Said Kūtadanta: "Let me take my refuge in the Blessed One, in the Dharma, and in the brotherhood. Accept me as thy disciple and let me partake of the bliss of immortality."68
And the Blessed One thus addressed the brethren:1
"Those only who do not believe, call me Gotama, but you call me the Buddha, the Blessed One, the Teacher. And this is right, for I have in this life entered Nirvāna, while the life of Gotama has been extinguished.2
"Self has disappeared and the truth has taken its abode in me. This body of mine is Gotama's body and it will be dissolved in due time, and after its dissolution no one, neither God nor man, will see Gotama again. But the truth remains. The Buddha will not die; the Buddha will continue to live in the holy body of the law.3
"The extinction of the Blessed One will be by that passing away in which nothing remains that could tend to the formation of another self. Nor will it be possible to point out the Blessed One as being here or there. But it will be like a flame in a great body of blazing fire. That flame has ceased; it has vanished and it cannot be said that it is here or there. In the body of the Dharma, however, the Blessed One can be pointed out; for the Dharma has been preached by the Blessed One.4
"Ye are my children, I am your father; through me have ye been released from your sufferings.5
"I myself having reached the other shore, help others to cross the stream; I myself having attained salvation, am a saviour of others; being comforted, I comfort others and lead them to the place of refuge.6
"I shall fill with joy all the beings whose limbs languish; I shall give happiness to those who are dying from distress; I shall extend to them succor and deliverance.7
"I was born into the world as the king of truth for the salvation of the world.8
"The subject on which I meditate is truth. The practice to which I devote myself is truth. The topic of my conversation is truth. My thoughts are always in the truth. For lo! my self has become the truth.9
"Whosoever comprehendeth the truth will see the Blessed One, for the truth has been preached by the Blessed One."10
And the Tathāgata addressed the venerable Kassapa, to dispel the uncertainty and doubt of his mind, and he said:1
"All things are made of one essence, yet things are different according to the forms which they assume under different impressions. As they form themselves so they act, and as they act so they are.2
"It is, Kassapa, as if a potter made different vessels out of the same clay. Some of these pots are to contain sugar, others rice, others curds and milk; others still are vessels of impurity. There is no diversity in the clay used; the diversity of the pots is only due to the moulding handsof the potter who shapes them for the various uses that circumstances may require.3
"And as all things originate from one essence, so they are developing according to one law and they are destined to one aim which is Nirvāna.4
"Nirvāna comes to thee, Kassapa, when thou understandest thoroughly, and when thou livest according to thy understanding, that all things are of one essence and that there is but one law. Hence, there is but one Nirvāna as there is but one truth, not two or three.5
"And the Tathāgata is the same unto all beings, differing in his attitude only in so far as all beings are different.6
"The Tathāgata recreates the whole world like a cloud shedding its waters without distinction. He has the same sentiments for the high as for the low, for the wise as for the ignorant, for the noble-minded as for the immoral.7
"The great cloud full of rain comes up in this wide universe covering all countries and oceans to pour down its rain everywhere, over all grasses, shrubs, herbs, trees of various species, families of plants of different names growing on the earth, on the hills, on the mountains, or in the valleys.8
"Then, Kassapa, the grasses, shrubs, herbs, and wild trees suck the water emitted from that great cloud which is all of one essence and has been abundantly poured down; and they will, according to their nature, acquire a proportionate development, shooting up and producing blossoms and their fruits in season.9
"Rooted in one and the same soil, all those families of plants and germs are quickened by water of the same essence.10
"The Tathāgata, however, O Kassapa, knows the law whose essence is salvation, and whose end is the peace of Nirvāna. He is the same to all, and yet knowing therequirements of every single being, he does not reveal himself to all alike. He does not impart to them at once the fulness of omniscience, but pays attention to the disposition of various beings."11
Before Rāhula, the son of Gotama Siddhattha and Yasodharā, attained to the enlightenment of true wisdom, his conduct was not always marked by a love of truth, and the Blessed One sent him to a distant vihāra to govern his mind and to guard his tongue.1
After some time the Blessed One repaired to the place, and Rāhula was filled with joy.2
And the Blessed One ordered the boy to bring him; basin of water and to wash his feet, and Rāhula obeyed.3
When Rāhula had washed the Tathāgata's feet, the Blessed One asked: "Is the water now fit for drinking?"4
"No, my Lord," replied the boy, "the water is denied."5
Then the Blessed One said: "Now consider thine own case. Although thou art my son, and the grandchild of a king, although thou art a samana who has voluntarily given up everything, thou art unable to guard thy tongue from untruth, and thus defilest thou thy mind."6
And when the water had been poured away, the Blessed One asked again: "Is this vessel now fit for holding water to drink?"7
"No, my Lord," replied Rāhula, "the vessel, too, has become unclean."8
And the Blessed One said: "Now consider thine own case. Although thou wearest the yellow robe, art thou fitfor any high purpose when thou hast become unclean like this vessel?"9
Then the Blessed One, lifting up the empty basin and whirling it round, asked: "Art thou not afraid lest it should fall and break?"10
"No, my Lord," replied Rāhula, "the vessel is but cheap, and its loss will not amount to much."11
"Now consider thine own case," said the Blessed One. "Thou art whirled about in endless eddies of transmigration, and as thy body is made of the same substance as other material things that will crumble to dust, there is no loss if it be broken. He who is given to speaking untruths is an object of contempt to the wise."12
