菩薩本緣經

UPPER FASCICLE

1/ The Vīlama Chapter:

A person of narrow intent,

Though constantly practicing giving,

If the recipients are not pure,

Will thereby obtain only a small recompense.

But when practicing giving,

Though the field of merit is impure,

If one gives rise to a vast mind,

The recompense will be immeasurable.

Thus have I heard: In the distant past, there was a king named Sovereign of the Earth, whose nature was violent and cruel and who delighted in warfare.

At that time, eighty thousand kings of smaller kingdoms, wearing jeweled crowns upon their heads, regularly came to his court to pay homage and render service.

The king often spoke harsh words, committed unwholesome deeds, and unlawfully invaded other countries. He had a brahmin who served as his chief minister. This brahmin cultivated pure conduct, was renowned far and wide for his wisdom, spoke gently and never coarsely or cruelly, and swiftly brought every undertaking to completion. His bearing was dignified, and everyone respected him. He had thoroughly studied all four Vedas and comprehended all the brahmanical scriptures and treatises.

When the chief minister had grown old, he fell ill and, before long, suddenly passed away. When the king and the people heard this news, they were all grieved and mourned him without cease. The king constantly thought of him and spoke this verse to his ministers and subjects:

How can this vast realm

Go even one day without one to govern it?

Like a boat without a helmsman,

It drifts here and there with the wind.

The venerable one whom I revered,

Who had perfected the renunciant life,

Whose mouth spoke gentle words

And who always benefited the world—

Why has he now passed away,

Causing my heart such sorrow?

It is as though, without a bright lamp,

I had entered a darkened room.

At that time, the officials addressed the king:

“May the great king not grieve so deeply or suppose that no one remains in the kingdom capable of serving as chief minister. Although that brahmin has passed away, his son, despite his youth, is intelligent and discerning. His handsome countenance is unequaled, and his gentle speech delights everyone. He cultivates patience, his mind is always serene, and he is never arrogant or conceited. Learned and widely read, he thoroughly understands every book. Like Brahmā, he always brings benefit to everyone. His name is Vīlama. We beseech the great king to command him to assume the office of chief minister.”

The king replied:

“If he has a son such as you describe, why have I never heard of him before?”

The officials answered:

“Great King, that brahmin’s son constantly seeks the true Dharma, keeps far from false teachings, and cherishes and upholds his own tradition. He has never displayed his abilities for others to know.”

The king said:

“If he possesses such ability, how could he dare to act contrary to the family tradition of his forebears? One who does not speak in accordance with the former vocation cannot be called a seeker of the true Dharma. This man’s late father formerly assisted me in governing the kingdom according to the true Dharma, causing us to abandon evil deeds. Although he managed the affairs of state in this way, he never violated the brahmanical teachings. If this man is truly as you say, summon him here at once.”

Obeying the command, the ministers dispatched an envoy to summon Vīlama before the king.

Upon arriving, Vīlama respectfully knelt and said:

“Great King, why have I been granted an audience today?”

The king replied:

“Do you not know? Because my merit is meager, your father, my chief minister, has unfortunately passed away. The entire kingdom is reeling, and the whole populace is distressed. For this reason, I am filled with anxiety and sorrow.”

Vīlama addressed the king:

“Those who are loved must be parted from; this does not befall the king alone, but is the universal characteristic of conditioned dharmas. Has the great king never heard that among devas, nāgas, ghosts, spirits, asuras, gandharvas, garuḍas, kiṃnaras, mahoragas, śramaṇas, and brahmins, from the old to the young, no one escapes death? Great King, all sentient beings are certain to meet this fate.

Great King, just as the nature of fire is to burn all material things, so too does the law of impermanence continually destroy all sentient beings. You should understand that aging, illness, and death slay sentient beings just as a fruit tree standing at a crossroads is constantly plucked and broken by passersby. Great King, just as a mighty river flows ceaselessly onward, so too do the lives of sentient beings pass away.

Great King, just as the golden-winged garuḍa descends into the nāga palace to seize and devour nāgas, and just as a lion roams at will among a herd of deer, so is death to all sentient beings wandering through the three realms. Great King, such being the case, no one can escape death through intimacy, wealth, supplication, gifts, or enticement with gentle words. Nor can one employ the might of the four divisions of an army to oppress, subdue, repel, or scatter it.

Thus, death is ever present; it is the abiding law for sentient beings. Therefore, Great King, you should not grieve over this matter.”

Hearing this, the king rejoiced and said to his ministers:

“How extraordinary! Although this youth is still young, he speaks the words of seasoned elders.”

The king said to Vīlama:

“Do you know that your father always loved and protected me, regarding me as his own infant son? Therefore, remembering the depth of his kindness, I grieve without cease. Now I am weak and without support; as you have said, I truly understand nothing. If you perceive matters in this way, please have compassion and consider my plight. I beseech you to inherit your father’s work, and with utmost sincerity I shall take refuge in you for the rest of my life.”

Vīlama thought, “Why have I encountered such a difficult matter today? Having heard this, I do not know what I should do! It is like a feeble person compelled to cross a lofty mountain on foot....

If I now continue my father’s work and manage the affairs of state, although I may bring many benefits to the people, the wholly wholesome qualities I cultivate will certainly diminish. A king who governs a country must accord with the wishes of the people, yet the task also entails countless transgressions: imposing punishments, seizing others’ property, invading other lands, expelling some and pursuing others. I would have to obey the king’s commands and perform such deeds.

