The following interesting story was told by the Buddha in a sermon. It was recorded in the Sutra of the Hundred Parables, Chapter 65, by his senior student Ananda.
Once upon a time, a wife was unfaithful to her husband and for a long time, she had been waiting for an opportunity to get rid of him. One day, the husband got a job assignment at the neigherhood Kingdom (ancient India was a country with many Kingdoms) and had to leave home for a long business trip. The woman now got an opportunity: she mixed some poisons with flour, and together with other tasty ingredients such as honey, ginger, pepper, grapes, nuts, etc., made five hundred "happy biscuits."
"Now you are going away for a long trip," said the wife, "I had prepared five hundred 'happy biscuits' for you on the way. Once you are outside our city in a foreign land, you can eat the biscuits if you are hungry."
The husband took the biscuits with many thanks, not knowing that the food was poisonous, prepared by his wife to kill him. Soon he was out of his hometown traveling along a long country road through a huge forest. It was getting dark and there was no house anywhere to be seen. So, he decided to stay outside in the wild for the night. To avoid attacks from wild animals, he climbed up a huge tree to get some sleep. He had forgotten all about the five hundred happy biscuits and left them together with his other belongings on the foot of the tree.
In the middle of the night, a gang of rebels had attacked the Treasury of the neighbourhood Kingdom and took most of the precious stones from the Palace, together with a herd of horses. As they passed through the forest, they took a rest right under the huge tree where the merchant had stayed. Because they had been running away from the King's pursuing army, they were very tired and hungry. Thus, when they found the poisonous biscuits under the tree, they just helped themselves with the food.
By next morning, all the rebels were found dead. The merchant came down the tree, made sure everyone was really dead by putting a sword and arrow through each body. Then he took the precious stones, put them on the horses and rode toward the Capital City.
"I am from so and so Kingdom," he reported to the King. "Last night, when I was traveling on the roadway, I met a gang of rebels from your Kingdom. I fought a battle with them all by myself and killed them all. Here are all your horses and precious stones from your Treasury."
After the King sent an investigation team to verify what he said, he was so happy that he gave this foreign merchant a medal, a big prize, and a piece of land and a high office in his Government. The other officers were unhappy. "Why the King gave such a huge prize to a foreigner who may or may not be trustworthy?"
"OK" replied the merchant, "if you guys are unhappy, I am challenging you to compete with me in a contest. Who want to come forward?"
Nobody dared to accept the challenge. After all, who wanted to fight with someone who killed a whole group of rebellious gangsters just by himself alone?
********************************************
One day a fierce lion was found roaming the villages of the Kingdom, killing a lot of people and animals. Nobody dared to venture outside in the rural area. The officers suggested to the King, "This foreigner describes himself as a fearless warrior. Now, you should assign him to kill the lion because nobody else has the ability to do it."
On hearing their suggestion, the King summoned the foreigner to the Imperial Court and said to him, "I assign you to a mission to get rid of the lion for my Kingdom. You can take any weapon with you from our weaponry to do the job. I am sure you can do it."
Upon hearing this, the foreigner was scared to death in his heart. However, he had no choice but to accept the assignment. He took a sword and went outside the city to look for the lion.
As the two met each other, the lion roared loudly and dashed toward the foreigner. He was so frightened that he turned around and climbed up a big tree. The lion circled around the tree underneath, looked up towards him and gave a big roar. The terrified man started to panic and dropped his sword from his hand. But as fate would have it, the sword dropped down right into the mouth of the lion, instantly killing the beast.
As news was spread around in the Kingdom, the foreigner was regarded as a big hero by everybody and was awarded even a bigger prize and a higher position in the Imperial Court.
Showing posts with label buddhist stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label buddhist stories. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
EATING THE SAME PIECE OF CAKE - A Story from Buddhist Sutra (of the Hundred Parables)
Once upon a time, there was a married couple who received three pieces of cake from their neighbour for their anniversary. As they sat down and helped themselves to the cake, there was one piece left behind. Who was going to eat it?
The husband said, "Let us have a contest between us. Whoever wins will have that piece of cake."
The wife replied, "OK. Then, whoever started to say anything will be lost."
Then, the couple sat down, each did not say a word, because whoever talked first would lost this contest. All they did was staring at that piece of cake waiting for the other spouse to start talking. Of course, it was a fun game, until.....
It soon became dark and a burglar went passing by. He noticed that the windows and door are unlocked and there were two persons sitting still inside the house, not saying a word to each other. He went in, but the two persons were still sitting quiet, not moving at all. He went inside and starting taking things out of the house, but the couple still keep their eyes on that piece of cake, ignoring him.
The burglar turned around and looked at the woman. He said, "Oh, what an attractive woman." And started touching her.
The wife could not stand this any more and roared, "You are a stupid fool. Do you see your wife is being sexually assaulted by a stranger!?"
Upon hearing what his wife said, the husband picked up the piece of cake right away and said, "Hurrah, I have won the contest!"
The husband said, "Let us have a contest between us. Whoever wins will have that piece of cake."
The wife replied, "OK. Then, whoever started to say anything will be lost."
Then, the couple sat down, each did not say a word, because whoever talked first would lost this contest. All they did was staring at that piece of cake waiting for the other spouse to start talking. Of course, it was a fun game, until.....
It soon became dark and a burglar went passing by. He noticed that the windows and door are unlocked and there were two persons sitting still inside the house, not saying a word to each other. He went in, but the two persons were still sitting quiet, not moving at all. He went inside and starting taking things out of the house, but the couple still keep their eyes on that piece of cake, ignoring him.
The burglar turned around and looked at the woman. He said, "Oh, what an attractive woman." And started touching her.
The wife could not stand this any more and roared, "You are a stupid fool. Do you see your wife is being sexually assaulted by a stranger!?"
Upon hearing what his wife said, the husband picked up the piece of cake right away and said, "Hurrah, I have won the contest!"
Monday, April 18, 2011
A CREATION STORY - Story from the Sutra of Hundred Parables
The Buddha actually poked fun at the idea of a Creator God, according to the Sutra of Hundred Parables (¦Ê ³ë ¸g). In this Sutra, he told approximately one hundred humorous stories to his disciples during a sermon. One of the stories told by the Lord Buddha is as follows (Chapter 61):
Other religions said, "The Brahma ('God' in Saskrit) is the father of all sentient beings. He created everything in the Universe and therefore He is the Lord of everything." Thus, one of His disciples went to see God and said, "I can also create things in the Universe because I am your student".
God replied, "This is stupid. Don't even think of it! You cannot create anything at all!"
God's disciple did not listen and went ahead to create something. When God saw what his disciple had created, He bursted into laughter, "HA! HA! See what you had created? The head is too big! The neck is too small! The hand is too big and the arm too short! And look at the feet: a big feet with a very short leg! What you had created is a terrible monster."
NOTE: you are free to interprete this story told by Buddha in anyway you want.
Other religions said, "The Brahma ('God' in Saskrit) is the father of all sentient beings. He created everything in the Universe and therefore He is the Lord of everything." Thus, one of His disciples went to see God and said, "I can also create things in the Universe because I am your student".
God replied, "This is stupid. Don't even think of it! You cannot create anything at all!"
God's disciple did not listen and went ahead to create something. When God saw what his disciple had created, He bursted into laughter, "HA! HA! See what you had created? The head is too big! The neck is too small! The hand is too big and the arm too short! And look at the feet: a big feet with a very short leg! What you had created is a terrible monster."
NOTE: you are free to interprete this story told by Buddha in anyway you want.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
BUILDING A HOUSE IN MID-AIR - A Story from the Buddhist Sutra
The Buddha loved to tell stories when he was giving a sermon. Here is one from the Sutra of Hundred Parables.
Once upon a time there were two very rich merchants living in the same town, both loved to show off their wealth. Let us call them A and B.
One day merchant A went to visit merchant B, he observed that B had a big house three storeys high. (NOTE: 2,500 year ago, a three storeys high house was a very impressive project!!) He also noticed that everyone in town was very impressed with B's house and said how great it was!
On returning home, merchant A was not happy that B got all the attention. So he also hired the same architect to build another house three storeys high. The architect accepted the job and started the project.
A few days later, merchant A went to visit the construction site. When he saw workers digging the land to prepare for the foundation, he went to see the architect and asked what was happening.
"I am constructing a three storeys high house as per our contract." replied the architect. "But first, I have to prepare a solid foundation, then build the first floor, second floor and finally third floor."
"I do not want anything else, I just want the third floor right away, as high as B's house." demand merchant A. "Never mind the foundation or the other floors."
"That cannot be done." replied the architect.
"OK, then I hire some else to do it."
Nobody in town was able to build a house with no foundation, and so the project was never done.
Once upon a time there were two very rich merchants living in the same town, both loved to show off their wealth. Let us call them A and B.
One day merchant A went to visit merchant B, he observed that B had a big house three storeys high. (NOTE: 2,500 year ago, a three storeys high house was a very impressive project!!) He also noticed that everyone in town was very impressed with B's house and said how great it was!
On returning home, merchant A was not happy that B got all the attention. So he also hired the same architect to build another house three storeys high. The architect accepted the job and started the project.
A few days later, merchant A went to visit the construction site. When he saw workers digging the land to prepare for the foundation, he went to see the architect and asked what was happening.
"I am constructing a three storeys high house as per our contract." replied the architect. "But first, I have to prepare a solid foundation, then build the first floor, second floor and finally third floor."
"I do not want anything else, I just want the third floor right away, as high as B's house." demand merchant A. "Never mind the foundation or the other floors."
"That cannot be done." replied the architect.
"OK, then I hire some else to do it."
Nobody in town was able to build a house with no foundation, and so the project was never done.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
BATTLE BETWEEN GOOD AND EVIL II - a Story from Buddhist Sutra
One day, Sakra, the King of Gods, and Mara, the King of Asura, were fighting a heated battle. By the end of the day, Asura's army of Evil Generals and Soldiers were, however, in a upper hand and Sakra's army, leaded by the four Celestial Generals, had to retreat in defect.
As Sakra's army were retreating along a narrow road under Mount Meru, suddenly, it came to a halt.
"What happens? Can we kept going," asked the Heavenly Emperor.
"Your Majesty," replied one of the Celestial Generals, "there is a group of baby garudas (literally: Golden Feather Birds) nesting right in the middle of the road and they are on our way. I cannot pass through. Should we run them over with our chariots?"
"No," replied the Emperor. "I rather die in a battle for just course than killing a group of innocent beings who are neutral in this war. Let us return to the battlefield." So he ordered the whole army to turn around and charge back towards Mara's forces.
Meanwhile, King Asura, thinking that Sakra's army had retreated in defect, was hosting a big victory celebration. He was caught totally in surprise when Sakra's army charged back towards his camp. His unprepared army was in complete disarray and suffered a disastrous defect.
As Sakra's army were retreating along a narrow road under Mount Meru, suddenly, it came to a halt.
"What happens? Can we kept going," asked the Heavenly Emperor.
"Your Majesty," replied one of the Celestial Generals, "there is a group of baby garudas (literally: Golden Feather Birds) nesting right in the middle of the road and they are on our way. I cannot pass through. Should we run them over with our chariots?"
"No," replied the Emperor. "I rather die in a battle for just course than killing a group of innocent beings who are neutral in this war. Let us return to the battlefield." So he ordered the whole army to turn around and charge back towards Mara's forces.
