bhikṣu who saw a renunciant jumping across a river and said, ‘That man leaps just like a monkey!’ The renunciant heard this and asked him, ‘Do you recognize me?’ He replied, ‘I do. You are a śramaṇa under Kāśyapa Buddha—how could I not know?’ The man said, ‘Do not call me fake śramaṇa. All the fruits of śramaṇa practice, I have already attained.’ When the young man heard this, his hair stood on end. He immediately prostrated himself to the ground in repentance. Because he was able to repent, he did not fall into hell. Yet because he had uttered harsh words toward that arhat, for five hundred lifetimes he was reborn as a monkey. And because he had formerly renounced and upheld the Buddha’s Dharma and cultivated practice, he was now able to meet me, be bathed in the True Dharma, and be liberated from all suffering.” The Buddha said to Ānanda, “That young bhikṣu at that time is now Madhuvaśiṣṭha.”
Then Ānanda and the assembly, upon hearing the Buddha’s words, felt both sorrow and joy. They said, “The deeds of body, speech, and mind must be carefully guarded. This bhikṣu, because his speech was unrestrained and careless, suffered such a retribution.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “What you have said is true.” Thereupon He expounded various Dharmas to the fourfold assembly, purifying their body, speech, and mind, removing the accumulated defilements within their hearts. Each attained realization. Some attained the fruit of Srotāpanna, some the fruit of Sakṛdāgāmin, some the fruit of Anāgāmin, and some the fruit of Arhatship; some aroused the aspiration for the unsurpassed true Path; and some abided in the state of non-retrogression. Having heard the Dharma spoken by the Buddha, they all rejoiced in faith and accepted and upheld it.
Section Fifty-Five: Dharmakāma (In the Tanjur version this section is Fifty-Five)
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was dwelling in the Bamboo Grove at Rājagṛha. At that time, in the country of Kosala, there was an elder named Dharmaśreṣṭhin, whose household was exceedingly wealthy yet without an heir. He prayed to all the deities in the land, wishing to obtain a son. His sincere devotion moved the gods, and thus his wife conceived. When the full term was complete, she gave birth to a male child, whose body was dignified and majestic, rarely seen in the world. The elder summoned all the physiognomists to divine the child’s fortune. After observing the omens, they knew that this child possessed great virtue, and so they named him Dharmakāma.
When he reached adulthood, his father passed away. At that time, King Prasenajit conferred upon him his father’s noble title. After accepting the royal appointment, his father’s former residence was transformed into a jeweled palace adorned with the seven treasures. All the storehouses overflowed with precious jewels, complete and abundant in every way.
Then it happened that Prince Virūḍhaka was afflicted with a severe fever, his body extremely thin and emaciated. The physicians prescribed a remedy requiring the application of ox-head sandalwood paste over his body in order for him to recover. The king thereupon issued an order and proclaimed throughout the kingdom, saying, “Whoever possesses ox-head sandalwood, bring it to the royal house for trade, and I shall reward with a thousand taels of gold.” This decree spread across the entire realm, yet no one brought forth any sandalwood.
At that time, someone reported to the king, saying, “In the country of Kosala, the venerable Dharmakāma has much of it.” Hearing this, the king mounted his chariot and personally went to seek it.
When he arrived before the gate of the venerable Dharmakāma, the gatekeeper immediately went in and reported, “King Prasenajit has come and awaits outside.” The venerable one rejoiced greatly, came forth at once to welcome him, and invited the king into his mansion.
At first, as they entered the outer gate, the entire gate was made of pure silver. Inside sat a woman of graceful and matchless beauty, seated upon a silver couch, spinning silver thread, attended by ten young maidens who served her on both sides. The king asked, “Is this your wife?” The elder replied, “No, she is but a maid who guards the gate.” The king asked again, “And what are these young women for?” The elder said, “They are messengers, responsible for conveying communications.”
Next, they entered the middle gate, which was made entirely of blue vaiḍūrya. Inside was another woman, stately and beautiful, surpassing the first in grace and elegance, attended by twice as many maidens as before.
Then they entered the inner gate, built entirely of gold. Within was yet another woman, whose appearance was even more surpassingly exquisite than those seen before. She sat upon a golden couch, spinning golden thread, surrounded by attendants whose number again was doubled from the previous chamber. The king asked, “Is this woman your wife?” The venerable one replied, “No, she is not.”
They entered the house, and the floor of the hall was paved with blue vaiḍūrya, clear and transparent as water. The walls were carved with images of beasts and aquatic creatures, whose reflections moved and shimmered upon the crystal floor as the wind stirred, appearing as though they were alive and swimming. Seeing this, the king was both astonished and afraid, thinking it was truly water. He asked, “Is there no other way through? Why build a pond before the hall?” The elder Dharmakāma replied, “This is not water; it is blue vaiḍūrya.” He then removed from his finger a ring made of the seven treasures and cast it upon the ground. It rolled straight ahead until it was stopped by the wall.
The king, seeing this, was delighted and entered together with him into the inner hall, ascending to the jeweled palace. There, Dharmakāma’s wife was seated upon a couch made of blue vaiḍūrya. Another exquisite couch was placed nearby, and she invited the king to take his seat. At that moment, the lady’s tears began to fall. The king asked, “Why do you weep? Is it that you dislike my presence?” She replied, “It is most fortunate that the king has come. Only, upon your robe there is a trace of smoke, which caused my tears to flow—it is not that I dislike you.”
The king then asked, “Do you not use fire in your household?” She replied, “We do not.” The king said, “Then how do you cook your food?” She answered, “When we wish to eat, all kinds of delicious foods naturally appear before us.” The king asked again, “When the night grows dark, what do you use for illumination?” She replied, “We use the maṇi jewel.” At once she closed all the doors and windows, then took out the maṇi jewel, whose radiance shone brighter than the midday sun.
At one time, Dharmakāma knelt before the king and said, “Great King, why have you taken the trouble, with your honored and noble body, to come personally to this place?” The king replied, “My son, Prince Virūḍhaka, is gravely ill. The physicians have said he must be anointed with ox-head sandalwood in order to recover. Therefore, I have come to obtain some.” Hearing this, Dharmakāma was overjoyed. He led the king into his treasury and pointed to the stores within: the seven treasures and rare jewels shone with pure brilliance, radiant as the sun; the sandalwood was piled like mountains, beyond all measure and counting. He said to the king, “Take as much as you need.” The king replied, “I require only two taels.” Dharmakāma broke off exactly that amount and handed it to him, and it was precisely sufficient. The king then ordered his attendants to bring the sandalwood back to the palace.
“At that time, the king, filled with reverence, said to Dharmakāma, “You should go and see the Buddha.” Dharmakāma asked, “What is a Buddha?” The king said, “Have you not heard? The son of King Pure-Rice of Kapilavastu, weary of birth, aging, illness, and death, renounced the world and cultivated the Way. When his practice was complete, he was called the Buddha. He possesses the thirty-two marks and the eighty excellent features; his spiritual powers and wisdom are extraordinary and supreme. He is the teacher of gods and humans, therefore he is called the Buddha.”
Hearing this, Dharmakāma’s heart filled with deep faith and admiration. He asked the king, “Where is he now?” The king replied, “He is now in the Bamboo Grove at Rājagṛha.”
After the king departed, Dharmakāma set forth to visit the Buddha. When he beheld the Buddha’s majestic countenance, far surpassing even a thousandfold the praises spoken by the king, his heart overflowed with joy. He prostrated himself, paying homage, and inquired after the Buddha’s well-being. The Buddha expounded the Dharma to him, and he realized the fruit of Srotāpanna. Then, kneeling with joined palms, he earnestly requested to renounce. The Buddha assented, saying, “Come, bhikṣu.” Instantly, his hair and beard fell away of themselves, and the robe of the Sangha clothed his body naturally. The Buddha again expounded to him the True Dharma of the Four Noble Truths—suffering, its cause, its cessation, and the path. All the defilements and afflictions within his mind were utterly extinguished, and he attained the fruit of Arhatship.