If I act according to the proper Dharma, I shall suffer harm. If I now wish to cultivate wholesome qualities, I shall be unable to fulfill the king’s hopes. But if I follow the king’s laws, my wholesome qualities will diminish day by day.”

While Vīlama was pondering in this way, the king asked:

“Great Master, what are you contemplating?”

Vīlama replied:

“I am considering what means should be employed so that both the great king and the kingdom may benefit and not decline. I am also reflecting upon the merits and transgressions of the king and the people of the realm. One who first does good and afterward commits evil is not worthy of being called a human being. Great King, it is better to speak truthfully and incur resentment than to flatter others in order to gain intimacy. It is better to proclaim the true Dharma and fall into hell than to speak flattering words and be reborn in heaven. Great King, I am contemplating and deliberating upon this matter. You should know that whoever understands this principle can bring benefit to all sentient beings.”

Hearing these words, the king rejoiced and declared:

“Great Master, if we can put this Dharma into practice, then our cultivation of wholesome qualities will not diminish.”

Thereupon, at the king’s command, Vīlama inherited his late father’s work and became chief minister. He then gradually guided and transformed the king and the eighty-four thousand lesser kings, causing them all to cultivate and uphold the true Dharma. He also caused the people of the kingdom to keep far from evil deeds and not crave the five sensual pleasures.

At that time, the king cultivated immeasurable wholesome qualities and became no different from Vīlama.

When Virama saw that the king had made such progress, he was greatly delighted and thought: “I have taken part in governing the kingdom, yet my wholesome Dharma has not declined... What means should I employ to encourage sentient beings and cause them to give rise to right faith in the Buddha’s path? Yet the capacities and dispositions of sentient beings are not the same.

Some delight in hearing the Dharma; some crave wealth and possessions; some are immersed in the five defilements; some favor affectionate words; some are restless and enjoy associating with many people; some wish to follow the conduct of virtuous people; and some crave sensual enjoyment without ever being satisfied. Fortunately, I possess wisdom and skillful means by which to gather in all sentient beings and lead them to abide on the path to unsurpassed perfect enlightenment.

I must also employ other skillful means. For example, when the sun rises, it shines everywhere, yet it cannot enable a blind person to see. In the same way, although I can teach the unsurpassed path to all sentient beings, I cannot benefit those who lack the eye of wisdom.

I should first provide them fully with clothing and food according to their needs. After their minds have become joyful, I shall teach them the Dharma and cause them to believe and accept it.”

Having reflected in this way, Virama went to the king and said:

“Your servant has already performed innumerable wholesome deeds for sentient beings. These comprise three things: cultivating the true Dharma, acquiring wealth as desired, and bringing peace and happiness to the entire kingdom so that there is no enmity. The true Dharma flourishes like the radiant moon appearing in the sky, and our good repute resounds throughout the ten directions. I beseech Your Majesty to permit your servant to cultivate the unsurpassed true Dharma.”

When the king heard this, fear and joy mingled within him, and the hairs on his body stood on end. He said:

“Great Master, what do you wish to do? Please instruct me.”

Virama said:

“I now wish to hold great assemblies of giving. Please provide the necessities required for these assemblies and select a spacious place outside the city where a hall for giving may be erected. I beseech Your Majesty to speak skillful words of exhortation so that those who serve may not become angry with me.”

The king and his attendants were all joyful and respectful. They fully prepared the necessary food and drink, beat the drum, and proclaimed throughout the four quarters: Whoever needs clothing, food, bedding, medicine, elephants, horses, vehicles, incense, flowers, jeweled necklaces, powdered incense, fragrant ointments, houses, or lamps should gather here, and all shall be provided. There was a verse:

For the sake of benefiting

The people of the world,

Whatever sentient beings

May require,

Even my own body—

My hands, feet, flesh, and blood—

When I relinquish them,

I regard them as grass and refuse.

If you receive these gifts

At the time of the offering,

Then all of you should

Contemplate the wholesome Dharma.

Having received the offerings,

You should not become greedy,

But should use the wholesome Dharma

To benefit everyone.

If I followed my own ability,

I could swiftly attain nirvana;

Yet for the sake of sentient beings

Who wander through birth and death,

I shall therefore remain forever

And not enter nirvana.

Innumerable sentient beings

Are imprisoned by aging and death;

I wish to rescue them

And free them forever.

At that time, the great bodhisattva Virama held an assembly of giving and made provisions for innumerable hundreds of thousands of myriads of kotis of sentient beings, allowing them freely to enjoy in full whatever they needed. Taking this occasion, he taught the Dharma:

“Venerable ones, I have now forgotten myself in order to serve you. Since you have received all these offerings and wish to obtain benefit for yourselves, you should contemplate the true Dharma. When you are about to die, although you may have parents, wife, children, relatives, and immeasurable wealth, none of these can prolong your life by even a single moment. When life ends, you alone must pass into another world. Your parents, wife, children, relatives, and possessions cannot accompany you. Only your karmic deeds will never leave you.”

Virama spoke this verse to the assembly:

For the sake of parents and relatives,

One commits wicked deeds;

But when one dies and falls into the three evil destinies,

No one follows at all.

Even in this present life,

When one is afflicted by suffering,

Though one has parents and elder brothers,

They cannot help in the slightest.

How much less in a future life—

How could they take one’s place?

Therefore, one should be single-minded

And never do evil for another’s sake.

“Venerable ones, at present you are secure and free from illness. You have not yet been stricken by the infirmities of old age, diseases of the lungs, asthma, or headaches. You should therefore diligently cultivate wholesome dharmas.”