Rāhula was filled with shame, and the Blessed One addressed him once more: "Listen, and I will tell thee a parable:13
"There was a king who had a very powerful elephant, able to cope with five hundred ordinary elephants. When going to war, the elephant was armed with sharp swords on his tusks, with scythes on his shoulders, spears on his feet, and an iron ball at his tail. The elephant-master rejoiced to see the noble creature so well equipped, and, knowing that a slight wound by an arrow in the trunk would be fatal, he had taught the elephant to keep his trunk well coiled up. But during the battle the elephant stretched forth his trunk to seize a sword. His master was frightened and consulted with the king, and they decided that the elephant was no longer fit to be used in battle.14
"O Rāhula! if men would only guard their tongues all would be well! Be like the fighting elephant who guards his trunk against the arrow that strikes in the center.15
"By love of truth the sincere escape iniquity. Like the elephant well subdued and quiet, who permits the king to mount on his trunk, thus the man that reveres righteousness will endure faithfully throughout his life."16
Rāhula hearing these words was filled with deep sorrow; he never again gave any occasion for complaint, and forthwith he sanctified his life by earnest exertions.17
And the Blessed One observed the ways of society and noticed how much misery came from malignity and foolish offences done only to gratify vanity and self-seeking pride.1
And the Buddha said: "If a man foolishly does me wrong, I will return to him the protection of my ungrudging love; the more evil comes from him, the more good shall go from me; the fragrance of goodness always comes to me, and the harmful air of evil goes to him."2
A foolish man learning that the Buddha observed the principle of great love which commends the return of good for evil, came and abused him. The Buddha was silent, pitying his folly.3
When the man had finished his abuse, the Buddha asked him, saying: "Son, if a man declined to accept a present made to him, to whom would it belong?" And he answered: "In that case it would belong to the man who offered it."4
"My son," said the Buddha, "thou hast railed at me, but I decline to accept thy abuse, and request thee to keep it thyself. Will it not be a source of misery to thee? As the echo belongs to the sound, and the shadow to the substance, so misery will overtake the evil-doer without fail."5
The abuser made no reply, and Buddha continued:6
"A wicked man who reproaches a virtuous one is like one who looks up and spits at heaven; the spittle soilsnot the heaven, but comes back and defiles his own person.7
"The slanderer is like one who flings dust at another when the wind is contrary; the dust does but return on him who threw it. The virtuous man cannot be hurt and the misery that the other would inflict comes back on himself."8
The abuser went away ashamed, but he came again and took refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha.9
On a certain day when the Blessed One dwelt at Jetavana, the garden of Anāthapindika, a celestial deva came to him in the shape of a Brahman whose countenance was bright and whose garments were white like snow. The deva asked questions which the Blessed One answered.1
The deva said: "What is the sharpest sword? What is is the deadliest poison? What is the fiercest fire? What is the darkest night?"2
The Blessed One replied: "A word spoken in wrath is the sharpest sword; covetousness is the deadliest poison; passion is the fiercest fire; ignorance is the darkest night."3
The deva said: "Who gains the greatest benefit? Who loses most? Which armor is invulnerable? What is the best weapon?"4
The Blessed One replied: "He is the greatest gainer who gives to others, and he loses most who greedily receives without gratitude. Patience is an invulnerable armor; wisdom is the best weapon."5
The deva said: "Who is the most dangerous thief? What is the most precious treasure? Who is most successful in taking away by violence not only on earth, but also in heaven? What is the securest treasure-trove?"6
The Blessed One replied: "Evil thought is the most dangerous thief; virtue is the most precious treasure. The mind takes possession of everything not only on earth, but also in heaven, and immortality is its securest treasure-trove."7
The deva said: "What is attractive? What is disgusting? What is the most horrible pain? What is the greatest enjoyment?"8
The Blessed One replied: "Good is attractive; evil is disgusting. A bad conscience is the most tormenting pain; deliverance is the height of bliss."9
The deva asked: "What causes ruin in the world? What breaks off friendships? What is the most violent fever? Who is the best physician?"10
The Blessed One replied: "Ignorance causes the ruin of the world. Envy and selfishness break off friendships. Hatred is the most violent fever, and the Buddha is the best physician."11
The deva then asked and said: "Now I have only one doubt to be solved; pray, clear it away: What is it fire can neither burn, nor moisture corrode, nor wind crush down, but is able to reform the whole world?"12
The Blessed One replied: "Blessing! Neither fire, nor moisture, nor wind can destroy the blessing of a good deed, and blessings reform the whole world."13
The deva, having heard the words of the Blessed One, was full of exceeding joy. Clasping his hands, he bowed down before him in reverence, and disappeared suddenly from the presence of the Buddha.14
The bhikkhus came to the Blessed One, and having saluted him with clasped hands they said:1
"O Master, thou all-seeing one, we all wish to learn; our ears are ready to hear, thou art our teacher, thou art incomparable. Cut off our doubt, inform us of the blessed Dharma, O thou of great understanding; speak in the midst of us, O thou who art all-seeing, as is the thousand-eyed Lord of the gods.2
"We will ask the muni of great understanding, who has crossed the stream, gone to the other shore, is blessed and of a firm mind: How does a bhikkhu wander rightly in the world, after having gone out from his house and driven away desire?"3
The Buddha said:4
