賴吒和羅經

Thus have I heard: At one time, the Buddha, together with five hundred śramaṇas, traveled on a teaching journey to the land of Kuru and arrived in the town of Thulla Koṭṭhita.

At that time, the brahmins, religious practitioners, and people of the town of Thulla Koṭṭhita all heard that the Buddha had arrived in that region on his teaching journey. They heard of the Buddha’s subtle and wondrous virtues: he was free from greed, lust, anger, and delusion. Whatever he spoke was upright and true.

He had attained Buddhahood, knew whence he had come to birth, and knew beforehand the events of the past, future, and present. With his eyes he could see clearly and know how insects, crawling creatures, and the people of the world were born and died, entering good or evil paths. He could fly through the air and enter the earth; when emerging he needed no opening, and when entering he needed no crevice.

His transformations were freely mastered. He knew the people of the world and all insects and crawling creatures, and whatever they thought, he knew it all. The Buddha restrained his eyes, restrained his ears, restrained his nose, restrained his mouth, restrained his body, and restrained his mind.

None of the ninety-six paths of the world could equal the Buddha’s path. The Buddha instructed the people above the heavens and beneath the heavens as parents instruct their children, enabling them to abandon evil and follow the good. The Buddha was the teacher of the people above the heavens and beneath the heavens.

The Buddha had instructed devas and human beings, enabling them all to attain the path of nirvana and arhatship. The people throughout the land all said:

“The Buddha is an excellent person who skillfully expounds the scriptures of discipline. Let us go together to behold that virtuous man.”

The people of that land formed groups of fifty, one hundred, or five hundred and went together to the Buddha. Among them, some came and knelt before the Buddha; some circumambulated him three times; some bowed with their heads and faces at the Buddha’s feet; some folded their arms respectfully; and some merely announced their names. They all sat down together.

The Buddha expounded the scriptures of discipline to the assembly, and everyone joined their palms toward him. Among those seated there was a householder’s son named Raṭṭhapāla. As he listened attentively to the Buddha expounding the scripture, Raṭṭhapāla thought to himself, “According to the scriptures of discipline taught by the Buddha, one should not remain at home, for while living at home one cannot purify oneself and train in the Buddha’s path.” He further thought, “It would be better for me to shave off my beard and hair, put on the kāṣāya robe, and become a śramaṇa.”

After hearing the scriptures of discipline, the people of Thulla Koṭṭhita were all delighted. They circumambulated the Buddha three times and then returned to their homes. Raṭṭhapāla, however, had gone only halfway home when he immediately turned back and returned to the Buddha. He came forward, bowed to the Buddha, joined his palms, knelt, and said, “I understand from the scriptures of discipline taught by the Buddha that one should not remain at home, for while living at home one cannot purify oneself and train in the scriptures and path of the Buddha. I wish to shave off my beard and hair, put on the kāṣāya robe, and become a śramaṇa. I beseech the Buddha, out of compassion, to permit me to become a śramaṇa.”

The Buddha asked, “Have you obtained your parents’ permission?” Raṭṭhapāla replied, “I have not yet asked my parents’ permission.”

The Buddha said, “In the Buddha-Dharma, one cannot become a śramaṇa without one’s parents’ permission. I therefore cannot confer the precepts upon you.”

Raṭṭhapāla said, “Yes, indeed. Please allow me to return and ask my parents. If they permit me to become a śramaṇa, I shall return.” The Buddha said, “Excellent! Consider the matter carefully yourself.”

Raṭṭhapāla bowed to the Buddha and returned home. Coming before his parents, he said, “I have heard the scriptures of discipline taught by the Buddha, according to which one should not remain at home, for while living at home one cannot purify oneself and train in the scriptures and path of the Buddha. I now wish to shave off my beard and hair, put on the kāṣāya robe, and become a śramaṇa.”

When his parents heard him say this, they looked at each other and wept, saying, “We had difficulty obtaining a child. We had to pray and make supplications to the devas, the sun, and the moon, and bow in the four directions, begging for a beloved child to continue the family line and ancestral offerings. We constantly feared that if you suddenly died, there would be no one to carry on this household. By the grace of heaven, we were given one son, whom the whole family dearly loves and to whom we are attached beyond all description. Even if you died, we would still be unwilling to leave you; we would sit together beside your corpse until we grew old. How much less, while still alive, could you wish to abandon us and depart?”