Meanwhile, King Asura, thinking that Sakra's army had retreated in defect, was hosting a big victory celebration. He was caught totally in surprise when Sakra's army charged back towards his camp. His unprepared army was in complete disarray and suffered a disastrous defect.
Monday, April 11, 2011
BATTLE BETWEEN GOOD AND EVIL I - a story from Buddhist Sutra
Sakra, the King of Gods, and Mara, the King of Evils, were enemies and many battles were waged between the two. Each of them lead an full army. One evening, after a full day of battle in which neither side could declare a victory, both of them retreated from the battlefield back into their respective military camps.
On the way back to the military camp, King Mara dropped by a Buddhist Temple for a rest. He took off his uniform, including his military decorations, hamlets and weapons, went inside the Temple, and without greeting to anyone, helped himself to food and tea. Of course he did not bother to make any offering to the Temple. After a "coffee break", King Mara put back his uniform and left for his camp.
"Who the heck is he?" ask one of the Monks. "He seemed to look like an uneducated jerk from the lowest class of people. Even a rogue has better manners."
"He is Mara, the King of Evils" replied the Monk in charge of the Temple.
"Oh well, that's why"
After a little while, Emperor Sakra also stopped by to visit the Buddhist Temple. He also took off his military uniform and went inside. But, once inside, he greeted everybody, saying hello and politely asked for some tea. He also made an offering to the Temple. Then he left for his camp after a "coffee break".
"Who is he?" ask the same Monk. "He is very nice and well mannered. He seemed to be a knight that comes from a noble class."
"He is Emperor Sakra, the King of Gods" replied the Monk in charge.
"That's why. Then I am sure he is on the way to victory. Of course, he will win the battle against King Mara, who is a jerk."
Even though Mara was resting in his camp, he still was able to hear what the Monk said. In fury, he dashed back to the Temple and shouted to the Monks, "How dare you support Sakra and betray me? I am going to give you horror!!"
"I already has courage and therefore I do not need horror. I will return the horror to you!", said the Monk in Charge. And he started chanting some secret mantras.
After some argument, Mara was tired and returned to his camp. But that night, he got bad dreams. Whenever he fell to sleep, he dreamed of some monster shouting to him, "You will lost the battle against Sakra! You will lost the battle against Sakra!! You will ........." repeatly. Since he could not get a good rest during the night, he was so tired the next morning that he decided to return to his palace without any fighting.
Sakra was so happy about his victory that he returned to the Temple to make a big offering. He expressed his wish to meditate with the Monks for the day. To his surprise the Monks refused.
"Why?" he asked.
"Your Majesty, we are just very humble poor monks and so we cannot afford to buy expensive soaps or perfumes. Also, our robes are very old. And therefore we are very smelly."
Upon hearing this, the Heavenly Emperor bursted into laughters, "It does not bother me at all. Good smells come from your heart, not from your body."
On the way back to the military camp, King Mara dropped by a Buddhist Temple for a rest. He took off his uniform, including his military decorations, hamlets and weapons, went inside the Temple, and without greeting to anyone, helped himself to food and tea. Of course he did not bother to make any offering to the Temple. After a "coffee break", King Mara put back his uniform and left for his camp.
"Who the heck is he?" ask one of the Monks. "He seemed to look like an uneducated jerk from the lowest class of people. Even a rogue has better manners."
"He is Mara, the King of Evils" replied the Monk in charge of the Temple.
"Oh well, that's why"
After a little while, Emperor Sakra also stopped by to visit the Buddhist Temple. He also took off his military uniform and went inside. But, once inside, he greeted everybody, saying hello and politely asked for some tea. He also made an offering to the Temple. Then he left for his camp after a "coffee break".
"Who is he?" ask the same Monk. "He is very nice and well mannered. He seemed to be a knight that comes from a noble class."
"He is Emperor Sakra, the King of Gods" replied the Monk in charge.
"That's why. Then I am sure he is on the way to victory. Of course, he will win the battle against King Mara, who is a jerk."
Even though Mara was resting in his camp, he still was able to hear what the Monk said. In fury, he dashed back to the Temple and shouted to the Monks, "How dare you support Sakra and betray me? I am going to give you horror!!"
"I already has courage and therefore I do not need horror. I will return the horror to you!", said the Monk in Charge. And he started chanting some secret mantras.
After some argument, Mara was tired and returned to his camp. But that night, he got bad dreams. Whenever he fell to sleep, he dreamed of some monster shouting to him, "You will lost the battle against Sakra! You will lost the battle against Sakra!! You will ........." repeatly. Since he could not get a good rest during the night, he was so tired the next morning that he decided to return to his palace without any fighting.
Sakra was so happy about his victory that he returned to the Temple to make a big offering. He expressed his wish to meditate with the Monks for the day. To his surprise the Monks refused.
"Why?" he asked.
"Your Majesty, we are just very humble poor monks and so we cannot afford to buy expensive soaps or perfumes. Also, our robes are very old. And therefore we are very smelly."
Upon hearing this, the Heavenly Emperor bursted into laughters, "It does not bother me at all. Good smells come from your heart, not from your body."
Sunday, April 10, 2011
THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT - a Story from the Buddhist Sutra
Several citizens ran into a hot argument about God and different religions, and each one could not agree to a common answer. So they came to the Lord Buddha to find out what exactly God looks like.
The Buddha asked his disciples to get a large magnificent elephant and four blind men. He then brought the four blind to the elephant and told them to find out what the elephant would "look" like.
The first blind men touched the elephant leg and reported that it "looked" like a pillar. The second blind man touched the elephant tummy and said that an elephant was a wall. The third blind man touched the elephant ear and said that it was a piece of cloth. The fourth blind man hold on to the tail and described the elephant as a piece of rope. And all of them ran into a hot argument about the "appearance" of an elephant.
The Buddha asked the citizens: "Each blind man had touched the elephant but each of them gives a different description of the animal. Which answer is right?"
"All of them are right," was the reply.
"Why? Because everyone can only see part of the elephant. They are not able to see the whole animal. The same applies to God and to religions. No one will see Him completely." By this parable, the Lord Buddha teaches that we should respect all other ligitimate religions and their beliefs.
The Buddha asked his disciples to get a large magnificent elephant and four blind men. He then brought the four blind to the elephant and told them to find out what the elephant would "look" like.
The first blind men touched the elephant leg and reported that it "looked" like a pillar. The second blind man touched the elephant tummy and said that an elephant was a wall. The third blind man touched the elephant ear and said that it was a piece of cloth. The fourth blind man hold on to the tail and described the elephant as a piece of rope. And all of them ran into a hot argument about the "appearance" of an elephant.
The Buddha asked the citizens: "Each blind man had touched the elephant but each of them gives a different description of the animal. Which answer is right?"
"All of them are right," was the reply.
"Why? Because everyone can only see part of the elephant. They are not able to see the whole animal. The same applies to God and to religions. No one will see Him completely." By this parable, the Lord Buddha teaches that we should respect all other ligitimate religions and their beliefs.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Mahasstava
In the remote past there lived a devout and powerful king named Maharattha. He had three sons by name, Maha Prashada, Maha Deva, and Mahasattva, all good and obedient.
One bright day the king, accompanied by the princes and attendants, went on an excursion to a forest park. The young princes, admiring the enchanting beauty of the flowers and trees, gradually penetrated far into the thick forest.
The attendants noticed their absence and reported the matter to the king. He ordered his ministers to go in search of them and returned to his palace.
The tree princes, wandering through the forest, reached a mountain top. From there the eldest saw a starving tigress with five cubs almost on the verge of death. For seven days since her delivery she had been without food. The cubs approached the mother to suck milk, but she had nothing to satisfy their hunger, and the tigress, driven by starvation, was clearly at the point of unnaturally devouring her own cubs.
The eldest brother was the first to see this pathetic spectacle. He showed the tigress to his brothers and said, "Behold that pitiful sight, O brothers! That starving tigress is about to devour her own cubs. How wretched is their condition!"
"What is their staple food, brother?" inquired Mahasattva.
"Flesh and blood is the staple food of tigers and lions." replied Maha Prashada.
"The tigress seems to be very weak. Evidently she is without food for some days. How noble if one could sacrifice one's own body for their sake!"
"But who is willing to make such great sacrifice!" remarked Maha Deva.
"Surely, no one would be able to do so," stated Maha Prashada.
"I lack intelligence. Ignorant people like us would not be able to sacrifice their bodies for the sake of another. But there may be selfless men of boundless compassion who would be willingly do so," said Mahasattva in a merciful tone.
Thus they discussed amongst themselves and casting a last glance at the helpless tigress, they departed.
Mahasattva thought to himself, "Sacrifice I must this fleeting body for the sake of this starving tigress. Foul is this body, and is subject to decay and death. One may adorn and perfume it, but soon it will stink and perish."
Reflecting thus, he requested his brothers to proceed as he would retiring to the forest for some reason or other.
He retraced his steps to the place where the tigress was resting. Hanging his garments and ornaments on a tree, again he thought, "Work I must for the weal of others. Compassionate we must be towards all beings. To serve those who need our succour is our paramount duty. This foul body of mine will I sacrifice and thus save the tigress and her five cubs. By this meritorious act may I gain Samma Sambuddhahood and save all beings from the ocean of Samsara! May all beings be well and happy!"
Moved by compassion and inspired by the spirit of selfless service, dauntlessly he jumped off the precipice towards the tigress.
The fall did not result in an instantaneous death. The tigress, though ruthless by nature, pitied the Bodhisattva and would not even touch his body.
The Bodhisattva thought otherwise, "Obviously the poor animal is too weak to devour me!"
So he went in search of a weapon. He came across a bamboo splinter, and drawing near the tigress, he cut off his neck and fell dead on the ground in a pool of blood.
The hungry tigress greedily drank the blood and devoured the flesh leaving mere bones.
At the moment the Bodhisattva sacrificed his body, the earth quaked, the water of the ocean were disturbed, the sun's ray dimmed, eye-sight was temporarily blurred, Devas gave cries of Sadhu, and Parijata flowers came down as rain from heaven.
Affected by the earthquake, the two elder brothers rightly guessed that their younger brother must have become a prey to the tigress.
"Surely, Mahasattva must have sacrificed his life, for he spoke in a very merciful tone," said Maha Deva.
Both of them turned back and went to the spot. They were horrified and awe-struck at the unexpected spectacle. What they saw was not their belovedbrother but a mass of bone besmeared with blood. On a tree close by they saw the hanging garments.
They wept and fainted and on regaining consciousness, they returned home with a heavy heart.
On the very day the Bodhisattva sacrificed his life the mother-queen dreamt that she was dead, that her teeth had fallen out, and that she experienced a pain as if her body were cut by a sharp weapon. Furthermore, she dreamt that a hawk came drooping down and carried one of the three beautiful pigeons that were perched on the roof.
The queen was frightened, and on waking she remembered that her princes had gone for an airing in the forest. She hastened to the king and related the inauspicious dreams.
On being informed that the princes were missing, she entreated the king to send messengers in search of them.
Some ministers who had gone earlier to search for them returned to the palace with the sad news of the lamentable deadth of the youngest prince. Hearing it nobody was able to refrain from weeping. The king, however, comforted the queen and, mounting an elephant, speedily proceeded to the forest with his attendants and brought back the other two grieving sons.
So great was their grief that at first the were speechless. Later summoning up courage, they explained to their bereaved mother the heroic deed of their noble brother.
Soon order was given by the king to make necessary arrangements for them all to visit the memorable scene of the incident.
