佛說心明經

Thus have I heard:

At one time, the Buddha was journeying to Mount Gṛdhrakūṭa (Vulture Peak), in the city of Rājagṛha, together with a full assembly of five hundred bhikṣus and the fourfold community. One day, early in the morning, the Buddha donned his robe, took up his bowl, and went to a village to beg for alms. The devas and the nāga spirits flew above, attending upon him. When he arrived before the closed gate of a brāhmaṇa's house, the Buddha emitted a great radiance that illuminated all the ten directions.

At that time, the brāhmaṇa's wife was kindling a fire to cook rice. As soon as she saw the orb of radiance, her whole body was naturally filled with a cool serenity and ease. She thought to herself: "The light shining forth this morning is unlike the light of the sun, the moon, or of Brahmā, Śakra, the Four Heavenly Kings, or of any of the devas." Reverently she smiled, rejoicing more than ever before, and then, turning her head, she saw the Buddha, his form upright and surpassingly beautiful, his majestic bearing extraordinary, like the moon amid the host of stars, like the light of dawn appearing upon the mountain peak.

All the marks of excellence were complete in him. His body was refined and pure, without a single flaw, having attained the supreme tranquility and the foremost samādhi. He was like a Wheel-Turning King gracing his great jeweled palace, attended by his close ministers.

He was like Śakra dwelling and ruling over the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven, like the Brahmā King upon the seventh exalted throne, like one standing atop the snowy mountains, clearly seeing all things around. The brāhmaṇa's wife, her heart joyful and exulting many times over, reflected: "Now to behold the Buddha and his assembly of disciples truly fulfills my heart's wish. I desire to offer food in reverence to the Perfectly Enlightened One, but I think to myself that my husband is foolish and without faith, his heart still bound by the sixty-two views of the outer paths; if he sees me make this offering he will surely be displeased.

Perhaps in a former life I committed too many transgressions, and so I have lost the heroic and valiant form of a man and must take a woman's body, like one who is bound and fettered. I wish to make an offering to the World-Honored One but cannot fulfill my heart's longing—how then am I to act in accordance with my wish?" Yet, having thought thus, the brāhmaṇa's wife took up a bowl of rice-water and offered it up to the Buddha.

By the spiritual power of the Buddha, the bowl of rice-water naturally took on a hundred thousand kinds of delicious flavors. The Buddha received the bowl of rice-water and spoke these words of praise:

Were one to give a hundred horses

With saddles and bridles inlaid with gold and silver,

Bestowing such bounty upon another,

It would not equal this bowl of rice-water.

Were one to set out chariots of the seven jewels

Laden and heaped with pearls,

The bowl of rice-water offered to the Buddha—

This merit surpasses that merit.

If one gives a hundred white elephants

And necklaces of luminous mani-pearls,

To offer the Buddha a bowl of rice-water—

This merit excels and triumphs over them.

Like a Wheel-Turning Sacred King

And the Queen Samantabhadrā,

Upright and beautiful beyond compare,

With bodies adorned by the seven-jeweled necklaces,

Each kind numbering in the hundreds,

Many such beautiful things,

All of them given to another—

It would not equal this bowl of rice-water.

At that time, the brāhmaṇa, who had been standing in silence listening to the Buddha's praise, his heart still in doubt, came before the Buddha and asked:

"Reverently I ask the World-Honored One! How is it that a single bowl of rice-water should be so extolled by the World-Honored One? Yet to offer many kinds of precious treasures—such as horses, elephants, chariots, and the like—is beyond reproach, and yet you say it does not equal the offering of a bowl of rice-water. That bowl of rice-water is not worth a single coin, and yet you praise it manyfold like this—who could believe it!"

The World-Honored One thereupon revealed the mark of his broad, long tongue, which covered his face and reached up to the Brahmā Heaven, and then said to the brāhmaṇa:

"For countless hundreds of thousands of koṭis of kalpas I have, with utmost sincerity, practiced the six perfections without limit or bound, bringing peace and ease to all sentient beings without grudging or sparing—and thus I have attained this mark of the tongue. How could I have attained such a long tongue had I spoken falsely? I wish to ask you; answer me truthfully:

You have often traveled to and fro through the city of Rājagṛha in the land of Śrāvastī; upon the road there is a tree called the nyagrodha, whose canopy can shade a whole crowd of people and five hundred carts—is this not so?"

"It is so, World-Honored One; I too have seen it thus."

"How large is its seed?"

"It is as large as a mustard seed."

"You are truly double-tongued. If it is but the size of a mustard seed, how can the tree be so vast?"