Thus did the great bodhisattva Virama guide sentient beings by means of two methods of gathering them in: material gifts and the Dharma. For a full ninety days, throughout the summer, he gave according to their wishes eighty thousand golden trays filled with silver grain; eighty thousand young cattle; and eighty thousand milk cows together with their calves, each cow yielding one dou of milk every day, its entire body covered with white cloth and adorned with gold-covered horns and silver-covered hooves.

He gave eighty thousand beautiful maidens adorned with gold, precious objects, and jeweled necklaces. Each maiden was accompanied by a maidservant to attend upon her, adding to her dignity. Each maiden had a bed made of gold, silver, lapis lazuli, crystal, ivory, or fragrant wood, upon which various kinds of soft cushions were spread.

He also gave eighty thousand ox carts, eighty thousand elephants and horses, and granaries filled with grain, money, wealth, pearls, and jewels beyond reckoning. After arranging all these things, Virama thought: “Is anything still lacking among these gifts?”

The bodhisattva said to the brahmins:

“Please understand that it is for your sake that I have gathered all these kinds of gold and silver, women, vehicles, elephants, horses, granaries, pearls, and jewels. I ask you to remain silent and refrain from speaking for a few moments so that you may hear my vow. Afterward, you may freely receive your respective shares and depart.”

When all the brahmins had become silent, the bodhisattva, for the sake of sentient beings, admonished his own mind: “O mind! Your actions constantly seek reward, like a monkey entering a dense forest.” The bodhisattva then spoke this verse:

Now, this giving of mine

Is wholly for all sentient beings.

In giving in this manner,

I truly seek no reward;

Through giving, I wish only that sentient beings

May all receive peace and happiness.

Because you crave what is wholesome,

You remain long in the heavens;

Because you crave the doing of evil,

You fall and remain long in the hells.

Again, because of craving and attachment,

One becomes a great donor such as this;

Or one may be a person in poverty

Who nevertheless practices extensive giving.

At times one possesses abundant wealth,

Yet is greedy and miserly;

Precisely because of that wealth,

One casts oneself into poverty and misery.

Again, one who lives heedlessly

Remains long within birth and death,

Revolving endlessly in samsara

Like a wheel rolling upon the ground.

For a long time until now,

I have respectfully obeyed and served you;

Although I have acted in this way,

It was not to bring you pleasure.

Now you must abide

In unmoving tranquility.

This act of giving of mine

Is for all sentient beings.

The bodhisattva Virama held a water basin for ritual washing in his right hand. With a mind of great loving-kindness and compassion, he tenderly regarded all kinds of sentient beings. Sobbing and shedding tears, he thought: “I practice giving not in pursuit of becoming Brahma, Mahesvara, or Sakra Devendra.

Even if there were a being superior to those three, I would not seek that state either. I seek only to attain Buddhahood so that I may benefit sentient beings and eliminate all afflictions. I should now relinquish my own body, my wife and children, male and female servants, attendants, jewels, and houses, seeking only liberation and not continued birth and death.

I give gentle women with the vow that sentient beings in future lives may completely eliminate sensual desire. I give the five kinds of food made from cow’s milk with the vow that sentient beings in future lives may always bestow upon others the flavors of the Dharma. I give such articles of bedding with the vow that all sentient beings in future lives may assuredly sit upon the Tathagata’s Vajra Seat.

I give all kinds of pearls and jewels with the vow that all sentient beings in future lives may assuredly obtain the Tathagata’s precious seven factors of enlightenment.”

Having thought thus, the bodhisattva began with the highest seat and poured the cleansing water in order, but the water would not flow, just as a miser refuses to practice generosity.

The bodhisattva reflected: “Why does this cleansing water not flow down? Could it be that my vow in a future life will not be fulfilled? What has obstructed it and prevented the water from flowing? Could it be that there is no greatly virtuous one in this assembly? Is there no one worthy to receive my offerings? Or is my generosity not all-embracing? Or are my attendants not joyful? Could there be killing in this assembly? I know with certainty that nothing here is harming sentient beings. The generosity I now practice is timely, and I make no distinction between those worthy and unworthy to receive it. Why, then, does the water not flow when poured?”

At that time, the bodhisattva saw that the brahmins had become greedy and jealous over the women. Anger arose in them, and they contended with one another, saying: “Leave that beautiful maiden to me; you must not take her.” “Leave that strong, well-fed ox to me; you must not take it.” They disputed in the same way over the gold, silver, trays of grain, and every kind of precious treasure.

Seeing the brahmins greedily fighting over the objects and growing angry with one another, the bodhisattva thought: “Because these recipients are overcome by greed, anger, and delusion, their minds are deranged, and they are truly unfit to receive these gifts. Making offerings in this way is like a cart whose axle is broken and whose spokes and rims are damaged—it cannot carry anything. So it is with me: the seed is excellent, but the field is barren and poor.

Because the minds of these recipients are unwholesome, the water refuses to flow when poured. Although I now conduct this act of generosity, no one has instructed me to arouse the aspiration to seek perfect enlightenment; I have aroused it myself for the sake of all sentient beings. I shall now put it to the test: if I truly cherish all sentient beings, then let the water flow down.” Having thought this, the bodhisattva held the vessel in his left hand and poured, and the water immediately flowed down onto his right hand.

When the brahmins saw this, they were all overcome with shame. They relinquished the objects given to them and cultivated the holy life. Together they bowed at the bodhisattva’s feet and implored him to become their preceptor. Out of compassion for them, the bodhisattva consented and taught them to cultivate the four immeasurable states of mind. Through these causes and conditions, after death they were all reborn in the Brahma heaven, and immeasurable sentient beings were inspired to seek the fruit of unsurpassed perfect enlightenment.