All reached the spot in due course. At the mere sight of the blood-smeared bones of the dearest son scattered here and there, both the king and queen fainted. The Purohita Bhahmin instantly poured sandal wood water over them, and they regained consciousness.
Thereupon, the king ordered his ministers to gather all the hair, bones, and garments and, heaping them together, worshipped them. Advising them to erect a golden Cetiya enshrining the relics, with a grieving heart, he departed to his palace.
The Cetiya was afterwards named "Om Namo Buddha."
One bright day the king, accompanied by the princes and attendants, went on an excursion to a forest park. The young princes, admiring the enchanting beauty of the flowers and trees, gradually penetrated far into the thick forest.
The attendants noticed their absence and reported the matter to the king. He ordered his ministers to go in search of them and returned to his palace.
The tree princes, wandering through the forest, reached a mountain top. From there the eldest saw a starving tigress with five cubs almost on the verge of death. For seven days since her delivery she had been without food. The cubs approached the mother to suck milk, but she had nothing to satisfy their hunger, and the tigress, driven by starvation, was clearly at the point of unnaturally devouring her own cubs.
The eldest brother was the first to see this pathetic spectacle. He showed the tigress to his brothers and said, "Behold that pitiful sight, O brothers! That starving tigress is about to devour her own cubs. How wretched is their condition!"
"What is their staple food, brother?" inquired Mahasattva.
"Flesh and blood is the staple food of tigers and lions." replied Maha Prashada.
"The tigress seems to be very weak. Evidently she is without food for some days. How noble if one could sacrifice one's own body for their sake!"
"But who is willing to make such great sacrifice!" remarked Maha Deva.
"Surely, no one would be able to do so," stated Maha Prashada.
"I lack intelligence. Ignorant people like us would not be able to sacrifice their bodies for the sake of another. But there may be selfless men of boundless compassion who would be willingly do so," said Mahasattva in a merciful tone.
Thus they discussed amongst themselves and casting a last glance at the helpless tigress, they departed.
Mahasattva thought to himself, "Sacrifice I must this fleeting body for the sake of this starving tigress. Foul is this body, and is subject to decay and death. One may adorn and perfume it, but soon it will stink and perish."
Reflecting thus, he requested his brothers to proceed as he would retiring to the forest for some reason or other.
He retraced his steps to the place where the tigress was resting. Hanging his garments and ornaments on a tree, again he thought, "Work I must for the weal of others. Compassionate we must be towards all beings. To serve those who need our succour is our paramount duty. This foul body of mine will I sacrifice and thus save the tigress and her five cubs. By this meritorious act may I gain Samma Sambuddhahood and save all beings from the ocean of Samsara! May all beings be well and happy!"
Moved by compassion and inspired by the spirit of selfless service, dauntlessly he jumped off the precipice towards the tigress.
The fall did not result in an instantaneous death. The tigress, though ruthless by nature, pitied the Bodhisattva and would not even touch his body.
The Bodhisattva thought otherwise, "Obviously the poor animal is too weak to devour me!"
So he went in search of a weapon. He came across a bamboo splinter, and drawing near the tigress, he cut off his neck and fell dead on the ground in a pool of blood.
The hungry tigress greedily drank the blood and devoured the flesh leaving mere bones.
At the moment the Bodhisattva sacrificed his body, the earth quaked, the water of the ocean were disturbed, the sun's ray dimmed, eye-sight was temporarily blurred, Devas gave cries of Sadhu, and Parijata flowers came down as rain from heaven.
Affected by the earthquake, the two elder brothers rightly guessed that their younger brother must have become a prey to the tigress.
"Surely, Mahasattva must have sacrificed his life, for he spoke in a very merciful tone," said Maha Deva.
Both of them turned back and went to the spot. They were horrified and awe-struck at the unexpected spectacle. What they saw was not their belovedbrother but a mass of bone besmeared with blood. On a tree close by they saw the hanging garments.
They wept and fainted and on regaining consciousness, they returned home with a heavy heart.
On the very day the Bodhisattva sacrificed his life the mother-queen dreamt that she was dead, that her teeth had fallen out, and that she experienced a pain as if her body were cut by a sharp weapon. Furthermore, she dreamt that a hawk came drooping down and carried one of the three beautiful pigeons that were perched on the roof.
The queen was frightened, and on waking she remembered that her princes had gone for an airing in the forest. She hastened to the king and related the inauspicious dreams.
On being informed that the princes were missing, she entreated the king to send messengers in search of them.
Some ministers who had gone earlier to search for them returned to the palace with the sad news of the lamentable deadth of the youngest prince. Hearing it nobody was able to refrain from weeping. The king, however, comforted the queen and, mounting an elephant, speedily proceeded to the forest with his attendants and brought back the other two grieving sons.
So great was their grief that at first the were speechless. Later summoning up courage, they explained to their bereaved mother the heroic deed of their noble brother.
Soon order was given by the king to make necessary arrangements for them all to visit the memorable scene of the incident.
All reached the spot in due course. At the mere sight of the blood-smeared bones of the dearest son scattered here and there, both the king and queen fainted. The Purohita Bhahmin instantly poured sandal wood water over them, and they regained consciousness.
Thereupon, the king ordered his ministers to gather all the hair, bones, and garments and, heaping them together, worshipped them. Advising them to erect a golden Cetiya enshrining the relics, with a grieving heart, he departed to his palace.
The Cetiya was afterwards named "Om Namo Buddha."
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Kunala
(From Master Cheng Yen Tells a Story
Translated by Lin Sen-shou)
After Buddha passed away, there was a king named Usika. He was very kind and his government was very compassionate. He had a son with eyes as beautiful as the kunala, an Indian bird famous for its beautiful eyes. Because the king liked this kind of bird, he named his son Kunala. When Prince Kunala grew up, he was very handsome. His conduct was proper and he was very kind.
King Usika was a devoted Buddhist. One day, the king brought his son to a temple, and he asked a monk named Yasa about the Buddhist teachings. Yasa looked at the young prince. "Human life is impermanent," he said. "A body goes through the stages of birth, aging, illness and death, and human life is filled with impurity. Who can have the beauty of youth forever? All these are illusions. In the same way, although the prince's eyes seem beautiful, they are actually full of filth and the source of trouble."
The prince was quite puzzled. Everyone always praised him for his beautiful eyes, but why would the monk say that they were dirty and the source of trouble? These words kept whirling around in his head.
There were many concubines in the king's palace. One young lady was deeply attracted by Kunala's good looks. When she saw him sitting alone in the garden one day, she started to fondle him, trying to seduce him. But the prince was a righteous person and could not agree to such behavior. He pulled himself together and freed himself from her unwanted attentions.
Later, when the young prince was old enough to marry, King Usika found a wife for him. When the concubine saw the lover of her dreams married to someone else, she became intensely jealous and her love turned to hatred.
Not long after the marriage, the king became sick and the young concubine looked after him carefully until he recovered. He was grateful for her care and said to her, "Because you took care of me for such a long time, I will give you anything you desire."
She said, "I just want to rule the country for seven days."
The king thought to himself that since he had promised, he couldn't go back on his word. Besides, it was only for seven days. So he agreed.
When she was on the throne, the young lady wrote a letter filled with both love and hate and sent it to Prince Kunala. She wrote that her fury would only be placated if she never saw his eyes again. Now the prince finally realized what that monk had meant, but it was too late. The lady's word was like the king's command, and it couldn't be disobeyed.
Kunala reluctantly gouged out one eye and held it in his hand. "It's so disgusting," he suddenly realized. "Why would such a filthy little thing be praised by so many people and bring so much trouble? Since she wants both eyes, I'll take out the other one too." When both eyes were gone, everything before him was in total darkness, but his mind was suddenly filled with light. He felt the peace that comes from spiritual exaltation.
When his wife heard the news, she ran to the blind prince and started to wail with grief. But the prince was calm and consoled her with the Buddhist teachings. "Human life is impermanent, so don't harbor hatred or worry, because hatred and worry are your greatest enemies."
At that time, a bodyguard warned the prince, "Your Highness, if you stay in the palace, I'm afraid that your life will be in danger." The prince, of course, was already aware of this, and since he didn't want the court lady to continue making bad karma for herself by doing something even worse, he and his wife fled the palace. They learned to play the lute and to sing, and they wandered from town to town, making music in the streets. People would throw them a few coins, and in this way, the prince and his wife were able to feed themselves.
A few years later, they happened to come back to the capital. One day, they wandered into the streets alongside the palace and started to sing. When King Usika heard the beautiful but mournful songs, he thought of his son, who had suddenly disappeared years before. He told his attendant to invite the musicians to enter the palace.
When the king saw the lute player, he realized that it was indeed the son that he had been thinking of day and night. When he saw how Prince Kunala had fallen from his royal life and was now only a blind lute-player singing on the streets for a living, the king was very distressed. He asked the prince, "Who did this to you? Who made you lose your sight?" But Kunala refused to talk about it. He just told his father about the truths that he had learned, hoping his father would calm down.
At last, the ministers and the guards couldn't endure it any more and reported the truth to the king. He was furious and wanted to execute that concubine, but the prince begged his father to forgive her.
The king was touched by Prince Kunala's compassion and released the young concubine. However, in her own conscience, she was ashamed of herself and finally committed suicide. Because of her impure love, she had created trouble and hatred, hurt other people and destroyed herself. Was it all worth it?
Translated by Lin Sen-shou)
After Buddha passed away, there was a king named Usika. He was very kind and his government was very compassionate. He had a son with eyes as beautiful as the kunala, an Indian bird famous for its beautiful eyes. Because the king liked this kind of bird, he named his son Kunala. When Prince Kunala grew up, he was very handsome. His conduct was proper and he was very kind.
King Usika was a devoted Buddhist. One day, the king brought his son to a temple, and he asked a monk named Yasa about the Buddhist teachings. Yasa looked at the young prince. "Human life is impermanent," he said. "A body goes through the stages of birth, aging, illness and death, and human life is filled with impurity. Who can have the beauty of youth forever? All these are illusions. In the same way, although the prince's eyes seem beautiful, they are actually full of filth and the source of trouble."
The prince was quite puzzled. Everyone always praised him for his beautiful eyes, but why would the monk say that they were dirty and the source of trouble? These words kept whirling around in his head.
There were many concubines in the king's palace. One young lady was deeply attracted by Kunala's good looks. When she saw him sitting alone in the garden one day, she started to fondle him, trying to seduce him. But the prince was a righteous person and could not agree to such behavior. He pulled himself together and freed himself from her unwanted attentions.
Later, when the young prince was old enough to marry, King Usika found a wife for him. When the concubine saw the lover of her dreams married to someone else, she became intensely jealous and her love turned to hatred.
Not long after the marriage, the king became sick and the young concubine looked after him carefully until he recovered. He was grateful for her care and said to her, "Because you took care of me for such a long time, I will give you anything you desire."
She said, "I just want to rule the country for seven days."
The king thought to himself that since he had promised, he couldn't go back on his word. Besides, it was only for seven days. So he agreed.
When she was on the throne, the young lady wrote a letter filled with both love and hate and sent it to Prince Kunala. She wrote that her fury would only be placated if she never saw his eyes again. Now the prince finally realized what that monk had meant, but it was too late. The lady's word was like the king's command, and it couldn't be disobeyed.