At that time, Ānanda and the community of bhikṣus joined their palms and addressed the Buddha, asking, “World-Honored One, what merit did Bhikṣu Dharmakāma accumulate, that he was born among men enjoying heavenly blessings, yet not delighting in worldly pleasures, and having renounced, so quickly attained the fruition of the Way?”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “Listen carefully and I shall explain to you. Ninety-one kalpas ago, there was a Buddha named Vipāśyin. After his Parinirvāṇa, during the period of semblance Dharma, there were five bhikṣus who made a pact together to find a pure and quiet place for cultivation. They came upon a forested glade where the spring water was clear, pure, and pleasant. Then the four bhikṣus said to one among them, ‘This place is far from the city, and alms-seeking will be difficult. You should cultivate merit and provide offerings for us.’ That bhikṣu immediately agreed and went among the people, persuading various dānapatis to deliver food daily for them. The four bhikṣus, with minds calm and bodies at ease, concentrated in diligent practice, and within ninety days they attained the fruition of the Path.
Thereupon, with one mind and one voice, they said to that bhikṣu, ‘Because of you, we have been able to practice in peace and have now fulfilled our original vow. What wish do you have? Speak it freely.’ The bhikṣu, his heart filled with joy, said, ‘May I, in future lives among heavens and human worlds, be naturally blessed with wealth and abundance; may whatever I seek come to me effortlessly; may I encounter a holy teacher surpassing you by thousands of millions of times; and having heard the Dharma, may my mind be purified and I swiftly attain the fruition of the Path.’”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “That bhikṣu of that time is now Dharmakāma. Because he made offerings to those four bhikṣus, for ninety-one kalpas he has been reborn among heavens and human worlds, ever in noble and wealthy families, never among the poor or lowly. Now he has met me and has attained liberation.”
Then Ānanda and all the bhikṣus, hearing the Buddha’s words, encouraged one another to diligent cultivation. Some realized the first fruit up to the fourth fruit; some aroused the mind to liberate innumerable beings; some abided in the state of non-retrogression. All rejoiced greatly, paid homage with utmost sincerity, and faithfully practiced the teaching.
Section Fifty-Six: Elephant-Guard (In the Tanjur version this section is Fifty-Six)
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 the land of Magadha, there was an elder who had a son. The child’s appearance was dignified and comely, inspiring affection and respect in all who saw him. On the day of his birth, a golden elephant naturally appeared in the family’s treasury. His parents were filled with great joy and invited a group of physiognomists to give the child a name. When the masters of physiognomy observed that the child bore marks of great fortune and virtue, they asked his parents, “Were there any auspicious omens on the day this child was born?” They replied, “Yes, on that very day, a golden elephant appeared together with the child.” Because of this auspicious sign, they named him Elephant-Guard.
As the boy grew, the golden elephant grew as well. When the boy was able to walk, the elephant too could walk. Whether entering or leaving, advancing or stopping, it never left his side. If the boy wished it not to follow him, it would remain quietly within the house. When the golden elephant relieved itself, both its urine and dung were pure and refined gold.
Elephant-Guard often played together with five hundred sons of other elders. Each of them would speak of the marvelous things within their homes. One said, “The buildings, beds, and seats in my house are all made of the seven treasures.” Another said, “My residence and gardens are entirely formed from precious jewels.” Another said, “My storehouses are always filled with treasures and rare gems.” Thus each boasted of his own wonders.
Then Elephant-Guard said, “On the day I was born, a golden elephant naturally appeared in my house. When I grew up and could walk about, the golden elephant followed likewise and never went against my will. I always ride upon it, traveling east and west at my pleasure, moving as swiftly or slowly as I wish—it accords perfectly with my mind. Its excrement and urine are pure, fine gold.”
At that time, Prince Ajātaśatru was among them. Hearing Elephant-Guard’s words, he thought to himself, “When I become king, I must seize that elephant for myself.” When he later truly became king, he summoned Elephant-Guard and commanded him to bring the golden elephant to the royal palace.
Then Elephant-Guard’s father said to his son, “Prince Ajātaśatru is cruel and lawless, greedy and miserly. He even mistreated his own father—how could he show kindness to others? Now that he has summoned you, it must be for the sake of coveting your golden elephant. I fear he will take it by force.” His son replied, “My golden elephant cannot be taken by anyone.” Thus father and son together mounted the golden elephant and went to see the king.
The gatekeeper immediately went in and reported to the king, “Elephant-Guard and his father are at the gate, riding a great elephant.” The king said, “Permit them to enter riding the elephant.” The gatekeeper returned and conveyed the order. Elephant-Guard and his father, still astride the elephant, proceeded straight ahead, and upon reaching the inner palace, they dismounted and bowed before the king, inquiring respectfully about his well-being.
The king was very pleased and ordered that they be seated, offering them food and drink, engaging in brief conversation. After a while, Elephant-Guard rose and said his farewells, preparing to leave. The king then said to him, “Leave the elephant here. Do not take it away.”
Elephant-Guard joyfully accepted the command and left the elephant behind, departing the palace on foot. Before long, the elephant sank into the ground and leapt out again from outside the palace gate, so that Elephant-Guard was once more able to ride it home.
After some time, Elephant-Guard thought to himself, “The king is unrighteous, his punishments unjust. Because of this elephant, I may one day be harmed. Now the Buddha abides in the world, his compassion nourishing all beings. It would be better for me to leave home and cultivate the pure Brahma conduct.” He then told his parents of his wish to renounce and practice the Way. When they heard it, they gave their consent, and he took his leave.
Riding his golden elephant, Elephant-Guard went to the Jeta Grove Monastery. When he saw the World-Honored One, he prostrated and paid homage, expressing his long-cherished resolve. The Buddha at once said, “Come, bhikṣu.” Instantly, Elephant-Guard’s hair and beard fell away of themselves, and the robe naturally covered his body—he became a śramaṇa. The Buddha immediately expounded to him the essential Dharma of the Four Noble Truths. His mind was liberated and awakened, and he attained the fruit of arhatship. He often dwelt with the bhikṣus among the forests and beneath trees, contemplating and cultivating the Way, while the golden elephant always appeared before his eyes.
The people of Śrāvastī, having heard that there was a golden elephant, flocked in crowds to see it, making great commotion and disturbing the practice. The bhikṣus then reported this matter to the Buddha. The Buddha said to Elephant-Guard, “Because of this elephant, there has arisen noise and disturbance. You should now swiftly dismiss it and let it depart.” Elephant-Guard said to the Buddha, “I have long wished to dismiss it, yet it refuses to leave.” The Buddha said again, “You may tell it this: ‘My remaining life is finished; I no longer need you.’ Say this three times, and the elephant will naturally vanish.”
Elephant-Guard followed the World-Honored One’s instruction and said three times to the elephant, “I no longer need you.” At that moment, the golden elephant sank into the ground and disappeared.
The bhikṣus were all greatly astonished and said to the Buddha, “World-Honored One, what merit had Bhikṣu Elephant-Guard cultivated in the past, or in what field of blessings did he plant such roots of goodness, that he now receives such a majestic retribution?”
The Buddha told Ānanda and the bhikṣus, “If any being plants even the smallest good deed in the field of blessings of the Three Jewels, he will obtain immeasurable fruits of reward. Long ago, when Kāśyapa Buddha was in the world, at that time human life span was twenty thousand years. After Kāśyapa Buddha had completed his teaching and entered Parinirvāṇa, his relics were distributed, and many stupas and shrines were erected. At that time, there was a stūpa enshrining an image of the Bodhisattva descending from Tuṣita Heaven riding on an elephant to enter his mother’s womb. The image of the elephant had become damaged and worn.