Raṭṭhapāla then said to his parents, “If you will not permit me to go to the Buddha and become a śramaṇa, from this day onward I shall neither eat nor drink nor bathe. If you permit me to become a śramaṇa, all will be well; if you do not, I shall simply die.”

Having said this, he lay down upon the bare ground and did not eat for one day, two days, three days, four days, and then five days. When Raṭṭhapāla’s honored relatives among the nine degrees of kinship, both paternal and maternal, heard that he had asked his parents for permission to become a śramaṇa but they had refused, and that he had lain upon the ground without food or drink for five days, they all came to him. They urged him to rise, bathe, eat, and drink, saying, “Before your parents had you, they prayed to the devas, the sun, and the moon and bowed in the four directions, begging for a child—and that child was you.

You should support your parents and later become the heir of the household. Even if you died, your parents would still wish to sit beside your corpse until they grew old. How much less, while still alive, should you wish to leave them?”

Raṭṭhapāla made no reply. All his relatives then went before his parents and said tearfully, “In the end, this young man will still not heed our counsel.”

Raṭṭhapāla also had close and trusted friends. When they heard that he wished to go to the Buddha and become a śramaṇa, but that his parents had refused and he had therefore lain on the bare ground without food or drink for five days, they all came to admonish him. They urged him to rise, bathe, eat, and drink, saying, “Before your parents had you, they prayed to the devas, the sun, and the moon and bowed in the four directions, begging for a child—and that child was you. You should support your parents and later become their heir. Even if you died, your parents would still wish to sit beside your corpse until old age. How much less, while still alive, should you wish to leave them?”

Raṭṭhapāla still made no reply. His close and trusted friends then went before his parents, weeping and wiping away their tears, and said, “You should permit him to become a śramaṇa. Why? If he delights in the path of a śramaṇa, he will remain alive, and you will still be able to see one another. If he does not delight in the path, he will abandon it and return home. What do you think? If you do not allow him to go now, he will certainly die; his body will putrefy, and worms and ants will devour his corpse. He is now breathing with great difficulty and may die.”

At that time, his parents, wife, children, female attendants, clan members, and friends in the household all wept loudly. Wiping away their tears, his parents said to Raṭṭhapāla, “Your close and trusted friends have made an agreement with you that after becoming a śramaṇa you must return to visit your parents.”

Raṭṭhapāla replied, “Allow me to go to the Buddha and become a śramaṇa, and I shall live and not die. In the future, I shall return to visit my parents.”

On hearing these words, Raṭṭhapāla’s parents again wailed aloud and then permitted him to become a śramaṇa. Raṭṭhapāla rejoiced greatly and thought, “I have not eaten for five days, and my body is extremely weak. The Buddha has now traveled from Thulla Koṭṭhita to the land of Śrāvastī, five hundred li away. I should therefore nourish myself and wait until my body has regained its strength before departing.”

Raṭṭhapāla nourished his body for several days. When he felt that his strength had returned, he came before his parents and said, “Father and Mother, set your minds at ease. I shall now go to the Buddha and ask to become a śramaṇa.” Raṭṭhapāla’s parents again wailed and, wiping away their tears, said, “Go then, beloved son.”

Raṭṭhapāla bowed with his head and face at his parents’ feet, rose, circumambulated them three times, and then went to the Jeta Grove Monastery in Śrāvastī. He presented himself before the Buddha, bowed, and said, “My parents have given their permission. I beseech the Buddha to allow me to become a śramaṇa.”

The Buddha immediately permitted the venerable one to become a śramaṇa, put on the kāṣāya robe, and receive the scriptures and precepts of a śramaṇa. The Buddha instructed the arhats to take turns teaching him each day so that he would not violate or damage the scriptures and precepts. The venerable one contemplated the scriptures and the path and attained the four dhyānas.

He attained the first fruit, stream-entry; the second, once-returning; the third, non-returning; and the fourth, arhatship. He then attained the four bases of spiritual power and could fly through the air. With the divine eye he could see far away, and with the divine ear he could hear far away.

He understood the speech and thoughts of devas, human beings, insects, and crawling creatures, and personally knew his former lives and whence he had come to birth. For ten years he followed the Buddha as a shadow follows its form. After ten years, the venerable one thought, “Long ago I left home and took leave of my parents.

I should now return to visit them.” Raṭṭhapāla said to the Buddha, “Long ago I left home. I should now return to visit my parents. May the Buddha permit me to go and see them.”

