過去現在因果經

At that time, after King Suddhodana had ordered the royal preceptor and the chief minister to search for the Prince, he took the Prince’s jeweled necklace and handed it to Lady Mahaprajapati, saying:

—This is the jeweled necklace the Prince was wearing. He gave it to Chandaka to bring back and deliver to you.

When Lady Mahaprajapati saw the jeweled necklace, her heart became even more anguished. She thought to herself, “In this life, I alone must be the least fortunate of all, for I have lost a wise and discerning wheel-turning sage-king.” The King then gave the remaining ornaments to Yasodhara, saying:

—The Prince asked that these ornaments be given to you.

When Yasodhara saw those ornaments, she fell to the ground unconscious. The King immediately had attendants help her up and console her, and he urged the chief consort to take good care of herself and not grieve so deeply that it might adversely affect the child in her womb.

When the royal preceptor and the chief minister reached the ascetic grove of the seer Bhargava, they laid aside their ceremonial insignia and ordered their retinue to remain outside the grove. The two of them alone proceeded to where the ascetic was staying. The ascetic invited them to sit down, and after they had exchanged greetings, the royal preceptor said:

—I am the royal preceptor of King Suddhodana. I have come here because the King has a prince who, weary of the sufferings of birth, aging, illness, and death, came to this region to renounce the household life and study the Way. May I ask whether you have seen him?

The seer Bhargava replied:

—Recently we met a young man of an extraordinarily majestic appearance, endowed with all the excellent marks. He came to this grove, discussed the teachings with me, and stayed for one night. I did not realize that he was the Prince. Considering our path too rudimentary, he departed northward for the places where the ascetics Arada and Kalama reside.

When the two men heard the ascetic say this, they hurriedly took their leave and traveled north toward the dwellings of those two seers. Halfway there, they saw the Prince in the distance, seated in meditation beneath the shade of a tree, his excellent marks shining as radiantly as the sun and moon. They quickly dismounted, left their ceremonial insignia and attendants behind, approached the Prince, and sat to one side. After exchanging greetings, the royal preceptor said:

—The Great King sent us to find the Prince, for there is something he wishes us to convey to you.

The Prince asked:

—What did my royal father send you to say?

The royal preceptor replied:

—The Great King has long known of the Prince’s wish to renounce the household life and that this resolve would be difficult to change. Yet the King’s affection for the Prince remains so deep that anxiety and sorrow consume him like a blazing fire. He hopes that the Prince will return and extinguish the flames of his grief and anguish. I humbly beseech the Prince to return. Although the royal palace presents many obstacles, they need not cause the Prince to lose his spiritual vocation or abandon meditative serenity. What need is there to enter the forests and mountains? At present, Lady Mahaprajapati, the chief consort Yasodhara, and all your relatives on both your father’s and mother’s sides are submerged in an ocean of longing. They hope that the Prince will return and rescue them.

Hearing the royal preceptor speak thus, the Prince earnestly replied:

—How could I not know the depth of my royal father’s affection for me? It is only because I fear the suffering of birth, aging, illness, and death that I have come here to seek and study the Way by which they may be eradicated. If those who love one another could remain united forever, without birth, aging, illness, and death, why would I have come here?

I am now separated from my royal father because I wish to attain reunion in the future. Although my royal father is presently consumed by the fire of sorrow, in this life my father and I endure only this suffering; in the future, however, that source of anxiety will be eliminated. If, as you say, you wish me to remain in the palace and cultivate the Way, it would be like remaining in a house adorned with the seven treasures while it is engulfed in flames—who could possibly stay within it?

Likewise, even a starving person cannot eat food that contains poison. I have renounced the kingdom and left the household life to cultivate the Way; why, then, do you tell me to return to the palace to practice? People of the world dwell amid immense suffering, yet they become so intoxicated by a little pleasure that they cannot relinquish it.

How, then, could I, now dwelling in a place of utter seclusion and tranquility, free from such sufferings, abandon it and return to that wretched and unwholesome condition? The kings of ancient times who entered the forests to cultivate the Way never turned back midway to indulge in sensual pleasures. If my royal father insists that I return, it would run contrary to the path followed by the kings of old.

The royal preceptor then said to the Prince:

—What the Prince has just said is indeed entirely correct. Yet among the holy seers, some say that karmic results certainly exist in the future, while others say that no such thing exists. Even those holy seers cannot know with certainty whether karmic results exist in a future life. Why, then, would the Prince abandon present happiness to seek uncertain future results? Since it is not yet known whether, beyond life and death, karmic results exist at all, why seek the fruit of liberation? I humbly beseech the Prince to return to the palace.

The Prince replied:

—Those seers speak of karmic results in the future. Some say they exist, while others say they do not; because they harbor doubts, none can make a definite assertion. I have no intention whatsoever of cultivating the paths of those seers. You should not use their reasoning to challenge me. Why is this? I did not leave the royal palace and come here to seek the Way because I desired karmic rewards. Rather, with my own eyes I have seen the sufferings of birth, aging, illness, and death that everyone must undergo, and so I seek a path of liberation from those sufferings. Before long, you will behold my Way, and I shall fulfill my aspiration. I cannot return now. Go back and report this to my royal father.

Having spoken, the Prince rose, took leave of the royal preceptor and the chief minister, and traveled northward, toward the place where the two seers Arada and Kalama were practicing.

When the two men saw the Prince depart, they cried out and wept bitterly. They suddenly recalled the Prince’s profound kindness and affection, and they had also received the King’s command to come to the Prince, yet had been utterly unable to sway his resolve. Thus, they lingered by the roadside, unable to return. They discussed the matter together:

—We received the King’s command but have failed to accomplish our task. If we now return without the Prince, what can we possibly report to the King? We should therefore leave behind five members of our retinue. Let us choose men who are intelligent and wise, gentle in disposition, loyal, trustworthy, upright, and born of renowned families, and secretly order them to follow the Prince and observe where he goes and where he stays.

Having said this, the two men examined their trusted attendants and found the group of five led by Kaundinya to be suitable. They therefore asked them:

—Are you able to remain here?

The five men all replied:

—We would be most fortunate! We respectfully obey your command and shall remain to follow the Prince and see where he goes.

Having spoken, the five men hastily took their leave and set out in the direction the Prince had gone, while the royal preceptor and the chief minister turned back toward the palace.

On the way to the residences of the two seers Arada and Kalama, the Prince crossed the Ganges River and followed the road to Rajagriha. When he entered the city, the people saw the extraordinarily majestic and beautiful form and countenance of the Prince and were filled with joyful admiration and reverence. The city’s inhabitants vied with one another to see him, creating such an uproar throughout the city that King Bimbisara asked his attending ministers in astonishment:

—What is happening that has caused such a loud commotion?

The ministers replied:

—The prince, son of King Suddhodana, was named Sarvasiddhartha. At his birth, the physiognomists predicted that he would later ascend the throne as a holy wheel-turning king and rule over the four continents; but if he renounced the household life, he would attain Omniscience. As soon as he entered the city, the people vied with one another to see him, causing a great clamor and commotion.

When King Bimbisara heard this report, his heart was filled with joy, and he immediately sent a man to discover where the prince was staying. Obeying the command, the messenger went in search of him and found the prince seated in quiet meditation and contemplation upon a stone slab on Mount Pandava. The messenger hurried back and reported this to the king. The king immediately ordered the royal carriage prepared and proceeded with his officials and subjects to the prince’s location. Upon arriving at Mount Pandava, the king saw from afar that the prince’s countenance shone as brilliantly as the sun and moon. He immediately dismounted, set aside the royal insignia, and forbade his attendants to follow. Approaching the prince, the king sat beside him and inquired after his well-being:

—Prince, are you at peace? I am greatly delighted to meet you, but there is one thing that grieves me. You belong to a noble lineage whose members have succeeded one another for many generations as wheel-turning kings, and you possess all the marks of a wheel-turning king.

Why, then, have you cast everything aside, entered the depths of the forest, and trodden over thorns, gravel, and sand to come here from afar? It is this sight that grieves me. If you believe that, because your royal father is still alive, you cannot ascend the throne as a wheel-turning king, I ask you to rule over half my kingdom.

If that is still not acceptable to you, I will yield my entire kingdom to you and serve you myself. If you do not wish to govern this kingdom, I will place the four divisions of my army at your command so that you may conquer another realm. Surely this would not be contrary to your aspirations.