“There was a man who came circumambulating the stūpa and saw that the image of the elephant was broken. He thought, ‘This is the very elephant once ridden by the Bodhisattva in former times. Now it is damaged—I should repair it.’ Then he gathered clay and patched the cracks, anointing it with orpiment. He made a vow, saying, ‘May I in future dwell always in noble and honored positions, and may my wealth never be exhausted.’ When his life ended, he was reborn in the heavens. Having exhausted his heavenly life, he was reborn among men, continually in noble and wealthy families, possessing a handsome and dignified form, different from ordinary people, and always accompanied by a golden elephant that attended upon him.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “Would you know who that man who repaired the elephant was? It is the present Elephant-Guard. Because of that past act of restoring the image of the elephant, since that time, whether among gods or men, he has naturally enjoyed abundance. Because of his reverent heart and his offering to the Three Jewels, he has now met me, received the supreme teaching, purified all defilements within his mind, and attained the fruit of Arhatship.”
Then the venerable Ānanda and the great assembly, having heard the Buddha’s words, all freed from doubt, each attaining understanding according to capacity. Some attained the fruit of Srotāpanna, some the fruit of Sakṛdāgāmin, some the fruit of Anāgāmin, and some the fruit of Arhatship. Some aroused the aspiration for the unsurpassed true Path, and some abided in the state of non-retrogression. They all rejoiced in faith and accepted and upheld it.
Section Fifty-Seven:Pravari (In the Tanjur version this section is Fifty-Seven)
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was on Vulture’s Peak in Rājagṛha, together with one thousand two hundred and fifty noble disciples. At that time, the king of the Benares was named Brahmadatta. The king’s counsellor sired a son who possessed the thirty-two marks and all the excellent signs complete; his body had the color of purple-gold, and his bearing was strikingly noble and unusual. When the counsellor saw his son he was even more joyful; he summoned a physiognomer to inspect the child’s features. The physiognomer examined him carefully and exclaimed, “Marvelous! All the marks are perfect; virtues and merits are especially complete; wisdom and eloquence will be accomplished, surpassing ordinary people.” The counsellor was filled with joy and therefore gave him a name. The physiognomer then asked, “Since his birth has anything wondrous occurred?” The counsellor answered, “Very strange and extraordinary indeed. His mother’s usual disposition had not been virtuous, yet since becoming pregnant she has been compassionate toward suffering, lovingly tending and protecting the people with an equal heart.” The physiognomer rejoiced and said, “This is the child’s aspiration.” Thus he was named and called Maitreya. The parents were exceedingly glad beyond measure.
The child’s remarkable qualities were spread and spoken of throughout the realm. When the king heard, he was seized with fear and said, “To think this boy bears such a famous name and splendid appearance—if he should possess noble character, he will certainly usurp my throne. While he is still a child we should destroy him; if delayed, he will assuredly become a calamity.” Having thus plotted, he ordered the counsellor, “I hear you have a son with marvelous looks; you may bring him so I may see him.” When those in the palace learned that the king inquired after the child, and perceived the king’s murderous intent, they were filled with anxiety as if plunged into boiling water.
The child had a maternal uncle named Bāvarika, who served as the national teacher in Pāṭaliputra; he was learned, profound, and erudite, brilliant in wisdom, and possessed of exceptional talent, with five hundred disciples who constantly followed him to consult. The counsellor, loving his son and fearing for his life, secretly contrived to send the boy to his uncle by having messengers convey him by elephant. When Bāvarika saw Maitreya and beheld his fine appearance, he cherished and reared him, holding him reverently to his breast. As Maitreya grew, Bāvarika taught him learning; what Maitreya learned in a single day surpassed what others learned in a year, and within less than one year he had mastered all the canonical texts. Seeing that his nephew’s study quickly made him versed in wide learning, Bāvarika resolved to convene an assembly to proclaim his merits to the world. He dispatched a disciple to the Benares to speak to the counsellor, saying that the boy’s learning was like a precious treasure and would befit a public assembly.
That disciple, walking halfway along the road, heard people praising the boundless merits of the Buddha and was filled with veneration. He wished to see the Buddha and turned toward the Buddha’s direction, but before he could behold the Buddha a fierce tiger seized and devoured him on the way. Because of that wholesome aspiration he was reborn in the Heaven of the Four Great Kings.
Bāvarika spent all his household wealth to hold an assembly and invited all the brāhmaṇas, preparing various delicious confections and fruits. When the assembly’s preparations were complete, a grand dakṣiṇā was given: each person received five hundred coins. When the alms-giving finished, all the wealth had been dispensed.
There was one brāhmaṇa named Raudrakṣa who arrived last. Seeing Bāvarika, he said, “I have come last; though I missed the feast, I hope as is customary I might receive five hundred coins.” Bāvarika replied, “My household wealth has been exhausted; it is not that I begrudge giving, but truly there is nothing left to give.” Raudrakṣa said, “Hearing of your generosity I came full of hope and hastened here; why do you meet me empty-handed and give me nothing? If you indeed refuse to give, then in seven days your head shall be split into seven pieces.”
Bāvarika, hearing these words, thought to himself, “In this world there indeed exist vicious curses and various poisonous arts that can harm a person’s life. This matter cannot be taken lightly; perhaps it might truly come to pass. Yet all my wealth and possessions are already exhausted, and in the end, I can think of no way to resolve it.” Thus Bāvarika was filled with grief and anxiety, overcome by great fear.
At that time, the disciple whom he had previously sent out, who had last been reborn in the heaven, saw from afar his teacher’s sorrowful and emaciated appearance, helpless and lost, not knowing what to do. He descended from the heavens to the human realm and asked his teacher, “Why are you distressed?” Bāvarika explained the entire matter in detail.
After hearing this, the deva said to his teacher, “Raudrākṣa does not understand the most profound Dharma. He is merely one whose heart has turned wicked through ignorance; what kind of attainment could such a person achieve, that he could cause you to worry so deeply? Now only the Buddha truly comprehends the most profound Dharma; he is the Dharma King of boundless wisdom, the one and only being worthy of refuge.”
When Bāvarika heard the celestial being speak of the Buddha, he asked again, “What manner of person is this Buddha?” The deva said, “The Buddha was originally born in the kingdom of Kapilavastu, in the family of King Pure-Rice. After being born from his mother’s right flank, he immediately took seven steps upon the ground and declared, ‘In the heavens above and the earth below, I alone am the most honored.’ He possesses the thirty-two marks, and his radiance illumines all the world; Brahmā and Śakra both attend protectively at his side. A physiognomist foretold that if he remained in household life, he would become a Wheel-Turning Sage King, but if he renounced the world, he would become a Buddha. When the prince grew up, he saw that all beings inevitably age, fall ill, and die; thus he felt no joy in inheriting the royal throne. He climbed over the palace walls and departed from his home, practicing austerities for six years. At last, beneath the Bodhi tree, he attained enlightenment, defeated eighteen koṭis of Māras, and in the latter part of the night realized all the Dharma of the Buddhas. He attained the threefold knowledge, the six supernormal powers, the ten powers, the four kinds of fearlessness, and the eighteen unique qualities. He first turned the Wheel of Dharma in the country of Benares; the five men led by Kauṇḍinya attained liberation from all outflows; eighty thousand devas gained the pure Dharma eye; and countless devas gave rise to the aspiration for the Great Way. Later the Buddha went to the land of Magadha, where he converted Uruvilvā, Śāriputra, and Maudgalyāyana, and gathered together one thousand two hundred and fifty bhikṣus as disciples, who were called the Sangha. His virtues and wisdom are immeasurable and beyond reckoning. In summary, he is called the Buddha. Now the Buddha resides at Vulture Peak in Rājagṛha.”
