福蓋正行所集經

Furthermore, what is meant by "grief"? — It means that sentient beings, because their craving and desire have not yet been freed from the place of anxiety. They are like fierce beasts surrounded and burned by fire. Like sand beneath the water that is taken up and placed upon the dry ground.

Like one who enters the great ocean only to have his boat wrecked; his mind is anxious and sorrowful, fearing he will lose this body and life. Like a little water sprinkled upon a heated iron ball. Drawing near to the gate of death, his life will not last much longer.

Like beans cooking in a furnace, full of rising smoke, because the dry firewood grows ever greater. Those people of the world, dwelling amid their houses with pressing anxieties, their faculties declining, their minds not at ease; like an earthen vessel set near the kiln-fire, knowing it will not last long, and that it will thereby be destroyed.

Why is it called "lamentation"? — It means that sentient beings who formerly possessed precious wealth and goods cannot retain them, and their bodies again grow anxious, for craving is suffering. Their bodies are naked and bare, their countenances haggard, their throats parched and dry, their speech broken off. They recall their former wealth, which they can no longer regain.

And what is meant by "suffering"? — It means that sentient beings who commit unlawful deeds bring their bodies near to the law, to blades and staves and poison; or they are made to be killed at the command of non-human beings, even to the loss of life, receiving all manner of harmful and venomous things.

What is meant by "distress"? — It means that sentient beings speak evil words that increase day by day like poisoned arrows, and their faculties, troubled and afflicted, lose all joy.

Why is it called the suffering of not obtaining what one seeks? — Sentient beings who delight in cultivating the true Dharma, yet cannot enter into understanding, their bodies and minds toil in hardship; or, through heedlessness, they seek much but are not satisfied; and thereby fevered affliction arises. Without desire and without seeking, the mind is naturally at ease.

Why is it called the suffering of separation from what one loves? — It means that with kindred and friends, where there is joy, harmony, and gladness, there afterward comes parting. The mind tends toward attachment and love; and so suffering and affliction arise.

Why is it called the suffering of meeting with what one hates? — It means that those sentient beings who delight and indulge in craving and desire, seeking much wealth and gain, contend and encroach upon one another and thus bind themselves in enmity and resentment. Or, as with mother and child, the bonds of love and affection are like fetters and shackles, so that one cannot be free. Therefore one should remember that female beauty causes others to be disturbed in their feelings.

Soft and gentle speech is like the Kumuda flower, yet the foolish and deluded see only its adornment and do not perceive the long-enduring fetters. Like the sage Gautama, and even down to the devas, who indulge and are tainted by the pleasures of desire; like straw set near the fire, it will surely be burned. Therefore the bhikṣus must always keep far away; if one continually draws near to those pleasures of desire, it is great suffering indeed.

All the devas and humans of the world, every one of them, are pressed and surrounded by the fire of desire. In the present they suffer many kinds of suffering. And when they die they will fall into the evil destinies.

Within those thirteen kinds of great flames they are burned all around. The Buddha, like a kind father to the beings of the world, out of compassion for them, spoke this sūtra. These are the hells, of thirteen kinds.

The first is Saṃjīva (Reviving); the second is Kālasūtra (Black Rope); the third is Saṃghāta (Crushing-together); the fourth is Raurava (Howling); the fifth is Mahāraurava (Great Howling); the sixth is the Heavenly Wailing; the seventh is the Old Heavenly Wailing; the eighth is Avīci (Unintermittent); the ninth is the Throat-choking; the tenth is the Mire of Urine and Dung; the eleventh is the Whirlwind; the twelfth is the Sword-tree; the thirteenth is the River of Ashes.

Such hells are filled entirely with perils and very many sufferings and afflictions. Within them are countless sentient beings who have committed all kinds of evil karma; when their lives end they fall in there to receive those kinds of suffering, so that the hell-wardens may punish their transgressions. With heated iron balls they are cruelly beaten, their bodily forms bruised and crushed, blood flowing over their whole bodies.

All their sinews and bones are burned. Again, both their feet are bound and cast into a fire-pit, and both their hands are hung up; evil cries ring out. The hell-wardens who interrogate and torture there in the realm of Yama are exceedingly cruel, beyond what can be fully told.

Those who undergo punishment, seeing this, are terrified; or they flee back into the hell to be roasted and seared. Their skin, flesh, bone, and sinew are burned beneath their feet. Because of evil karma they die and are revived again and again.