"Let the bhikkhu subdue his passion for human and celestial pleasures, then, having conquered existence, he will command the Dharma. Such a one will wander rightly in the world.5
"He whose lusts have been destroyed, who is free from pride, who has overcome all the ways of passion, is subdued, perfectly happy, and of a firm mind. Such a one will wander rightly in the world.6
"Faithful is he who is possessed of knowledge, seeing the way that leads to Nirvāna; he who is not a partisan; he who is pure and virtuous, and has removed the veil from his eyes. Such a one will wander rightly in the world."7
Said the bhikkhus: "Certainly, O Bhagavat, it is so: whichever bhikkhu lives in this way, subdued and having overcome all bonds, such a one will wander rightly in the world."8
The Blessed One said:99
"Whatever is to be done by him who aspires to attain the tranquillity of Nirvāna let him be able and upright, conscientious and gentle, and not proud.10
"Let a man's pleasure be the Dharma, let him delight in the Dharma, let him stand fast in the Dharma, let him know how to inquire into the Dharma, let him not raise any dispute that pollutes the Dharma, and let him spend his time in pondering on the well-spoken truths of the Dharma.11
"A treasure that is laid up in a deep pit profits nothing and may easily be lost. The real treasure that is laid up through charity and piety, temperance, self-control, or deeds of merit, is hid secure and cannot pass away. It is never gained by despoiling or wronging others, and no thief can steal it. A man, when he dies, must leave the fleeting wealth of the world, but this treasure of virtuous acts he takes with him. Let the wise do good deeds; they are a treasure that can never be lost."12
And the bhikkhus praised the wisdom of the Tathāgata:13
"Thou hast passed beyond pain; thou art holy, O Enlightened One, we consider thee one that has destroyed his passions. Thou art glorious, thoughtful, and of great understanding. O thou who puttest an end to pain, thou hast carried us across our doubt.14
"Because thou sawst our longing and carriedst us across our doubt, adoration be to thee, O muni, who hast attained the highest good in the ways of wisdom.15
"The doubt we had before, thou hast cleared away, O thou clearly-seeing one; surely thou art a great thinker, perfectly enlightened, there is no obstacle for thee.16
"And all thy troubles are scattered and cut off; thou art calm, subdued, firm, truthful.17
"Adoration be to thee, O noble sage, adoration be to thee, O thou best of beings; in the world of men and gods there is none equal to thee.18
"Thou art the Buddha, thou art the Master, thou art the muni that conquers Māra; after having cut off desire thou hast crossed over and carriest this generation to the other shore."19
One of the disciples came to the Blessed One with a trembling heart and his mind full of doubt. And he asked the Blessed One: "O Buddha, our Lord and Master, why do we give up the pleasures of the world, if thou forbiddest us to work miracles and to attain the supernatural? Is not Amitābha, the infinite light of revelation, the source of innumerable miracles?"1
And the Blessed One, seeing the anxiety of a truth-seeking mind, said: "O sāvaka, thou art a novice among the novices, and thou art swimming on the surface of samsāra. How long will it take thee to grasp the truth? Thou hast not understood the words of the Tathāgata. The law of karma is irrefragable, and supplications have no effect, for they are empty words."2
Said the disciple: "So sayest thou there are no miraculous and wonderful things?"3
And the Blessed One replied:4
"Is it not a wonderful thing, mysterious and miraculous to the worldling, that a man who commits wrong can become a saint, that he who attains to true enlightenment will find the path of truth and abandon the evil ways of selfishness?5
"The bhikkhu who renounces the transient pleasures of the world for the eternal bliss of holiness, performs the only miracle that can truly be called a miracle.6
"A holy man changes the curses of karma into blessings. The desire to perform miracles arises either from covetousness or from vanity.7
"That mendicant does right who does not think: 'People should salute me'; who, though despised by the world, yet cherishes no ill-will towards it.8
"That mendicant does right to whom omens, meteors, dreams, and signs are things abolished; he is free from all their evils.9
"Amitābha, the unbounded light, is the source of wisdom, of virtue, of Buddhahood. The deeds of sorcerers and miracle-mongers are frauds, but what is more wondrous, more mysterious, more miraculous than Amitābha?"10
"But, Master," continued the sāvaka, "is the promise of the happy region vain talk and a myth?"11
"What is this promise?" asked the Buddha; and the disciple replied:12
"There is in the west a paradise called the Pure Land, exquisitely adorned with gold and silver and precious gems. There are pure waters with golden sands, surrounded by pleasant walks and covered with large lotus flowers. Joyous music is heard, and flowers rain down three times a day. There are singing birds whose harmonious notes proclaim the praises of religion, and in the minds of those who listen to their sweet sounds, remembrance arises of the Buddha, the law, and the brotherhood. No evil birth is possible there, and even the name of hell is unknown. He who fervently and with a pious mind repeats the words 'Amitābha Buddha' will be transported to the happy region of this pure land, and when death draws nigh, the Buddha, with a company of saintly followers, will stand before him, and there will be perfect tranquillity."13
"In truth," said the Buddha, "there is such a happy paradise. But the country is spiritual and it is accessible only to those that are spiritual. Thou sayest it lies in the west.This means, look for it where he who enlightens the world resides. The sun sinks down and leaves us in utter darkness, the shades of night steal over us, and Māra, the evil one, buries our bodies in the grave. Sunset is nevertheless no extinction, and where we imagine we see extinction, there is boundless light and inexhaustible life."14
"I understand," said the sāvaka, "that the story of the Western Paradise is not literally true."15