When a great bodhisattva practices the perfection of generosity, he does not regard one recipient as a field of merit and another as not a field of merit, nor does he discriminate between those close to him and those who are distant. Therefore, when bodhisattvas give, whether much or little, fine or poor, they should offer it with a single pure mind and must not harbor a mind that looks down upon the recipient.

2. Chapter on Giving Everything:

All bodhisattvas,

For the benefit of sentient beings,

Relinquish even their own lives,

Regarding them as grass or foul refuse.

Thus have I heard:

—In the past, there was a king named Giver of Everything. When he had just been born, he turned toward his parents and said: “For the sake of all the immeasurable sentient beings, I am able to relinquish even my precious body and life, much less my other jewels and treasures.”

For this reason, his parents cherished their son greatly and named him Giver of Everything. From the time of his birth, as his body grew, so too did his practice of generosity, just as the new moon gradually waxes until the fifteenth day. Not long afterward, his royal father passed away, and the prince succeeded to his father’s great estate.

He governed the country in accordance with the Dharma and instructed the people without oppressing them. He guarded his own domain and did not interfere in the affairs of others, nor did he invade other countries. If others came to cause disturbances, he punished them but did not detain them.

He aided the poor and provided them with material support. He respectfully honored śramanas, brahmins, and others. He regularly gave food to sentient beings with his own purified hands and continually proclaimed with his own mouth: “Give this person food.

Give this person clothing. Give this person wealth and precious objects. Cherish this person.

Care for this person.”

At that time, the bodhisattva continually practiced complete generosity in this way. When the people of neighboring countries heard of the king’s virtues, they frequently came to submit themselves to him. Consequently, his country became increasingly populous, until scarcely any empty space remained.

It was like floodwaters pouring down from a mountaintop and filling every stream, ravine, cave, hollow, and abyss. It was also like the tides that rise every half-month: the people of other countries who came to submit themselves to his realm were just as numerous. As the populations of the other countries gradually diminished, their rulers became enraged and conferred together about launching a punitive expedition.

After deliberating, they assembled the four divisions of their armies and marched together toward the bodhisattva’s country. At that time, the official guarding the frontier returned from afar and reported to the king:

—The hostile neighboring country has invaded like a violent gale, black winds, and torrential rain.

The king said:

—You ministers must not disturb my mind.

The king then spoke this verse:

The reason the neighboring kingdom

Has come to attack my country

Is precisely because it desires

My people, treasury, and jewels.

How joyful! How excellent!

They should be given to them.

I should relinquish everything,

Renounce the household life, and train in the Way.

There are many kings

Who, because of the five desires,

Seize the people’s possessions

And hoard them without satisfaction.

Know that such kings,

After they pass away,

Will fall into the hells,

Among animals, or among hungry ghosts.

Therefore, I must not now harm sentient beings or seize their possessions for the sake of my own body. I shall depart of my own accord.

The chief ministers and the people together addressed the king:

—We beseech Your Majesty not to leave. We ourselves can resist this enemy. Behold: today we shall employ the five divisions of the army, fully equipped with swords and spears, and we shall certainly sweep away all the bandits, just as a violent wind disperses every cloud and rainstorm.

The king replied:

—Alas, ministers! I have long known that you cherish, honor, and protect me. I also know that your courage surpasses that of others and that your military skills, strategies, and plans are unequaled.

Yet the enemy king has undertaken this deed not because of you, but because of me. If they come without harming you, why should you give rise to such evil intentions? I have long understood this matter: the body of the five skandhas is a target for arrows.

Do you not know that I have long told you that bodhisattvas always cherish sentient beings as they would an only child? You must not harbor anger or harmful intent toward other sentient beings, for you should know with certainty that anger and harmful intent will cause you to fall into hell. Therefore, you must single-mindedly cultivate goodness.

While the bodhisattva was teaching in this way, the enemy army approached from afar, raising deafening battle cries. Hearing the clamor, the king asked his ministers:

—What is that sound?

The ministers were all filled with sorrow and wept bitterly as they reported to the king:

—The evil bandits could not be stopped and have slaughtered many people. Just as a violent hailstorm destroys the five kinds of grain, as a raging fire burns up dry grass, as a fierce tempest topples great trees, and as a lion slaughters birds and beasts, so too are the hostile bandits slaughtering the people.

At that time, the ministers did not heed the king’s instruction. They dispersed on their own and equipped the four divisions of the army to fight against the enemy forces. But because the army had no commander, it was driven back and routed. So many soldiers were killed that they could not be counted.

The king then ascended a tower and said:

—Because evil desires cause people to commit evil deeds. Thus, desires are like corpses, latrines, and filthy excrement; why should one commit evil merely for the sake of desire? Fools, because they are attached to kingdoms, give rise to contentious thoughts, like a flock of birds fighting over a piece of flesh. These beings always have the enemies of aging, sickness, and death. Why do they not carefully contemplate these enemies themselves, but instead only compete with others?

While King Sarvadāna was reflecting on this matter, the king of the enemy country had already entered the palace. The king therefore followed a water conduit and fled into the deep forest; upon reaching a dense woodland, he escaped the enemy. That place was pure and tranquil, with innumerable trees bearing all kinds of flowers and fruits. The water was clear, cool, gentle, and sweet, endowed with the eight qualities. There were also many kinds of waterfowl, wild geese, birds, and beasts. Seeing this, the king rejoiced greatly and said:

—Now I have truly escaped the house of faults and suffering. Countless beings are constantly oppressed and tormented by aging, sickness, and death. Now that I have reached this pure, peaceful, and blissful place, my ease is beyond description. This forest is the dwelling place of bodhisattvas who cultivate loving-kindness and compassion; it is also a strong citadel for those who vanquish the four kinds of māras. My body and mind have become pure, cleansed of all defilements. Keeping company with the deer, my body and mind grow ever more peaceful and joyful, and I experience the utmost ease and delight.