At that time Bāvarika, hearing such praises of the Buddha’s virtues, thought to himself, “Surely there must be a Buddha. In my scriptures it is recorded that when the Puṣya star appears and heaven and earth shake violently, a holy person will descend into the world. Now all of this coincides perfectly; this must indeed be that holy one.”
He immediately commanded Maitreya and fifteen others, saying, “Go and behold Gautama, observe his marks and features. If all the major marks are complete, then question him silently in your hearts: ‘How many auspicious marks does my teacher Bāvarika possess?’ I now have two auspicious marks: one, my hair is dark blue, and two, my tongue is broad and long. If he can discern these, then further question him in your hearts: ‘How old is my teacher Bāvarika this year?’ I am now one hundred and twenty years old. If he knows this, then further question: ‘What is the caste of my teacher Bāvarika?’ My caste is that of a brāhmaṇa. If he can answer and discern this, then further question in your hearts: ‘How many disciples does my teacher Bāvarika have?’ I now have five hundred disciples. If he can answer this number, then he is assuredly the Buddha. You must all become his disciples, and send one person back to report the news to me.”
Then Maitreya and his companions went to Rājagṛha and approached Vulture Peak. From afar they saw the footprints of the Buddha, each bearing the thousand-spoked wheel mark, clear and distinct as if painted. They asked the people nearby, “Whose footprints are these?” Someone replied, “These are the footprints of the Buddha.” Thereupon Maitreya and the others felt deep reverence and admiration, circling around the footprints, their hearts filled beforehand with devotion and longing.
At that time, a bhikṣuṇī named Kṣāra picked up a dead insect and placed it upon the Buddha’s footprint, showing it to Maitreya and the others, saying, “You so admire and praise these footprints, yet you have trampled upon living beings and killed them—what is so extraordinary about that?” Maitreya and the others stepped forward to examine carefully and saw that it was indeed an insect that had died of itself. They then asked the bhikṣuṇī, “Whose disciple are you?” The bhikṣuṇī replied, “I am a disciple of the Buddha.” Thereupon Maitreya and the others each said, “Among the Buddha’s disciples, there are even such as this.””
Gradually they drew near to where the Buddha was. From afar they saw the World-Honored One, whose radiance illumined all directions and whose marks were magnificent and complete. They counted the Buddha’s auspicious marks and found only two lacking. Immediately the Buddha extended his tongue to cover his face, and by his supernormal power allowed them to behold the hidden mark. When they had fully observed all the marks, their joy increased greatly. They then followed their teacher’s instructions and, from a distance, silently questioned the Buddha in their hearts: “How many auspicious marks does my teacher Bāvarika possess?” The Buddha at once answered from afar, “Your teacher Bāvarika possesses only two auspicious marks: one, dark blue hair; two, a broad and long tongue.” Hearing this, they again silently asked in their hearts, “How old is my teacher Bāvarika this year?” The Buddha answered from afar, “Your teacher Bāvarika is one hundred and twenty years old this year.” Upon hearing this, they again thought to ask, “What is the caste of my teacher Bāvarika?” The Buddha immediately replied from afar, “Your teacher Bāvarika is of the brāhmaṇa caste.” After hearing this, they further asked in their hearts, “How many disciples does my teacher Bāvarika have?” The Buddha immediately replied from afar, “Your teacher Bāvarika has five hundred disciples.”
At that time, the people present who heard the Buddha speak thus were all greatly astonished that the Tathāgata would utter such words alone. The disciples then knelt down before the Buddha and asked, “World-Honored One! Why do you say these things?” The Buddha said to the bhikṣus, “There is a man named Bāvarika who dwells in the country of Pāṭaliputra. He has sent sixteen disciples here to observe my auspicious marks and to test me by silently questioning in their hearts. Therefore I have answered each of them in turn.”
At that time, when Maitreya and the others heard the Buddha’s replies to their questions—each one true and without the slightest error—their hearts were filled with reverence. They came before the Buddha, bowed and prostrated themselves at his feet, and then withdrew to sit respectfully at one side. The Buddha expounded the Dharma for them, and as a result the sixteen attained the purity of the Dharma eye. Rising from their seats, they each requested to renounce and enter the homeless life. The Buddha said, “Come!” Immediately their beards and hair fell off of themselves, and the robes of the Dharma clothed their bodies; thus they became śramaṇas at once. The Buddha again, by skillful means, spoke the Dharma for them, and fifteen among them attained the fruit of Arhatship.
Then Maitreya and the others discussed among themselves, saying, “Our teacher Bāvarika is anxiously waiting from afar; we should quickly send someone back to convey the news.” Among the sixteen was a man named Piñgiya, the son of Bāvarika’s elder sister. The group sent him to return and deliver the message.
He went back to the country where Bāvarika resided and recounted in detail all that he had seen and heard. Upon hearing it, Bāvarika was filled with joy. Rising from his seat, he knelt upon the ground, joined his palms, and facing toward Rājagṛha said with sincerity, “In this life, to encounter the Holy One abiding in the world is truly most rare. I long to behold your noble countenance and receive your pure teachings. Yet I am old in years, my body weak and my legs unsteady. Though my heart is full of devotion, I am unable to come in person. World-Honored One, you are of great compassion, who foreknows the thoughts of men—may you, out of mercy, deign to come to me and deliver me!”
At that time, the Tathāgata, perceiving his thoughts from afar, in but a moment—as swiftly as one might stretch or bend the arm—appeared before him. Bāvarika, after bowing in reverence, raised his head and immediately beheld the World-Honored One. Overcome with both awe and joy, he leapt with delight, then bowed again, inquired after his well-being, and respectfully invited the Buddha to be seated, serving him with utmost solemnity and reverence. The Buddha expounded the Dharma for him, and he swiftly attained the fruit of Anāgāmin. Then the World-Honored One at once returned to Vulture Peak.
At that time, King Pure-Rice heard that the Buddha had attained enlightenment and was traveling about teaching beings, saving innumerable people. His heart was filled with yearning and reverence, and he wished to see the Buddha. He said to Kālodayin, “Go to the Buddha and convey my intent. Tell Siddhārtha: ‘You once made a vow that after attaining enlightenment, you would return to your homeland. I hope you will now keep that promise and come to see me soon.’”
Kālodayin went and faithfully conveyed the king’s words. The Buddha immediately replied, “After seven days, I shall come.” Kālodayin rejoiced greatly upon hearing this and returned to report. When King Śuddhodana heard the news, he announced to his ministers, “Kālodayin has returned and said that the Buddha will come back. You must adorn the city with splendor, keep all clean and pure, sweep and plaster the streets and alleys, erect banners and canopies everywhere, and prepare abundant flowers and incense in readiness for offerings.” When all preparations were completed, the king and his ministers went forth twenty miles to welcome the World-Honored One.
At that time, the Tathāgata traveled together with a great assembly. Eight vajra guardians surrounded him in the eight directions; the Four Great Kings each led the way before him. Śakra and devas of the heavens of desire, attended at his left; Brahmā and devas of form realms, attended at his right. The multitude of bhikṣus followed behind the Tathāgata. The Buddha emitted immeasurable radiance that illuminated heaven and earth, his majesty surpassing that of the sun and the moon. He and the great assembly advanced through the sky and gradually approached the king. When the Buddha descended, his feet were level with the heads of the people.
The king, his ministers, consorts, and maidens beheld the assembly shining with brilliance and solemn splendor, the Buddha in the center like the full moon among the stars. The king’s heart was filled with great joy; without realizing it, he bent low in reverent salutation. When the homage was complete, the king stepped forward to greet him and invited the Buddha and the assembly to return together to the country, to dwell at Nyagrodha Saṃghārāma.
