佛說貧窮老公經

Thus have I truly heard. At one time the Buddha, together with 1,250 bhikṣus, was gathered in the grove of the Elder Anāthapiṇḍika and Prince Jeta (*) in the country of Śrāvastī. At that time there were 10,000 Bodhisattvas, as well as devas, nāgas, yakṣas, and spirits, and an innumerable assembly of listeners, all reverently gathered around the Buddha, listening to the Buddha expound the Dharma, and all were joyful.

Meanwhile, there was a destitute old man who had lived to the age of two hundred years. His eyebrows were long and handsome, his two ears broad and large, his teeth white and even, and his two arms reached past his knees. Looking upon his features, he seemed like a person endowed with marks of merit, yet he had to endure a state of poverty and misery; his clothing was not enough to cover his body, being torn and ragged and leaving him exposed, and he often suffered from hunger and thirst.

Dragging himself step by step, he walked while gasping wearily for breath. For ten years he had heard that a Buddha was present in the world, and his heart was filled with great joy; day and night he constantly made the vow to be able to meet the Buddha. Leaning on his staff, he gradually made his way there, hoping to be granted an audience with the Tathāgata.

Unfortunately, just as he arrived at the gate of the monastery, he encountered the Brahma-devas and Indra (Śakra), who barred his way and would not let him enter. Filled with grief and resentment, the old man cried out in lament:

“I was born into this world in misfortune! I endure poverty, misery, and destitution, hunger, thirst, and cold. I seek death, yet death does not come; I live, yet know not on whom to rely!

I have heard that the World-Honored One is one of great benevolence, who loves and protects all without exception. All beings are nourished by his grace and virtue, and for this reason my heart is filled with the greatest joy. For ten years now, day and night, I have made the vow, praying to be able to meet the Buddha.

Only now have I come to know that there truly is a Buddha. Therefore, undaunted, I dragged my old and feeble body here from far away, asking for one thing alone: to be granted an audience with the Buddha, and to beseech him to bestow his grace and benevolence, to rescue me and free me from this state of suffering. Yet you have forbidden me and would not let me enter.

In so doing, you have acted contrary to the Buddha’s own intention. How could you do such a thing!”

Knowing within what was taking place between the old man and the Brahma-devas and Indra outside the gate of the monastery, the Buddha turned and asked Ānanda:

“Have you ever seen an old man who has the marks of merit, who is venerable in years and long-lived, yet is burdened with many transgressions?”

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

“How could there be a person who is venerable in years and long-lived, who has the marks of merit, and yet has many transgressions? How could a person who has many transgressions also possess the marks of merit? In all my life I have never seen such a person. Where is this person now?”

The Buddha replied: I see that there is just such an old man now standing outside the gate, barred by the Brahma-devas and Indra and not allowed to enter. Go out and tell him to come in.

Then the old man came hobbling in, and as soon as he saw the Buddha, tears streamed down both his cheeks; rejoicing and weeping at once, he bowed his head and prostrated himself before the Buddha. Then he knelt upright, joined his palms, and, sobbing, reverently addressed him: “I was born into this world in misfortune, enduring poverty, misery, and destitution, hunger, thirst, and cold. I seek death, yet death does not come; I live, yet know not on whom to rely.

I have heard that the World-Honored One is one of great benevolence, who loves and protects all without exception. All beings are nourished by the grace and virtue of the World-Honored One. My heart rejoiced, and day and night I made the vow, hoping for but one chance to behold your venerable countenance; for ten years until now, only now has this borne fruit as I vowed.

Yet just now I stood outside the gate for a long while and could not enter. I wished to turn back, but my strength was already too weak to bear it; unable to advance or retreat, I knew not which course to take. I feared only that I might give up my life there, defiling the gate of the Buddha and adding still further to my transgressions.

By great fortune the Heaven-Honored One took pity on me and led me in, and so I was able to enter here. Having been so fortunate as this, even were I to die now I would have no remaining regret. I wish only to swiftly extinguish all my transgressions, so that in lives to come I need no longer endure such suffering.

May the Buddha extend his compassion and bestow upon me the Buddha’s wisdom!”

The Buddha taught: “Whenever a person receives birth and comes into this world, both life and death arise from causes and conditions. From many causes and conditions are created the very roots of transgression. I shall now make clear to you the origin of the transgressions that you bear today: In a former life you were born into the house of King Minghui (Bright Wisdom), a king who governed a great and powerful nation.

At that time you were the proud and noble Crown Prince. From above, you were treasured by your royal father and queen mother; from below, you were revered and served by the subjects of the realm. Because of this you were utterly arrogant, conceited, and self-aggrandizing; your mind was unrestrained, you scorned and disdained everyone, and you held all things in contempt.