"Thy description of paradise," the Buddha continued, "is beautiful; yet it is insufficient and does little justice to the glory of the pure land. The worldly can speak of it in a worldly way only; they use worldly similes and worldly words. But the pure land in which the pure live is more beautiful than thou canst say or imagine.16
"However, the repetition of the name Amitābha Buddha is meritorious only if thou speak it with such a devout attitude of mind as will cleanse thy heart and attune thy will to do works of righteousness. He only can reach the happy land whose soul is filled with the infinite light of truth. He only can live and breathe in the spiritual atmosphere of the Western Paradise who has attained enlightenment.17
"Verily I say unto thee, the Tathāgata lives in the pure land of eternal bliss even now while he is still in the body; and the Tathāgata preaches the law of religion unto thee and unto the whole world, so that thou and thy brethren may attain the same peace and the same happiness."18
Said the disciple: "Teach me, O Lord, the meditations to which I must devote myself in order to let my mind enter into the paradise of the pure land."19
Buddha said: "There are five meditations.20
"The first meditation is the meditation of love in which thou must so adjust thy heart that thou longest for the weal and welfare of all beings, including the happiness of thine enemies.21
"The second meditation is the meditation of pity, in which thou thinkest of all beings in distress, vividly representing in thine imagination their sorrows and anxieties so as to arouse a deep compassion for them in thy soul.22
"The third meditation is the meditation of joy in which thou thinkest of the prosperity of others and rejoicest with their rejoicings.23
"The fourth meditation is the meditation on impurity, in which thou considerest the evil consequences of corruption, the effects of wrongs and evils. How trivial is often the pleasure of the moment and how fatal are its consequences!24
"The fifth meditation is the meditation on serenity, in which thou risest above love and hate, tyranny and thraldom, wealth and want, and regardest thine own fate with impartial calmness and perfect tranquillity.25
"A true follower of the Tathāgata founds not his trust upon austerities or rituals but giving up the idea of self relies with his whole heart upon Amitābha, which is the unbounded light of truth."26
The Blessed One after having explained his doctrine of Amitābha, the immeasurable light which makes him who receives it a Buddha, looked into the heart of his disciple and saw still some doubts and anxieties. And the Blessed One said: "Ask me, my son, the questions which weigh upon thy soul."27
And the disciple said: "Can a humble monk, by sanctifying himself, acquire the talents of supernatural wisdom called Abhiññas and the supernatural powers called Iddhi? Show me the Iddhi-pāda, the path to the highest wisdom? Open to me the Jhānas which are the means of acquiring samādhi, the fixity of mind which enraptures the soul."28
And the Blessed One said: "Which are the Abhiññas?"29
The disciple replied: "There are six Abhiññas: (1) The celestial eye; (2) the celestial ear; (3) the body at will orthe power of transformation; (4) the knowledge of the destiny of former dwellings, so as to know former states of existence; (5) the faculty of reading the thoughts of others; and (6) the knowledge of comprehending the finality of the stream of life."30
And the Blessed One replied: "These are wondrous things; but verily, every man can attain them. Consider the abilities of thine own mind; thou wert born about two hundred leagues from here and canst thou not in thy thought, in an instant travel to thy native place and remember the details of thy father's home? Seest thou not with thy mind's eye the roots of the tree which is shaken by the wind without being overthrown? Does not the collector of herbs see in his mental vision, whenever he pleases, any plant with its roots, its stem, its fruits, leaves, and even the uses to which it can be applied? Cannot the man who understands languages recall to his mind any word whenever he pleases, knowing its exact meaning and import? How much more does the Tathāgata understand the nature of things; he looks into the hearts of men and reads their thoughts. He knows the evolution of beings and foresees their ends."31
Said the disciple: "Then the Tathāgata teaches that man can attain through the Jhānas the bliss of Abhiñña."32
And the Blessed One asked in reply: "Which are the Jhānas through which man reaches Abhiñña?"33
The disciple replied: "There are four Jhānas. The first Jhāna is seclusion in which one must free his mind from sensuality; the second Jhāna is a tranquillity of mind full of joy and gladness; the third Jhāna is a taking delight in things spiritual; the fourth Jhāna is a state of perfect purity and peace in which the mind is above all gladness and grief."34
"Good, my son," enjoined the Blessed One. "Be sober and abandon wrong practices which serve only to stultify the mind."35
Said the disciple: "Forbear with me, O Blessed One, for I have faith without understanding and I am seeking the truth. O Blessed One, O Tathāgata, my Lord and Master, teach me the Iddhipāda."36
The Blessed One said: "There are four means by which Iddhi is acquired; (1) Prevent bad qualities from arising. (2) Put away bad qualities which have arisen. (3) Produce goodness that does not yet exist. (4) Increase goodness which already exists.—Search with sincerity, and persevere in the search. In the end thou wilt find the truth."37
And the Blessed One said to Ānanda:1
"There are various kinds of assemblies, O Ānanda; assemblies of nobles, of Brahmans, of householders, of bhikkhus, and of other beings. When I used to enter an assembly, I always became, before I seated myself, in color like unto the color of my audience, and in voice like unto their voice. I spoke to them in their language and then with religious discourse, I instructed, quickened, and gladdened them.2
"My doctrine is like the ocean, having the same eight wonderful qualities.3