Hearing King Bimbisara speak thus, the prince was deeply moved by the king’s sincerity and replied:

—Great King, you are of a powerful and noble lineage, lofty and virtuous by nature, and do nothing improper or discourteous. All your deeds are exalted and pure, so it is not surprising that you should now speak such words. Although I know that the Great King’s sincerity surpasses that of people past and present, you are now cultivating the Dharma of the three firm resolves—holding body, life, and possessions lightly—so how could you use impermanent things to entice another?

I have renounced the throne of a wheel-turning king; how, then, could I accept the throne of an ordinary king? With sincere intent, the Great King offers me his kingdom, yet I do not accept it; how much less could I lead an army to attack and seize another realm? I have left my parents, shaved off my beard and hair, and relinquished all concern for royal rank because I wish to end the sufferings of birth, aging, sickness, and death, not because I seek the five worldly sensual pleasures.

Those five sensual pleasures are a blazing heap of fire that burns sentient beings and prevents their escape. Why, then, would you urge me to become intoxicated by them? I have come here because I wish to seek the two sages Arada and Kalama, spiritual teachers who possess a supreme path of liberation.

I am traveling from afar to seek the path of liberation and therefore cannot remain here long. I have gone against the Great King’s gracious favor and sincerity; I hope the Great King will not take offense. I ask that the Great King govern the realm according to the true Dharma and not abandon his people.

Having spoken, the prince rose and took leave of the king. Seeing the prince depart, King Bimbisara felt profound reluctance to part from him. Tears welled in his eyes as he joined his palms and said:

—My heart was filled with joy when I had just met you, Prince. Now your hasty departure fills me with sorrow. Since you seek the great path of liberation, I dare not detain you. I only hope that you will swiftly attain the fruit of the path. If you attain enlightenment, I ask that you deliver me first.

The prince bade farewell and set out on his journey. The king accompanied him for some distance, then stood gazing intently after the prince until he had completely vanished from sight before returning.

The prince then journeyed to the sage Arada. Before this, the devas had informed the sage:

—Prince Sarvasiddhartha has relinquished his position as ruler and departed from his parents because he wishes to seek the unsurpassed, right, and true path in order to eradicate suffering for all sentient beings. He will soon arrive here.

The sage was greatly delighted to hear the devas’ message. In a short while, he saw the prince approaching from afar and immediately went out to welcome him. After exchanging greetings, the prince followed the sage into his dwelling. Upon their arrival, the sage invited the prince to be seated. Seeing the prince’s dignified countenance, complete with all the excellent marks, and that all his faculties were pure, Arada felt great respect and admiration for him and asked:

—Were you greatly wearied by your journey? I know everything from your birth and upbringing to your renunciation of the household life and your arrival here. Your renunciation may be likened to a heap of fire that ignites of itself, or to a great elephant that frees itself from its restraining bonds.

From ancient times to the present, kings in the prime of life have generally indulged themselves in the five sensual pleasures and only in old age relinquished their position as ruler, renounced the household life, and studied the path. There is nothing remarkable in that. Yet while still in the bloom of youth, you have been able to relinquish the five sensual pleasures, renounce the household life, and study the path.

This is truly rare. If you practice diligently, you will soon cross to the other shore.

After hearing this, the prince replied:

—Hearing your words fills my heart with joy. Please teach me the method for ending birth, aging, sickness, and death. I am now most eager to hear it.

The sage replied:

—Excellent! Excellent!

He then continued:

—From the very beginning, sentient beings have dwelt within a cycle of darkness. From that primal darkness arises conceit; from conceit arises delusion; from delusion arises defiling attachment; from a mind defiled by attachment arise the five subtle sensory essences; from the five subtle sensory essences arise the five great elements; and from the five great elements arise craving, anger, and the other afflictions. Because of these, beings wander through birth, aging, sickness, death, grief, sorrow, suffering, and distress. For now, I have explained this only briefly to the prince.

The prince then asked:

—I now understand what you have said, but by what means can the root of birth and death be eradicated?

The sage replied:

—If one wishes to eradicate the root of birth and death, one must first renounce the household life, observe the precepts, cultivate humility and patience, and practice meditative concentration in a secluded and tranquil place. One must abandon every evil and unwholesome intention of desire; yet at that time, sensation and examination still remain. This is the attainment of the first dhyana.

When all sensory impressions and examination are removed, the concentrated mind gives rise to joy and bliss. This is the attainment of the second dhyana. By relinquishing that joy and bliss, one gains right mindfulness, and complete happiness arises in body and mind.

This is the attainment of the third dhyana. By abandoning notions of suffering and pleasure, mindfulness becomes pure, and the mind relinquishes all such notions. One then attains the fourth dhyana and the state of non-perception.

In former times, someone believed that this fourth dhyana was liberation itself and that awakening was obtained through this concentration. Later, however, it was understood that this was not yet the place of true liberation. Therefore, one must abandon all perceptions of form and enter the perception of space; eliminate all perceptions that have objects and enter the perception of consciousness.

By cutting off all discriminative perceptions and abiding solely in contemplation of consciousness, one enters the perception of the sphere of nothingness. One must then completely abandon all perceptions and attain the sphere of neither perception nor non-perception. Only upon reaching this state is there truly ultimate liberation; this is also the final goal of one who cultivates the path.

If the prince wishes to end the suffering of birth, aging, sickness, and death, he should practice according to this method.

At that time, after hearing the seer speak, the Prince was displeased and thought to himself: “What he has just taught is not yet the ultimate state, nor is it a means of permanently eliminating all the afflictions that bind beings.” The Prince then said:

-There are matters in your explanation that remain unclear to me, and I therefore wish to ask you about them.

The seer replied:

-I would be pleased to hear your views.

The Prince then asked:

-In the sphere of neither perception nor non-perception, is there a self or no self? If one says that there is no self, then one cannot speak of the sphere of neither perception nor non-perception. But if one says that there is a self, does that self possess awareness, or does it possess no awareness?

If that self possesses no awareness, how does it differ from wood or stone? If it possesses awareness, then it is still involved with objects. If it is involved with objects, there will be a mind of attachment; and so long as the mind remains attached, this cannot be called liberation.

You believe that you have ended all the afflictions that bind you, but you do not yet recognize the subtle afflictions that remain. Thus, you have hastily taken this state to be complete liberation. Those subtle binding afflictions will gradually increase, causing sentient beings to wander endlessly through the cycle of birth and death.

Therefore, I consider this practice not to be the ultimate awakening that leads to complete enlightenment. Only if all notions can be brought entirely to an end can this be called true liberation from the self. To relinquish completely every recollection and conception of self—that alone may be called genuine liberation.

The seer remained silent and reflected: “What the Prince has said is truly profound and wondrous.”

The Prince then asked the seer:

-At what age did you renounce the household life, and how long have you practiced the holy life?

The seer replied:

-I renounced the household life at the age of sixteen, and I have now practiced the holy life for one hundred and four years.

Upon hearing this, the Prince thought: “He has been a renunciant for such a long time, yet this is all that he has attained?”

The Prince wished to seek a more ultimate path and teaching, so he rose and took leave of the seer. The seer said to the Prince:

-I have long practiced austerities, yet this is all I have attained. How could a prince born into a royal lineage possibly endure ascetic practices?

The Prince replied:

-Your practice is not yet especially austere. There are still far more difficult forms of ascetic practice.

Seeing that the Prince possessed extraordinary wisdom and such a powerful and unwavering resolve, the seer knew with certainty that the Prince would attain Omniscience. He therefore hastened to say:

-When you attain the Path, please deliver me first.

The Prince replied:

-Excellent!

The Prince next went to the dwelling place of the seer Kālāma to discuss the principles of the Path with him, but his teaching likewise went no further. The Prince therefore departed. Seeing him leave, both seers thought: “The Prince’s wisdom is immeasurably profound, wondrous, and exceptionally extraordinary; no one can fathom it.” They joined their palms and watched him depart until he had vanished from sight, and only then did they turn back.

After bringing the two seers Ārāḍa and Kālāma under discipline, the Prince proceeded directly to the ascetic forest of Gayā, where the five men led by Kauṇḍinya were dwelling. The Prince went to the bank of the Nairañjanā River, sat quietly in meditation, and contemplated the capacities of sentient beings. He saw that he needed to practice austerities for six years before he could deliver them.

Having reflected in this way, the Prince devoted himself diligently to ascetic practice. At that time, the devas offered him sesame seeds and rice. Because he sought the path of enlightenment, the Prince purified his mind and observed the precepts, eating only one sesame seed and one grain of rice each day.