You were immensely wealthy, with possessions numbering in the millions, yet all of it was seized from the people. The common folk were impoverished because taxes and levies took everything from them. You knew only how to hoard, and not how to give in charity.

At that time there was a śramaṇa named Pure Aspiration (Jingzhi) who came from a distant land. Because he lacked a single Dharma robe, he sought you out, hoping only that you would give him one robe in charity, and nothing more. Yet you would by no means give it; instead you treated him with excessive cruelty.

Not only did you refuse him the Dharma robe, you also refused him food. You forced this innocent śramaṇa to sit perpetually before your house, and when he wished to leave you still would not allow it. For seven days and nights you gave him not so much as a sip of water.

His body had already collapsed in a faint, his breath was faint and failing, and his very life was on the brink of peril. Treating 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 counseled you, saying: ‘The Crown Prince should not do such a thing.

This is a śramaṇa, gentle and humble, who carries within him the whole spirit of morality and the Way. The cold without is, for such a person, nothing that may be called cold, and his hunger and thirst are not worthy of being called hunger and thirst. The reason he has come here to beg is only to generate merit and virtue for another.

Since the Crown Prince has not given in charity, let it be so—but do not press cruelty upon him. It would be better for the Crown Prince to grant this śramaṇa his freedom. Do not create any further transgressions!’

The Crown Prince replied: ‘What sort of person is this, who falsely claims to possess morality? I have let him suffer hardship only as a game—who would let him actually die? Do not be anxious, minister. Very well, set him free and let him go.’ Thereupon he released the śramaṇa, who went out from the city. When the śramaṇa had traveled about ten li from the city, he again encountered a band of robbers who, having been starving for many days, wished to seize the śramaṇa and kill and eat his flesh. The śramaṇa said: ‘I am a śramaṇa, poor, miserable, and cold; my body is sickly and frail, nothing but skin over bone, and my flesh, moreover, is foul and rank, not fit to be eaten at all. Even if you kill me, you will only add to your toil and the waiting, for I cannot be put to use!’

The robbers replied: ‘We have been starving for many days, eating only roots and earth. Though you are thin, you are still flesh. We cannot possibly let you go. The only way is that you must sacrifice yourself.’ Back and forth the two sides spoke, hesitating for a long while. By chance the Crown Prince came along, and seeing this event, he said to himself: Since I gave that śramaṇa neither food nor clothing, how then could I bear to let a band of starving robbers kill and harm him! I must rescue this man.

When the starving robbers saw the Crown Prince intervene, they all prostrated themselves, begged forgiveness for their offense, and set the śramaṇa free.

The śramaṇa at that time is now the Bodhisattva Maitreya here present; the proud and noble Crown Prince at that time is now you. The reason you now suffer the transgression of poverty and misery is your greed and stinginess in a former life. The reason you now enjoy long life is that you saved the life of the śramaṇa. The retribution of transgression 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 clear as this. I vow to be cleansed of them from this day forward, and I vow to take this remaining life and become a śramaṇa, so that in lives to come, age after age, I may ever attend at the Buddha’s side.”

The Buddha taught: Excellent! Excellent!

At that very moment, the old man’s hair and beard fell away of themselves, and the Dharma robe naturally clothed his body. His body and mental strength became strong and vigorous, his ears and eyes clear and bright; he straightaway attained the lofty and supreme wisdom and entered the Dharma-gate of right samādhi.

Then the World-Honored One again spoke in verse:

You were of old a Crown Prince,

Proud and noble, given to unrestraint,

Knowing nothing of benevolence and righteousness.

Relying on being the son of a king of a great nation,

You told yourself there is neither transgression nor merit,

Imagining it would be thus forever,

Not understanding the principle of birth and death.

Today you suffer this calamity;

Having created transgression, you also gained good fortune,

And so were able to meet the Tathāgata again,

Escaping the transgressions of old.

Taking refuge in the Dharma-gate,

Departing far from the mind of greed and stinginess,

You shall ever possess the faculty of wisdom,

Age after age attending at the Buddha’s side,

Living long for myriad ten-thousands of kalpas.

That old man had become a bhikṣu; hearing the sūtra, he joyfully prostrated himself before the Buddha.

Then the World-Honored One said to Ānanda:

“If there is anyone who devotedly recites this sūtra, that person shall behold the thousand Buddhas of the Worthy Kalpa (Bhadrakalpa). Whoever practices according to this sūtra, spreading it far and wide and transmitting it to later generations, that person, when born into the world in a future life, shall meet the Buddha Maitreya and receive his prediction of awakening. The Tathāgata’s tongue, broad and long, never speaks falsely!

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