Kunala reluctantly gouged out one eye and held it in his hand. "It's so disgusting," he suddenly realized. "Why would such a filthy little thing be praised by so many people and bring so much trouble? Since she wants both eyes, I'll take out the other one too." When both eyes were gone, everything before him was in total darkness, but his mind was suddenly filled with light. He felt the peace that comes from spiritual exaltation.
When his wife heard the news, she ran to the blind prince and started to wail with grief. But the prince was calm and consoled her with the Buddhist teachings. "Human life is impermanent, so don't harbor hatred or worry, because hatred and worry are your greatest enemies."
At that time, a bodyguard warned the prince, "Your Highness, if you stay in the palace, I'm afraid that your life will be in danger." The prince, of course, was already aware of this, and since he didn't want the court lady to continue making bad karma for herself by doing something even worse, he and his wife fled the palace. They learned to play the lute and to sing, and they wandered from town to town, making music in the streets. People would throw them a few coins, and in this way, the prince and his wife were able to feed themselves.
A few years later, they happened to come back to the capital. One day, they wandered into the streets alongside the palace and started to sing. When King Usika heard the beautiful but mournful songs, he thought of his son, who had suddenly disappeared years before. He told his attendant to invite the musicians to enter the palace.
When the king saw the lute player, he realized that it was indeed the son that he had been thinking of day and night. When he saw how Prince Kunala had fallen from his royal life and was now only a blind lute-player singing on the streets for a living, the king was very distressed. He asked the prince, "Who did this to you? Who made you lose your sight?" But Kunala refused to talk about it. He just told his father about the truths that he had learned, hoping his father would calm down.
At last, the ministers and the guards couldn't endure it any more and reported the truth to the king. He was furious and wanted to execute that concubine, but the prince begged his father to forgive her.
The king was touched by Prince Kunala's compassion and released the young concubine. However, in her own conscience, she was ashamed of herself and finally committed suicide. Because of her impure love, she had created trouble and hatred, hurt other people and destroyed herself. Was it all worth it?
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
The massacre of the Sakya clansmen
Before the advent of Sakyamuni Buddha, there was near Kapila town a village inhabited by fishermen, and in it was a big pond. It happened that because of a great drought, the pond ran dry and all the fish were caught and eaten by the villagers. The last fish taken was a big one and before it was killed, a boy who never ate fish, played with it and thrice knocked its head.
Later, after Sakyamuni Buddha's appearance in this world, King Prasenajit who believed in the Buddha-dharma, married a Sakya girl who then gave birth to a prince called Crsytal. When he was young, Crystal had his schooling in Kapila which was then inhabited by the Sakya clansmen. One day while playing, the boy ascended to the Buddha's seat and was reprimanded by others who dragged him down. The boy cherished a grudge against the men and when he became king, he led his soldiers to attack Kapila, killing all its inhabitants.
At the same time, the Buddha suffered from a headache which lasted three days. When His disciples asked Him to rescue the poor inhabitants, the Buddha replied that a fixed Karma could not be changed. By means of his miraculous powers, Maudgalyayana rescued five hundred Sakya clansmen and thought he could give them refuge in his own bowl which was raised up in the air. When the bowl was brought down, all the men had been turned into blood.
When asked by His chief disciples, the Buddha related the story of the villagers who in days gone by had killed all the fish in their pond; King Crystal had been the big fish and his soldiers the other fish in the pond; the inhabitants of Kapila who were now killed had been those who ate the fish; and the Buddha Himself had been the boy who thrice knocked the head of the big fish. Karma was now causing Him to suffer from a headache for three days in retribution for his previous act. Since there could be no escape from the effects of a fixed Karma, the five hundred Sakya clansmen, although rescued by Maudgalyayana, shared the same fate. Later, King Crystal was reborn in a hell.
As cause produces effect which in turn becomes a new cause the retribution is inexhaustible. The law of causality is really very dreadful.
Later, after Sakyamuni Buddha's appearance in this world, King Prasenajit who believed in the Buddha-dharma, married a Sakya girl who then gave birth to a prince called Crsytal. When he was young, Crystal had his schooling in Kapila which was then inhabited by the Sakya clansmen. One day while playing, the boy ascended to the Buddha's seat and was reprimanded by others who dragged him down. The boy cherished a grudge against the men and when he became king, he led his soldiers to attack Kapila, killing all its inhabitants.
At the same time, the Buddha suffered from a headache which lasted three days. When His disciples asked Him to rescue the poor inhabitants, the Buddha replied that a fixed Karma could not be changed. By means of his miraculous powers, Maudgalyayana rescued five hundred Sakya clansmen and thought he could give them refuge in his own bowl which was raised up in the air. When the bowl was brought down, all the men had been turned into blood.
When asked by His chief disciples, the Buddha related the story of the villagers who in days gone by had killed all the fish in their pond; King Crystal had been the big fish and his soldiers the other fish in the pond; the inhabitants of Kapila who were now killed had been those who ate the fish; and the Buddha Himself had been the boy who thrice knocked the head of the big fish. Karma was now causing Him to suffer from a headache for three days in retribution for his previous act. Since there could be no escape from the effects of a fixed Karma, the five hundred Sakya clansmen, although rescued by Maudgalyayana, shared the same fate. Later, King Crystal was reborn in a hell.
As cause produces effect which in turn becomes a new cause the retribution is inexhaustible. The law of causality is really very dreadful.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Crossing the Wilderness
Apannaka Jataka (Jataka No. 1)
While the Buddha was staying at Jetavana Monastery near Savatthi, the wealthy banker, Anathapindika, went one day to pay his respects. His servants carried masses of flowers, perfume, butter, oil, honey, molasses, cloths, and robes. Anathapindika paid obeisance to the Buddha, presented the offerings he had brought, and sat down respectfully. At that time, Anathapindika was accompanied by five hundred friends who were followers of heretical teachers. His friends also paid their respects to the Buddha and sat close to the banker. The Buddha's face appeared like a full moon, and his body was surrounded by a radiant aura. Seated on the red stone seat, he was like a young lion roaring with a clear, noble voice as he taught them a discourse full of sweetness and beautiful to the ear.
After hearing the Buddha's teaching, the five hundred gave up their heretical practices and took refuge in the Triple Gem: the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha. After that, they went regularly with Anathapindika to offer flowers and incense and to hear the teaching. They gave liberally, kept the precepts, and faithfully observed the Uposatha Day. [1] Soon after the Buddha left Savatthi to return to Rajagaha, however, these men abandoned their new faith and reverted to their previous beliefs.
Seven or eight months later, the Buddha returned to Jetavana. Again, Anathapindika brought these friends to visit the Buddha. They paid their respects, but Anathapindika explained that they had forsaken their refuge and had resumed their original practices.
The Buddha asked, "Is it true that you have abandoned refuge in the Triple Gem for refuge in other doctrines?" The Buddha's voice was incredibly clear because throughout myriad aeons He had always spoken truthfully.
When these men heard it, they were unable to conceal the truth. "Yes, Blessed One," they confessed. "It is true."
"Disciples," the Buddha said "nowhere between the lowest of hells below and the highest heaven above, nowhere in all the infinite worlds that stretch right and left, is there the equal, much less the superior, of a Buddha. Incalculable is the excellence which springs from obeying the Precepts and from other virtuous conduct."
Then he declared the virtues of the Triple Gem. "By taking refuge in the Triple Gem," He told them, "one escapes from rebirth in states of suffering." He further explained that meditation on the Triple Gem leads through the four stages to Enlightenment.
"In forsaking such a refuge as this," he admonished them, "you have certainly erred. In the past, too, men who foolishly mistook what was no refuge for a real refuge, met disaster. Actually, they fell prey to yakkhas -- evil spirits -- in the wilderness and were utterly destroyed. In contrast, men who clung to the truth not only survived, but actually prospered in that same wilderness."
Anathapindika raised his clasped hands to his forehead, praised the Buddha, and asked him to tell that story of the past.
"In order to dispel the world's ignorance and to conquer suffering," the Buddha proclaimed, "I practiced the Ten Perfections for countless aeons. Listen carefully, and I will speak."
Having their full attention, the Buddha made clear, as though he were releasing the full moon from behind clouds, what rebirth had concealed from them.
Long, long ago, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Baranasi, the Bodhisatta was born into a merchant's family and grew up to be a wise trader. At the same time, in the same city, there was another merchant, a very stupid fellow, with no common sense whatsoever.
One day it so happened that the two merchants each loaded five hundred carts with costly wares of Baranasi and prepared to leave in the same direction at exactly the same time. The wise merchant thought, "If this silly young fool travels with me and if our thousand carts stay together, it will be too much for the road. Finding wood and water for the men will be difficult, and there won't be enough grass for the oxen. Either he or I must go first."
"Look," he said to the other merchant, "the two of us can't travel together. Would you rather go first or follow after me?"
The foolish trader thought, "There will be many advantages if I take the lead. I'll get a road which is not yet cut up. My oxen will have the pick of the grass. My men will get the choicest wild herbs for curry. The water will be undisturbed. Best of all, I'll be able to fix my own price for bartering my goods." Considering all these advantages, he said, "I will go ahead of you, my friend."
The Bodhisatta was pleased to hear this because he saw many advantages in following after. He reasoned, "Those carts going first will level the road where it is rough, and I'll be able to travel along the road they have already smoothed. Their oxen will graze off the coarse old grass, and mine will pasture on the sweet young growth which will spring up in its place. My men will find fresh sweet herbs for curry where the old ones have been picked. Where there is no water, the first caravan will have to dig to supply themselves, and we'll be able to drink at the wells they have dug. Haggling over prices is tiring work; he'll do the work, and I will be able to barter my wares at prices he has already fixed."
"Very well, my friend," he said, "please go first."
"I will," said the foolish merchant, and he yoked his carts and set out. After a while he came to the outskirts of a wilderness. He filled all of his huge water jars with water before setting out to cross the sixty yojanas [2] of desert which lay before him.
The yakkha who haunted that wilderness had been watching the caravan. When it had reached the middle, he used his magic power to conjure up a lovely carriage drawn by pure white young bulls. With a retinue of a dozen disguised yakkhas carrying swords and shields, he rode along in his carriage like a mighty lord. His hair and clothes were wet, and he had a wreath of blue lotuses and white water lilies around his head. His attendants also were dripping wet and draped in garlands. Even the bulls' hooves and carriage wheels were muddy.
As the wind was blowing from the front, the merchant was riding at the head of his caravan to escape the dust. The yakkha drew his carriage beside the merchant's and greeted him kindly. The merchant returned the greeting and moved his own carriage to one side to allow the carts to pass while he and the yakkha chatted.
"We are on our way from Baranasi, sir," explained the merchant. "I see that your men are all wet and muddy and that you have lotuses and water lilies. Did it rain while you were on the road? Did you come across pools with lotuses and water lilies?"
"What do you mean?" the yakkha exclaimed. "Over there is the dark-green streak of a jungle. Beyond that there is plenty of water. It is always raining there, and there are many lakes with lotuses and water lilies." Then, pretending to be interested in the merchant's business, he asked, "What do you have in these carts?"
"Expensive merchandise," answered the merchant.
"What is in this cart which seems so heavily laden?" the yakkha asked as the last cart rolled by.
"That's full of water."
"You were wise to carry water with you this far, but there is no need for it now, since water is so abundant ahead. You could travel much faster and lighter without those heavy jars. You'd be better off breaking them and throwing the water away. Well, good day," he said suddenly, as he turned his carriage. "We must be on our way. We have stopped too long already." He rode away quickly with his men. As soon as they were out of sight, he turned and made his way back to his own city.