"Both the ocean and my doctrine become gradually deeper. Both preserve their identity under all changes. Both cast out dead bodies upon the dry land. As the great rivers, when falling into the main, lose their names and are thenceforth reckoned as the great ocean, so all the castes, havingrenounced their lineage and entered the Sangha, become brethren and are reckoned the sons of Sakyamuni. The ocean is the goal of all streams and of the rain from the clouds, yet is it never overflowing and never emptied: so the Dharma is embraced by many millions of people, yet it neither increases nor decreases. As the great ocean has only one taste, the taste of salt, so my doctrine has only one flavor, the flavor of emancipation. Both the ocean and the Dharma are full of gems and pearls and jewels, and both afford a dwelling-place for mighty beings.4
"These are the eight wonderful qualities in which my doctrine resembles the ocean.5
"My doctrine is pure and it makes no discrimination between noble and ignoble, rich and poor.6
"My doctrine is like unto water which cleanses all without distinction.7
"My doctrine is like unto fire which consumes all things that exist between heaven and earth, great and small.8
"My doctrine is like unto the heavens, for there is room in it, ample room for the reception of all, for men and women, boys and girls, the powerful and the lowly.9
"But when I spoke, they knew me not and would say, 'Who may this be who thus speaks, a man or a god?' Then having instructed, quickened, and gladdened them with religious discourse, I would vanish away. But they knew me not, even when I vanished away."10
And the Blessed One thought: "I have taught the truth which is excellent in the beginning, excellent in the middle, and excellent in the end; it is glorious in its spirit and glorious in its letter. But simple as it is, the people cannot understand it. I must speak to them in their own language. I must adapt my thoughts to their thoughts. They are like unto children, and love to hear tales. Therefore, I will tell them stories to explain the glory of the Dharma. If they cannot grasp the truth in the abstract arguments by which I have reached it, they may nevertheless come to understand it, if it is illustrated in parables."1
There was once a lone widow who was very destitute, and having gone to the mountain she beheld hermits holdinga religious assembly. Then the woman was filled with joy, and uttering praises, said, "It is well, holy priests! but while others give precious things such as the ocean caves produce, I have nothing to offer." Having spoken thus and having searched herself in vain for something to give, she recollected that some time before she had found in a dungheap two coppers, so taking these she offered them forthwith as a gift to the priesthood in charity.1
The superior of the priests, a saint who could read the hearts of men, disregarding the rich gifts of others and beholding the deep faith dwelling in the heart of this poor widow, and wishing the priesthood to esteem rightly her religious merit, burst forth with full voice in a canto. He raised his right hand and said, "Reverend priests attend!" and then he proceeded:2
"The coppers of this poor widowTo all purpose are more worthThan all the treasures of the oceansAnd the wealth of the broad earth.3"As an act of pure devotionShe has done a pious deed;She has attained salvation,Being free from selfish greed."4
The woman was mightily strengthened in her mind by this thought, and said, "It is even as the Teacher says: what I have done is as much as if a rich man were to give up all his wealth."5
And the Teacher said: "Doing good deeds is like hoarding up treasures," and he expounded this truth in a parable:6
"Three merchants set out on their travels, each with his capital; one of them gained much, the second returned with his capital, and the third one came home after having lost his capital. What is true in common life applies also to religion.7
"The capital is the state a man has reached, the gain is heaven; the loss of his capital means that a man will be born in a lower state, as a denizen of hell or as an animal. These are the courses that are open to the sinner.8
"He who brings back his capital, is like unto one who is born again as a man. Those who through the exercise of various virtues become pious householders will be born again as men, for all beings will reap the fruit of their actions. But he who increases his capital is like unto one who practises eminent virtues. The virtuous, excellent man attains in heaven to the glorious state of the gods."9
There was a man born blind, and he said: "I do not believe in the world of light and appearance. There are no colors, bright or sombre. There is no sun, no moon, no stars. No one has witnessed these things."1
His friends remonstrated with him, but he clung to his opinion: "What you say that you see," he objected, "are illusions. If colors existed I should be able to touch them. They have no substance and are not real. Everything real has weight, but I feel no weight where you see colors."2
In those days there was a physician who was called to see the blind man. He mixed four simples, and when he applied them to the cataract of the blind man the gray film melted, and his eyes acquired the faculty of sight.3
The Tathāgata is the physician, the cataract is the illusion of the thought "I am," and the four simples are the four noble truths.4
There was a householder's son who went away into a distant country, and while the father accumulated immeasurable riches, the son became miserably poor. And the son while searching for food and clothing happened to come to the country in which his father lived. And the father saw him in his wretchedness, for he was ragged and brutalized by poverty, and ordered some of his servants to call him.1
When the son saw the place to which he was conducted, he thought, "I must have evoked the suspicion of a powerful man, and he will throw me into prison." Full of apprehension he made his escape before he had seen his father.2
Then the father sent messengers out after his son, who was caught and brought back in spite of his cries and lamentations. Thereupon the father ordered his servants to deal tenderly with his son, and he appointed a laborer of his son's rank and education to employ the lad as a helpmate on the estate. And the son was pleased with his new situation.3
From the window of his palace the father watched the boy, and when he saw that he was honest and industrious, he promoted him higher and higher.4