Yet if anyone came to beg from him, he gave away even these. The five men in Kauṇḍinya’s group saw the Prince sitting quietly in meditation and practicing austerities, eating only one grain of rice or one sesame seed each day, and sometimes eating only one grain of rice and one sesame seed after two or even seven days. The five of them therefore also practiced austerities, remaining constantly at his side to attend upon him and never leaving him.

After witnessing the Prince’s practice, they appointed one among them to return and report to the royal preceptor and the chief minister, giving a full account of the Prince’s cultivation.

The royal preceptor and the chief minister then returned to the palace, their faces sorrowful and their bodies weary and haggard. They resembled people returning home while suppressing their grief after escorting a deceased loved one to burial. The keeper of the city gate hurried inside and reported to the King:

-The royal preceptor and the chief minister have arrived outside the city gate.

Upon hearing this, the King gasped for breath and was unable to speak; he could only nod. Understanding his meaning, the gatekeeper loudly transmitted the order for the royal preceptor to enter and see the King. The King was too grief-stricken to speak. Only after a long while did he manage to ask in a choked voice:

-The Prince is my very life. Now that you have returned alone, how can my life possibly remain?

The royal preceptor replied:

-We obeyed Your Majesty’s command and went in search of the Prince. We reached the dwelling place of the seer Bhārgava and asked him for news. The seer told us where the Prince had gone and recounted what the Prince had said, so we immediately set out after him.

Along the way, however, we encountered the Prince sitting quietly in meditation beneath the shade of a tree, his auspicious marks shining more brilliantly than the sun and moon. I then told the Prince of the sorrow and anguish of Your Majesty, Lady Mahāprajāpatī, and his chief consort Yaśodharā. The Prince spoke with heartfelt sincerity, saying that there was no reason he would not know the profound affection his royal father and relatives bore for him.

Yet it was precisely because he feared the sufferings of birth, old age, sickness, and death, and the separation from those one loves, that he had departed to seek the Path that would eradicate those sufferings. Every word and syllable spoken by the Prince revealed a resolve as firm and steadfast as Mount Sumeru, impossible to shake. He then left us behind as though casting away grass and refuse.

At that time, we selected five men from among the attendants and instructed them to follow and serve him, observing where he went and what he did. Later, one of them returned and reported to us that, while traveling to the dwellings of the two ascetics Ārāḍa and Kālāma, the Prince was carried across the Ganges by the spiritual power of the devas. When the Prince reached Rājagṛha, King Bimbisāra went to him and tried in countless ways to persuade him not to renounce the household life.

The King promised to give him half the kingdom, or even the entire realm to govern, or to place the army under his command so that he might conquer other lands. The Prince accepted none of these proposals and immediately departed. He went to the seers to inquire about the Dharma for subduing the mind and then proceeded to the ascetic forest of Gayā, where he sat quietly in meditation beside the Nairañjanā River, eating one grain of rice and one sesame seed each day.

After hearing the royal preceptor and the chief minister recount everything, King Śuddhodana was overwhelmed with sorrow. His entire body trembled, and he was filled with extreme alarm. The King said to the two ministers:

-The Prince has forsaken the joy of inheriting the throne of a wheel-turning monarch, left behind the loving affection of his parents, relatives, and kin, and entered the deep forest to practice austerities. I must indeed be lacking in merit to suffer the loss of such a precious son.

The King repeated the royal preceptor’s words to Mahāprajāpatī and Yaśodharā, and then ordered that five hundred carts be arranged and prepared. Lady Mahāprajāpatī and chief consort Yaśodharā likewise provided five hundred carts, each one fully laden with every necessity. The King said to Channa:

—You brought the Crown Prince into the depths of the forest. I now command you to take these thousand carts laden with food and other necessities to the Crown Prince. Offer them to him as circumstances require, and do not let him lack anything. When they have been exhausted, return and report to me.

Chandaka obeyed the command, took charge of the thousand carts, and immediately set out. When he arrived, he saw that the Crown Prince's body was emaciated and withered, nothing but skin covering bone, with his veins standing out like the fibers of the palasha flower. Chandaka bowed his head and paid homage at the Crown Prince's feet. Overcome with emotion, he fell unconscious to the ground. After a short while, he revived and tearfully said:

—The Great King thinks of and longs for the Crown Prince day and night without respite. He therefore sent me with a thousand carts carrying ample food and all the necessities the Crown Prince may require.

The Crown Prince replied to Chandaka:

—I left my parents, homeland, and kingdom and came here to seek the path of liberation. How could I accept these things sent by the king?

Hearing this, Chandaka thought, “The Crown Prince will not accept them. I must therefore have someone take these carts back and report to the king, while I remain here to attend upon and serve the Crown Prince.” Having thought thus, Chandaka ordered a man to take the carts back, while he himself remained behind, quietly attending upon the Crown Prince day and night without ever leaving him.

One day, the Crown Prince reflected, “Each day I eat only one grain of rice and one sesame seed; sometimes I eat only one grain of rice and one sesame seed every seven days. My body has now become as gaunt as a withered tree. I have practiced such austerities for six years, yet I have not found the path of liberation.

Thus I know that this is not the correct method of cultivation. It would be better for me to return to the method I practiced before, when I sat beneath the shade of the jambu tree and contemplated how to abandon the five sensual desires and seek seclusion and tranquility. That is the most correct method.

If I were now to attain the path through the mortifying practice of austerities, followers of other paths would say that the practice of fasting is the cause of nirvana. Although I have gradually diminished my strength, I have not thereby attained the path. I should resume normal eating and drinking, and only then attain the path.”

Having reflected thus, the Crown Prince rose and went down into the Nairanjana River to bathe. When he had finished bathing, he was too weak to climb onto the bank. At that moment, a celestial spirit caused the branch of a tree on the bank to bend low so that the Crown Prince could grasp it and climb ashore.

At that time, outside the forest lived a cowherd maiden named Nandabala. A deva from the Pure Abodes came and exhorted her:

—The Crown Prince is now in the forest. You should go and make an offering to him.

When the cowherd maiden heard this, her heart filled with joy. At that very moment, a thousand-petaled lotus suddenly sprang from the earth and blossomed, and upon the lotus was a bowl of milk porridge. Greatly astonished, the maiden took the bowl of milk porridge, brought it to the Crown Prince, knelt in homage, and offered it to him. The Crown Prince accepted the bowl of milk porridge and pronounced this blessing:

—Today, this benefactor offers this bowl of milk porridge so that, after consuming it, I may recover my strength. May the benefactor's family enjoy peace and happiness, be free from illness, live long, and be endowed with wisdom.

The Crown Prince then declared:

—I accept this milk because I wish to save sentient beings.

After pronouncing the blessing, he consumed the bowl of milk porridge. His strength gradually returned, his body became radiant, and he was able to attain the path of bodhi. At that time, the five men in Kaundinya's group were astonished and thought that the Crown Prince had lost his resolve, so they departed together and returned to their own dwelling place.

The bodhisattva went alone beneath the shade of the pippala tree and made this vow:

—I shall sit beneath this tree, and if I do not attain the path, I will never rise from this seat.

So immense was the bodhisattva's virtue that heaven and earth were moved. The ground shook violently and emitted a tremendous sound. A blind naga heard this sound and was filled with boundless joy; his two eyes spontaneously regained their sight. He thought, “I have seen this auspicious sign before, when the ancient Buddhas of the past appeared.” Having thought thus, the naga sprang forth from the earth and paid homage at the bodhisattva's feet.

At that time, five hundred blue peacocks flew through the sky, circling the bodhisattva. Multicolored and splendid auspicious clouds appeared in the heavens, and fragrant breezes came wafting along with rays of light. The naga then spoke these verses in praise of the bodhisattva:

Wherever the bodhisattva steps,

The earth begins to tremble,

Sending forth a far-resounding sound;

On hearing it, my eyes shone bright.

Again I see, amid the sky,

Peacocks circling around him;

Auspicious clouds shine brilliantly,

And fragrant breezes gently cool.

These auspicious signs of yours

Are like those of the Buddhas of the past;

Therefore I know the bodhisattva

Will attain the True and Right Path.

The bodhisattva then thought, “What kind of seat did the Buddhas of the past use when they attained the unsurpassed path?” Through inward contemplation, the bodhisattva knew that the Buddhas had used grass to make their seats. Shakra, king of the devas, knew the bodhisattva's thought and transformed himself into a man carrying in his arms a bundle of clean, soft grass. He approached the bodhisattva, who asked:

—What is your name?