The Buddha then thought, “This Raṭṭhapāla cannot return to the life of sensual desire that he formerly led at home, for he has been liberated from sensual desire.” The Buddha said, “Very well.”

The venerable one bowed to the Buddha and departed, journeying by stages until he reached Thulla Koṭṭhita. Early in the morning, he put on his robe, took up his bowl, and entered the quarter where his parents lived. He approached the door of his own house to beg for alms, for one who practices the śramaṇa’s path must give rise to selflessness; only then is he a true man of resolve.

No one in the household would even look at him. Why? Because the entire household held wrong views concerning śramaṇas and therefore would not look at him.

Raṭṭhapāla came to the door of his own house, but no one gave him anything, looked at him, or spoke to him; they merely reviled him. Yet the venerable one was neither distressed nor sorrowful. Just as he was about to leave the house, a female servant came out to throw away some leftover food.

Seeing her, the Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “Young sister, what are you going to do with that foul food?”

The servant replied, “This foul food can no longer be used, so I am going to throw it away.” The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “If you intend to throw it away, give it to me.”

The servant poured it into the venerable one’s alms bowl. From his hands, feet, and manner of speaking, she faintly recognized Raṭṭhapāla and thought, “This is my master’s son.” She immediately ran into the house and informed the venerable one’s mother that her son had returned and was outside.

The venerable one’s mother rejoiced exceedingly and said to the servant, “If what you say is true, then this very day I shall set you free and make you an independent person.” She then removed the clothing and jewels adorning her body and gave them to the servant’s mother. She ran to her husband, who was standing inside combing his hair, and said, “The servant saw our son return and stand before the door of our house. I told her, ‘If you truly saw Raṭṭhapāla, I shall remove the clothing and jewels adorning my body, give them to you, and set you free as an independent person.’”

The venerable one’s mother said to her husband, “Sir, rise quickly and give alms to the mendicant.” His father arranged his hair and ran out to the village crossroads to search for the mendicant. He saw the Venerable Raṭṭhapāla in a secluded place. Having looked up at the sky and seen that it was the proper time to eat, the venerable one had stopped there to eat the stale and putrid food. His father came forward and said, “Why do you not enter the house, my son? Why not sit in a fine place and eat delicious rice and soup instead of standing here eating stale and putrid food?”

The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said to his father, “I have left home to train in the path and have become a homeless śramaṇa. What home, then, do I have, that you tell me to return home?” The venerable one refused to go. His father invited him again, saying, “Venerable sir, please come to this house tomorrow morning to receive a meal and see your mother.” The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla replied, “Very well.”

His father returned and told his wife, “Raṭṭhapāla has indeed come here. I invited our son to come to the house tomorrow morning for a meal, and he accepted. You must therefore prepare abundant food and drink.”

The venerable one’s mother summoned the female servants of the household and instructed them, “When I first entered this family in marriage, my parents gave me gold, silver, pearls, and precious treasures. Bring them all into the middle of the courtyard and cover them with a cloth.” Following her instructions, the servants piled all the gold, silver, pearls, and precious treasures in the center of the courtyard and covered the heap, which rose higher than a person’s head.

When it was time to eat, the Venerable Raṭṭhapāla put on his robe, took up his bowl, and went to his parents’ house. From afar, his parents saw their son entering the lane. His mother removed the covering from the heap of gold and silver, came before the venerable one, scooped up the gold and silver with both hands, and scattered it into the air, saying to the Venerable Raṭṭhapāla, “My son, look at this gold, silver, and precious jewels. These were my possessions when I entered this family in marriage. Your father’s gold and silver are beyond measure. Use them to give gifts, spend freely, and enjoy every pleasure. How can being a śramaṇa compare with being a white-robed householder, living freely at home?”

The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said to his parents, “If you will accept my suggestion, I wish to ask one thing of you.” His parents said, “Very well! We accept it.”

The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “Take all those covered treasures, place them in a sack, load it onto a cart, and carry it to the bank of the Ganges. Find a place where the river is truly deep and cast them into it. Why? Whoever stores up wealth thereby acquires many sorrows: fear that government officials will confiscate it, that thieves will carry it away, that water will wash it off, that fire will burn it, or that enemies will destroy it.”