After the hostile king had seized that country, he issued a proclamation ordering a search for the former king. Whoever found King Sarvadāna and either killed him or bound him and brought him back would be richly rewarded and supplied with whatever goods he requested. This was because the former king had always praised himself for cultivating the true Dharma and had denounced them as tyrannical evildoers. Therefore, the new king now wished to meet him and show him the outcome of his practice of virtue.

In another distant region, there lived an impoverished and haggard brahmin who survived by begging. One day, he became entangled in an affair with the authorities and had no one upon whom to rely. Hearing of a king renowned for delighting in generosity, he left his own country and journeyed toward the king’s realm to make a request. Along the way, hungry, thirsty, and exhausted, he paused to rest in the forest and lamented to himself:

—This tranquil place is the dwelling of sages, or perhaps the abode of desireless seers and those seeking liberation, who have renounced food and drink, keep no servants, ride in no carriages, have few desires and know contentment, and subsist on dried fruits, roots, and medicinal herbs. The abode of those possessed of great compassion is also a place where all birds and beasts dwell without fear. The Lord of the Īśvara Heaven, wishing to make beings clearly see that family life is a place of faults and suffering, must have manifested this place.

When King Sarvadāna heard these words, he rejoiced greatly. He immediately went to meet the brahmin, greeted him, and invited him to his dwelling.

After the brahmin had taken his seat, King Sarvadāna offered him various delicious and sweet fruits. When he had finished eating, the king asked:

—Great Brahmin, this is a fearsome place without inhabitants. Only solitary practitioners of the Way dwell here in peaceful seclusion. Why have you come seeking this place?

The brahmin said:

—You should not ask me about this matter. You are a person of pure merit and virtue, far removed from the bonds of the prison of family life; why ask me about such affairs? You should not hear these defiled and evil words: “If anyone harms me, I shall harm him in return. If anyone takes what is mine, I shall take what is his, dissipating his wealth and separating him from his kin.” Because one lives as a householder, one must endure such things. Venerable sir, you have now severed every kind of bond and dwell peacefully in the mountain forest, like a noble and mighty elephant, always sovereign and unhindered.

The bodhisattva Sarvadāna said:

—You speak words that are pure and gentle. Why do you not remain here with me?

The brahmin replied:

—If you wish to hear it, I shall explain the matter clearly to you. My homeland is very far from here. Because of our scant merit, we have encountered a tyrannical king, like a lion amid a herd of deer, who never entertains even the slightest thought of loving-kindness or virtue.

The king of my country is as cruel as that savage beast. He has no compassion for the people; whether one is guilty or innocent, money settles everything. From the time of my birth until now, I have always been cautious and vigilant and have never violated even the smallest of the king’s laws.

Yet for no reason, the king arrested and imprisoned my entire family and ordered me to pay fifty gold coins. If I paid the full amount, my family would be pardoned; otherwise, they would not be released but would remain confined forever in a dark place and also be beaten. The deadline for paying the gold is approaching, but my family is destitute, and there is no way I can obtain enough.

I heard that this country had a king named Sarvadāna who delighted in generosity and aided the poor. His giving was unceasing, like trees in spring and summer continually producing flowers and fruits; like clear, cool water in a vast and desolate plain, from which thirsty travelers may drink as they please; and like a great assembly for the practice of generosity, which no one can obstruct. To speak only briefly: even if someone had a thousand heads, each head a thousand mouths, each mouth a thousand tongues, and each tongue could expound a thousand meanings, wishing to praise fully the merits and virtues of this king, he still could not exhaust them.

Such is the renown and virtue this king has attained. Now my family has encountered a cruel and evil king and has been charged without cause, and I do not know upon whom I can rely. Therefore, I wished to go before that king, explain my plight, and request what I need.

Yet in my heart I continually thought, “When shall I finally reach that place where I may ask freely for what I need? If that great king learns of my circumstances, takes pity on me, and provides me with some aid, whether much or little, my family may thereby preserve their lives. If I cannot obtain the full amount, I shall not be able to survive.”

When the bodhisattva heard this, his heart was so deeply shaken that he fainted and fell to the ground, like a great tree felled by a violent storm.

The brahmin immediately sprinkled water over the king’s body, reviving him, and asked:

—Great Seer, did your mind become sorrowful because you heard of my family’s suffering? You delight in the purity of this place and constantly give rise to compassion. Yet even though I myself have encountered such circumstances, I am not overcome with grief. Why, then, are you so deeply distressed?

The king replied:

—You wished to meet that king. You are truly unfortunate, for that upright man is no longer there. Even if you reach that place, you certainly will not meet him; therefore, I grieve.

The brahmin asked:

—Where has that king gone?

King Sarvadāna replied:

—A king from an enemy country came and seized his throne. He has now fled into the desolate forest, with only birds and beasts for companions.

Upon hearing this, the brahmin fainted. King Sarvadāna sprinkled him with cold water and revived him, then consoled him:

—Sit up, and grieve no more.

The brahmin said:

—Surely I must die today! Why? Because all my hopes have been shattered. How could I possibly rise again? Surely there is no way for me to live.