The man replied:

—My name is Auspicious.

On hearing this, the bodhisattva was greatly delighted and thought, “I shall destroy all that is inauspicious and attain the auspicious path.”

The bodhisattva then asked:

—Can you give me the grass in your hands?

Auspicious immediately presented the bundle of grass to the bodhisattva and said:

—Bodhisattva, if you attain the path, please deliver me first.

The bodhisattva accepted the grass and spread it out to make a seat. He sat upright in the full lotus posture upon the grass seat, in accordance with the manner of sitting adopted by the Buddhas of the past, and made this vow:

—Until I attain perfect enlightenment, I shall never leave this seat.

When the bodhisattva made this vow, devas, nagas, ghosts, and spirits all rejoiced. Cool and auspicious breezes blew from the four directions; birds and beasts suddenly fell silent; the trees ceased to rustle; and the drifting clouds and swirling dust were all swept away. These were auspicious signs that the bodhisattva was about to attain the path.

At that same time, in the sky, the eight classes of devas, nagas, and other beings joyfully danced and sang praises, while the palace of Mara, king of the sixth heaven, spontaneously trembled. Mara became distressed and distraught, no longer able to think of enjoying pleasure. Anxiously he reflected, “The shramana Gautama is now seated in meditation beneath the tree. He has abandoned the five sensual desires and will soon attain perfect enlightenment. If he attains the path, he will lead all living beings beyond my realm. Therefore, while he has not yet attained the path, I must go and disturb him.”

Mara's son, named Sartha, saw that his father appeared troubled and came forward to ask:

—Father, I do not know why you appear so sorrowful and anxious.

Mara replied:

—The shramana Gautama is now cultivating beneath the tree and is about to attain the path. His path far surpasses my own, so I wish to go there and obstruct him.

His son hurriedly tried to dissuade him:

—The bodhisattva is pure and transcends the three realms. He possesses supernormal powers and wisdom, and there is nothing he does not clearly know. The eight classes of devas, nagas, and other beings all praise him. Royal Father, you cannot obstruct him. If you should create evil, you will only bring calamity upon yourself.

Mara had three daughters whose features and bearing were exceedingly graceful and beautiful. They possessed many means of seducing and bewitching people's hearts and were foremost among the celestial maidens. They were always perfumed with exquisite fragrances and adorned with beautiful jeweled necklaces. The first was named Defiled Desire, the second Delighter of People, and the third Lovable Delight. The three daughters approached their father and asked:

—We do not know why Father is so sorrowful today.

Mara then revealed what was in his heart to his three daughters:

“At present there is a śramaṇa named Gautama in the world. Clad in the armor of the Dharma and holding the bow of mastery in his hand, he shoots the arrows of wisdom, seeking to subdue sentient beings and destroy my realm. If I devise no means to eliminate him, sentient beings will place their faith in him and all follow him, and my realm will become empty. It is for this reason that I am grieved. Before he attains enlightenment, I shall go and obstruct him, breaking down his bridge to the shore of awakening.”

Having formed this plan, Māra the king took up his strong bow and five arrows and, accompanied by his sons, daughters, and hosts of heavenly māras, proceeded to the foot of the Pippala tree. There he saw the Muni sitting silently and unmoving, about to cross beyond the ocean of birth and death in the three realms. Māra immediately held the bow in his left hand and an arrow in his right, and shouted loudly to the bodhisattva:

“You are of the kshatriya lineage; it would be a grievous waste for you to die. Why do you not quickly leave this place, ascend the throne of a wheel-turning king, abandon the path of renunciation, and practice generosity? You will then be reborn in heaven and enjoy celestial bliss.

That is the highest path, superior to this manner of cultivation. You are descended from wheel-turning kings, yet you have become a mendicant. This is truly unworthy of you.

If you do not rise now, then remain seated and renounce your vow. For you, I need shoot but a single arrow. Merely upon hearing the sound of my bow and arrows, every ascetic seer is terrified, frightened, thrown into confusion, and utterly loses heart.

How much less could you, Gautama, withstand these poisoned arrows? If you rise quickly, you will be safe.”

Māra threatened the bodhisattva with these words, but the bodhisattva remained serene and was not disturbed in the slightest. Māra then released his arrows and sent forth his daughters. The bodhisattva did not even look at them, yet the arrows suddenly halted in midair; when they fell to the ground, they transformed into lotus blossoms. At that time, the three daughters of Māra said to the bodhisattva:

“Virtuous One, you possess exalted virtue and are revered by gods and humans alike; therefore, you should have attendants to serve you. We are now in the flower of youth, and even the most beautiful celestial maidens cannot surpass us. Heaven has now sent us to attend upon the bodhisattva day and night.”

The bodhisattva said:

“Because you cultivated a little merit, you were reborn in heaven, yet you do not reflect upon impermanence and instead engage in beguiling conduct. Though your bodies are beautiful, your hearts are not upright; your minds abound in unwholesome desires. After death, you will surely fall into the three evil destinies, assuming the bodies of birds and beasts, from which it will be difficult to escape calamity. You now intend to disturb My mind; your intentions are not pure. Go away! I have no need of you.”

At that moment, all three daughters of Māra suddenly turned into three old women with white hair, wrinkled skin, missing teeth, and drooling mouths. They were emaciated until only bones remained, yet their bellies were as large as drums. Leaning on staffs, they dragged themselves away, unable to regain their former appearance.

Seeing how steadfast the bodhisattva’s mind was, Māra thought, “Long ago, in the Snow Mountains, I shot at Maheśvara, terrifying him and causing him to lose his wholesome resolve. Yet now I cannot shake Gautama. Neither my bow and arrows nor my three daughters have been able to move him, increasing my grief and anger. I must employ another method.” Having thought this, Māra addressed the bodhisattva with gentle words of enticement:

“If you do not delight in enjoying the pleasures of the human realm, you may now ascend to the celestial palace. I shall confer upon you my throne and the five objects of desire.”

The bodhisattva replied:

“In former lives, because you cultivated a small measure of generosity, you have now attained the position of sovereign king of the Heaven of Mastery. Yet this meritorious reward is also limited. When it is exhausted, you will sink into the three evil destinies, from which it will be exceedingly difficult to escape. This is a cause of suffering and wrongdoing, not something I desire.”

Māra asked the bodhisattva:

“You know the nature of my karmic reward, but who knows of yours?”

The bodhisattva replied:

“Only the earth knows of My karmic reward.”

As soon as the bodhisattva had spoken, the earth trembled in six ways. At that time, an earth deity, holding a seven-jeweled vase filled with lotus blossoms, sprang forth from the ground and said to Māra:

“In the past, the bodhisattva gave his head, eyes, brain, and marrow in generosity to sentient beings, and the blood he shed soaked the earth everywhere. Kingdoms, wives and children, precious jewels, and all else—the bodhisattva gave them all away. Such deeds cannot possibly be counted, and his sole resolve was to seek the unsurpassed, right, and true path. Therefore, you must not now disturb the bodhisattva.”

Hearing this, fear arose in Māra’s heart, and his hair stood on end. The earth deity then bowed at the bodhisattva’s feet, presented flowers as an offering, and disappeared.

Māra then thought, “I have used my mighty bow and iron arrows, and my three daughters have also employed gentle words to beguile him, yet we still cannot disturb the mind of this Gautama. Now I must muster every means at my disposal and assemble all the forces of Māra to overpower him by force.” As soon as Māra had formed this thought, the armies of Māra appeared, filling the sky with monstrous forms. Some wielded swords and halberds, wore belts upon their heads, or carried iron clubs in their hands; the entire host bore innumerable kinds of weapons.

They had human bodies but heads resembling those of various animals—fish, pigs, donkeys, horses, lions, dragons, bears, tigers, and other beasts. Some had many heads, with one eye on each face, while others had many eyes. Some had huge bellies and elongated bodies, while others were so emaciated that they seemed to have no abdomen.

Some had long legs and enormous knees; some had huge heels and swollen calves. Some had long claws and sharp teeth; some had heads growing from the front of their chests. Some possessed many bodies but only two legs.

Some had enormous faces, while others had faces set to one side. Some had complexions like earthen ash; some emitted smoke and fire from their bodies. Some had ears as large as elephants’ ears, covering entire mountains.

Some were naked with long hair. Some had faces half red and half white. Some had sagging lips that touched the ground.

Some wore loincloths below and were clad above in tiger skins, lion skins, or snakeskins; others had serpents coiled around their bodies or flames blazing above their heads. Some glared with bulging eyes and flailed their arms. Some moved sideways or leaped about; some rolled through the sky; others ran on foot, shouting.