The merchant was so foolish that he followed the yakkha's advice. He broke all the jars, without saving even a single cupful of water, and ordered the men to drive on quickly. Of course, they did not find any water, and they were soon exhausted from thirst. At sunset they drew their carts into a circle and tethered the oxen to the wheels, but there was no water for the weary animals. Without water, the men could not cook any rice either. They sank to the ground and fell asleep. As soon as night came, the yakkhas attacked, killing every single man and beast. The fiends devoured the flesh, leaving only the bones, and departed. Skeletons were strewn in every direction, but the five hundred carts stood with their loads untouched. Thus the heedless young merchant was the sole cause of the destruction of the entire caravan.
Allowing six weeks to pass after the foolish trader had left, the Bodhisatta set out with his five hundred carts. When he reached the edge of the wilderness, he filled his water jars. Then he assembled his men and announced, "Let not so much as a handful of water be used without my permission. Furthermore, there are poisonous plants in this wilderness. Do not eat any leaf, flower, or fruit which you have never eaten before, without showing it to me first." Having thus carefully warned his men, he led the caravan into the wilderness.
When they had reached the middle of the wilderness, the yakkha appeared on the path just as before. The merchant noticed his red eyes and fearless manner and suspected something strange. "I know there is no water in this desert," he said to himself. "Furthermore, this stranger casts no shadow. He must be a yakkha. He probably tricked the foolish merchant, but he doesn't realize how clever I am."
"Get out of here!" he shouted at the yakkha. "We are men of business. We do not throw away our water before we see where more is to come from!"
Without saying any more, the yakkha rode away.
As soon as the yakkhas had left, the merchant's men approached their leader and said, "Sir, those men were wearing lotuses and water lilies on their heads. Their clothes and hair were wringing wet. They told us that up ahead there is a thick forest where it is always raining. Let us throw away our water so that we can proceed quicker with lightened carts."
The merchant ordered a halt and summoned all his men. "Has any man among you ever heard before today," he asked, "that there was a lake or a pool in this wilderness?"
"No, sir," they answered. "It's known as the 'Waterless Desert.' "
"We have just been told by some strangers that it is raining in the forest just ahead. How far does a rain-wind carry?"
"A yojana, sir."
"Has any man here seen the top of even a single storm-cloud?"
"No, sir."
"How far off can you see a flash of lightning?"
"Four or five yojanas, sir."
"Has any man here seen a flash of lightning?"
"No, sir."
"How far off can a man hear a peal of thunder?"
"Two or three yojanas, sir."
"Has any man here heard a peal of thunder?"
"No, sir."
"Those were not men, but yakkhas," the wise merchant told his men. "They are hoping that we will throw away our water. Then, when we are weak and faint, they will return to devour us. Since the young merchant who went before us was not a man of good sense, most likely he was fooled by them. We may expect to find his carts standing just as they were first loaded. We will probably see them today. Press on with all possible speed, without throwing away a drop of water!"
Just as the merchant had predicted, his caravan soon came upon the five hundred carts with the skeletons of men and oxen strewn in every direction. He ordered his men to arrange his carts in a fortified circle, to take care of the oxen, and to prepare an early supper for themselves. After the animals and men had all safely bedded down, the merchant and his foremen, swords in hand, stood guard all through the night.
At daybreak the merchant replaced his own weak carts for stronger ones and exchanged his own common goods for the most costly of the abandoned merchandise. When he arrived at his destination, he was able to barter his stock of wares at two or three times their value. He returned to his own city without losing a single man out of all his company.
This story ended, the Buddha said, "Thus it was, laymen, that in times past, the foolish came to utter destruction, while those who clung to the truth escaped from the yakkhas' hands, reached their goal in safety, and returned to their homes again.
"This clinging to the truth not only endows happiness even up to rebirth in the Realm of Brahma, [3] but also leads ultimately to Arahatship. Following untruth entails rebirth either in the four states of punishment or in the lowest conditions of mankind." After the Buddha had expounded the Four Truths, those five hundred disciples were established in the Fruit of the First Path.
The Buddha concluded his lesson by identifying the Birth as follows: "The foolish young merchant was Devadatta, [4] and his men were Devadatta's followers. The wise merchant's men were the followers of the Buddha, and I myself was that wise merchant."
Notes:
1. The Uposatha is the full, new, and half-moon days, when many Buddhists observe the Eight Precepts.
2. Yojana: a unit of distance, about seven miles.
3. The Realm of Brahma refers to the highest heavens, where beings enjoy radiant bliss.
4. Devadatta was a cousin of the Buddha. He tried to kill the Master several times, but always failed.
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(From Jataka Tales of the Buddha, part I. Retold by Ken and Visakha Kawasaki. Copyright@1995.)
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While the Buddha was staying at Jetavana Monastery near Savatthi, the wealthy banker, Anathapindika, went one day to pay his respects. His servants carried masses of flowers, perfume, butter, oil, honey, molasses, cloths, and robes. Anathapindika paid obeisance to the Buddha, presented the offerings he had brought, and sat down respectfully. At that time, Anathapindika was accompanied by five hundred friends who were followers of heretical teachers. His friends also paid their respects to the Buddha and sat close to the banker. The Buddha's face appeared like a full moon, and his body was surrounded by a radiant aura. Seated on the red stone seat, he was like a young lion roaring with a clear, noble voice as he taught them a discourse full of sweetness and beautiful to the ear.
After hearing the Buddha's teaching, the five hundred gave up their heretical practices and took refuge in the Triple Gem: the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha. After that, they went regularly with Anathapindika to offer flowers and incense and to hear the teaching. They gave liberally, kept the precepts, and faithfully observed the Uposatha Day. [1] Soon after the Buddha left Savatthi to return to Rajagaha, however, these men abandoned their new faith and reverted to their previous beliefs.
Seven or eight months later, the Buddha returned to Jetavana. Again, Anathapindika brought these friends to visit the Buddha. They paid their respects, but Anathapindika explained that they had forsaken their refuge and had resumed their original practices.
The Buddha asked, "Is it true that you have abandoned refuge in the Triple Gem for refuge in other doctrines?" The Buddha's voice was incredibly clear because throughout myriad aeons He had always spoken truthfully.
When these men heard it, they were unable to conceal the truth. "Yes, Blessed One," they confessed. "It is true."
"Disciples," the Buddha said "nowhere between the lowest of hells below and the highest heaven above, nowhere in all the infinite worlds that stretch right and left, is there the equal, much less the superior, of a Buddha. Incalculable is the excellence which springs from obeying the Precepts and from other virtuous conduct."
Then he declared the virtues of the Triple Gem. "By taking refuge in the Triple Gem," He told them, "one escapes from rebirth in states of suffering." He further explained that meditation on the Triple Gem leads through the four stages to Enlightenment.
"In forsaking such a refuge as this," he admonished them, "you have certainly erred. In the past, too, men who foolishly mistook what was no refuge for a real refuge, met disaster. Actually, they fell prey to yakkhas -- evil spirits -- in the wilderness and were utterly destroyed. In contrast, men who clung to the truth not only survived, but actually prospered in that same wilderness."
Anathapindika raised his clasped hands to his forehead, praised the Buddha, and asked him to tell that story of the past.
"In order to dispel the world's ignorance and to conquer suffering," the Buddha proclaimed, "I practiced the Ten Perfections for countless aeons. Listen carefully, and I will speak."
Having their full attention, the Buddha made clear, as though he were releasing the full moon from behind clouds, what rebirth had concealed from them.
Long, long ago, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Baranasi, the Bodhisatta was born into a merchant's family and grew up to be a wise trader. At the same time, in the same city, there was another merchant, a very stupid fellow, with no common sense whatsoever.
One day it so happened that the two merchants each loaded five hundred carts with costly wares of Baranasi and prepared to leave in the same direction at exactly the same time. The wise merchant thought, "If this silly young fool travels with me and if our thousand carts stay together, it will be too much for the road. Finding wood and water for the men will be difficult, and there won't be enough grass for the oxen. Either he or I must go first."
"Look," he said to the other merchant, "the two of us can't travel together. Would you rather go first or follow after me?"
The foolish trader thought, "There will be many advantages if I take the lead. I'll get a road which is not yet cut up. My oxen will have the pick of the grass. My men will get the choicest wild herbs for curry. The water will be undisturbed. Best of all, I'll be able to fix my own price for bartering my goods." Considering all these advantages, he said, "I will go ahead of you, my friend."
The Bodhisatta was pleased to hear this because he saw many advantages in following after. He reasoned, "Those carts going first will level the road where it is rough, and I'll be able to travel along the road they have already smoothed. Their oxen will graze off the coarse old grass, and mine will pasture on the sweet young growth which will spring up in its place. My men will find fresh sweet herbs for curry where the old ones have been picked. Where there is no water, the first caravan will have to dig to supply themselves, and we'll be able to drink at the wells they have dug. Haggling over prices is tiring work; he'll do the work, and I will be able to barter my wares at prices he has already fixed."
"Very well, my friend," he said, "please go first."
"I will," said the foolish merchant, and he yoked his carts and set out. After a while he came to the outskirts of a wilderness. He filled all of his huge water jars with water before setting out to cross the sixty yojanas [2] of desert which lay before him.
The yakkha who haunted that wilderness had been watching the caravan. When it had reached the middle, he used his magic power to conjure up a lovely carriage drawn by pure white young bulls. With a retinue of a dozen disguised yakkhas carrying swords and shields, he rode along in his carriage like a mighty lord. His hair and clothes were wet, and he had a wreath of blue lotuses and white water lilies around his head. His attendants also were dripping wet and draped in garlands. Even the bulls' hooves and carriage wheels were muddy.
As the wind was blowing from the front, the merchant was riding at the head of his caravan to escape the dust. The yakkha drew his carriage beside the merchant's and greeted him kindly. The merchant returned the greeting and moved his own carriage to one side to allow the carts to pass while he and the yakkha chatted.
"We are on our way from Baranasi, sir," explained the merchant. "I see that your men are all wet and muddy and that you have lotuses and water lilies. Did it rain while you were on the road? Did you come across pools with lotuses and water lilies?"
"What do you mean?" the yakkha exclaimed. "Over there is the dark-green streak of a jungle. Beyond that there is plenty of water. It is always raining there, and there are many lakes with lotuses and water lilies." Then, pretending to be interested in the merchant's business, he asked, "What do you have in these carts?"
"Expensive merchandise," answered the merchant.
"What is in this cart which seems so heavily laden?" the yakkha asked as the last cart rolled by.
"That's full of water."
"You were wise to carry water with you this far, but there is no need for it now, since water is so abundant ahead. You could travel much faster and lighter without those heavy jars. You'd be better off breaking them and throwing the water away. Well, good day," he said suddenly, as he turned his carriage. "We must be on our way. We have stopped too long already." He rode away quickly with his men. As soon as they were out of sight, he turned and made his way back to his own city.
The merchant was so foolish that he followed the yakkha's advice. He broke all the jars, without saving even a single cupful of water, and ordered the men to drive on quickly. Of course, they did not find any water, and they were soon exhausted from thirst. At sunset they drew their carts into a circle and tethered the oxen to the wheels, but there was no water for the weary animals. Without water, the men could not cook any rice either. They sank to the ground and fell asleep. As soon as night came, the yakkhas attacked, killing every single man and beast. The fiends devoured the flesh, leaving only the bones, and departed. Skeletons were strewn in every direction, but the five hundred carts stood with their loads untouched. Thus the heedless young merchant was the sole cause of the destruction of the entire caravan.