At that time, King Sarvadāna gave rise to loving-kindness and compassion and thought: “How pitiable is this practitioner of the Way, whose aspiration has borne no fruit! He is like hungry ghosts who glimpse clear water from afar, but when they arrive are unable to drink it; their hearts are so overwhelmed with grief that they fall to the ground. This brahmin is just the same!”

The king then called out:

—O Brahmin! Sit up! Sit up! I am King Sarvadāna. You wished before to see me, and now you have met me. Why do you still grieve?

The brahmin asked the king:

—You comfort me with kind words, but do you have any wealth?

The king replied:

—I have no wealth, but I have a way for you to obtain many jewels.

The brahmin said:

—What is that way?

The king replied:

—Previously, I heard that your enemy king is now in my country and has proclaimed before everyone: “Whoever captures King Giver of All, kills him or brings him here, shall receive from me a generous reward according to his request.” From the past until now, I have never taught another to commit evil; therefore, I will not tell you to take my head. You should merely bind me and bring me to that king. Why?

Apart from this body, I possess no wealth whatsoever. Yet I have mastery over this body, and fortunately it can be exchanged for property and provisions with which to aid you. Excellent!

Excellent! Brahmin, today I shall gain the benefit of exchanging this impermanent body for an enduring body. Ascetic, consider this: if my body were to die here and its corpse were abandoned in the wilderness, how would it differ from grass or wood?

Though birds and beasts might come and devour it, what benefit would there be? Now this body, destined to become ashes and earth, may be exchanged for pure gold and precious treasures. For what reason should I remain attached to it?

When the brahmin heard the king speak thus, he wept sorrowfully and said:

—How could such a thing be reasonable? Why? You are now the Unsurpassed Tamer, the father and mother of sentient beings, skilled in the work of protection, a great refuge to which all may turn, dispelling every fear of immeasurable beings.

Your deeds are magnanimous, and you seek no recompense. You constantly have compassion for all creatures and are a great, radiant flame illuminating the way through the darkness of the many circumstances of life. How could I destroy the true Dharma by binding you and delivering you to an enemy king?

Even if, by delivering you to that enemy king, I were to obtain immeasurable gold, silver, and jewels, with what kind of heart could I extend my hands to receive them? Were I to accept them, my hands would surely break off and fall to the ground. It would be like a son who, to sustain his own body, must eat the flesh of his parents.

Though such a man might preserve his life, how would he differ from one already dead? So too with me: if I were to bind the king and bring you to that evil man, though I might obtain much money to redeem my family, this is something I could never desire to do.

The king replied:

—How can such words be called careful deliberation? If you have compassion for me, I shall bind myself and follow behind you to that enemy. You will incur no wrongdoing, while I shall gain merit.

The brahmin said:

—I respectfully obey the king’s command and shall act according to your wish.

After speaking these words, the king bound himself, and together with the brahmin proceeded toward the city.

When the king’s former ministers and the people saw him, they were utterly astonished:

—Alas, brahmin! You are a rakshasa, not a brahmin! You truly are a rakshasa, not a brahmin! You are a cruel and violent demon who has deceitfully assumed the appearance of a brahmin. You have no compassion; you are indeed a demon of death who constantly seeks to kill people. Today you are bringing about the destruction of the king’s body, like an eclipse of the moon or seven suns shining at once and drying up the great ocean. Today the radiant lamp of the unsurpassed Dharma has been extinguished. Chandala, why have your hands not fallen to the ground? Why has your body not been buried deep within the earth? Once the lion king has died, who would be unable to harm him? Long ago, this King Giver of All relinquished his throne and kingdom,

his wife and children, his treasuries and jewels, and every kind of contention. He withdrew deep into the forest to cultivate the practice of tranquility. What enmity could he have toward you, that you would have the heart to bring him here?

All the people of the city prayed in unison:

—Great holy rishis and Four Great Heavenly Kings, protectors of the world! We beseech you to use your spiritual might to protect the king and preserve his life.

At that time, when the brahmin heard this, he became greatly frightened and hurriedly led King Giver of All before the other king, reporting:

—Great King, please know that I have captured King Giver of All.

Seeing this, the enemy king thought: “This king is in the prime of life. His bodily marks are beautiful, his appearance handsome, and his strength difficult to overcome. This brahmin, however, is old and feeble, his form withered, his countenance ugly, and he possesses neither strength nor stratagem. How, then, could he have captured that king and brought him here? Could he be Brahma King, the Lord of Self-Mastery, King Narayana, Shakra Devendra, or one of the Four Great Heavenly Kings?”

The enemy king asked:

—Who bound him for you?

The brahmin reported:

—I myself bound him.

The enemy king immediately rebuked him:

—Begone, fool!

The king then asked:

—Did you perhaps bind him through the power of incantations? Your body is weak, while that king’s body is majestic, like that of Shakra. How could you bind him? If someone claimed that he could blow Mount Sumeru into powder, could such a claim be believed?

The enemy king said to his ministers:

—You should know that this is a strange affair. Is it a dream or an illusion? Could my mind be deluded, causing me to see falsely? How could this old, emaciated monkey bind the body of Shakra? Ministers, you should know: how could fibers from a lotus stalk suspend Mount Sumeru? How could the body of a hare cross the great ocean? How could a mosquito’s proboscis pierce all the way to the ocean floor?

When the brahmin heard the enemy king speak thus, he uttered this verse:

Great King, you should now know:

I truly could not bind him.

This king, moved by compassion,

Came here himself for my sake.

It would be like binding the wind with a net;

Such a deed would truly be difficult.