The venerable one’s parents then thought, “We cannot influence Raṭṭhapāla with wealth. Let us try to entice him with beautiful women and female attendants.” His mother went to the beautiful women and female attendants and ordered them all to bathe, adorn themselves, put on jewels, and wear the garments that Raṭṭhapāla had loved most in former days. She told them, “Go to the Venerable Raṭṭhapāla and say only this: ‘O son of a great family! What celestial maiden is more beautiful than we are, for whose sake you abandoned us and went to train in the path?’”

Obeying the venerable one’s mother, the beautiful women and female attendants adorned themselves and came forth. They said to the Venerable Raṭṭhapāla, “O son of a great family! What celestial maiden is more beautiful than we are, for whose sake you abandoned us and went to train in the path, seeking her?”

The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said to them, “I did not abandon you, younger sisters, to seek any celestial maiden.” On hearing the venerable one speak in this way, the beautiful women and female attendants became ashamed. They knelt with lowered heads, covered their faces with their hands, and said, “We are your wives. Why do you call us younger sisters?”

The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla then said to his parents, “Why trouble one another? If you wish to offer me a meal, that is good; if you do not wish to make an offering, let the matter rest.” His parents immediately served him an abundance of delicious dishes. They wished to gaze upon their son for a long time and feared that he would leave as soon as he had finished eating, so they ordered the servants to close and lock all the gates.

After eating, the venerable one expounded the scripture to his parents: “Forest-dwellers and practitioners of the path are like wild animals; they should not be caught and confined, depriving them of freedom. Release me. I have eaten and must depart.

I am like a wild animal that, once freed, immediately enters the deep mountains. Combing the hair, applying powder, and painting the eyebrows in white and black—such things merely delude the foolish; how could they delude one liberated from the world? Look at this skeleton covered with skin and flesh, adorned with gold, silver, pearls, precious stones, earrings, ivory, and splendid ornaments.

Whoever becomes infatuated with it is as though entering boiling water and blazing fire; how could fire be desirable? Fragrant ointments applied to the body can deceive only the deluded; how could they deceive one who has escaped the worldly life? People act in this way because they do not know for themselves what they ought to do.

They cannot distinguish parents, nor can they distinguish brothers and sisters. When sensual desire is present in a person’s heart, one cannot sever it by oneself. Women are like rivers that all flow into the great ocean.

Fools pursue women and consequently revolve through hell, the animal realm, and the realm of hungry ghosts. Those who wish to escape the sorrow and suffering of the path of birth and death and attain nirvana must keep far away from women.”

After the Venerable Raṭṭhapāla had expounded the scripture to his parents, he flew into the sky through a window and departed directly, like a lion escaping from confinement.

At that time, King Koravya had been a close friend of the Venerable Raṭṭhapāla since childhood. The king had a pleasure garden outside the city. The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla flew there, entered the garden, and sat beneath a Viheḷaka tree. King Koravya happened to be going to the garden pavilion for recreation and ordered the gardener to prepare and sweep the grounds. The gardener obeyed and went to sweep. He saw the Venerable Raṭṭhapāla sitting beneath the Viheḷaka tree. Having seen him, the gardener went and reported to the king, “I have finished sweeping and cleaning the grounds. Your Majesty has often spoken of your close and trusted friend Raṭṭhapāla. That venerable one is now sitting beneath a tree in the pavilion garden. If Your Majesty wishes to see him, please go there.”

When the king heard this, he rejoiced exceedingly. He prepared his carriage and traveled to the outside of the pavilion garden, where he descended and continued on foot to the Venerable Raṭṭhapāla. Coming forward, he bowed and sat down. The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “It is exceedingly good that Your Majesty has come.”

The king said, “Although I have come on my own initiative, you have been my friend since childhood. If you wish for wealth, I shall give you whatever you desire.” The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla replied, “You should not bestow wealth upon me. I have now cast off that burden and been liberated from that prison. Does Your Majesty wish to place the burden and prison upon my body again? Do not bring such things to me.”

The king said, “What, then, should I give the venerable one?” The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “Your Majesty should merely say, ‘My realm is now prosperous, grain is abundant, the population is numerous, and alms are easily obtained. You may remain in my realm, and I shall order the officials and people not to molest you.’” The king said, “I accept this teaching and shall act according to Raṭṭhapāla’s wishes and words.”