At that time, the law of the land decreed a separation between men and women. The king and his ministers listened to the Dharma daily, and through hearing it many were awakened and attained liberation. Yet the women of the land harbored resentment in their hearts, saying, “Though the Buddha and the great assembly have returned to the country, only men are fortunate enough to see the Buddha and hear the Dharma, while we women receive no such blessing.” The Buddha, knowing their thoughts, said to the king, “From this day forth, let the men and women of the land take turns in listening to the Dharma, alternating each day.” From that time on, the number of those who were delivered became exceedingly great.
At that time, the Buddha’s maternal aunt, Mahāprajāpatī, after the Buddha had renounced the household life, personally spun and wove a length of fine golden cloth. Her heart was filled with constant remembrance of the Buddha, and she waited only for the moment when she could offer it to him. When she at last beheld the Buddha, her heart was filled with deep joy, and she presented that cloth to the Tathāgata. The Buddha said to Gautamī, “Take this cloth and offer it to the Sangha.”
Then Prajāpatī again said to the Buddha, “Since the day you left home, I have constantly held you in my thoughts. Therefore I personally spun and wove this cloth, mindful in every moment, preparing it solely for you. I only wish that you, out of compassion and mercy, would accept it from me.” The Buddha said to her, “I know well that you wish wholeheartedly to give this cloth to me. Yet an offering made from a heart filled with affection and attachment does not bring forth vast merit. If you offer it to the Sangha, the merit and fruit you will obtain will be far greater. Knowing this principle, I have thus advised you in this way.”
The Buddha further said, “If there is a dānapati who offers alms to sixteen kinds of virtuous members, he indeed gains merit, yet such merit is not truly great. What are these sixteen kinds? They are the eight categories of bhikṣus and the eight categories of bhikṣuṇīs. But even so, the merit from such an offering does not equal that of offering at random to four members of the Sangha; the blessings from the latter far exceed the former, not even one sixteenth of it can compare. In the future, in the age of the declining Dharma, when the Buddha’s teaching is about to perish, even if bhikṣus take wives and beget children, so long as there are four or more members of the Sangha, one should still honor and revere them as if venerating Śāriputra and Maudgalyāyana.”
At that time, Prajāpatī’s mind was at last relieved and open. She then offered her cloth to the Sangha. As it was passed along among the assembly, no one was willing to accept it, until it reached Maitreya, who then received the cloth.
Later, the World-Honored One, together with the assembly of bhikṣus, traveled through the land of Benares, journeying to various places to teach and transform sentient beings. At that time, Maitreya wore the fine golden robe that had been offered, and his body was upright and dignified; his countenance shone with a brilliance like that of purple-gold, radiant both within and without. His bearing and deportment were serene and composed. He entered the city of Benares, preparing to go on alms round.
He stood upon the main street, holding his alms bowl, and when people beheld his noble appearance, they surrounded him, gazing with admiration, never tiring of looking. Though they all felt great reverence for him, none came forth to offer food. At that time, a craftsman who strung jewels happened by chance to come to that place and saw Maitreya. His heart was filled with deep respect, and he asked, “Venerable sir, have you yet obtained food?” Maitreya answered, “Not yet.” The craftsman immediately invited him home and prepared abundant and exquisite food. After Maitreya had eaten and rinsed his mouth, the craftsman spoke to him of the wondrous Dharma. His words were refined and eloquent, delightful to hear, and no one listening grew weary.
At that time, a great elder was preparing to marry off his daughter. He had earlier given this craftsman a precious jewel, hiring him to bore a hole through it, saying that if he succeeded, he would receive one hundred thousand coins. Then the elder sent a messenger to hasten the completion of the work. But as the craftsman was listening to the Dharma, his five faculties were immersed in joy and bliss. He said to the messenger, “Go back first; later I will bore the hole.” The messenger said again, “It is urgently needed—please begin at once.” After giving his message, he returned and reported everything to the elder.
A little later, the elder again sent someone to urge the work. Yet the craftsman was still absorbed in hearing the Dharma and had not bored the jewel. The messenger returned and reported this. The elder became angry and said, “I have hired him repeatedly and sincerely, not with false intent, yet now he delays again and again, not fulfilling my request.” He then sent another messenger, carrying money, and said, “If the jewel is not yet bored, take it back.” The messenger arrived and inquired, and seeing that the craftsman was still listening to the Dharma and had not yet begun, he quickly took back the jewel.
The craftsman, still seated before Maitreya, continued to listen to the Dharma in proper order, his heart free from weariness or regret. His wife, however, was greatly angered, scolding him, saying, “With but a little labor you could have gained one hundred thousand coins, enough to provide our household with food and clothing. Yet you have wasted it all away, listening to the vain and elegant words of a śramaṇa—what a foolish loss of wealth!” Hearing his wife’s reproach, the craftsman’s heart was filled with remorse.”
“Maitreya, knowing his thoughts, said to him, “Would you now come with me to the monastery?” He replied, “I would.” Immediately they went together to the monastery. Bringing him before the assembly of Sangha, Maitreya asked, “If there is a dānapati who invites a śramaṇa of pure precepts to his home for almsgiving, the merit and benefit thereby gained—how does it compare with someone who gains one hundred thousand coins?”
Then the venerable Kātyāyana at once said, “Even if one were to obtain a hundred cartloads of precious jewels, the merit and benefit from that cannot compare to inviting a śramaṇa of pure precepts to one’s home for almsgiving.” Śāriputra said, “Even if a man were to gain treasures filling the entire world of Jambudvīpa, still it would not equal the merit of inviting one pure and disciplined mendicant to his home for offering.”
audgalyāyana said, “Even if a man were to gain treasures filling two entire worlds, it would still not equal the merit and benefit of inviting a pure śramaṇa to his home for almsgiving.” The other bhikṣus each in turn gave their own parables, comparing the benefits, and all agreed that such spiritual merit far surpassed any wealth or treasure.
At that time, the venerable Aniruddha said again, “Even if one could obtain the precious jewels of the four great continents, the benefit would still not compare to the supreme benefit of inviting a pure śramaṇa to one’s home for almsgiving. Why is this so? I myself am a witness to such a matter.
“I recall, in a past ninety-one kalpas, there was in the world a Buddha named Vipāśyin. After his Parinirvāṇa, the Sutra and Dharma perished and disappeared. In that age, in the land of Jambudvīpa, there was a great kingdom named Benares. Within that kingdom was a wealthy merchant, possessing vast riches and lacking nothing. He had two sons, both upright and handsome. The elder was named Retas, and the younger was named Āryaṭa.
“When their father was near death, he admonished his two sons, saying, ‘I cannot escape death and shall soon pass into the next life. You brothers must care for one another, united in heart and purpose. Do not ever divide the household. Why is this? A single thread cannot bind an elephant, but when many threads are joined together, they can restrain an elephant. A single reed cannot burn by itself, but a bundle together will burn brightly and cannot be extinguished. So too, you brothers—if you rely upon each other, outsiders will not be able to harm you. If within your home there is harmony and diligence in managing affairs, your wealth will daily increase.’ After giving this admonition, he breathed his last and passed away.
“The two brothers followed their father’s teaching and lived together for some time. Later, Āryaṭa’s wife thought to herself, ‘Living together like this causes inconvenience to the elder brother’s household. When guests and friends come, they cannot be properly received. If we were to live separately and each manage our own household, there would be no strain of affection, and both families could flourish independently.’ Having conceived this thought, she spoke to her husband in detail. Āryaṭa, hearing her words, thought it improper, but his wife earnestly and persuasively spoke at length to convince him. Āryaṭa’s mind changed, and he told his elder brother about it. The elder brother, recalling their father’s final words, explained thoroughly the reasons why they should not divide the family. But Āryaṭa’s wife repeatedly urged her husband, and his resolve grew firm. He pressed eagerly for separation, and when his elder brother saw that his intention was fixed, he consented, and they divided their household and lived apart.