Allowing six weeks to pass after the foolish trader had left, the Bodhisatta set out with his five hundred carts. When he reached the edge of the wilderness, he filled his water jars. Then he assembled his men and announced, "Let not so much as a handful of water be used without my permission. Furthermore, there are poisonous plants in this wilderness. Do not eat any leaf, flower, or fruit which you have never eaten before, without showing it to me first." Having thus carefully warned his men, he led the caravan into the wilderness.
When they had reached the middle of the wilderness, the yakkha appeared on the path just as before. The merchant noticed his red eyes and fearless manner and suspected something strange. "I know there is no water in this desert," he said to himself. "Furthermore, this stranger casts no shadow. He must be a yakkha. He probably tricked the foolish merchant, but he doesn't realize how clever I am."
"Get out of here!" he shouted at the yakkha. "We are men of business. We do not throw away our water before we see where more is to come from!"
Without saying any more, the yakkha rode away.
As soon as the yakkhas had left, the merchant's men approached their leader and said, "Sir, those men were wearing lotuses and water lilies on their heads. Their clothes and hair were wringing wet. They told us that up ahead there is a thick forest where it is always raining. Let us throw away our water so that we can proceed quicker with lightened carts."
The merchant ordered a halt and summoned all his men. "Has any man among you ever heard before today," he asked, "that there was a lake or a pool in this wilderness?"
"No, sir," they answered. "It's known as the 'Waterless Desert.' "
"We have just been told by some strangers that it is raining in the forest just ahead. How far does a rain-wind carry?"
"A yojana, sir."
"Has any man here seen the top of even a single storm-cloud?"
"No, sir."
"How far off can you see a flash of lightning?"
"Four or five yojanas, sir."
"Has any man here seen a flash of lightning?"
"No, sir."
"How far off can a man hear a peal of thunder?"
"Two or three yojanas, sir."
"Has any man here heard a peal of thunder?"
"No, sir."
"Those were not men, but yakkhas," the wise merchant told his men. "They are hoping that we will throw away our water. Then, when we are weak and faint, they will return to devour us. Since the young merchant who went before us was not a man of good sense, most likely he was fooled by them. We may expect to find his carts standing just as they were first loaded. We will probably see them today. Press on with all possible speed, without throwing away a drop of water!"
Just as the merchant had predicted, his caravan soon came upon the five hundred carts with the skeletons of men and oxen strewn in every direction. He ordered his men to arrange his carts in a fortified circle, to take care of the oxen, and to prepare an early supper for themselves. After the animals and men had all safely bedded down, the merchant and his foremen, swords in hand, stood guard all through the night.
At daybreak the merchant replaced his own weak carts for stronger ones and exchanged his own common goods for the most costly of the abandoned merchandise. When he arrived at his destination, he was able to barter his stock of wares at two or three times their value. He returned to his own city without losing a single man out of all his company.
This story ended, the Buddha said, "Thus it was, laymen, that in times past, the foolish came to utter destruction, while those who clung to the truth escaped from the yakkhas' hands, reached their goal in safety, and returned to their homes again.
"This clinging to the truth not only endows happiness even up to rebirth in the Realm of Brahma, [3] but also leads ultimately to Arahatship. Following untruth entails rebirth either in the four states of punishment or in the lowest conditions of mankind." After the Buddha had expounded the Four Truths, those five hundred disciples were established in the Fruit of the First Path.
The Buddha concluded his lesson by identifying the Birth as follows: "The foolish young merchant was Devadatta, [4] and his men were Devadatta's followers. The wise merchant's men were the followers of the Buddha, and I myself was that wise merchant."
Notes:
1. The Uposatha is the full, new, and half-moon days, when many Buddhists observe the Eight Precepts.
2. Yojana: a unit of distance, about seven miles.
3. The Realm of Brahma refers to the highest heavens, where beings enjoy radiant bliss.
4. Devadatta was a cousin of the Buddha. He tried to kill the Master several times, but always failed.
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(From Jataka Tales of the Buddha, part I. Retold by Ken and Visakha Kawasaki. Copyright@1995.)
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Sunday, April 3, 2011
The Goat That Laughed and Wept
Matakabhatta Jataka (Jataka No. 18)
One day, while the Buddha was staying in Jetavana, some bhikkhus asked him if there was any benefit in sacrificing goats, sheep, and other animals as offerings for departed relatives.
"No, bhikkhus," replied the Buddha. "No good ever comes from taking life, not even when it is for the purpose of providing a Feast for the Dead." Then he told this story of the past.
Long, long ago, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Baranasi, a brahmin decided to offer a Feast for the Dead and bought a goat to sacrifice. "My boys," he said to his students, "take this goat down to the river, bathe it, brush it, hang a garland around its neck, give it some grain to eat, and bring it back."
"Yes, sir," they replied and led the goat to the river.
While they were grooming it, the goat started to laugh with a sound like a pot smashing. Then, just as strangely, it started to weep loudly.
The young students were amazed at this behavior. "Why did you suddenly laugh," they asked the goat, "and why do you now cry so loudly?"
"Repeat your question when we get back to your teacher," the goat answered.
The students hurriedly took the goat back to their master and told him what had happened at the river. Hearing the story, the master himself asked the goat why it had laughed and why it had wept.
"In times past, brahmin," the goat began, "I was a brahmin who taught the Vedas like you. I, too, sacrificed a goat as an offering for a Feast for the Dead. Because of killing that single goat, I have had my head cut off 499 times. I laughed aloud when I realized that this is my last birth as an animal to be sacrificed. Today I will be freed from my misery. On the other hand, I cried when I realized that, because of killing me, you, too, may be doomed to lose your head five hundred times. It was out of pity for you that I cried."
"Well, goat," said the brahmin, "in that case, I am not going to kill you."
"Brahmin!" exclaimed the goat. "Whether or not you kill me, I cannot escape death today."
"Don't worry," the brahmin assured the goat. "I will guard you."
"You don't understand," the goat told him. "Your protection is weak. The force of my evil deed is very strong."
The brahmin untied the goat and said to his students, "Don't allow anyone to harm this goat." They obediently followed the animal to protect it.
After the goat was freed, it began to graze. It stretched out its neck to reach the leaves on a bush growing near the top of a large rock. At that very instant a lightning bolt hit the rock, breaking off a sharp piece of stone which flew through the air and neatly cut off the goat's head. A crowd of people gathered around the dead goat and began to talk excitedly about the amazing accident.
A tree deva [1] had observed everything from the goat's purchase to its dramatic death, and drawing a lesson from the incident, admonished the crowd: "If people only knew that the penalty would be rebirth into sorrow, they would cease from taking life. A horrible doom awaits one who slays." With this explanation of the law of kamma the deva instilled in his listeners the fear of hell. The people were so frightened that they completely gave up the practice of animal sacrifices. The deva further instructed the people in the Precepts and urged them to do good.
Eventually, that deva passed away to fare according to his deserts. For several generations after that, people remained faithful to the Precepts and spent their lives in charity and meritorious works, so that many were reborn in the heavens.
The Buddha ended his lesson and identified the Birth by saying, "In those days I was that deva."
Notes:
1. Devas are celestial beings, ranging from the highest gods to simple tree spirits.
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(From Jataka Tales of the Buddha, part I. Retold by Ken and Visakha Kawasaki. Copyright@1995.)
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One day, while the Buddha was staying in Jetavana, some bhikkhus asked him if there was any benefit in sacrificing goats, sheep, and other animals as offerings for departed relatives.
"No, bhikkhus," replied the Buddha. "No good ever comes from taking life, not even when it is for the purpose of providing a Feast for the Dead." Then he told this story of the past.
Long, long ago, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Baranasi, a brahmin decided to offer a Feast for the Dead and bought a goat to sacrifice. "My boys," he said to his students, "take this goat down to the river, bathe it, brush it, hang a garland around its neck, give it some grain to eat, and bring it back."
"Yes, sir," they replied and led the goat to the river.
While they were grooming it, the goat started to laugh with a sound like a pot smashing. Then, just as strangely, it started to weep loudly.
The young students were amazed at this behavior. "Why did you suddenly laugh," they asked the goat, "and why do you now cry so loudly?"
"Repeat your question when we get back to your teacher," the goat answered.
The students hurriedly took the goat back to their master and told him what had happened at the river. Hearing the story, the master himself asked the goat why it had laughed and why it had wept.
"In times past, brahmin," the goat began, "I was a brahmin who taught the Vedas like you. I, too, sacrificed a goat as an offering for a Feast for the Dead. Because of killing that single goat, I have had my head cut off 499 times. I laughed aloud when I realized that this is my last birth as an animal to be sacrificed. Today I will be freed from my misery. On the other hand, I cried when I realized that, because of killing me, you, too, may be doomed to lose your head five hundred times. It was out of pity for you that I cried."
"Well, goat," said the brahmin, "in that case, I am not going to kill you."
"Brahmin!" exclaimed the goat. "Whether or not you kill me, I cannot escape death today."
"Don't worry," the brahmin assured the goat. "I will guard you."
"You don't understand," the goat told him. "Your protection is weak. The force of my evil deed is very strong."
The brahmin untied the goat and said to his students, "Don't allow anyone to harm this goat." They obediently followed the animal to protect it.
After the goat was freed, it began to graze. It stretched out its neck to reach the leaves on a bush growing near the top of a large rock. At that very instant a lightning bolt hit the rock, breaking off a sharp piece of stone which flew through the air and neatly cut off the goat's head. A crowd of people gathered around the dead goat and began to talk excitedly about the amazing accident.
A tree deva [1] had observed everything from the goat's purchase to its dramatic death, and drawing a lesson from the incident, admonished the crowd: "If people only knew that the penalty would be rebirth into sorrow, they would cease from taking life. A horrible doom awaits one who slays." With this explanation of the law of kamma the deva instilled in his listeners the fear of hell. The people were so frightened that they completely gave up the practice of animal sacrifices. The deva further instructed the people in the Precepts and urged them to do good.
Eventually, that deva passed away to fare according to his deserts. For several generations after that, people remained faithful to the Precepts and spent their lives in charity and meritorious works, so that many were reborn in the heavens.
The Buddha ended his lesson and identified the Birth by saying, "In those days I was that deva."
Notes:
1. Devas are celestial beings, ranging from the highest gods to simple tree spirits.
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(From Jataka Tales of the Buddha, part I. Retold by Ken and Visakha Kawasaki. Copyright@1995.)
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Saturday, April 2, 2011
Duddubha Jataka (Jataka No. 322) - The Sound the Hare Heard
One morning while some bhikkhus were on their alms round in Savatthi, they passed some ascetics of different sects practicing austerities. Some of them were naked and lying on thorns. Others sat around a blazing fire under the burning sun.
Later, while the monks were discussing the ascetics, they asked the Buddha, "Lord, is there any virtue in those harsh ascetic practices?"
The Buddha answered, "No, monks, there is neither virtue nor any special merit in them. When they are examined and tested, they are like a path over a dunghill, or like the noise the hare heard."
Puzzled, the monks said, "Lord, we do not know about that noise. Please tell us what it was."
At their request the Buddha told them this story of the distant past.
Long, long ago, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Baranasi, the Bodhisatta was born as a lion in a forest near the Western Ocean. In one part of that forest there was a grove of palms mixed with belli trees.[1] A hare lived in that grove beneath a palm sapling at the foot of a belli tree.