Again there is a hell with a vast pit of dung and filth, foul-smelling beyond all description. There are many worms; they are called Kūṇapa, which pass to and fro therein, gnawing at the feet of the offenders until they reach the very flesh and bone and take the marrow to eat. Again there are countless swords and blades hanging down, one after another, to hack and cut. Then, pursuing along the path of the offenders, they cut into their feet. Again there is a strong wind blowing above, beating down upon them to torment them. Entering the forest of swords and blades, there are countless sharp swords that come down from the sky, cutting off this body; there is nothing they do not sever.

Again there is a great river filled entirely with ashes, sinking and floating, boiling and seething; it boils the offenders to a pulp. On both banks there are hell-wardens holding three-pronged spears, going back and forth to threaten and menace. Sufferings such as these are endured without end, never ceasing.

Again it holds swarms of rats that, like fish, sink down beneath the mud. Then they are pierced through the mouth by fish-hooks. The encircling nets are scorching hot, all made of fire.

The great fire burns with exceeding fierceness. Again there are iron balls used to beat their mouths open. Then molten copper is poured into them.

Or heated iron balls are placed in their mouths, causing the lips to dry and char, scorching the tongue, throat, teeth, and gums. All of it is roasted and burned. From the throat downward, all is burned and scalded.

Again there are two stones that clamp tight against the body from head to foot, so that one can hardly flee. The cruel and savage hell-wardens are like maddened elephants, the hair on their angry necks standing on end. On all four sides there is nothing but fire surrounding that offender.

Lying upon a heated iron bed, the iron bars are all hot, fire burning on every side; one hears nothing but cries and howls. Again there are four mountains that swoop down from the sky to strike the offenders, their whole bodies shattered to pieces, wishing to drop to the ground and flee away to escape. Again there are hell-wardens who, like drunken men, hold blades, swords, and axes turning in a circle, with arrows shot all around, scorching iron staves, and all manner of instruments that cause suffering, with which they interrogate and torture the offenders.

Again there are hundreds of thousands of flames burning fiercely, blown in from the four directions. Gathered upon the body, they burn it as one burns wood, and all of it is reduced to ashes. Again there are blades and swords used to cut the tongue, or to slice or split it into hundreds of thousands of pieces, doing the same to all four limbs.

Like drifting clouds; then the offenders are cast into that burning, kiln-fired city, with fire set to burn on all four sides. Then hot water flows out, in which they float up and down, bobbing as when beans are boiled. Their bodies swell up, their skin and flesh entirely consumed, leaving only the bones groping about upon the ground.

The wind of karma blows upon them, reviving them as before. Such kinds of suffering are truly to be dreaded. Whoever falls into this hell can find no rest.

Again there is a vast hell of icy wind, filled with packed snow. It is as high as a mountain. All is freezing cold, with the wind blowing continuously.

Again there are deep caverns formed into white ice, looking as though made of all kinds of crystal. There are hell-wardens who hunt down those offenders, until they cast them in. Cold and suffering press hard upon them, and they let out cries of grief and sorrow.

Again there are two pestles, pounding in perfect rhythm, pounding this body until it is smashed to bits, and then it returns to its former state through the wind of karma blowing upon it, no different than before. They undergo suffering for a long time, and only when the karma is exhausted do they come out. Those sentient beings are all, through the conditions of being tainted by the deluded wisdom of wrong desire; therefore those bodies are seized by attachment that cannot be relinquished; that craving gives little joy, yet brings forth a great abundance of retribution.

Therefore the World-Honored One, out of profound compassion for sentient beings such as these, raised the mind of great compassion to speak this sūtra.

O bhikṣus! In the world there are many such kinds of causes of suffering, with birth as their root. If there were no condition of birth, then the cycle of saṃsāra would at once be extinguished.

How much more so in the future, with measureless rebirths, which are suffering. Because there is birth, there is the aggregate of form. Because of the aggregate of form, there is then the aggregate of feeling.

Because of the aggregate of feeling, there is then the aggregate of perception. Because of the aggregate of perception, there is then the aggregate of mental formations. Because of the aggregate of mental formations, there is then the aggregate of consciousness.

Thus, one after another in unbroken succession, they arise and increase the suffering. The turning of saṃsāra is without end. It is like a band of thieves who enter a village to seize, plunder, and destroy, throwing the common folk into distress and confusion.

These are the five aggregates, which, relying upon the city of consciousness, give birth to all the afflictions, harming the faculties.

Furthermore, aging, sickness, and death, in their relation to the world, do harm by means of its joys; therefore they are truly hard to love, like three kinds of foes who constantly follow close behind. The first tends to seek much; the second causes one to fall into perilous straits; the third causes this body and life to be cut off. Therefore, O bhikṣus!