“After dividing the household, Āryaṭa and his wife indulged themselves in pleasure and idleness, associating with wicked companions, feasting extravagantly, and ignoring the codes of propriety and discipline. In only a few years, their wealth was exhausted, and they fell into utter poverty, with no means of sustenance. Āryaṭa then went to his elder brother to beg for help. Out of compassion, his brother gave him one hundred thousand coins. When that was spent, he came again to ask for more. In this way, he came six times, and altogether his elder brother gave him six hundred thousand coins. Later he came once more to beg, and his brother reproved him, saying, ‘You would not follow our father’s final admonition. Not long after his death, you insisted on dividing the household, squandering your wealth in extravagance. I can no longer support you. Already I have given you six hundred thousand coins, yet you are not content and come again to beg. Now I will give you one hundred thousand more—whether you can manage it wisely or not, do not ever come to ask again.’ The younger brother, ashamed after being rebuked, accepted the money. He and his wife changed their conduct, became frugal and diligent in managing their household, and their wealth steadily increased until they became prosperous again and lacked nothing.
“His elder brother, Retas, however, suffered continual misfortune and adversity. His country and household were ruined, his property scattered, and his family suddenly fell into destitution. Having no other way, he went to his younger brother and reminded him of their former closeness and the bond they once shared, asking for some aid. But the younger brother did not have enough wealth to give him. Feeling resentment, he said to his elder brother, ‘I thought your family was rich and that you knew nothing of poverty—why do you now come to beg from me?’ Having said these words, he refused even to let his brother eat. The elder brother had no choice but to return, deeply shocked and sorrowful, thinking, ‘Between life and death, what is there to fear? Even one’s own brother neglects kinship and refuses to give food—how much less can others be relied upon!’
“He pondered this principle carefully, and his heart grew weary of worldly life. He renounced his home, went into the mountains, and sat in meditation contemplating the arising and cessation of all phenomena. There his mind opened and awakened, and he attained the fruit of Pratyekabuddha. His bearing was solemn and venerable, inspiring reverence in all who saw him. Thereafter, he entered the city to beg for food.”
“Later, a famine struck; people were starving and destitute, and even the Pratyekabuddha found it difficult to obtain alms. Āryaṭa had by then fallen into deeper poverty, and during the famine there was no aid to be found. Each day he went to cut firewood and sell wild grains to sustain himself, his wife, and children. One morning, rising early, he went to the marshlands to gather wood. At the city gate he saw a Pratyekabuddha of dignified presence, entering the city for alms. Āryaṭa went to chop wood first. When he returned, he saw the Pratyekabuddha coming out of the city with an empty bowl. He thought to himself, ‘This is a great sage. I saw him enter the city this morning, yet now he returns without food. If he would come with me to my home, I should divide my meal and share it with him.’ Having thought thus, he departed.
“At that time, the Pratyekabuddha immediately knew his thought and followed behind him, arriving at the city gate. Seeing him, Āryaṭa rejoiced greatly, spread a seat for him, invited him to sit, and brought out his own portion of wild-grain gruel, personally offering it to the Pratyekabuddha. The Pratyekabuddha said to Āryaṭa, ‘You too are hungry and thirsty; we should share this food together.’ Āryaṭa replied, ‘We householders have no fixed time for meals, but you, Venerable One, eat only once a day. I only wish that you would accept my offering.’
“The Pratyekabuddha accepted the food and ate. Grateful for Āryaṭa’s sincere heart—for in such a famine, even fathers and sons could not save one another, yet he was willing to give up his own portion to offer to me—I should reveal a miracle to gladden his heart. Then he rose into the air, from his upper body flowed water and from his lower body came forth fire; then from his upper body came fire and from his lower body flowed water, thus widely manifesting his supernormal powers. Returning before Āryaṭa, he said, ‘What wish do you desire? Speak freely according to your heart.’
“Āryaṭa, seeing these wondrous powers, rejoiced greatly and advanced before him, making a sincere vow, saying, ‘All beings seek wealth in many ways. I vow that in all my future lives I shall never know want, and whatever I seek in my heart shall be fulfilled as I wish. Moreover, may I in the future encounter a Supreme One, whose merits surpass yours by hundreds of thousands of times, and under him may I attain the extinction of all outflows, and possess powers and transformations equal to yours.’ Having made this vow, his joy grew even greater. Then the Pratyekabuddha returned to his abode.
“At that time, Āryaṭa went again to the marshlands to cut wood. There he saw a rabbit and thought to himself that he would catch it. As he chased closer, he flung his sickle from a distance, and the rabbit immediately fell to the ground. When he went forward to take it, the rabbit transformed into a corpse that clung to his back. Frightened, he grasped the corpse’s head and used all his strength to push it off, but he could not remove it. Terror and anguish filled his heart. He wished to go into the city and seek his wife’s help to find a way out of this calamity, but he feared that if people saw him, they would not allow him to enter.
“He waited until evening, covered the corpse with his garment, and bore it upon his back into the city, returning to his own home. The moment he arrived, the corpse naturally slipped from his back to the ground and transformed into a heap of Jambūnada gold, its radiance brilliant and dazzling, illuminating the nearby houses.
“This event spread from mouth to mouth until it reached the king’s ears. The king immediately sent envoys to investigate. When the envoys arrived and examined the matter, they saw before them only a corpse, and returning, reported to the king, ‘It is merely a dead man.’ The king questioned others, yet they still declared it was gold. The king found this exceedingly strange and sent others again to look. Thus the envoys went back and forth seven times, and their reports were always inconsistent. At last the king himself went personally to see.
“When he beheld the corpse, its body was beginning to decay and emit a foul odor. He asked Āryaṭa, ‘What do you see this as?’ Āryaṭa replied, ‘I indeed see it as gold.’ He then took a small portion and offered it to the king. The king, beholding its golden color, felt a reverence unlike anything before and asked, ‘By what cause and condition did you obtain this?’ Āryaṭa thereupon explained the entire matter in detail, saying, ‘It must surely be the result of my almsgiving to the Pratyekabuddha.’
“Hearing this, the king praised him, saying, ‘Excellent! Truly you have gained immeasurable benefit and were fortunate to encounter such a holy one.’ He immediately bestowed further gifts upon Āryaṭa and appointed him as a minister of the realm.
“Thus it is, venerable ones! That Āryaṭa of that time was none other than myself. In that former life, I offered but a small portion of wild-grain gruel to a Pratyekabuddha and made a vow for myself. From that time onward, throughout ninety-one kalpas, I have been reborn among devas and humans without ever knowing want. Three qualities have continually manifested most prominently: a dignified and graceful bearing admired by others, the fulfillment of all that I wish for, and the effortless attainment of all that I seek.
“Even in this very life, when I was still a householder, I lived in ease and contentment, disinclined toward worldly affairs. My elder brother, Mahānāman, would often complain, and my mother said, ‘My son possesses great merit.’ Mahānāman replied, ‘I alone labor in household matters and in the fields, while he lies about idly taking his meals—what merit is this?’ My mother, wishing to test, sent me to the fields for farmwork, and deliberately withheld my meal. I wondered why my food was so long delayed and sent a messenger to urge her. She sent word back, saying, ‘There is nothing.’ I returned home and said to my mother, ‘then please send me that “nothing.”’ My mother, hearing these words, at once took out her jeweled vessels, covered them with a cloth, and sent them to me, telling Mahānāman to follow behind and observe. When it was brought before me and the cloth was lifted, it was filled with food of a hundred flavors, with bowls and dishes overflowing. On all other occasions as well, whatever I desired came about as I wished.”
“If one were to gain treasures filling the four great continents, at the end of the kalpa when destruction comes, those treasures would all be dispersed and vanish, unable to endure long. Yet from that small offering of wild-grain gruel I gave to a Pratyekabuddha, the merit has endured unweakened through ninety-one kalpas. Because of that very act, I have now beheld the Buddha and been delivered from the ocean of suffering. Therefore it should be known that inviting even a single bhikṣu of pure precepts into one’s home for almsgiving brings benefits far surpassing the treasures that could fill the four great continents.”
