佛說貧窮老公經

Thus have I heard. At one time the Buddha, together with one thousand two hundred and fifty Bhikshus, was gathered in the garden of the trees of the Elder Anāthapiṇḍika and Prince Jeta (*) in the country of Śrāvastī. At that time there were ten thousand Bodhisattvas, together with devas, nāgas, yakshas, and spirits, and a countless assembly of listeners, all of whom reverently gathered around the Buddha, listening to the Buddha expound the Dharma, and all of them rejoiced.

Meanwhile, there was a destitute old man who had lived to two hundred years of age, with long and beautiful eyebrows, two broad ears, white and even teeth, and two arms reaching past his knees. To look upon his appearance, he seemed like one possessed of the marks of merit, yet he endured a state of poverty and misery: his clothing was not enough to cover his body, ragged and exposing his nakedness, and he was constantly afflicted by hunger and thirst, dragging himself step by step, walking and gasping wearily as he went.

For ten years he had heard that a Buddha was present in the world, and in his heart he was greatly joyful; day and night he constantly made the vow to be able to meet the Buddha. Leaning on his staff, he made his way little by little in search of Him, hoping to be granted an audience with the Lord. By misfortune, just as he reached the gateway of the Vihāra, he met the Brahmā devas and Śakra (Indra), who blocked him and would not let him enter.

Distressed and aggrieved, the old man cried out in lament:

"I was born into this world in misfortune! I endure a state of poverty, destitution, hunger, thirst, and cold. I beg for death, yet I cannot die; I live, yet I know not on whom to rely!

I have heard that the World-Honored One is a being of benevolence, who loves and shelters all alike. The myriad kinds of beings are all moistened by His grace and virtue, and for this reason my heart was filled with the greatest joy. For these ten years past, day and night I made my vow, hoping to be able to meet the Buddha.

Now at last I have come to know that there truly is a Buddha. Therefore, undaunted, I dragged this aged and feeble body from afar to come here, and I ask but one single thing: to be granted an audience with the Buddha, beseeching Him to bestow His grace and compassion, to rescue me and free me from this state of suffering and anguish. Yet you have barred me and would not let me enter.

In this you have acted contrary to the very intention of the Buddha. How can you do such a thing!"

Within, knowing already what was taking place between the old man and the Brahmā devas and Śakra outside the gateway of the Vihāra, the Buddha turned and asked Ānanda:

"Have you seen the old man who has the marks of merit, who is aged and long-lived yet burdened with many faults and offenses?"

Ānanda knelt upright, joined his palms, and addressed the Buddha:

"How could there be one who is aged and long-lived, possessed of the marks of merit, and yet has many faults and offenses? One who has many faults and offenses—how could he possess the marks of merit? In all my life I have never seen such a person. Where is he at present?"

The Buddha replied: I see that there is such an old man at present outside the gateway, blocked by the Brahmā devas and Śakra, who will not let him enter. Go out and tell him to come in.

Then the old man, hunched and feeble, came in. As soon as he beheld the Buddha, two streams of tears welled up in his eyes; rejoicing and weeping at once, he bowed his head and prostrated himself before the Buddha, then knelt upright, joined his palms, and, sobbing, reverently addressed Him: "I was born into this world in misfortune, enduring a state of poverty, destitution, and misery, hunger, thirst, and cold. I beg for death, yet I cannot die; I live, yet I know not on whom to rely.

I heard that the World-Honored One is a being of benevolence, who loves and shelters all alike. The myriad things are all moistened by the grace and virtue of the World-Honored One. My heart was filled with joy, and night and day I made my vow, hoping that for once I might gaze upon the Honored Countenance—for ten years past, and now at last the fruit of my vow has come to pass.

Yet just now I stood outside the gateway for a long while and could not enter. I wished to turn back, but my strength was already so weak that I could not bear it; unable to advance or retreat, I knew not which course to take. I feared only that I would lose my life there and defile the gate of the Buddha, adding still more to my offenses.

Fortunate it is that the Honored One of Devas, in His compassion, received and led me in, so that I have been able to enter here. Having met with such good fortune as this, even if I were to die now, I would have no regret left. I wish only to swiftly extinguish and remove all my faults and offenses, so that in lives to come I need no longer endure this state of suffering and anguish.

May the Buddha extend His compassion and bestow upon me the wisdom of the Buddha!"

The Buddha taught: "For all who, as human beings, receive birth and come into this world, birth and death are alike brought about by causes and conditions. By many causes and conditions are formed the roots of faults and offenses. I shall tell you clearly the source of the faults and offenses that you bear today: In a former life you were born into the house of King Mati-prabha (Bright Wisdom), a king who ruled over a great and powerful country.

At that time you were the Crown Prince Kṛdharaja-pati (Proud and Noble). Above, you were prized and esteemed by your Father the King and your Mother the Queen; below, you were revered and served by the subjects of the realm. For this reason you were exceedingly arrogant, haughty, and self-important, your mind given over to indulgence, scornful and disdainful of everyone, looking down upon all.