After some time, he summoned his son and called together all his servants, and made the secret known to them. Then the poor man was exceedingly glad and he was full of joy at meeting his father.5
Little by little must the minds of men be trained for higher truths.6
There was a bhikkhu who had great difficulty in keeping his senses and passions under control; so, resolving to leave the Order, he came to the Blessed One to ask him for a release from the vows. And the Blessed One said to the bhikkhu:1
"Take heed, my son, lest thou fall a prey to the passions of thy misguided heart. For I see that in former existences, thou hast suffered much from the evil consequences of lust, and unless thou learnest to conquer thy sensual desire, thou wilt in this life be ruined through thy folly.2
"Listen to a story of another existence of thine, as a fish.3
"The fish could be seen swimming lustily in the river, playing with his mate. She, moving in front, suddenly perceived the meshes of a net, and slipping around escaped the danger; but he, blinded by love, shot eagerly after her and fell straight into the mouth of the net. The fisherman pulled the net up, and the fish, who complained bitterly of his sad fate, saying, 'this indeed is the bitter fruit of my folly,' would surely have died if the Bodhisatta had not chanced to come by, and, understanding the language of the fish, took pity on him. He bought the poor creature and said to him: 'My good fish, had I not caught sight of thee this day, thou wouldst have lost thy life. I shall save thee, but henceforth avoid the evil of lust.' With these words he threw the fish into the water4
"Make the best of the time of grace that is offered to thee in thy present existence, and fear the dart of passion which, if thou guard not thy senses, will lead thee to destruction."5
A tailor who used to make robes for the brotherhood was wont to cheat his customers, and thus prided himself on being smarter than other men. But once, on entering upon an important business transaction with a stranger, he found his master in fraudulent practices, and suffered a heavy loss.1
And the Blessed One said: "This is not an isolated incident in the greedy tailor's fate; in other incarnations he suffered similar losses, and by trying to dupe others ultimately ruined himself.2
"This same greedy character lived many generations ago as a crane near a pond, and when the dry season set in he said to the fishes with a bland voice: 'Are you not anxious for your future welfare? There is at present very little water and still less food in this pond. What will you do should the whole pond become dry, in this drought?'3
'Yes, indeed' said the fishes, 'what should we do?'4
"Replied the crane: 'I know a fine, large lake, which never becomes dry. Would you not like me to carry you there in my beak?' When the fishes began to distrust the honesty of the crane, he proposed to have one of them sent over to the lake to see it; and a big carp at last decided to take the risk for the sake of the others, and the crane carried him to a beautiful lake and brought him back in safety. Then all doubt vanished, and the fishes gained confidence in the crane, and now the crane took them one by one out of the pond and devoured them on a big varana-tree.5
"There was also a lobster in the pond, and when it listed the crane to eat him too, he said: 'I have taken all the fishes away and put them in a fine, large lake. Come along. I shall take thee, too!'6
'But how wilt thou hold me to carry me along?' asked the lobster.7
'I shall take hold of thee with my beak,' said the crane.8
'Thou wilt let me fall if thou carry me like that. I will not go with thee!' replied the lobster.9
'Thou needst not fear,' rejoined the crane; 'I shall hold thee quite tight all the way.'10
"Then said the lobster to himself: 'If this crane once gets hold of a fish, he will certainly never let him go in a lake! Now if he should really put me into the lake it would be splendid; but if he does not, then I will cut his throat and kill him!' So he said to the crane: 'Look here, friend, thou wilt not be able to hold me tight enough; but we lobsters have a famous grip. If thou wilt let me catch hold of thee round the neck with my claws, I shall be glad to go with thee.'11
"The crane did not see that the lobster was trying to outwit him, and agreed. So the lobster caught hold of his neck with his claws as securely as with a pair of blacksmith's pincers, and called out: 'Ready, ready, go!'12
"The crane took him and showed him the lake, and then turned off toward the varana-tree. 'My dear uncle!' cried the lobster, 'The lake lies that way, but thou art taking me this other way.'13
"Answered the crane: 'Thinkest thou so? Am I thy dear uncle? Thou meanest me to understand, I suppose, that I am thy slave, who has to lift thee up and carry thee about with him, where thou pleasest! Now cast thine eye upon that heap of fish-bones at the root of yonder varana-tree. Just as I have eaten those fish, every one of them, just so will I devour thee also!'14
'Ah! those fishes got eaten through their own stupidity,' answered the lobster, 'but I am not going to let thee kill me. On the contrary, it is thou that I am going to destroy. For thou, in thy folly, hast not seen that I haveoutwitted thee. If we die, we both die together; for I will cut off this head of thine and cast it to the ground!' So saying, he gave the crane's neck a pinch with his claws as with a vise.15
"Then gasping, and with tears trickling from his eyes, and trembling with the fear of death, the crane besought the lobster, saying: 'O, my Lord! Indeed I did not intend to eat thee. Grant me my life!'16
'Very well! fly down and put me into the lake,' replied the lobster.17
"And the crane turned round and stepped down into the lake, to place the lobster on the mud at its edge. Then the lobster cut the crane's neck through as clean as one would cut a lotus-stalk with a hunting-knife, and then entered the water!"18
When the Teacher had finished this discourse, he added: "Not now only was this man outwitted in this way, but in other existences, too, by his own intrigues."19
There was a rich man who used to invite all the Brahmans of the neighborhood to his house, and, giving them rich gifts, offered great sacrifices to the gods.1