Even Shakra, Lord of the Devas,

Could not accomplish it.

Then the enemy king addressed King Giver of All:

—Because you feared me, you fled into deep mountains, ravines, dense forests, and desolate plains. You knew only the pleasures of grasses, trees, birds, and beasts. With few desires and contentment, you drank spring water, ate fruit, and used grass as your mat, contending no longer with me. Yet the enmity in my heart has still not been extinguished. I also possess the authority to kill you. Why, then, have you come here?

King Giver of All smiled serenely, displaying not the slightest fear. At ease in body and mind like a lion king, he said:

—Do you not know that I am called King Giver of All? Wishing to fulfill my vow, I have come here today for three reasons:

First, because this brahmin earnestly seeks wealth. Second, because you previously proclaimed that whoever captured me and brought me to the royal palace would receive a generous reward. Third, because I previously vowed to give away everything; therefore, I have come here wishing to relinquish my very life.

You should now understand that if my body were to die and be buried in the earth, what benefit would there be? Previously, I fled into the mountains and forests not because I was afraid, but solely because, out of loving-kindness, I wished to protect the lives of sentient beings. Now you possess power, yet the enmity in your heart has not been extinguished.

Therefore, I have come here so that you may kill me as you please, thereby ending your resentment and attaining peace. Now quickly carry it out.

King Giver of All then spoke this verse:

Through the mire of hatred and anger,

One withers one’s own mind,

Like an ember beneath the ashes

That can burn all things.

Because of a wrathful mind,

At death one falls into hell,

Like one struck in the body

By a poisoned arrow and certain to die.

Whoever is angry with an enemy

Has a mind that knows no peace,

Like a person afflicted in the eyes

Who cannot see colors correctly.

This body consists of blood and flesh,

Bones, marrow, fat, and brain,

Feces, filth, phlegm, and spittle,

Wrapped outside in a thin skin.

This body is like a privy,

Without a master and without a self.

What enmity does it bear the king,

That anger should arise?

The bandits of birth, aging, sickness, and death

Forever encroaching upon the king’s body,

Why, toward them,

Do you instead conceive

The thought that they are dear friends?

My body consists of the four great elements;

The king’s body is likewise.

Whoever sees this and gives rise to anger

Is angry with himself.

Therefore, Great King, you should not give rise to anger! If you still harbor anger, then with the power you now possess, quickly slay me as you please, and reward the one who first found me. I am firmly resolved to relinquish my life without the slightest regret. Through this cause and condition, I vow that all sentient beings may practice the giving of everything and also succeed in relinquishing every kind of fame.

When King Enemy heard these words, he rose from his royal seat, respectfully joined his palms, bowed to King Giver of All, and said:

“I beseech the Great King to return to his own throne. You are truly a Dharma king, a lord who teaches and transforms beings rightly. I am merely a cruel and violent rakshasa.

You are a radiant lamp in the world and the father and mother of all under heaven. I am merely a great and vicious brigand in the world, devoted to evil ways and plundering the wealth of others. You are truly in accord with the Dharma, a bright mirror of the true Dharma.

I am not in accord with the Dharma, for I constantly deceive others. Just as a blind man cannot see his own stains, so too are we burdened with profound and grave offenses. This body of mine should long ago have been buried in the earth.

That I have remained alive until this day is, in truth, due to the Venerable One’s protection. I now relinquish this kingdom and offer my body to you.”

King Giver of All then expounded the Dharma to King Enemy, causing him to abide firmly in the Dharma. He bestowed many precious things upon the brahmin and helped him return to his native land.

When the Great Bodhisattva cultivated the practice of the paramita of generosity, he relinquished even his precious life in this manner; how much more readily did he relinquish external possessions.

3. Chapter on Prince Upholder of All:

The bodhisattva mahasattva,

For the sake of sentient beings,

Takes every precious thing

And gives it to all.

Thus have I heard concerning the past:

In a past age there was a king whose son was Crown Prince Upholder of All. Though still young, he was handsome in appearance, like the radiant full moon amid the myriad stars. People never tired of gazing upon him. His majestic bearing was as lofty as Mount Sumeru; his wisdom was as profound as the great ocean; his patience was as steadfast as the earth; and his mind was as unchanging as pure gold. He was always cherished by all devas and humans. Like pure water endowed with the eight qualities, his mind was always impartial toward the world. Like the sun and moon illuminating all things, he always fulfilled the wishes of sentient beings. It was as though one seeking aid had found a wish-fulfilling jewel: joy arose in the heart, like that of a loving mother beholding her beloved child.

At that time, the prince spoke this verse:

I freely employ

My immeasurable wealth,

Sharing it with sentient beings,

Like the sun shining everywhere.

When I see someone come to ask,

I never say no;

Even to those who seek nothing,

I likewise give gifts.

The faculties of the Bodhisattva prince were always serene, like those of Brahma. His wealth was abundant, like that of Vaishravana. The king provided every means for him to serve the people, just as a disciple serves his preceptor.

His heart always cherished all sentient beings, as parents remember their own children. He taught and transformed sentient beings in accordance with proper rites and decorum, like a great sage. The Bodhisattva prince had perfected such great virtues.

His heart always delighted in giving to all sentient beings. This sort of thing he gave to this person; that sort of thing he gave to another. If someone was afraid, he would comfort that person and help them cultivate the true Dharma, never abandoning or neglecting them.