Then, when Aniruddha had finished speaking, the World-Honored One came in from without and, having heard Aniruddha recount the past events, addressed the bhikṣus: “You bhikṣus have described matters of the past; now I will speak of the future. In a coming age, this Jambudvīpa earth will be square, level, and broad, without high mountains or rivers; the ground will be covered with soft grass like the garments of heaven. The people of that time will live eighty-four thousand years, stand eight cubits tall, possess dignified and excellent bearing, be kindly and gentle in temperament, and perfect in the practice of the ten wholesome deeds. There will arise a Wheel-Turning Sage King named Śaṅkha (which in the language of the Jin means “Shell”). At that time a brāhmaṇa family will give birth to a son named Maitreya, whose body will be of purple-gold hue, in whom the thirty-two marks and multitude of auspicious features will be perfectly complete and splendidly radiant. He will renounce the household life, cultivate the Way, and attain the supreme and perfect enlightenment, and widely turn the noble Wheel of Dharma for sentient beings. In his first great assembly he will convert nine hundred and thirty million beings; in his second great assembly he will convert nine hundred and sixty million; in his third great assembly he will convert nine hundred and ninety million. Thus, bhikṣus, those beings who in these three assemblies hear the Dharma and are liberated are those who previously planted the roots of merit in the Dharma I have left behind, or those who gave plentiful offerings to the Triple Gem, whether renunciants or lay practitioners keeping precepts, those who burned incense and lit lamps and made homage—these will be able to attend the three assemblies. After converting those who had the karmic affinity in my remaining Dharma, then he will go forth to teach wholesome friends.
At that time, upon hearing the Buddha’s words, Maitreya rose from his seat, knelt, and said to the Buddha, “I vow to become that World-Honored One Maitreya.” The Buddha said to him, “As you have said, you will be born there and become Maitreya Tathāgata. All that I have just taught pertains to you.”
Then a bhikṣu in the assembly named Ajita knelt before the Buddha and said, “I vow to become that Wheel-Turning Sage King.” The Buddha said to him, “You have long been attached to the pleasures of life and death—do you not intend to be free?”
All the assembly present, seeing the World-Honored One bestow the prediction of awakening upon Maitreya and foretell that he will become a Buddha named Maitreya, were filled with doubt and wished to know the origin of that name. The venerable Ānanda immediately rose and asked the Buddha, “After Maitreya becomes a Buddha his name will still be Maitreya—whence does that name arise?”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “Listen closely and reflect with care. In a past, incalculable āśankhyeya kalpas ago, in this very Jambudvīpa there was a great king named Dharmaruci, who ruled over eighty-four thousand countries of Jambudvīpa, sixty thousand mountain ranges and rivers, eight hundred million settlements, twenty thousand consorts and maidens, and ten thousand great ministers. At that time there was a small, prosperous, and joyous kingdom whose king was named Vāsuki. In that age the Puṣya Buddha appeared in the world and taught the beings in that land. King Vāsuki and his ministers devoted themselves to offering to the Buddha and the Sangha day and night, and thus had no time to go to see the great king; the communications and tributes to him were all interrupted.
“The great king, puzzled at the cessation of this intercourse, sent envoys to inquire the reason. The envoys arrived and conveyed the king’s command: ‘Since last year all contact and tribute have been cut off. You are my subject—why have you violated customary duty? Do you harbor rebellious intent to revolt?’ When King Vāsuki received the royal summons, knowing that he had in fact failed to keep custom and not knowing how to reply, he immediately went to see the Buddha and reported these matters. The Buddha told him, ‘You need not be anxious. Send the envoys and honestly tell the great king: “The Buddha is in my country; I serve him day and night and thus have no time to go to the great king. All the kingdom’s wealth has been used to offer to the Buddha and the Sangha; there remains nothing with which to present tribute to you.”’ After receiving the Buddha’s admonition, Vāsuki answered the envoys exactly as the Buddha had advised.
“The envoys returned to the great king and reported in detail. The king was filled with wrath and summoned all his ministers to deliberate. The ministers said, ‘That king is arrogant and rude and makes unreasonable demands—he should be met with military force; gather the armies and attack him.’ The king consented to this proposal, and personally led the army forth.”
“When the vanguard troops were about to arrive, King Vāsuki learned of it and was filled with fear. In haste, he went to report to the Buddha. The Buddha said to the king, ‘You need not be afraid. Simply go in person to meet the great king and speak the words that I have already taught you.’ Then King Vāsuki, together with his ministers, went to the frontier to meet the great king. After paying homage and offering respectful greetings, he stood to one side.
“The great king reproached him, saying, ‘By what do you rely that you dare violate the rules of decorum and neglect your duty, failing to appear before me?’ King Vāsuki replied, ‘The arising of a Buddha in the world is exceedingly rare, extremely difficult to encounter. The Buddha is now residing in my country, teaching and transforming living beings. I have been attending him day and night, and thus neglected proper form.’ The great king again sternly questioned him, ‘Even so, why have you ceased sending tribute?’ King Vāsuki replied, ‘The Buddha has his disciples, called the Sangha. Their morality and virtue are pure; they are the foremost field of merit in the world. All the wealth within my realm has been used to make offerings to them. Nothing remains with which to offer tribute.’
“Dharmaruci, hearing this, said to the king, ‘Wait a moment. I must first go to see the Buddha. After I have met the Buddha and returned, I will then inquire into your offenses.’ Having said this, he departed with his ministers to the place where the Buddha was staying.
“At that time, the Tathāgata was surrounded by a great assembly. All were seated silently and peacefully in meditation. One bhikṣu had entered the Samādhi of loving-kindness and radiated golden light like a blazing torch. From afar, Dharmaruci saw the World-Honored One shining brilliantly, his radiance illuminating all directions, surpassing even the sun, surrounded by the assembly like the full moon among the stars. He approached the Buddha, bowed, and made proper salutations. Seeing that one bhikṣu’s radiance was especially splendid, he respectfully asked the World-Honored One, ‘This bhikṣu has entered what kind of meditation that his light is so dazzling?’ The Buddha said to the great king, ‘This bhikṣu has entered the meditation of loving-kindness.’
“When the king heard this, he was filled with admiration and said, ‘This meditation of loving-kindness is truly noble and sublime. I too will surely cultivate this Samādhi of loving-kindness.’ Having made this vow, he longed single-mindedly for the meditation of loving-kindness. His heart became gentle and soft, and he no longer held thoughts of harm toward any being. He then invited the Buddha and the Sangha, saying, ‘May the World-Honored One and the assembly of monks graciously journey to my great kingdom.’ The Buddha consented and appointed a date for the visit.
When King Vāsuki heard that the Buddha was going to the greater kingdom, his heart was filled with regret and sorrow. He felt deeply troubled and thought, ‘If I were that great king, the Tathāgata would always stay in my country. But because my station is humble, I cannot act according to my wish.’ Reflecting thus, he asked the Buddha, ‘Among all kings, who is the greatest?’ The Buddha said to him, ‘The Wheel-Turning Sage King is the greatest.’ King Vāsuki then made a vow, saying, ‘By the merit I have gained through offering to the Buddha and the Sangha, I vow that in all my future lives I shall be a Wheel-Turning Sage King.’
“Ānanda, that great king Dharmaruci of that time is now Maitreya. From that age onward he aroused the heart of compassion, and from that time he has been known as Maitreya. That King Vāsuki is now the Prince Jeta. In that past age he was always a Wheel-Turning Sage King, and in every life thereafter he has continued to be a Wheel-Turning Sage King, and even to this day his merit has not been exhausted. Thus he now again seeks to be a Wheel-Turning Sage King.”