Innumerable beings of such hideous and vicious forms surrounded the bodhisattva as though intent on tearing his body apart. Some caused smoke and flames to blaze on all four sides and fill the sky. Others raised wild, tumultuous sounds that reverberated through every mountain cavern, while wind, fire, smoke, and dust became so dense that nothing could be seen.

The waters of the four seas surged at once. The gods, humans, dragons, spirits, and others who followed and protected the bodhisattva became so enraged at the hordes of māras that blood oozed from their pores. When the gods of the Pure Abodes saw the māras disturbing the bodhisattva, out of compassion and fear that they might harm him, they descended and stood in the sky to observe.

They saw measureless and countless armies of Māra surrounding the bodhisattva, roaring and howling with savage ferocity, shaking heaven and earth. Yet the bodhisattva remained seated and unmoving, without the slightest change in countenance, like a lion amid a herd of deer. They all exclaimed in praise:

“How wondrous! Never has such a thing been seen before! The bodhisattva will certainly attain perfect enlightenment.”

The armies of Māra then hurriedly brought all their strength to bear against the bodhisattva. Some glared and gnashed their teeth; others flew and leaped chaotically before him. Yet the bodhisattva regarded them as children at play. Māra became still more enraged and intensified his assault, but through the power of compassion the bodhisattva caused those carrying rocks to be unable to lift them; and if they managed to lift them, they were unable to put them down. Flying knives and hurled swords all stopped in midair. Thunderbolts and showers of fire transformed into flowers of five colors. Ferocious dragons spewed poison, but the poison turned into fragrant breezes. Countless dreadful things were directed against the bodhisattva to harm him, yet none could touch him.

Mara had an elder sister and a younger sister named Di-gia and Ca-loi. Both wielded weapons made from human skulls and came before the bodhisattva, making many grotesque gestures to disturb his mind. The entire host of Mara manifested terrifying forms in an attempt to frighten the bodhisattva, but none of them could move even a single hair on his body. Seeing this, Mara became all the more resentful, anxious, and distressed.

At that time, a heavenly spirit named Phu Da concealed himself in the sky and proclaimed:

“I see that the mind of the Muni is peaceful, joyful, equanimous, and entirely free from resentment. Though the hosts of Mara have given rise to malicious intentions and seek to harm him, he still bears them no ill will. You foolish evil spirits merely weary yourselves and gain nothing whatsoever.

You should now abandon your anger and your designs to harm him. Although the breath from your mouths might shake Mount Sumeru, make fire cold, make water hot, and soften the solid earth into mire, you cannot harm the bodhisattva. For many kalpas he has cultivated wholesome fruits, practiced right meditation, and diligently trained in the Dharma gates; therefore, his wisdom is peaceful and luminous.

These four virtues cannot be destroyed. Without enduring immeasurable hardships, one cannot attain perfect awakening. Just as a thousand suns shining together must dispel all darkness, as drilling wood produces fire, as digging into the earth yields water, so through diligent cultivation of the Dharma one can attain what one seeks.

Living beings in the world are drowning in the three poisons, with no one to rescue them. Out of compassion, the bodhisattva seeks the medicine of wisdom to cure the world’s sickness. Why do you seek to obstruct him?

Living beings in the world are deluded, afflicted, ignorant, and possessed of wrong views. He now opens the Dharma eye and guides living beings so that they may cultivate the right path. Why do you trouble the Dharma Teacher?

Such a thing must not be done; it is like despising one’s guide in the wilderness. Living beings have fallen into the darkness of night, bewildered and unable to discern the way. For their sake, the bodhisattva lights the great lamp of wisdom.

Why do you wish to extinguish it? Living beings are drowning in the ocean of birth and death. For their sake, the bodhisattva builds the vessel of wisdom.

Why do you wish to sink it? The bodhisattva takes patience as the sprout and steadfastness of mind as the root, and through the unsurpassed true Dharma will attain the fruit of Buddhahood. Why do you seek to cut it down?

Greed, hatred, and delusion bind living beings, and the bodhisattva practices austerities in order to liberate them. Today he has resolved to sit cross-legged in meditation beneath this tree and attain unsurpassed awakening. This very place is the vajra seat of the Buddhas of the past.

Though other lands may tremble, this ground remains unmoved. He has entered wondrous samadhi, and no one can shake him. Mara, you should give rise to joy, abandon your arrogance, correct your thoughts, and serve him.”

Hearing these words and seeing that the bodhisattva remained serene, Mara became ashamed and lost all arrogance. Heeding the admonition, he returned to his palace. The hosts of Mara scattered, their hearts filled with sorrow and misery and all their former might gone. Their weapons lay abandoned in disarray throughout the forests and mountains.

After the evil Mara had departed, the bodhisattva’s mind remained peaceful, quiescent, and unmoving. Not a single cloud appeared in the sky, and the wind ceased to blow. The setting sun at day’s end seemed to shine with twice its former brilliance, while the newly risen moon gently illuminated all directions. The constellations blazed with exceptional splendor, and nothing gloomy or dark remained to cause obstruction. From the sky, the devas rained down beautiful flowers and played celestial music as offerings to the bodhisattva.

On the night of the seventh day of the second month, after subduing Mara through the power of compassion, the bodhisattva emitted a great radiance and entered samadhi to contemplate the truth. Through mastery of the meditative states, the bodhisattva knew that throughout immeasurable kalpas in the past, he had relinquished his life in one place and been born in another. He clearly knew every wholesome and unwholesome karma he had created, who his parents and relatives had been, whether he had been rich or poor, noble or lowly, long-lived or short-lived, and what names he had borne.

The bodhisattva then gave rise to great compassion for living beings and reflected: “All living beings, having no one to rescue them, revolve through the five destinies without knowing where the farther shore lies. These five destinies are all false and unreal, yet within them living beings continue to sport amid suffering and pleasure.” The bodhisattva contemplated in this way until the end of the first watch of the night.

At midnight, the bodhisattva attained the knowledge of the divine eye. Examining all the affairs of the world, he saw them with perfect clarity, as one sees one’s own reflection in a mirror. He saw countless living beings of many kinds dying here and being born elsewhere, receiving painful or pleasant retribution according to their wholesome and unwholesome karma.

He saw living beings undergoing punishments in the hells: molten copper was poured into their mouths; they were made to embrace red-hot copper pillars; they lay upon beds of spikes; they were scorched in iron cauldrons; they were roasted over flames; and they were devoured by tigers, leopards, jackals, and wolves. Some hid beneath the shade of trees to escape the fire, but when the leaves fell, they transformed into blades and swords that severed their bodies.

Some had their limbs sawn or hewn off with saws and axes. Some were cast into rivers of fire filled with ash and dust, while others were thrown into pits of excrement and filth. They underwent innumerable forms of suffering, yet because of their karmic retribution, they died and came back to life only to endure those torments again.

Having seen these punishments, the bodhisattva contemplated: “These living beings originally committed evil karma for the sake of worldly pleasures, and now the retribution they encounter is truly agonizing. If anyone could see such retribution, they would never conceive the intention to do evil.”

The bodhisattva next examined the animal realm. He clearly saw the various animals bearing repulsive forms according to their species. Some were killed by people for their bones and flesh, sinews and horns, teeth and fur, while others were forced to carry heavy burdens.

They suffered hunger, thirst, and deprivation, yet no one took notice of them. Some had their noses pierced, and some had their heads bound. They continually supplied people with meat, and members of the same species also devoured one another.

Thus they endured innumerable forms of suffering. Seeing this, the bodhisattva gave rise to great compassion and reflected: “These living beings must constantly use their bodies and strength in the service of humans, and they are also beaten, starved, and tormented. Because of their many evil deeds, they now receive such retribution.”

The bodhisattva then examined the realm of hungry ghosts. He saw that they constantly dwelt in dark places, never beholding the light of the sun or moon and unable even to see one another. Their bodies were immense and elongated, with bellies as large as Mount Tai but throats as narrow as needles.

Flames continually blazed from their mouths, and they were perpetually tormented by hunger and thirst. For thousands, tens of thousands, and millions of years, they did not even hear the word “food.” If rain fell, its drops transformed into fiery jewels. If they approached rivers, seas, ponds, or lakes, they saw the water turn into boiling molten copper amid clouds of ash and dust.