And the Blessed One said: "If a man each month repeat a thousand sacrifices and give offerings without ceasing, he is not equal to him who but for one moment fixes his mind upon righteousness."2
The world-honored Buddha continued: "There are four kinds of offering: first, when the gifts are large and the merit small; secondly, when the gifts are small and the merit small; thirdly, when the gifts are small and the meritlarge; and fourthly, when the gifts are large and the merit is also large.3
"The first is the case of the deluded man who takes away life for the purpose of sacrificing to the gods, accompanied by carousing and feasting. Here the gifts are great, but the merit is small indeed.4
"The gifts are small and the merit is also small, when from covetousness and an evil heart a man keeps to himself a part of that which he intends to offer.5
"The merit is great, however, while the gift is small, when a man makes his offering from love and with a desire to grow in wisdom and in kindness.6
"Lastly, the gift is large and the merit is large, when a wealthy man, in an unselfish spirit and with the wisdom of a Buddha, gives donations and founds institutions for the best of mankind to enlighten the minds of his fellow-men and to administer unto their needs."7
There was a certain Brahman in Kosambī, a wrangler and well versed in the Vedas. As he found no one whom he regarded his equal in debate he used to carry a lighted torch in his hand, and when asked for the reason of his strange conduct, he replied: "The world is so dark that I carry this torch to light it up, as far as I can."1
A samana sitting in the market-place heard these words and said: "My friend, if thine eyes are blind to the sight of the omnipresent light of the day, do not call the world dark. Thy torch adds nothing to the glory of the sun and thy intention to illumine the minds of others is as futile as it is arrogant."2
Whereupon the Brahman asked: "Where is the sun of which thou speakest?" And the samana replied: "The wisdom of the Tathāgata is the sun of the mind. His radiancy is glorious by day and night, and he whose faith is strong will not lack light on the path to Nirvāna where he will inherit bliss everlasting."3
While the Buddha was preaching his doctrine for the conversion of the world in the neighborhood of Savatthi, a man of great wealth who suffered from many ailmemts came to him with clasped hands and said: "World-honored Buddha, pardon me for my want of respect in not saluting thee as I ought, but I suffer greatly from obesity, excessive drowsiness, and other complaints, so that I cannot move without pain."1
The Tathāgata, seeing the luxuries with which the man was surrounded asked him: "Hast thou a desire to know the cause of thy ailments?" And when the wealthy man expressed his willingness to learn, the Blessed One said: "There are five things which produce the condition of which thou complainest: opulent dinners, love of sleep, hankering after pleasure, thoughtlessness, and lack of occupation. Exercise self-control at thy meals, and take upon thyself some duties that will exercise thy abilities and make thee useful to thy fellow-men. In following this advice thou wilt prolong thy life."2
The rich man remembered the words of the Buddha and after some time having recovered his lightness of body and youthful buoyancy returned to the Worldhonored One and, coming afoot without horses and attendants, said to him:"Master, thou hast cured my bodily ailments; I come now to seek enlightenment of my mind."3
And the Blessed One said: "The worldling nourishes his body, but the wise man nourishes his mind. He who indulges in the satisfaction of his appetites works his own destruction; but he who walks in the path will have both the salvation from evil and a prolongation of life."4
Annabhāra, the slave of Sumana, having just cut the grass on the meadow, saw a samana with his bowl begging for food. Throwing down his bundle of grass he ran into the house and returned with the rice that had been provided for his own food.1
The samana ate the rice and gladdened him with words of religious comfort.1
The daughter of Sumana having observed the scene from a window called out: "Good! Annabhāra, good! Very good!"3
Sumana hearing these words inquired what she meant, and on being informed about Annabhāra's devotion and the words of comfort he had received from the samana, went to his slave and offered him money to divide the bliss of his offering.4
"My lord," said Annabhāra, "let me first ask the venerable man." And approaching the samana, he said: "My master has asked me to share with him the bliss of the offering I made thee of my allowance of rice. Is it right that I should divide it with him?"5
The samana replied in a parable. He said: "In a village of one hundred houses a single light was burning. Thena neighbor came with his lamp and lit it; and in this same way the light was communicated from house to house and the brightness in the village was increased. Thus the light of religion may be diffused without stinting him who communicates it. Let the bliss of thy offering also be diffused. Divide it."6
Annabhāra returned to his master's house and said to him: "I present thee, my lord, with a share of the bliss of my offering. Deign to accept it."7
Sumana accepted it and offered his slave a sum of money, but Annabhāra replied: "Not so, my lord; if I accept thy money it would appear as if I sold thee my share. Bliss cannot be sold; I beg thou wilt accept it as a gift."8
The master replied: "Brother Annabhāra, from this day forth thou shalt be free. Live with me as my friend and accept this present as a token of my respect."9
There was a rich Brahman, well advanced in years, who, unmindful of the impermanence of earthly things and anticipating a long life, had built himself a large house.1
The Buddha wondered why a man so near to death had built a mansion with so many apartments, and he sent Ānanda to the rich Brahman to preach to him the four noble truths and the eightfold path of salvation.2
The Brahman showed Ānanda his house and explained to him the purpose of its numerous chambers, but to the instruction of the Buddha's teachings he gave no heed.3
Ānanda said: "It is the habit of fools to say, 'I have children and wealth.' He who says so is not even masterof himself; how can he claim possession of children, riches, and servants? Many are the anxieties of the worldly, but they know nothing of the changes of the future."4