The things he gave included gold, silver, lapis lazuli, crystal, pearls, giant clamshell, agate, coral, jade, as well as all kinds of implements, clothing, beds, blankets, vehicles, houses, land, rice fields, provisions, male and female servants, attendants, elephants, horses, cattle, and goats. He gave fully according to each person’s needs, just as rain from the heavens causes a hundred kinds of food-bearing plants to flourish.

The Bodhisattva gave wealth to others with his five fingers, like five dragons pouring forth a great rain. Thus the Bodhisattva prince continually gave without cease. If on some day no one came to ask, the Bodhisattva’s countenance would grow haggard and his heart would become sorrowful, like the newly risen moon obscured by clouds and mist, unable to emit its light.

At that time, the ministers all conceived resentment and hostility toward the prince.

Alas! Our king is foolish and devoid of wisdom.

He has wealth but does not enjoy it—what of the future?

He does not use it now, nor does he rebuke his son,

Who scatters the treasury among the idle.

When the treasury is exhausted, the people will disperse;

When the people disperse and enemies come, who will resist them?

If life is not safeguarded, it cannot be preserved;

When life is gone, who will remain in the kingdom?

All the great ministers and the people pondered this matter.

At that time, the prince’s royal father possessed a white elephant that could walk upon lotus flowers and whose strength could subdue hostile kingdoms. Because he possessed this precious elephant, the other kingdoms did not dare invade.

The enemy king of a neighboring country often thought, “What stratagem must I devise to obtain that precious white elephant?”

The king then sent a man disguised as an ascetic brahmin to approach the prince and ask for the white elephant.

Because the prince saw that the great ministers had become angry, he rode the white elephant outside the city for an excursion, intending to visit a forest. Along the road, he encountered the brahmin. Upon meeting the prince, the brahmin rejoiced greatly and pronounced this blessing: “May the prince succeed to the Great King’s exalted throne, live for an immeasurably long time, bring all other kingdoms into submission, and establish peace throughout the realm.” He then said:

“Prince, we are brahmins who dwell in a distant region. We have often heard that the prince delights in practicing generosity, and so we have come here from that place. Along the road, we suffered hunger, thirst, and many hardships. Prince, you should know that we observe the pure precepts, have recited and studied extensively, and have mastered all learning. The prince’s virtue pervades the ten directions. Whoever hears your virtue praised in other lands cherishes you. You always fulfill the wishes of sentient beings, and no one who comes to ask ever returns empty-handed. We beseech you to give us the white elephant upon which you are riding.”

Hearing this, the prince thought, “If I do not give it now, I shall violate my vow. Yet if I give it away, the elephant is not mine, but is an object greatly cherished by my royal father.” After reflecting in this way, he told the brahmins:

“If you require gold, silver, lapis lazuli, jewels, any kind of vehicle, or my male and female servants, I shall give them all to you. But this white elephant was never mine, and therefore I have no authority to give it away. Moreover, this is the elephant ridden by my royal father. How could I presume to give it away on my own authority? Calculate how much this white elephant is worth, and I shall give you an equivalent amount so that you will not remain impoverished. Why insist upon obtaining this elephant alone? You brahmins, out of compassion for sentient beings, have gone forth and undertaken the precepts. Having already renounced all material possessions, what use have you for this elephant? If you obtain it, it may instead bring you further hardship.”

The brahmins said:

“We have no use for money or precious jewels. We need only this elephant so that we may ride it into the mountains to seek beautiful flowers as offerings to the devas, thereby enabling sentient beings to be reborn in the heavenly realms or enter nirvana. The prince’s original vow is to benefit others. So too is mine; I seek only to benefit everyone.”

When the prince heard this, compassion arose in his heart. He immediately leapt down from the elephant’s back and reflected: “This elephant belongs to my royal father. If I now give it away, the ministers and all the people who witness this will surely become angry and suspicious. Yet since I wish to benefit everyone, why should I weigh such considerations? In making this gift, I seek neither fame nor rebirth in the heavenly realms; I rely solely upon this act to help sentient beings put an end to all suffering and affliction.”

After making this vow, the bodhisattva gave the precious white elephant to the brahmins and then rode a horse back to the city.

Having obtained the precious elephant, the brahmins mounted it together and departed. In a very short time, they had returned to their own country.

The great ministers assembled and hurried to the king, reporting:

“Great King, we beseech you to make a wise decision today, for the prince has given the precious white elephant to the brahmins, and they have ridden away upon it. By now, they must surely have reached the enemy kingdom. Previously, Great King, when you saw the prince give away gold, silver, jewels, and other treasures, you did not reprimand him; consequently, today he has even given the precious white elephant to our enemies.

Great King, wicked sons in this world commit many transgressions through drinking wine, gambling, lusting after sensual pleasures, and squandering wealth. We ministers venture to make this report; we beg the Great King not to hold us at fault. From this day onward, if the prince ceases giving wealth and possessions to others, permit him to remain at court.

But if he does not cease his giving, he should be banished to the depths of the forest.”

The king ordered the prince to be summoned and thought: “How strange! Why should I, on account of these ministers, suddenly forbid my son to give as he wishes? I am truly ashamed; I am no different from a daughter-in-law who fears her husband’s parents.” The king then said to his son:

“From now on, you must no longer be so eager to practice every meritorious deed; relinquish your spirit of renunciation. One who follows the true Dharma should wear garments of grass, drink cold water, eat fruit, and dwell far away in the deep mountains. You cannot gouge out the left eye to cure the right. Why have you suddenly caused distress today to both my heart and those of the ministers? One who lives according to the Dharma should first bring peace and happiness to his own kin and only afterward bring peace and happiness to others. Why, then, have you now given the precious white elephant to our enemy?”