The king said, “There is something I wish to ask. Please listen as I speak.” Raṭṭhapāla said, “Very well.” The king then said, “Generally, a person becomes a śramaṇa only after encountering four kinds of suffering. What are the four? First, old age; second, illness; third, isolation; and fourth, poverty. It is because of these four sufferings that people become śramaṇas. Yet I see that you possess none of these four conditions. Why, then, did you become a śramaṇa?”

The king said, “The reason an old person becomes a śramaṇa is that he thinks, ‘My strength is feeble, standing and sitting are painful, I cannot travel far to work and acquire wealth, and even if I possessed wealth, I could not safeguard it.’ Therefore he shaves off his beard and hair and becomes a śramaṇa. I see that this is not your condition. Your hair is jet-black, your body is full and well formed, and you are in the prime of youth, the very time for enjoying yourself. Yet you became a śramaṇa and caused your parents to weep, shed tears, and grieve.

“Second, a person may be gravely ill and weak and think, ‘I cannot make a living and acquire wealth, and even if I possessed wealth, I could not safeguard it.’ Therefore he shaves off his beard and hair and becomes a śramaṇa. I see that you are not afflicted with any grave illness; instead, your body is strong.

“Third, someone may be alone and isolated, unable to make a living and acquire wealth, or unable to safeguard whatever wealth he possesses, and therefore become a śramaṇa. I see that this is not at all your condition. Apart from the royal clan, no one in my realm surpasses you in this respect.

“Fourth, a person may be poor, hungry, and cold and unable to sustain himself. He thinks, ‘I am poor and cannot make a living. Therefore I shall shave off my beard and hair and become a śramaṇa, living upon the alms given to me.’ I see that this is not at all your condition. Among all the wealthy people in my realm, I see none who surpasses you in this respect. It is because of these four sufferings that people become śramaṇas.” The king asked the venerable one, “Venerable sir, is there any condition other than these four that causes people to become śramaṇas?”

The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla replied, “The Blessed One has always taught me four matters that must be thoroughly understood and then taught to others. I understood them in my heart according to the Buddha’s teaching, and therefore shaved off my beard and hair, put on the kāṣāya robe, and became a śramaṇa. What are the four?

– First, no person can escape old age, and no one can prevent his body from aging.

– Second, no person can escape illness, and one’s own body cannot die in another’s place.

– Third, the dead depart alone, and no one can take wealth along.

– Fourth, even until death, people do not become weary of sensual desire and wealth. People are slaves to wealth and sensual desire.

“The Buddha taught me these four matters. In my heart I placed faith in them alone, and therefore I became a śramaṇa.” The king said, “The venerable one has stated these four matters too concisely, and I do not understand their meaning. Please explain them at length so that I may understand.”

The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “I shall now ask Your Majesty a question. Please answer me truthfully. When Your Majesty was twenty, thirty, and then forty years of age, you possessed strength and skill in archery, riding elephants, galloping horses, and running swiftly. At that time you considered yourself unequaled. Do you still possess those qualities now?” The king said, “It is exactly as Raṭṭhapāla says. When I was twenty, thirty, and then forty years of age, I considered myself unequaled in archery, riding elephants, galloping horses, and racing on foot. Now I have grown old, my strength has declined, and standing and sitting are painful. I wish to escape this suffering, yet I cannot.”

The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “The Buddha taught this first matter, and it was because of this that I shaved off my beard and hair and became a śramaṇa.” The king said, “The Buddha’s teaching on this matter is truly wondrous and skillful. It has penetrated my heart.” The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla asked the king, “Are there close ministers and hundreds of officials in your realm who depend upon Your Majesty for their livelihood?” The king said, “Indeed there are.”

The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “Has Your Majesty ever suffered illness and lain confined to bed?” The king said, “Indeed I have.” The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “While ill and confined to bed, did Your Majesty summon the close ministers and hundreds of officials who depend upon you for their livelihood and command them, ‘I am now gravely and critically ill. Divide my illness among yourselves, each taking a small portion’? Even if Your Majesty spoke thus, could they divide and assume your illness among themselves?” The king said, “They could not. If my body is ill, I must bear it myself; my close ministers cannot take my place.” The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “The Buddha taught precisely this. It is the second matter because of which I became a śramaṇa.”

The king said, “How extraordinary and skillful! This has penetrated my heart.” The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla asked the king, “When a person’s life span is about to end, he must die, and his heart is filled with sorrow. Yet despite his great sorrow, he cannot escape death.” The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla continued, “Knowing that he will die, why does a person not arrange to carry his precious jewels to the place of his next birth?” The king said, “He cannot carry precious jewels to the place where he will be reborn.