When their bodies moved and they walked, they made a noise like five hundred carts being dragged together, while every part of their bodies burned with fire. Seeing the hungry ghosts undergo so many forms of suffering, the bodhisattva gave rise to great compassion and reflected: “These living beings were originally stingy and miserly, concerned only with accumulating wealth and never knowing how to give. Therefore, they now undergo this painful retribution.

If anyone could see such suffering, they would surely resolve to practice generosity and would no longer be miserly. Even if they possessed no wealth, they would cut flesh from their own bodies and give it away.”

The bodhisattva further contemplated the human realm and saw that human beings, beginning from the body of the intermediate state, enter the womb according to desire. When father and mother unite, because of inverted perceptions, a mind of craving arises, and one takes what is impure to be one’s own body. Having entered the womb and dwelling within the mother’s belly, the body is tormented by heat, like the suffering of hell.

Only after the full ten months is one born. At birth, when one is held and carried by others, their rough touch causes pain and anguish, as though one were being pierced by swords and blades. Before long, old age and death arrive, and then one is born again as an infant...

Thus one revolves endlessly through the five realms, unable to awaken by oneself. Having contemplated inwardly, the bodhisattva aroused great compassion and thought: “All sentient beings undergo such suffering, yet why do they remain in these states, craving the objects of desire and regarding them as happiness, unable to sever the root of their delusion?”

Finally, the bodhisattva contemplated the heavenly realms. He saw that the bodies of the devas were pure and free from defilement, gleaming like crystal, and that their eyes were clear and stainless. Some dwelt upon the summit of Mount Sumeru, some on its four sides, and others in midair.

Their hearts were always joyful and free from care. Celestial music was constantly played for their delight; they knew neither day nor night, and every place throughout the four directions was wondrous. The bodhisattva saw the devas of the eastern quarter immersed in pleasures for many years, forgetful of the passing of their lives.

The devas of the western quarter likewise remained engrossed in pleasure; as days and months passed, they gave no thought to their future rebirth. It was the same in the southern and northern quarters. Food, drink, and garments appeared immediately whenever they thought of them.

Yet despite such gratifying conditions, they were still scorched by the fire of desire. When their heavenly merit was exhausted, the five signs of death appeared: first, the flowers upon their heads withered; second, their eyes began to blink; third, the radiance of their bodies vanished; fourth, sweat appeared beneath their arms; and fifth, they could no longer remain naturally seated upon their own thrones. When their attendants saw these five signs of death appear, they became deeply attached and reluctant to part.

Seeing the five signs of death upon his own body and the sorrowful attachment of his attendants, the deva immediately became anguished. Seeing the devas in this state, the bodhisattva aroused great compassion and thought: “These devas formerly cultivated a small measure of goodness and thus came to enjoy the pleasures of heaven. Yet when their merit is about to be exhausted, anguish still arises.

At the end of their lives, after abandoning their heavenly bodies, they may still fall into the three evil realms. The purpose of cultivation is to seek a pleasurable reward, but even after obtaining it, they experience little happiness and much suffering. This is like a hungry person eating poisoned food: at first it may taste delicious, but afterward it brings calamity.

How could the wise crave such pleasure? The devas of the Form Realm and Formless Realm, seeing that their lives endure for a long time, suppose that their happiness will also last long. When they perceive the signs of decline and dissolution, they suffer, give rise to wrong views, and slander the truth, claiming that cause and effect do not exist.

Because of this, they revolve through the three realms and undergo every kind of suffering.”

With his divine eye, the bodhisattva surveyed all five realms, aroused compassion, and thought: “Within the three realms there is not the slightest happiness.” He contemplated in this way until midnight. During the third watch, the bodhisattva examined: “Through what causes and conditions do sentient beings undergo old age and death?” He clearly understood that because birth exists, old age and death exist; if birth is abandoned, there is no old age and death.

Moreover, birth does not descend from heaven, nor does it arise spontaneously; it arises from causes and conditions. Because of craving for the Form Realm and the Formless Realm, karma is produced. The bodhisattva further contemplated the source from which karma within the three modes of existence arises, and he understood that it arises from the four kinds of clinging.

Continuing his inward contemplation in this way, the bodhisattva clearly saw that the four kinds of clinging arise from craving; craving arises from feeling; feeling arises from contact; contact arises from the six sense bases; the six sense bases arise from name-and-form; name-and-form arises from consciousness; consciousness arises from formations; and formations arise from ignorance. If ignorance is extinguished, formations are extinguished.

When formations are extinguished, consciousness is extinguished. When consciousness is extinguished, name-and-form is extinguished. When name-and-form is extinguished, the six sense bases are extinguished.

When the six sense bases are extinguished, contact is extinguished. When contact is extinguished, feeling is extinguished. When feeling is extinguished, craving is extinguished.

When craving is extinguished, clinging is extinguished. When clinging is extinguished, becoming is extinguished. When becoming is extinguished, birth is extinguished.

When birth is extinguished, old age and death, anxiety, grief, and sorrow are extinguished. Thus the bodhisattva contemplated inwardly, observing the twelve links of dependent origination in both the forward and reverse directions. During the third watch, he shattered ignorance.

Just as the sun’s disk appeared, the bodhisattva attained the light of wisdom. His mind completely eradicated the habitual tendencies of the afflictions and all obstructions, and he attained Omniscience.

At that time, the Tathagata contemplated the Noble Eightfold Path, the path followed by all Buddhas of the three times to reach nirvana. He had now realized it and perfected unobstructed wisdom. At that moment, the entire earth manifested eighteen kinds of tremors.

Everywhere became pure and clear, without the slightest speck of dust. Celestial drums sounded of themselves; fragrant breezes arose, gentle and cool; and auspicious clouds of many colors poured down a rain of nectar. The flowers and fruit trees in all the groves and gardens suddenly sprouted and bore fruit, although it was not their season.

From the lofty heavens fell precious flowers of many kinds, including mandarava flowers, great mandarava flowers, manjushaka flowers, great manjushaka flowers, golden flowers, silver flowers, crystal flowers, and others. Lotus flowers made of the seven treasures filled the area around the Bodhi tree for thirty-six yojanas. At the same time, the devas played celestial music, burned incense, sang songs of praise, and appeared throughout the sky holding jeweled canopies, banners, and pennants as offerings to the Tathagata.

The eight classes of beings—dragons, spirits, and others—likewise made offerings. At that very moment, all sentient beings gave rise to loving-kindness, harboring no thoughts of anger or harm. They rejoiced and were uplifted as though beholding a sacred manifestation.

They were free from fear and became gentle, without arrogance, stinginess, jealousy, or deceit. Even the devas of the Five Pure Abodes, who had transcended mental states of joy and pleasure, rejoiced beyond restraint. The torments of hell were temporarily alleviated, and the beings there all gave rise to joyful thoughts.

Animals that habitually devoured one another suddenly lost their vicious intent. Hungry ghosts became satiated and were no longer afflicted by hunger or thirst. The dark places of the worlds, where the light of the sun and moon had never reached, suddenly became bright.

The beings in those realms saw one another and each wondered why sentient beings had suddenly appeared there. The Great Sage, the Dharma King, appeared to illuminate the world. With the light of the true Dharma, he dispelled the dark veil of what is contrary to the Dharma, causing every place to shine brightly.

The royal ancestor of the Ikshvaku clan had renounced his throne to study the Way and attained the five superknowledges. Because he cultivated the ten wholesome deeds, he was reborn in heaven. At that time, through his spiritual powers, he came to the Bodhi tree, joyfully joined his palms in midair, and praised him:

—Within our Ikshvaku clan, one has extinguished the afflictions, attained Omniscience, and become the eye of the world. How extraordinary and wondrous!

All sentient beings rejoiced beyond measure; only Mara, the Evil One, harbored sorrow and distress.

At that time, for seven days the Tathagata remained beneath the Bodhi tree, contemplating inwardly: “Here I have extinguished all afflictions. What had to be done has been accomplished, and my original vow has been fulfilled. The Dharma that I have realized is truly subtle and wondrous; only a Buddha together with another Buddha can understand it.

All beings in this world of the five defilements are obscured by craving, anger, ignorance, wrong views, arrogance, and deceit. Their merit is meager, their faculties and intelligence are dull, and they lack wisdom. How could they understand the Dharma that I have realized?

If I now turn the Dharma wheel for them, they will surely be bewildered and doubtful, unable to believe and follow it. They will then disparage it, fall into the evil destinies, and undergo many sufferings. Therefore, I should remain silent and enter nirvana.” The Tathagata then spoke this verse:

The path of the noble ones is truly difficult to tread;

The fruit of wisdom is difficult to attain.