Scarcely had Ānanda left, when the old man was stricken with apoplexy and fell dead. The Buddha said, for the instruction of those who were ready to learn: "A fool, though he live in the company of the wise, understands nothing of the true doctrine, as a spoon tastes not the flavor of the soup. He thinks of himself only, and unmindful of the advice of good counsellors is unable to deliver himself."5
There was a disciple of the Blessed One, full of energy and zeal for the truth, who, living under a vow to complete a meditation in solitude, flagged in a moment of weakness. He said to himself: "The Teacher said there are several kinds of men; I must belong to the lowest class and fear that in this birth there will be neither path nor fruit for me. What is the use of a forest life if I cannot by my constant endeavor attain the insight of meditation to which I have devoted myself?" And he left the solitude and returned to the Jetavana.1
When the brethren saw him they said to him: "Thou hast done wrong, O brother, after taking a vow, to give up the attempt of carrying it out;" and they took him to the Master.2
When the Blessed One saw them he said: "I see, O mendicants, that you have brought this brother here against his will. What has he done?"3
"Lord, this brother, having taken the vows of so sanctifying a faith, has abandoned the endeavor to accomplishthe aim of a member of the order, and has come back to us."4
Then the Teacher said to him: "Is it true that thou hast given up trying?"5
"It is true, O Blessed One!" was the reply.6
The Master said: "This present life of thine is a time of grace. If thou fail now to reach the happy state thou wilt have to suffer remorse in future existences. How is it, brother, that thou hast proved so irresolute? Why, in former states of existence thou wert full of determination. By thy energy alone the men and bullocks of five hundred wagons obtained water in the sandy desert, and were saved. How is it that thou now givest up?"7
By these few words that brother was re-established in his resolution. But the others besought the Blessed One, saying: "Lord! Tell us how this was."8
"Listen, then, O mendicants!" said the Blessed One; and having thus excited their attention, he made manifest a thing concealed by change of birth.9
Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Kāsi, the Bodhisatta was born in a merchant's family; and when he grew up, he went about trafficking with five hundred carts.10
One day he arrived at a sandy desert many leagues across. The sand in that desert was so fine that when taken in the closed fist it could not be kept in the hand. After the sun had risen it became as hot as a mass of burning embers, so that no man could walk on it. Those, therefore, who had to travel over it took wood, and water, and oil, and rice in their carts, and traveled during the night. And at daybreak they formed an encampment and spread an awning over it, and, taking their meals early, they passed the day lying in the shade. At sunset they supped, and when the ground had become cool they yoked their oxen and went on. The traveling was like a voyage overthe sea: a desert-pilot had to be chosen, and he brought the caravan safe to the other side by his knowledge of the stars.11
Thus the merchant of our story traversed the desert. And when he had passed over fifty-nine leagues he thought, "Now, in one more night we shall get out of the sand," and after supper he directed the wagons to be yoked, and so set out. The pilot had cushions arranged on the foremost cart and lay down, looking at the stars and directing the men where to drive. But worn out by want of rest during the long march, he fell asleep, and did not perceive that the oxen had turned round and taken the same road by which they had come.12
The oxen went on the whole night through. Towards dawn the pilot woke up, and, observing the stars, called out: "Stop the wagons, stop the wagons!" The day broke just as they stopped and were drawing up the carts in a line. Then the men cried out: "Why this is the very encampment we left yesterday! We have but little wood left and our water is all gone! We are lost!" And unyoking the oxen and spreading the canopy over their heads, they lay down in despondency, each one under his wagon. But the Bodhisatta said to himself, "If I lose heart, all these will perish," and walked about while the morning was yet cool. On seeing a tuft of kusa-grass, he thought: "This could have grown only by soaking up some water which must be beneath it."13
And he made them bring a spade and dig in that spot. And they dug sixty cubits deep. And when they had got thus far, the spade of the diggers struck on a rock; and as soon as it struck, they all gave up in despair. But the Bodhisatta thought, "There must be water under that rock," and descending into the well he got upon the stone, and stooping down applied his ear to it and tested the sound of it. He heard the sound of water gurgling beneath,and when he got out he called his page. "My lad, if thou givest up now, we shall all be lost. Do not lose heart. Take this iron hammer, and go down into the pit, and give the rock a good blow."14
The lad obeyed, and though they all stood by in despair, he went down full of determination and struck at the stone. The rock split in two and fell below, so that it no longer blocked the stream, and water rose till its depth from the bottom to the brim of the well was equal to the height of a palm-tree. And they all drank of the water, and bathed in it. Then they cooked rice and ate it, and fed their oxen with it. And when the sun set, they put a flag in the well, and went to the place appointed. There they sold their merchandise at a good profit and returned to their home, and when they died they passed away according to their deeds. And the Bodhisatta gave gifts and did other virtuous acts, and he also passed away according to his deeds.15
After the Teacher had told the story he formed the connection by saying in conclusion, "The caravanleader was the Bodhisatta, the future Buddha; the page who at that time despaired not, but broke the stone, and gave water to the multitude, was this brother without perseverance; and the other men were attendants on the Buddha."16