You should always cultivate the right practice of the Canopy of Merit, receive and uphold the scriptures, and practice in accordance with the teaching. Even should aging, sickness, and death press tightly around, no fear will arise. With regard to the evil destinies one will pass beyond them.

This is the Great Hero indeed. For the benefit of future lives; like fire within a lotus flower, which is something rare, it at once brings about abiding in the sublime bliss of tranquil quiescence. O bhikṣus!

The merit of that essential nature is manifested clearly, from cause down to fruit. All of it is loved and delighted in. So that there even arise all the wholesome dharmas free of outflows.

Bodily, verbal, and mental karma all become pure, abiding in non-retrogression, dwelling within the Path, like the autumn moon emitting its full and complete light, so that all the world is moistened and benefited. This is by reason of giving broadly, without limit. To those who come to beg, one provides according to their need, causing the minds of sentient beings to give rise to joy.

Like a victorious general, the mind is truly glad and joyful, like one who, relying upon a worthy king, dwells in peace and security. Like the great ocean that receives all rivers and streams: like Mount Sumeru that abides firm and unmoved. Regarding all sentient beings as one's father and mother, making offerings and showing reverence to all the world, one at once attains the foremost and most excellent joy.

Friends near and far then praise one. All that one hopes and seeks for is accomplished. In the end one escapes from the suffering-sea of saṃsāra.

This meaning has illuminated the self-nature of meritorious reward; like a vessel of gold, hard and solid, easy to cherish. Because it is the foremost and most excellent place for sentient beings to rely upon; therefore, without the self-nature of meritorious reward one cannot be cherished and loved; like a vessel of clay that will easily break, causing sentient beings to flow and turn into the evil destinies. Like a canopy held up to shade the world, which, when someone holds and keeps it, then going to and fro in the four directions one is also relieved of the place of scorching heat.

So fine a thing as this, do not let it be lost. Thus one should preserve the Right Practice of the Canopy of Merit, and one will not be born into the place of fevered affliction nor be burned by the fire of the hells. The good deeds one has accomplished should be kept and not allowed to be destroyed.

As in the city of Śrāvastī there was a Female Elder who, together with a young man of her own clan, became husband and wife, and then gave birth to a son. Their expenditures and their sorrows grew day by day; so he said to his wife: I shall go elsewhere to do business. As for you, you should care for and cherish your son.

The days and months passed as she waited for her husband, who still had not been seen to return. As for the son, he grew older day by day and grew ever more heedless, falling into infatuation and love with the daughter of another. That daughter wished to have fine ornaments to set in her hair, and the mother afterward came to know of this matter; so she spoke sweet and subtle words to instruct him and bring him to repentance, saying: My son should not delight in that affair.

Take care of yourself; do not, through any wrongdoing, cause me to worry. The more she watched over him, the more the son would not obey her command, but went out, and at night slept outside the gate, and she made for him a bed. That son, on a certain night, burned by craving and desire, sat up, and as though the matter would not rest, told his mother to open the door, wishing to go to and fro to that girl's house for his convenience.

The mother said to her son: This affair is too much; you should not go out. Because his mother strictly forbade him, the mind of desire increased all the more, and an evil intention arose, and he then harmed his own mother. After committing this offense, his mind grew anxious, and he came to a certain monastery and said:

Venerable One! I wish to go forth into homelessness; I pray you will help me! At that time, that bhikṣu, without examining the reason why he had come, then shaved his head and made him a bhikṣu.

He sent him to another distant land, where he diligently and energetically upheld the pure precepts, cultivated meditative concentration, and delighted in reciting the scriptures. There was a certain Elder who, seeing that this bhikṣu was complete in virtuous conduct, then gave rise to a mind of offering and established a monastery for this one to be its master. The saṃgha of the eight directions all came to dwell and rely upon him.

At that time this bhikṣu proclaimed the Mahāyāna scriptures for the assembly, and further caused their cultivation to be in accord with meditative contemplation. He provided the four requisites, lacking in nothing. At that time the great assembly diligently cultivated with energy and gradually realized the fruit of the Arhat, while this bhikṣu afterward fell ill with suffering and needed good medicine, but the illness instead grew more grave, and so he convened the saṃgha and spoke words of repentance and apology, saying: Although I was the master, I made light of the virtuous lives of you, my disciples.

The vexation and distress were likewise so; I only pray that the great assembly, with hearts of loving-kindness, will cause me too to share in joy. The ordinary person also clearly knows; even the lofty one must wither and fall. Where there is meeting there is parting; where there is birth there must be cessation.