Amid such difficulties,

I have completed all that had to be done.

The wisdom I have attained

Is foremost, subtle, and wondrous.

The nature of sentient beings is dull;

They are submerged in delusion,

Drifting with the stream of birth and death,

Unable to return to the source.

All beings are like this—

How can they be rescued?

At that time, the Great Brahma, seeing that the Tathagata had attained the noble fruit yet remained silent and did not turn the Dharma wheel, became sorrowful and thought: ‘For immeasurable kalpas, the Blessed One remained in samsara for the sake of sentient beings. He relinquished his royal station, wife, and children, and even gave away his head, eyes, brain, and marrow, enduring countless sufferings. Now that his vow has been fulfilled and he has attained unsurpassed, perfect enlightenment, why does he remain silent and refrain from turning the Dharma wheel? If this continues, sentient beings will remain submerged forever in the ocean of birth and death. I must now go and beseech the Buddha to turn the Dharma wheel.’

Having thought this, Brahma left his celestial palace and arrived before the Tathagata as swiftly as a strong man might bend and extend his arm. Upon arriving, Brahma reverently joined his palms, bowed at the Buddha’s feet, circumambulated him hundreds of thousands of times, and then sat to one side. With palms joined, he knelt and addressed the Buddha:

“Blessed One, from the distant past until now, you have long remained in samsara, relinquishing even your body, head, and eyes as gifts and enduring countless sufferings. Solely for the sake of sentient beings, you cultivated every virtue. Now that you have attained the Way, why do you remain silent and refrain from turning the Dharma wheel?

Sentient beings are submerged in the long night of birth and death and have fallen into ignorance; it is exceedingly difficult to know when they will escape. Yet there are also sentient beings who, in previous lives, drew near to good spiritual friends and cultivated meritorious virtues, and who are therefore capable of hearing the Dharma and receiving the noble path. I beseech the Blessed One, out of compassion, to turn the Dharma wheel for the sake of those beings.”

Shakra, Lord of the Devas, and the lord of the Heaven of自在 by Others also came and entreated the Tathagata to turn the Dharma wheel for the sake of sentient beings.

The Blessed One then told the celestial kings:

“I too wish to turn the Dharma wheel for all sentient beings. However, the Dharma I have realized is exceedingly subtle, profound, difficult to understand, and difficult to conceive. Sentient beings would find it extremely difficult to believe and accept it. They might instead give rise to slander and consequently fall into hell. For this reason, I now remain silent.”

Brahma and Shakra entreated him three times. At the end of the seventh day, the Buddha silently consented. Knowing that the Buddha had agreed, the devas bowed at his feet and returned to their celestial palaces.

After accepting the entreaties of Brahma and Shakra, the Blessed One used his Buddha-eye to contemplate sentient beings. He clearly saw that their faculties were of three grades: superior, middling, and inferior; their afflictions likewise fell into three grades: severe, moderate, and mild. He contemplated in this way until the fourteenth day, when the Buddha again thought: “I am now about to open the gate of ambrosia, but who is worthy to be the first to hear the Dharma? The seer A-la-la is wise and capable of understanding this teaching. He once vowed that if I attained the Way, I would liberate him first.” Just as the Blessed One had this thought, a voice came from the sky:

“The seer A-la-la passed away last night.”

The Blessed One replied:

“I too knew that he passed away last night.”

The Buddha then thought: “The seer Ca-lan possesses keen faculties and can understand my teaching. He is worthy to hear the Dharma first.” Again, a voice came from the sky:

“The seer Ca-lan also passed away last night.”

The Blessed One replied as before. He then thought: “The five companions led by Kiều-trần-như, acting under the instructions of the royal preceptor and the chief minister, remained to care for and attend upon me. They are all intelligent men. Furthermore, in past lives they made a vow with me, aspiring to be the first to hear the Dharma. I should now open the gate of the true Dharma for these five men.” He further thought: “All Buddhas of the past turned the Dharma wheel in the Deer Park, the dwelling place of the seers, in the kingdom of Ba-la-nại. Those five men also reside there. I should now go there and turn the great Dharma wheel.” Having thought this, the Blessed One rose and set out for the kingdom of Ba-la-nại.

At that time, five hundred merchants led by the two merchant chiefs Bạt-đà-la-tư-na and Bạt-đà-la-lê were traveling across an open plain. A celestial being appeared and said to them:

“A Tathagata has appeared in the world: the Worthy One, the Perfectly Enlightened One, Perfect in Knowledge and Conduct, the Well-Gone One, Knower of the World, Unsurpassed One, Tamer of Men, Teacher of Devas and Humans, Buddha, Blessed One. He teaches and transforms the world and is the supreme and noble field of merit. You should go before him and make offerings.”

Hearing the celestial being’s words, the merchant chiefs rejoiced, praised them, and asked:

“This instruction is truly auspicious! Where is the Blessed One now?”

The celestial being replied:

“Before long, the Blessed One will pass by this place.”

At that time, escorted by countless devas, the Tathagata arrived at the village of Sa-bạt-lợi. When the two merchants saw the Tathagata’s majestic and dignified appearance and the devas surrounding and escorting him before and behind, they rejoiced even more. They then offered honey and sugar to the Buddha.

The Blessed One thought: “The Buddhas of the past used patra bowls to hold food.” The Four Heavenly Kings knew the Buddha’s thought, and each brought a bowl and offered it to him. The Blessed One thought: “If I accept the bowl of only one of them, the others will be displeased.” Therefore, he accepted all four bowls, stacked them one upon another, and pressed them with his hand into a single bowl, upon which the four rims remained distinctly visible.

The Blessed One then pronounced this blessing:

“Today you have offered these foods to me, wishing that after consuming them I may gain strength. I likewise bless you that you may have good health, steadfast minds, joy, happiness, peace, freedom from illness, longevity, and the protection of benevolent deities. Through offering this meal, you shall sever the roots of the three poisons and in the future attain the three steadfast dharmas.

You shall be intelligent and wise, place wholehearted faith in the Buddha-Dharma, and wherever you are born, always possess right view and remain free from delusion. In this present life, your parents, wives, children, relatives, and kin shall all remain gathered together, and no strange or inauspicious events shall occur. If anyone in your families has committed evil and fallen into an unfortunate destiny, through the merit of this giving they shall be born in the human or heavenly realms, shall not give rise to wrong views, shall advance in cultivating merit, shall always draw near to the Buddhas and Tathagatas, shall hear the wondrous Dharma, and shall fully realize the truth in accordance with their aspirations.”

Only after the Blessed One had bestowed his blessing did he partake of the meal. When he had finished eating and had washed his hands and bowl, he transmitted the Three Refuges to the merchants: refuge in the Buddha, refuge in the Dharma, and refuge in the future Sangha. Having transmitted the Three Refuges, the Buddha took his leave and continued toward the Deer Park, his dignified and serene bearing resembling that of a royal swan. On the road, the Buddha encountered a non-Buddhist ascetic named Upaga. Seeing the Buddha’s magnificent marks and tranquil faculties, the ascetic considered it wondrous and spoke verses in praise:

All beings in the world

Are bound by the three poisons;

Their faculties are unrestrained,

Swept away by external objects.

Yet now I behold the Venerable One,

Whose faculties are truly serene.

Surely you have attained liberation;

Of this there can be no doubt.

Who is the Venerable One’s teacher?

What is his name and lineage?

The Blessed One replied in verse:

I have now transcended

The realm of sentient beings.

The subtle, profound Dharma

I have now fully understood.

The three poisons and five desires

Have been forever severed and are no more.

Like a lotus blooming in the mud,

Undefiled by the foul, muddy water.

I realized the Noble Eightfold Path myself,

Without teacher or companion.

With pure wisdom,

I subdued King Mara.

Now I have attained perfect awakening

And am worthy to be the Teacher of gods and humans.

Body, speech, and mind are wholly pure;

Therefore I am called the Muni.

I wish to go to Varanasi

To turn the wheel of the true Dharma—

That which gods, humans, and maras

Are unable to expound.

After hearing these verses, Upaga rejoiced and praised them as unprecedented. With palms joined reverently, he circumambulated the Blessed One and then took his leave. After walking some distance, Upaga looked back once more; only when he could no longer see the Blessed One did he finally continue on his way.