Immensely wealthy, with riches numbering in the myriad millions, all of it was seized from the people. The common folk were poor and destitute because the taxes and levies took everything from them. You knew only how to hoard and gather; you did not know how to give.

At that time there was a Śramaṇa named Pure Aspiration (Śuddha-citta) who came from a distant land. Lacking a single Dharma robe, he sought you out, hoping that you would give him but one, asking for nothing more. Yet you utterly refused to give it; moreover, you treated him with excessive cruelty.

Having given neither the Dharma robe nor any food, you forced the innocent Śramaṇa to sit ever before your house; when he wished to leave, still you would not allow it. For seven days and nights you gave him not a single sip of water. His body had already collapsed in a faint, his breath was faint and gasping, and his very life was on the brink of peril.

Regarding this as a kind of amusement, you gathered many people to come and watch, and you took the greatest delight in it! At that time there was a close minister who admonished and remonstrated with you, saying: 'Crown Prince, you ought not to act in this way. This is a gentle and humble Śramaṇa, who within bears the whole spirit of moral virtue.

The cold outside, for such a person, is nothing that may be called cold, and hunger and thirst likewise are not worth calling hunger and thirst. The reason he has come here to ask is only that he wishes to bring about merit and virtue for others, nothing more. Since the Crown Prince will not give to him, then let it be; but do not go on to oppress and afflict him.

It would be better for the Crown Prince to set this Śramaṇa free. Do not create yet more that is offense and fault!'

The Crown Prince replied: "What sort of person is this who falsely claims to possess moral virtue? I am merely making him suffer hardship for sport—who would ever let him die for that? You need not worry. Very well, set him free and let him go." Whereupon he released the Śramaṇa, who departed out of the city. When the Śramaṇa had gone about ten li from the city, he again ran into a band of robbers and bandits who had been starving for a long time and wished to seize the Śramaṇa, kill him, and eat his flesh. The Śramaṇa said: "I am a Śramaṇa, poor, miserable, and cold; my body is sickly and feeble, nothing but skin wrapping the bones, and my flesh is foul and rank, not fit to be eaten. Even if you kill me, it will only be added toil for nothing—you will get no use of it!"

The band of bandits answered in reply: 'We have been starving for a long time, eating only roots and earth. Though you are thin, you are still flesh. There is no way we can let you go. The only course is that you must sacrifice yourself.' The two sides spoke back and forth, hesitating and wavering for a long while. By chance the Crown Prince came along, and seeing such an event, he said to himself: I did not give that Śramaṇa food and clothing, so be it—but how could I bear to let a band of starving bandits kill and destroy him! I must save this man.

When the starving bandits saw the Crown Prince intervene, the whole band prostrated themselves, begged forgiveness for their offense, and set the Śramaṇa free to go.

The Śramaṇa of that time is now the Bodhisattva Maitreya here present; the Crown Prince Proud-and-Noble of that time is now you yourself. The reason you now suffer the offense of poverty, destitution, and misery is because in your former life you were greedy and miserly. The reason you now have attained long life is because you saved the life of the Śramaṇa. The retribution of offense and merit follows like a shadow following a form, like an echo answering a sound!

The old man addressed the Buddha: "The events of the past are now as clear as this. I vow to wash myself clean from this day forth, and I vow to take this remaining life and become a Śramaṇa, so that hereafter, life after life, I may ever attend at the Buddha's side."

The Buddha taught: Excellent! Excellent!

At once, the old man's beard and hair fell away entirely, and the Dharma robe was naturally draped upon his body. His body and his powers of mind became strong and vigorous, his ears and eyes clear and bright; he straightway attained lofty and supreme wisdom and entered the Dharma-gate of Right Concentration (samādhi).

Then the World-Honored One spoke again in verse, saying:

In olden times you were a Crown Prince,

Proud and Noble, given to indulgence,

Knowing not the way of benevolence and righteousness.

Relying on being the son of a great country's king,

You told yourself there is no offense and no merit,

Imagining you would be thus forever,

Not understanding the principle of birth and death.

Today you endure this calamity,

Having created offense, yet by good fortune also merit,

And so you have been able to meet the Tathāgata again,

Freed from your offenses of old,

Taking refuge for your body in the Dharma-gate,

Departing far from the mind of stinginess and greed,

Ever attaining the faculty of wisdom,

Life after life attending at the Buddha's side,

Living long for myriad ten-thousands of kalpas.

That old man had become a Bhikshu; hearing the sutra, he joyfully prostrated himself before the Buddha:

Then the World-Honored One said to Ānanda:

"If there is anyone who devotedly recites this sutra, that person shall behold the thousand Buddhas of the Worthy Kalpa (Bhadrakalpa). Whoever practices according to this sutra, spreading it far and wide and handing it down to later generations, that person shall, in a later life, meet the Buddha Maitreya and receive the Buddha's prediction. The Tathāgata's broad and long tongue never speaks falsely!

When the whole great assembly had heard the Buddha finish speaking, they all prostrated themselves before the Buddha and, rejoicing, reverently carried out His teaching.