One day the hare lay under the young palm tree, idly thinking, "If this earth were destroyed, what would become of me?" At that very instant a ripe belli fruit happened to fall and hit a palm leaf making a loud "THUD!"
Startled by this sound, the hare leapt to his feet and cried, "The earth is collapsing!" He immediately fled, without even glancing back.
Another hare, seeing him race past as if for his very life, asked, "What's wrong?" and started running, too.
"Don't ask!" panted the first. This frightened the second hare even more, and he sprinted to keep up.
"What's wrong?" he shouted again.
Pausing for just a moment, the first hare cried, "The earth is breaking up!" At this, the two of them bolted off together.
Their fear was infectious, and other hares joined them until all the hares in that forest were fleeing together. When other animals saw the commotion and asked what was wrong, they were breathlessly told, "The earth is breaking up!" and they too began running for their lives. In this way, the hares were soon joined by herds of deer, boars, elk, buffaloes, wild oxen, and rhinoceroses, a family of tigers, and some elephants.
When the lion saw this headlong stampede of animals and heard the cause of their flight, he thought, "The earth is certainly not coming to an end. There must have been some sound which they misunderstood. If I don't act quickly they will be killed. I must save them!"
Then, as fast as only he could run, he got in front of them, and roared three times. At the sound of his mighty voice, all the animals stopped in their tracks. Panting, they huddled together in fear. The lion approached and asked why they were running away.
"The earth is collapsing," they all answered.
"Who saw it collapsing?" he asked.
"The elephants know all about it," some animals replied.
When he asked the elephants, they said, "We don't know. The tigers know."
The tigers said, "The rhinoceroses know." The rhinoceroses said, "The wild oxen know." The wild oxen said, "The buffaloes know." The buffaloes said, "The elk know." The elk said, "The boars know." The boars said, "The deer know." The deer said, "We don't know. The hares know."
When he asked the hares, they pointed to one particular hare and said, "This one told us."
The lion asked him, "Is it true, sir, that the earth is breaking up?"
"Yes, sir, I saw it," said the hare.
"Where were you when you saw it?"
"In the forest in a palm grove mixed with belli trees. I was lying there under a palm at the foot of a belli tree, thinking, 'If this earth were destroyed, what would become of me?' At that very moment I heard the sound of the earth breaking up and I fled."
From this explanation, the lion realized exactly what had really happened, but he wanted to verify his conclusions and demonstrate the truth to the other animals. He gently calmed the animals and said, "I will take the hare and go to find out whether or not the earth is coming to an end where he says it is. Until we return, stay here."
Placing the hare on his tawny back, he raced with great speed back to that grove. Then he put the hare down and said, "Come, show me the place you meant."
"I don't dare, my lord," said the hare.
"Don't be afraid," said the lion.
The hare, shivering in fear, would not risk going near the belli tree. He could only point and say, "Over there, sir, is the place of dreadful sound."
The lion went to the place the hare indicated. He could make out where the hare had been lying in the grass, and he saw the ripe belli fruit that had fallen on the palm leaf. Having carefully ascertained that the earth was not breaking up, he placed the hare on his back again and returned to the waiting animals.
He told them what he had found and said, "Don't be afraid." Reassured, all the animals returned to their usual places and resumed their routines.
Those animals had placed themselves in great danger because they listened to rumours and unfounded fears rather than trying to find out the truth themselves. Truly, if it had not been for the lion, those beasts would have rushed into the sea and perished. It was only because of the Bodhisatta's wisdom and compassion that they escaped death.
At the conclusion of the story, the Buddha identified the Birth: "At that time, I myself was the lion."
Notes
[1] The belli (beluva or vilva) is the Bengal quince.
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(From Jataka Tales of the Buddha, part III. Retold by Ken and Visakha Kawasaki. Copyright©1997.)
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Later, while the monks were discussing the ascetics, they asked the Buddha, "Lord, is there any virtue in those harsh ascetic practices?"
The Buddha answered, "No, monks, there is neither virtue nor any special merit in them. When they are examined and tested, they are like a path over a dunghill, or like the noise the hare heard."
Puzzled, the monks said, "Lord, we do not know about that noise. Please tell us what it was."
At their request the Buddha told them this story of the distant past.
Long, long ago, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Baranasi, the Bodhisatta was born as a lion in a forest near the Western Ocean. In one part of that forest there was a grove of palms mixed with belli trees.[1] A hare lived in that grove beneath a palm sapling at the foot of a belli tree.
One day the hare lay under the young palm tree, idly thinking, "If this earth were destroyed, what would become of me?" At that very instant a ripe belli fruit happened to fall and hit a palm leaf making a loud "THUD!"
Startled by this sound, the hare leapt to his feet and cried, "The earth is collapsing!" He immediately fled, without even glancing back.
Another hare, seeing him race past as if for his very life, asked, "What's wrong?" and started running, too.
"Don't ask!" panted the first. This frightened the second hare even more, and he sprinted to keep up.
"What's wrong?" he shouted again.
Pausing for just a moment, the first hare cried, "The earth is breaking up!" At this, the two of them bolted off together.
Their fear was infectious, and other hares joined them until all the hares in that forest were fleeing together. When other animals saw the commotion and asked what was wrong, they were breathlessly told, "The earth is breaking up!" and they too began running for their lives. In this way, the hares were soon joined by herds of deer, boars, elk, buffaloes, wild oxen, and rhinoceroses, a family of tigers, and some elephants.
When the lion saw this headlong stampede of animals and heard the cause of their flight, he thought, "The earth is certainly not coming to an end. There must have been some sound which they misunderstood. If I don't act quickly they will be killed. I must save them!"
Then, as fast as only he could run, he got in front of them, and roared three times. At the sound of his mighty voice, all the animals stopped in their tracks. Panting, they huddled together in fear. The lion approached and asked why they were running away.
"The earth is collapsing," they all answered.
"Who saw it collapsing?" he asked.
"The elephants know all about it," some animals replied.
When he asked the elephants, they said, "We don't know. The tigers know."
The tigers said, "The rhinoceroses know." The rhinoceroses said, "The wild oxen know." The wild oxen said, "The buffaloes know." The buffaloes said, "The elk know." The elk said, "The boars know." The boars said, "The deer know." The deer said, "We don't know. The hares know."
When he asked the hares, they pointed to one particular hare and said, "This one told us."
The lion asked him, "Is it true, sir, that the earth is breaking up?"
"Yes, sir, I saw it," said the hare.
"Where were you when you saw it?"
"In the forest in a palm grove mixed with belli trees. I was lying there under a palm at the foot of a belli tree, thinking, 'If this earth were destroyed, what would become of me?' At that very moment I heard the sound of the earth breaking up and I fled."
From this explanation, the lion realized exactly what had really happened, but he wanted to verify his conclusions and demonstrate the truth to the other animals. He gently calmed the animals and said, "I will take the hare and go to find out whether or not the earth is coming to an end where he says it is. Until we return, stay here."
Placing the hare on his tawny back, he raced with great speed back to that grove. Then he put the hare down and said, "Come, show me the place you meant."
"I don't dare, my lord," said the hare.
"Don't be afraid," said the lion.
The hare, shivering in fear, would not risk going near the belli tree. He could only point and say, "Over there, sir, is the place of dreadful sound."
The lion went to the place the hare indicated. He could make out where the hare had been lying in the grass, and he saw the ripe belli fruit that had fallen on the palm leaf. Having carefully ascertained that the earth was not breaking up, he placed the hare on his back again and returned to the waiting animals.
He told them what he had found and said, "Don't be afraid." Reassured, all the animals returned to their usual places and resumed their routines.
Those animals had placed themselves in great danger because they listened to rumours and unfounded fears rather than trying to find out the truth themselves. Truly, if it had not been for the lion, those beasts would have rushed into the sea and perished. It was only because of the Bodhisatta's wisdom and compassion that they escaped death.
At the conclusion of the story, the Buddha identified the Birth: "At that time, I myself was the lion."
Notes
[1] The belli (beluva or vilva) is the Bengal quince.
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(From Jataka Tales of the Buddha, part III. Retold by Ken and Visakha Kawasaki. Copyright©1997.)
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Friday, April 1, 2011
Castles in the Sand
Some children were playing beside a river. They made castles of sand, and each child defended his castle and said, 'This one is mine.' They kept their castles separate and would not allow any mistakes about which was whose. When the castles were all finished, one child kicked over someone else's castle and completely destroyed it. The owner of the castle flew into a rage, pulled the other child's hair, struck him with his fist and bawled out, 'He has spoiled my castle! Come along all of you and help me punish him as he deserves.' The others all came to his help. They beat the child ... Then they went on playing in their sand castles, each saying, 'This is mine; no one else may have it. Keep away! Don't touch my castle!'
But evening came, it was getting dark and they all thought they ought to be going home. No one now cared what became of his castle. One child stamped on his, another pushed his over with both hands. Then they turned away and went back, each to his home.
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(From Yogacara Bhumi Sutra 4, quoted from World Scripture) Taken from Thus Have I Heard edited by Minh Thanh and P.D. Leigh.
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But evening came, it was getting dark and they all thought they ought to be going home. No one now cared what became of his castle. One child stamped on his, another pushed his over with both hands. Then they turned away and went back, each to his home.
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(From Yogacara Bhumi Sutra 4, quoted from World Scripture) Taken from Thus Have I Heard edited by Minh Thanh and P.D. Leigh.
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Thursday, March 31, 2011
The Young Monk Who Saved The Ants
Once upon a time in the deep mountains forest there lived an old monk and a young monk. The old monk was a great practitioner of Buddha-dharma and was frequently in deep meditation. Normally when he started meditation, it could last for half a day or one full day. In addition, during his meditation he would know what was going to happen in the future.
One day, the old monk meditated again. Suddenly he found out that his little disciple was going to pass away in eight days. Therefore the old monk called the young monk and said,
"My child, I am going to give you an eight-day holiday so that you can go home to see your mother and father."
"Really? That's very good, thank you Shifu."
In fact, lately I have been feeling quite homesick too."
"However, you must remember to come back here by the eighth day."
"Okay, Shifu, please take care of yourself. I am leaving now."
"Go home now!"
Delightedly the young monk went down the mountains, without realising that in the eyes of the old monk, there was sadness and a sense of reluctance to see him leave. After a long walk, the young monk stopped at the bank of the stream to drink some water as he was getting thirsty. Then he saw there was an ant cave in which countless ants were going into and out of it. He stayed to observe for a while with interest. When he was just about to leave,
"Oh! Why is the water level of the stream is rising? Oh no!! The ants will be drowned!!"
The reason was it had been raining upstream for a few days continuously. Therefore the water level downstream was starting to rise.
He quickly took off his cloth and he put some hard soil in it to made up a protection wall along the cave. Not only did he managed to stop water from covering the cave, but also skilfully diverted the flow of the waterto somewhere else.
Hence he saved the lives of countless ants. Eight days passed quickly. The old monk was strolling in the mountains forest sadly. Suddenly from a distance, he saw the little monk coming back upto the mountains cheerfully. Happily he asked the young monk to recount what he has done in the pass eight days while he had been away. When he pondered on this story he finally understood that because the young monk had saved the lives of countless ants this has caused his fated eight-day life expectancyto lenghten into a long and happy life.This is the merit of cultivating good deeds, however seemingly insignificant they be.