The Blessed One continued to the bank of the Ajapala River. By then evening had fallen, so he stopped to rest and sat in meditative concentration for seven days amid wind and rain. In that river dwelt a naga king named Mucalinda. Seeing the Buddha absorbed in meditation, he wrapped his body seven times around the Buddha and remained so throughout the seven days. After seven days, he transformed into human form, bowed his head at the Buddha’s feet, and said:

“Blessed One, while sitting here throughout these seven days, were you not troubled by the wind and rain?”

The Blessed One replied in verse:

The gods and the people of the world

Delight in the five desires,

But compared with the joy of meditation,

They cannot possibly be its equal.

Hearing the Buddha’s verse, the naga king rejoiced greatly, bowed his head at the Buddha’s feet, and returned to his naga palace. The Blessed One then continued onward to the city of Varanasi, where the five men Kaundinya, Mahanama, Vappa, Assaji, and Bhadrika were dwelling. Seeing the Buddha approaching from afar, the five discussed among themselves:

“The ascetic Gautama has abandoned the practice of austerities and regressed to enjoying the pleasures of food and drink; he no longer has the resolve to follow the Path. Now that he is coming here, we need not rise to welcome him, nor should we bow respectfully or inquire after him. If he wants a place to sit, he may choose one for himself.”

Having said this, they all fell silent. Yet when the Buddha drew near, the five spontaneously rose, bowed in greeting, and hurried reverently to welcome and attend upon him, doing just as they had before: one received his robe and bowl, another brought water for washing, and another washed the Buddha’s feet. Each acted contrary to their agreement, yet, as before, they still addressed the Buddha as Gautama.

The Blessed One then asked Kaundinya and his companions:

“You agreed among yourselves not to rise when you saw me. Why have you now broken your agreement and hastened to rise, welcome, and attend upon me?”

Hearing this question, the five felt ashamed and said:

“Gautama, were you weary from your journey?”

The Blessed One asked:

“Why do you address the Supremely Honored One by his personal name in this way? Although my mind neither takes offense at disparagement nor delights in praise, and is free from discrimination, your arrogance will bring you painful consequences. Even according to worldly propriety, children may not call their parents by name; how much less should you do so now that I am the father and mother of all beings?”

Hearing this teaching, the five became even more ashamed and said to the Buddha:

“We are foolish and devoid of wisdom, for we did not know that you have now attained perfect awakening. Why is this? Formerly, we saw the Tathagata practice austerities for six years, eating only one grain of rice and one sesame seed each day, whereas now you have returned to enjoying the pleasures of food and drink. For this reason, we thought that the Buddha had not attained the Path.”

The Buddha then said to the five:

“Do not use your limited understanding to judge whether or not I have attained the Path. Why? When the body suffers, the mind becomes disturbed; when the body is comfortable, the mind becomes infatuated with pleasure.

Therefore, neither suffering nor pleasure is a cause for attaining the Path. It is no different from trying to kindle fire by rubbing wood while placing the wood in water; certainly no flame will arise to give light. Seeking the fire of wisdom is likewise: where there is the water of suffering and pleasure, the radiance of wisdom’s fire cannot arise.

Because wisdom’s fire does not arise, one cannot dispel the dark veil of birth and death. If one now abandons both suffering and pleasure and cultivates the Middle Way, the mind will become settled, and one will be able to comprehend and cultivate the true Noble Eightfold Path, thereby leaving far behind the afflictions of birth, aging, illness, and death. I myself cultivated the Middle Way and therefore attained unsurpassed, complete, perfect awakening.”

When the five heard the Tathagata teach in this way, they rejoiced and were filled with elation, gazing without interruption upon the Buddha’s countenance. The Blessed One then perceived that the faculties of Kaundinya and his companions were capable of understanding the Dharma, and so he taught them:

“Kaundinya, you should know that this body of the five skandhas is suffering. Birth is suffering; aging is suffering; illness is suffering; death is suffering; separation from those one loves is suffering; encountering those one hates is suffering; not obtaining what one seeks is suffering; and losing the happiness of prosperity and honor is suffering. Kaundinya, among sentient beings, whether embodied or formless, without feet, with one foot, two feet, three feet, four feet, or many feet, there is no kind that is free from these sufferings.

It is like covering a fire with ashes: if it encounters dry grass, the fire will flare up. In the same way, these sufferings arise from the root of attachment to self. If any sentient being gives rise to the notion of attachment to self, however subtle it may be, that being must undergo these sufferings.

Craving, anger, and delusion all arise from the fundamental attachment to self. Furthermore, these three poisons are the causes of suffering, just as seeds have the power to produce sprouts. Because of them, sentient beings revolve in samsara throughout the three realms.

If attachment to self, craving, anger, and delusion are extinguished, these sufferings will consequently cease. All suffering and afflictions are eliminated through the Noble Eightfold Path, just as a person extinguishes a great fire by pouring water upon it. Sentient beings do not know the root of suffering and therefore all revolve in the cycle of birth and death.

Kaundinya, suffering must be understood; its origin must be abandoned; cessation must be realized; and the Path must be cultivated. Kaundinya, I have understood suffering, abandoned its origin, realized cessation, and cultivated the Path; therefore, I have attained unsurpassed, complete, perfect awakening. Thus, you must now understand suffering, abandon its origin, realize cessation, and cultivate the Path.

Whoever has not awakened to these Four Noble Truths should be known as one who has not yet attained liberation. These four truths are true and real: suffering is truly suffering; its origin is truly its origin; cessation is truly cessation; and the Path is truly the Path. Kaundinya, have you understood them fully?”

Kaundinya replied:

“Blessed One, we have understood; we now know.”

Because he clearly understood the Dharma of the Four Noble Truths, from that time onward he was known as Ajnata Kaundinya. When the Buddha had expounded the Four Noble Truths three times, together with their twelve aspects, Kaundinya fully comprehended that Dharma, his mind became free from defilements, and he attained the pure Dharma eye. At that same moment, eighty thousand nayutas of devas in the sky also became free from defilements and attained the pure Dharma eye. Seeing the Tathagata turn the Dharma wheel upon his ground, the earth deity rejoiced greatly and proclaimed in a loud voice:

—Here the Tathagata has turned the wondrous Dharma wheel.

All the celestial spirits throughout space who heard these words became exultant and passed the proclamation from one to another, their voices resounding as far as the Akanishtha Heaven. When the devas there heard it, they rejoiced beyond measure and proclaimed in loud voices:

—Today, in the Deer Park, the abode of the seers near the city of Varanasi, the Tathagata has turned the Great Dharma Wheel, which no being in any world—deva, human, Mara, Brahma, shramana, or brahmin—is able to expound.

At that time, the entire earth manifested eighteen kinds of tremors. The eight classes of devas, nagas, and other beings in the sky played all manner of music; celestial drums sounded of themselves; rare incense was burned; precious flowers, jeweled banners, and jeweled canopies were scattered and displayed; and songs of praise were sung. All the realms throughout the world became naturally radiant.

Because Ajnata Kaundinya was the first to awaken to the true Dharma, he became the Buddha’s foremost disciple. The other four, seeing that after the Buddha had turned the Dharma wheel only Ajnata Kaundinya had attained the Way, thought to themselves: “If the Blessed One teaches the Dharma to us once more, we too shall attain the Way.” Having thought thus, they gazed unwaveringly upon the Buddha. Knowing the thoughts of those four men, the Buddha expounded the Dharma of the Four Noble Truths once again.

After hearing it, they too became free from defilements and attained the pure Dharma eye.

Then, having seen the truth, the five bowed their heads at the Buddha’s feet and said:

—Blessed One, we five have seen the truth and realized the mark of the Way. We now wish to go forth under the Buddha. May the Blessed One compassionately accept us.

The Blessed One immediately called to the five men:

—Welcome, bhikshus!

Their hair and beards fell away of themselves, and kasayas appeared upon their bodies. All five became shramanas. The Blessed One then asked the five bhikshus:

—Bhikshus, what do you understand concerning form, feeling, perception, formations, and consciousness: are they permanent or impermanent, suffering or not suffering, empty or not empty, self or non-self?

As soon as the five bhikshus heard this question concerning the five skandhas, all their outflows were utterly exhausted, their minds attained complete liberation, and they realized the fruit of arhatship. They replied:

—Blessed One, form, feeling, perception, formations, and consciousness are all impermanent, suffering, empty, and non-self.

From that time onward, there were six arhats in the world. The Buddha himself was the Treasure of the Buddha; the Four Noble Truths were the Treasure of the Dharma; and those five arhats were the Treasure of the Sangha. Thus the Three Treasures were complete and present in the world, constituting the supreme field of merit for devas and humans alike.