At that time, the jewel craftman, having heard these words, immediately aroused the aspiration for the unsurpassed true Path. And all the others present who heard the Buddha’s words—some attained the fruit of Srotāpanna, some the fruit of Sakṛdāgāmin, some the fruit of Anāgāmin, and some the fruit of Arhatship; some aroused the aspiration for the unsurpassed true Path, and some attained the irreversible stage. All rejoiced in faith and accepted and upheld the teaching.
Section Fifty-Eight: The Two Parrots Hear the Four Noble Truths (In the Tanjur version this section is Fifty-Eight)
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was dwelling in the Jetavana Anāthapiṇḍada Park of Śrāvastī. At that time, the elder Sudatta had deep faith and devotion toward the Buddha and the Dharma. He served as the dānapati of the Sangha, providing all the requisites needed by the community of bhikṣus. Because of this, the bhikṣus came and went from his house every day to receive what they needed, and in return they expounded the Dharma to him, offering teachings and guidance.
In Sudatta’s household were two parrots: one was named Ṛddhi, and the other was named Śaṛddhi. They were intelligent by nature and could understand human speech. Whenever the bhikṣus came and went, the parrots would first inform the household and help sweep and arrange the bedding, joyfully welcoming the monks.
At that time, the venerable Ānanda came to the house of Sudatta. Seeing that the parrots were bright and clever, he felt affection for them and said, “I wish to teach you the Buddha’s Dharma.” When the two parrots heard this, they rejoiced. Ānanda then instructed them in the Dharma of the Four Noble Truths and taught them to recite, saying a verse:
“Dukkha Samudaya Nirodha Marga”
(which, in the language of Jin, means “Suffering, Origin, Cessation, and Path.”)
At the gate stood a tree. After hearing the Dharma, the two parrots joyfully recited what they had learned. Then they flew up into the tree, going up and down seven times, reciting over and over the wondrous Dharma of the Four Noble Truths which they had received and upheld. That night, as they stayed upon the tree, they were devoured by wild cats. Because of this wholesome mind, they were reborn in the Heaven of the Four Great Kings.
The next day, the venerable Ānanda, as was his custom, put on his monastic robe, took up his bowl, and entered the city for alms. When he heard that the two parrots had been killed by wild cats, he felt pity. He returned to the Buddha and said, “In the household of Sudatta were two parrots. Yesterday I taught them to recite the Four Noble Truths, but that very night they lost their lives. I do not know where their consciousness has now been reborn. May the Tathāgata have compassion and reveal this.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “Listen carefully, listen carefully, and bear it well in mind. I shall now tell you, that you may rejoice. Because you taught them the Dharma and they received it with joy, after death they were reborn in the Heaven of the Four Great Kings. In this Jambudvīpa, fifty human years equal one day and night in that heaven. There, thirty days make a month, and twelve months make a year. The lifespan in that heaven is five hundred years.”
Ānanda asked the Buddha, “After they pass away from there, where will they be reborn?”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “They will be reborn in the second heaven, the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven. In this Jambudvīpa, one hundred human years equal one day and night in that heaven. There too, thirty days make a month, twelve months make a year, and the lifespan is one thousand years.”
Ānanda again asked, “After they pass away from there, where will they be reborn?” The Buddha said to Ānanda, “They will be reborn in the third, the Yāma Heaven. In this Jambudvīpa, two hundred human years equal one day and night there. Likewise, thirty days make a month, twelve months make a year, and the lifespan in that heaven is two thousand years.”
Ānanda again asked, “After they pass away from there, where will they be reborn?” The Buddha said to Ānanda, “They will be reborn in the fourth, the Tuṣita Heaven. In this Jambudvīpa, four hundred human years equal one day and night there. Likewise, thirty days make a month, twelve months make a year, and the lifespan in that heaven is four thousand years.”
Ānanda again asked, “After they pass away from there, where will they be reborn?” The Buddha said to Ānanda, “They will be reborn in the fifth, the Joy Emanation Heaven. In Jambudvīpa, eight hundred human years equal one day and night there. Likewise, thirty days make a month, twelve months make a year, and the lifespan in that heaven is eight thousand years.”
Ānanda again asked, “After they pass away from there, where will they be reborn?” The Buddha said to Ānanda, “They will be reborn in the sixth, the Joy Creation from Others’ Joys Heaven. In Jambudvīpa, sixteen hundred human years equal one day and night there. Likewise, thirty days make a month, twelve months make a year, and the lifespan in that heaven is sixteen thousand years.”
Ānanda again asked, “After the lifespan there ends, where will they be reborn?” The Buddha said to Ānanda, “They will return to the fifth heaven, and thus in turn they will go up and down through the Six Desire Heavens seven times, freely enjoying the rewards of heavenly bliss, completing the full measure of celestial lifespan without interruption or premature death.”
Ānanda asked again, “After the lifespans in the Six Desire Heavens come to an end, where will they be reborn?” The Buddha said to Ānanda, “They will descend to Jambudvīpa, be reborn among humans, and renounce the household life to cultivate the path. Because in their former existence as parrots they upheld the Four Noble Truths, their minds will naturally open to understanding, and they will ultimately realize the fruition of Pratyekabuddha. One will be named Dharma, and the other will be named Śuddharma.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “All Buddhas, worthy ones, and sages, as well as all the kinds of devas and the measure of their bliss, all arise because of wholesome causes sown within the Dharma, and thus later they each receive their own supreme fruits of reward.”
At that time, Ānanda and the great assembly who heard what the Buddha had spoken all rejoiced, accepted it with faith, and practiced in accordance with it.
Section Fifty-Nine: A Bird Heard a Bhikṣu Reciting and Reborned in Heaven (In the Tanjur version this section is Fifty-Nine)
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was dwelling in the Jetavana Anāthapiṇḍada Park of Śrāvastī. At that time, there was a bhikṣu who, after taking his meal, practiced meditation among the trees of the forest. As he walked in contemplation, he recited the Buddha’s scripture. His voice was pure and elegant, incomparably melodious. Then, there was a bird who, upon hearing his voice, felt reverence and affection. It flew up into a tree to listen. At that moment, a hunter shot an arrow and killed the bird. Because of that wholesome mind, the bird was immediately reborn in the second heaven, the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven.
There, upon the knees of its celestial parents, it suddenly grew up to the size of an eight-year-old child, with a dignified countenance and radiant beauty beyond compare. The being thought to itself, “By what merit have I been reborn in this place?” Because of the heavenly blessings it possessed, it was able to recall its past life and saw that it had formerly been a bird, and that it had been born here due to the merit gained from hearing the recitation of the scripture by that bhikṣu.
Thereupon, it took heavenly flowers and descended to Jambudvīpa, coming to the dwelling of that bhikṣu. It respectfully bowed and paid homage, scattering fragrant celestial flowers upon him as an offering. The bhikṣu asked, “What divine being are you?” It replied, “I was once a bird. Because I delighted in the sound of your recitation of the scripture, I came to listen. Later, I was struck and killed by a hunter. Through that wholesome mind, I was reborn in the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven.”
When the bhikṣu heard this, he rejoiced greatly and immediately invited the deva to sit. He then expounded the Dharma to him. Through the many wondrous and profound teachings of the Dharma, that deva’s mind was suddenly opened, and he attained the fruition of Srotāpanna. Overjoyed, he then returned to heaven.
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “When the Tathāgata appears in the world, he brings great benefit to sentient beings. The Dharma spoken by the Tathāgata is truly deep and subtle. Even a bird, merely because it delighted in the sound of the Dharma, was able to gain boundless merit—how much more so for those who have firm faith in the Dharma and uphold it! The fruits they obtain are beyond all comparison.”
At that time, Ānanda and the entire assembly, having heard what the Buddha had said, all felt joy in their hearts and practiced.
Dharma Torch 