"World-Honored One, I dare not speak falsely."

The World-Honored One asked again:

"If a mustard seed when planted grows into so vast a tree, then that plot of ground would not be enough to contain the flourishing growth and the wide-spreading, sheltering canopy of the mustard seed; how much more so the Tathāgata, the Unsurpassed, Truly Real One, the Perfectly Enlightened One—excellent indeed is he, the one in whom merit gathers and universally prevails, who has attained morality, concentration, wisdom, liberation, and the knowledge and vision of liberation, whose great loving-kindness and great compassion are boundless and shoreless. To offer a meal in reverence to the Tathāgata is merit difficult to measure."

The brāhmaṇa fell silent and spoke no more. At that time, the Buddha smiled, and a radiance of five colors issued forth from his mouth, illuminating all the heavens of the ten directions, devas and humans, and all the myriad beings of the five paths, so that their hearts were all gladdened. The hungry ghosts were filled to satiety, the torments of the great hells ceased, and the animals, their minds awakened, had their transgressions wiped away.

The streams of radiance, having issued forth, then returned to the place of the Buddha. The smile of the Buddhas always has such auspicious marks: when bestowing a definite prophecy upon the bodhisattvas, the radiance illuminates the ten directions and then enters in through the crown of the Buddha; when bestowing a prophecy upon the pratyekabuddhas, the orb of radiance enters in through the middle of the brow; when prophesying for the śrāvakas, the radiance enters in through the shoulders; when speaking of rebirth among the devas, the radiance enters in through the navel; when speaking of descending to be born as a human, the radiance enters in through the knees; when speaking of the sufferings of the three lower destinies, the radiance enters in through the soles of the feet.

The joyful smile of the Buddhas is not a smile of desire, nor a smile of anger, delusion, heedlessness, gain and nourishment, glory, or wealth and rank. Now the Buddha, in his universal deliverance and pity for all sentient beings, practicing the dharma of great compassion, does not smile for the sake of those seven things. The worthy Ānanda, discerning the seven things, should know the Dharma, seeing, reflecting, and understanding rightly and in season, penetrating the matters within the assembly.

Having pondered and examined within himself, and understanding the dispositions of all present, he straightway rose, arranged his robes, knelt upon his knee, and addressed the Buddha:

"World-Honored One! Why did the World-Honored One smile? I beg the World-Honored One to declare its meaning."

The Buddha said to Ānanda:

"Ānanda! Did you see the brāhmaṇa's wife give rise to the great resolve?"

"Yes, World-Honored One, I saw it."

The Buddha said:

"This woman, after she dies, will transform her female body into a male body, and be born in the heavens as one exalted among the devas; born in the world, she will be foremost among all people. She understands the profound and wondrous Dharma, and clearly knows that all dharmas arising from conditions are like an illusion, like a magical creation, like the moon's reflection in water, like an echo, like the shimmering vapor of the earth. After thirty kalpas she will become a Buddha named Bright-Hearted Tathāgata (Vimala-citta Tathāgata), the Truly Real and Perfectly Enlightened One, Perfect in Knowledge and Conduct, the Well-Gone One, the Knower of the World, the Unsurpassed One, the Tamer of the Path of the Dharma, the Teacher of Gods and Humans, the Buddha, the World-Honored One."

The brāhmaṇa, in reverent submission, cast his five limbs down upon the ground, engraving it upon his heart, reproaching himself and speaking words of repentance:

"I am like a foolish, dull, and benighted child, doubting and wavering, not recognizing the Great Sage, speaking with disrespect, wholly steeped in transgression."

The Buddha said:

"Excellent! Excellent! If you yourself perceive your fault and return to revere the Buddha, and, according to the rules and precepts of the path, repent and reform your former faults, then those transgressions will be wiped away and your merit will increase day by day."

The brāhmaṇa reverently said:

"Reverently I ask the World-Honored One! I pray that the World-Honored One, in his great loving-kindness, will grant his favor and bestow his pity, and permit me to go forth into the homeless life."

The Buddha thereupon received the brāhmaṇa as a śramaṇa, shaved off his hair and beard, and clothed his body in the Dharma robe. The World-Honored One expounded the Four Noble Truths: suffering, its origin, its cessation, and the path.

The brāhmaṇa rejoiced, awakened, and his outflows were utterly extinguished. When the Buddha had spoken thus, the worthy Ānanda and all the fourfold community—devas, humans, nāga spirits, and the rest—all gave rise to the resolve for the path, and, rejoicing, bowed in homage and withdrew.