He must cast everything aside and depart alone.” The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “The Buddha taught precisely this. It is the third matter because of which I became a śramaṇa.” The king said, “The Buddha’s teaching on this matter is truly extraordinary, wondrous, and skillful. It has penetrated my heart.”

The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla asked the king, “Great King, is your realm peaceful, its population numerous, and its grain abundant?” The king replied, “Indeed it is.” The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “Suppose a man came from the east and sincerely told Your Majesty—and Your Majesty believed him—‘I have come from the east and have seen a great kingdom there. That kingdom is wealthy and its population is numerous. I know a shortcut leading through it. Your Majesty can take your army there, conquer it, and seize the kingdom.’ On hearing these words, would Your Majesty wish to send men to seize that kingdom?” The king said, “I would, for coveting the wealth of that kingdom, I would wish to invade and seize it.”

The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “Suppose another man came from the south, west, or north and spoke of ‘a kingdom...’ just as the man from the east had done. Would Your Majesty wish to seize that kingdom?” The king replied, “I would, for coveting the wealth of that kingdom, I would invade and seize it.”

The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “Suppose another man came from beyond the sea and sincerely told Your Majesty—and Your Majesty believed him—‘Beyond the sea lies a great kingdom. Its grain is abundant and its population numerous. I know a shortcut leading through it.

Your Majesty can take your army there and attack that kingdom.’ After hearing these words, would Your Majesty wish to order men to seize it?” The king replied, “I would, for coveting the wealth of that kingdom, I would wish to seize it.” The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “The Buddha saw this matter and knew that human suffering arises from greed and from never knowing contentment. This is the fourth matter because of which I became a śramaṇa.” The Buddha saw these four matters and therefore taught people that they must restrain themselves.

The king said, “The Buddha’s teaching on this matter is exceedingly extraordinary, wondrous, and skillful. It has penetrated my heart.” The king said, “Does the Buddha truly know the past, future, and present so well?” The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “Your Majesty already possesses your own realm and the lands in the four directions, yet you still do not know contentment and even hope to seize kingdoms overseas. The Buddha sees that when people of the world possess treasures, they worry about storing them securely and refuse to give to others.

They miserly conceal what they have, yet still seek more. From kings and lords down to ordinary people, no one knows weariness or contentment; even until death they do not relinquish sensual desire. Abandon greed, for at death all wealth and precious jewels must be left behind in the world, while one must follow the good or evil path created by oneself.

Good and evil follow a person as a shadow follows its form. After a person dies, his family and honored relatives weep and lament, wrap his body, and bury it. A person is born alone and likewise dies alone.

The good and evil created by one’s own body must be experienced by that very body; no one can take one’s place. Food and drink, gold, silver, and precious jewels cannot enable a person to attain the path. Wealth cannot save a person’s life from aging and death.

A person’s thoughts are manifold; these are precisely the things in which people delight and to which they cling. The human mind constantly changes and cannot remain single-pointed.”

The Buddha taught, “Because people let their minds run unrestrained, they encounter calamitous changes, disasters, and fear. It is like conceiving the thought of breaking through a wall to steal and subsequently obtaining the goods. Having committed evil with the body, one falls by oneself into a deadly trap.

Likewise, when people of the world commit evil, after death they must fall into hell, the animal realm, or the realm of hungry ghosts. It is like trees producing flowers and leaves and then bearing fruit: sometimes they fall while still flowers, sometimes while newly formed fruit, sometimes when the fruit has grown large, and sometimes when the fruit is ripe. Human beings are the same.

Some die just after conception; some die just after birth; some die in adulthood; and some die in old age. The span of human life cannot be known.” The Venerable Raṭṭhapāla said, “For this reason I became a śramaṇa. Ordinary people say that I became a śramaṇa because I was incapable of managing household affairs.

Yet all their various arguments cannot compare with training in the path.”

After the Venerable Raṭṭhapāla had finished expounding the Dharma of the scripture, the king immediately attained the first fruit, stream-entry, and undertook the five precepts: 1/ not to kill living beings, 2/ not to steal, 3/ not to violate another’s wife, 4/ not to speak falsely, and 5/ not to drink intoxicants. Having undertaken the precepts, the king bowed and withdrew.

THE SUTRA SPOKEN BY THE BUDDHA ON RAṬṬHAPĀLA