Having spoken thus, he then passed away in peace and calm.

At that time the great assembly together with the disciples shared in the affairs together, creating meritorious reward; and so they said to one another: Our master has just entered nirvāṇa — it is not yet clear where his consciousness will be reborn. Among those disciples there was one who had already realized the fruit of sainthood; so he entered into the contemplation of concentration, first looking within the realm of the devas, then the realm of humans, and even down to the realms of the hungry ghosts and animals, seeing nothing of him.

After that he followed on to observe the hells, and clearly came to know that his master had fallen into the Avīci hell. Having seen this, the disciple gave rise to doubt and perplexity: "My master, while he was yet in the world, firmly upheld the pure precepts, was learned and eloquent, energetic in cultivation, never lax or weary, and gathered in and provided for the saṃgha of the eight directions — for what cause and condition, then, does he receive so dire a retribution as this?" At that time, that disciple entered concentration again, intently contemplating the causes and conditions of his former life, and saw that because he had killed his own mother he received this retribution, having to fall into the Avīci hell, the fire burning ceaselessly to scorch that body.

Then he was beaten by the hell-wardens in all manner of ways, who said: "When you were in the world you were a witless, base, and inferior thing, who committed this offense against your own kin and so must receive this retribution." At once the hell-wardens took an exceedingly hot iron ball and struck his head, the blood flowing without cease, the suffering beyond all telling. At that time, that Arhat disciple, having seen this, then exerted his spiritual power of compassion to remove those sufferings and afflictions.

Through being moistened by the majestic virtue of the Dharma, he was caused to recall his former lives, and then, relying upon mindful recollection of the Three Jewels, accumulating wholesome roots, that life was then ended, and he was reborn in the Yāma heaven, among the devas newly born there. Dwelling in that heaven, he then gave rise to three kinds of reflection. First, he looked back at his former body — into what clan and lineage had he taken birth?

Second, where had he been, and how had his body been destroyed and his life come to an end? Third, by cultivating what merit had he been reborn in the heaven?

At that time, that deva-son, having contemplated thus, then saw his own self: that he had formerly committed the offense against his kin, and that through the power of the Buddha's grace he had been reborn in this heaven; and so he thought: I now, single-mindedly, wish to entertain no other thought, but seek only to see the Buddha, to draw near and make offerings, in order to repay that great grace and virtue. Through the meritorious power of the devas, he naturally obtained all kinds of precious necklaces and jewels, adorning this body.

At the beginning of the night, his body emitted a clear and bright light that shone upon the Jeta Grove. All of it appeared distinctly, and he came before the Buddha, bowed his head and face in homage at the Buddha's feet, and used the many-colored lotus flowers of the heaven, such as the Māndārava flower, to make offering to the Buddha, heaping them as high as his knees. Having finished making offering, he went and sat to one side.

At that time the World-Honored One, clearly knowing the state of mind of that deva-son, then spoke the Treatise of the Four Noble Truths; speaking thus three times. Having heard it and clearly understood, he at once perceived the truth, and without leaving his seat, realized the fruit of Stream-entry. The undefiled, firm, adamantine wisdom.

After his body is destroyed and his life ends, he sees clearly that wrong pride is like a mountain. These are indeed the four truths of reality. Whether a śramaṇa or a brāhmaṇa, parents or friends — for their sake one is able to expound them clearly.

Only the World-Honored One has compassion for me, whose tears and blood are as much as the great ocean, whose bones are heaped into mountains. He shuts the gates of evil and opens the road of good, rescues from the hells, hungry ghosts, and animals, and causes one to dwell in joy in the good fruits of the devas and humans. At that time the deva-son spoke a verse, saying:

I, through being tainted by desire, was deeply deluded,

And fell into the Avīci hell;

Through the grace of the Buddha I was reborn in heaven,

And further realized the fruit of Nirvāṇa.

I, through relying upon the wholesome Dharma,

Am forever freed from saṃsāra and the evil destinies,

And from the streams of birth and death yet to come,

And at once attain the tranquil quiescent shore of enlightenment.

I now have seen the Sage Muni,

Whom in a hundred thousand births it is hard to meet;

Well freed from the cause of birth, aging, and sickness,

So I wish to make offerings broadly to the world.

Holding these precious things, I come here to present them,

With palms joined and circling before his face, my mind rejoicing;

Therefore I bow my head to the One Endowed with Two-fold Perfection,

Who can cause devas and humans to give birth to enlightenment.

The Sūtra of the Collected Practices of the Canopy of Merit and Right Conduct

End of Scroll Five