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Extract of The Buddhist Children's Stories, page 5-7, published by TheWhite Cloud Cultural Centre, Taipei Taiwan, Translated and proofread by Forest, Buddhist Calendar 2536 12th Lunar Month the 28th(1993/01/20) 23:45, Sydney.
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One day, the old monk meditated again. Suddenly he found out that his little disciple was going to pass away in eight days. Therefore the old monk called the young monk and said,
"My child, I am going to give you an eight-day holiday so that you can go home to see your mother and father."
"Really? That's very good, thank you Shifu."
In fact, lately I have been feeling quite homesick too."
"However, you must remember to come back here by the eighth day."
"Okay, Shifu, please take care of yourself. I am leaving now."
"Go home now!"
Delightedly the young monk went down the mountains, without realising that in the eyes of the old monk, there was sadness and a sense of reluctance to see him leave. After a long walk, the young monk stopped at the bank of the stream to drink some water as he was getting thirsty. Then he saw there was an ant cave in which countless ants were going into and out of it. He stayed to observe for a while with interest. When he was just about to leave,
"Oh! Why is the water level of the stream is rising? Oh no!! The ants will be drowned!!"
The reason was it had been raining upstream for a few days continuously. Therefore the water level downstream was starting to rise.
He quickly took off his cloth and he put some hard soil in it to made up a protection wall along the cave. Not only did he managed to stop water from covering the cave, but also skilfully diverted the flow of the waterto somewhere else.
Hence he saved the lives of countless ants. Eight days passed quickly. The old monk was strolling in the mountains forest sadly. Suddenly from a distance, he saw the little monk coming back upto the mountains cheerfully. Happily he asked the young monk to recount what he has done in the pass eight days while he had been away. When he pondered on this story he finally understood that because the young monk had saved the lives of countless ants this has caused his fated eight-day life expectancyto lenghten into a long and happy life.This is the merit of cultivating good deeds, however seemingly insignificant they be.
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Extract of The Buddhist Children's Stories, page 5-7, published by TheWhite Cloud Cultural Centre, Taipei Taiwan, Translated and proofread by Forest, Buddhist Calendar 2536 12th Lunar Month the 28th(1993/01/20) 23:45, Sydney.
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Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Eight Earthly Winds
There was a well-known scholar who practiced Buddhism and befriended a chan master. Thinking that he had made great stride in his cultivation, he wrote a poem and asked his attendant to deliver it to the master who lived across the river. The master opened the letter and read the short poem aloud:
"Unmoved by the eight worldly winds, [1]
Serenely I sit on the purplish gold terrace."
A smile broke up on the lips of the master. Picking up an ink brush, he scribbled the word "fart" across the letter and asked that it be delivered back to the scholar.
The scholar was upset and went across the river right away to reprimand the master for being rude. The master laughed as he said, "You said you are no longer moved by the eight worldly winds and yet with just one 'fart', you ran across the river like a rat!"
[1] Eight worldly winds/concerns: Gain and loss, honor and disgrace, praise and blame, happiness and pain.
"Unmoved by the eight worldly winds, [1]
Serenely I sit on the purplish gold terrace."
A smile broke up on the lips of the master. Picking up an ink brush, he scribbled the word "fart" across the letter and asked that it be delivered back to the scholar.
The scholar was upset and went across the river right away to reprimand the master for being rude. The master laughed as he said, "You said you are no longer moved by the eight worldly winds and yet with just one 'fart', you ran across the river like a rat!"
[1] Eight worldly winds/concerns: Gain and loss, honor and disgrace, praise and blame, happiness and pain.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Deer and Tiger
The mountains were splendid. But Wu Tang didn't care a whit for scenery. He and his son spent a lot of time hunting in these mountains. Wu Tang was a dead shot with his bow and arrow. He never missed. He was such a good shot that he barely had to aim. He just picked a target, pulled his bow, and shot it down. No animal was quick enough or agile enough to escape his arrows. Look, over there, a little fawn! A little fawn must be one of the most adorable animals in nature, but Wu Tang wasn't in the mountains to admire nature. As soon as he spotted it, he whipped an arrow out of his quiver and zoom! The fawn fell over dead. Then Wu noticed its mother a few feet away in the grass. He couldn't get a good shot at her from his angle, so he waited. She was terribly sad about her little baby! She let out a cry as she started licking her baby's wounds. Just as she was concentrating on that, Wu pulled off a quick shot and the mother deer died on the spot.
But that wasn't enough for Wu. He thought there might be more deer in the area, because he heard something rustling around in the grass. There was at least one more in there, maybe two. "Three deer is better than two," he thought, as he prepared. Then he located the source of the sound and shot at a shadow in the grass. He was proud to hear the sound of another dead body falling to the ground, but his pride turned to anguish when he heard a groan! Deer don't groan like that! That was a human voice! Wu rushed over and saw that his third shot had killed not a deer, but his own son, who had come out hunting with him!
Wu was stupefied. He seemed to hear a voice telling him, "Wu Tang! Now do you now what it is like to see your baby shot to death with an arrow? Animals love their young as much as you do. How much anguish have you caused animal parents!" Wu stood there, numb, too heartbroken to pay attention to a sound that came from the side. Then in a flash he realized that the other animal he had heard in the grass was not a deer, but a tiger! But he was too late ...
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Quoted from The Love of Life in Thus Have I Heard edited by Minh Thanh and P.D. Leigh.
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But that wasn't enough for Wu. He thought there might be more deer in the area, because he heard something rustling around in the grass. There was at least one more in there, maybe two. "Three deer is better than two," he thought, as he prepared. Then he located the source of the sound and shot at a shadow in the grass. He was proud to hear the sound of another dead body falling to the ground, but his pride turned to anguish when he heard a groan! Deer don't groan like that! That was a human voice! Wu rushed over and saw that his third shot had killed not a deer, but his own son, who had come out hunting with him!
Wu was stupefied. He seemed to hear a voice telling him, "Wu Tang! Now do you now what it is like to see your baby shot to death with an arrow? Animals love their young as much as you do. How much anguish have you caused animal parents!" Wu stood there, numb, too heartbroken to pay attention to a sound that came from the side. Then in a flash he realized that the other animal he had heard in the grass was not a deer, but a tiger! But he was too late ...
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Quoted from The Love of Life in Thus Have I Heard edited by Minh Thanh and P.D. Leigh.
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Monday, March 28, 2011
Rainy Day, Sunny Day
(A story from the scripture, as told by Venerable Master Hsing Yun)
There was once an old lady who cried all the time. Her elder daughter was married to an umbrella merchant while the younger daughter was the wife of a noodle vendor. On sunny days, she worried, "Oh no! The weather is so nice and sunny. No one is going to buy any umbrellas. What will happen if the shop has to be closed?" These worries made her sad. She just could not help but cry. When it rained, she would cry for the younger daughter. She thought, "Oh no! My younger daughter is married to a noodle vendor. You cannot dry noodles without the sun. Now there will be no noodles to sell. What should we do?" As a result, the old lady lived in sorrow everyday. Whether sunny or rainy, she grieved for one of her daughters. Her neighbors could not console her and jokingly called her "the crying lady."
One day, she met a monk. He was very curious as to why she was always crying. She explained the problem to him. The monk smiled kindly and said, "Madam! You need not worry. I will show you a way to happiness, and you will need to grieve no more."
The crying lady was very excited. She immediately asked the monk to show her what to do. The master replied, "It is very simple. You just need to change your perspective. On sunny days, do not think of your elder daughter not being able to sell umbrellas but the younger daughter being able to dry her noodles. With such good strong sunlight, she must be able to make plenty of noodles and her business must be very good. When it rains, think about the umbrella store of the elder daughter. With the rain, everyone must be buying umbrellas. She will sell a lot of umbrellas and her store will prosper."
The old lady saw the light. She followed the monk's instruction. After a while, she did not cry anymore; instead, she was smiling everyday. From that day on she was known as "the smiling lady."
There was once an old lady who cried all the time. Her elder daughter was married to an umbrella merchant while the younger daughter was the wife of a noodle vendor. On sunny days, she worried, "Oh no! The weather is so nice and sunny. No one is going to buy any umbrellas. What will happen if the shop has to be closed?" These worries made her sad. She just could not help but cry. When it rained, she would cry for the younger daughter. She thought, "Oh no! My younger daughter is married to a noodle vendor. You cannot dry noodles without the sun. Now there will be no noodles to sell. What should we do?" As a result, the old lady lived in sorrow everyday. Whether sunny or rainy, she grieved for one of her daughters. Her neighbors could not console her and jokingly called her "the crying lady."
One day, she met a monk. He was very curious as to why she was always crying. She explained the problem to him. The monk smiled kindly and said, "Madam! You need not worry. I will show you a way to happiness, and you will need to grieve no more."
The crying lady was very excited. She immediately asked the monk to show her what to do. The master replied, "It is very simple. You just need to change your perspective. On sunny days, do not think of your elder daughter not being able to sell umbrellas but the younger daughter being able to dry her noodles. With such good strong sunlight, she must be able to make plenty of noodles and her business must be very good. When it rains, think about the umbrella store of the elder daughter. With the rain, everyone must be buying umbrellas. She will sell a lot of umbrellas and her store will prosper."
The old lady saw the light. She followed the monk's instruction. After a while, she did not cry anymore; instead, she was smiling everyday. From that day on she was known as "the smiling lady."
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Kisa Gotami
Kisa Gotami was the wife of a wealthy man of Savatthi. She had only one child. When her son was old enough to start running about, he caught a disease and died. Kisa Gotami was greatly saddened. Unable to accept that her son was dead and could not be brought back to life again, she took him in her arms and went about asking for medicine to cure him. Everyone she encountered thought that she had lost her mind. Finally, an old man told her that if there was anyone who could help her, it would be the Buddha.
In her distress, Kisa Gotami brought the body of her son to the Buddha and asked him for a medicine that would bring back his life. The Buddha answered: "I shall cure him if you can bring me some white mustard seeds from a house where no one has died". Carrying her dead son, she went from door to door, asking at each house. At each house the reply was always that someone had died there. At last the truth struck her, "No house is free from death". She laid the body of her child in the wood and returned to the Buddha, who comforted her and preached to her the truth. She was awakened and entered the first stage of Arhatship. Eventually, she became an Arhat.
In her distress, Kisa Gotami brought the body of her son to the Buddha and asked him for a medicine that would bring back his life. The Buddha answered: "I shall cure him if you can bring me some white mustard seeds from a house where no one has died". Carrying her dead son, she went from door to door, asking at each house. At each house the reply was always that someone had died there. At last the truth struck her, "No house is free from death". She laid the body of her child in the wood and returned to the Buddha, who comforted her and preached to her the truth. She was awakened and entered the first stage of Arhatship. Eventually, she became an Arhat.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
A Chan Master's Tear
(originally from http://www.tunglinkok.ca/9710/sources/zen12.htm)
One day, Ch'an Master K'ung-yeh was travelling on the road and met some bandits who wanted to rob him.
Tears fell from the Master's eyes.
The bandits started laughing and exclaimed, "What a coward!"
Master K'ung-yeh then said, "Don't think that I'm crying because I'm afraid of you. I am not even afraid of birth and death. I feel sorry for you young people. You are strong and healthy, yet instead of doing things that are beneficial for others, you hurt people by robbing them. Of course, what you are doing is not acceptable and cannot be tolerated by society. What is worse is that you will all go to hell and suffer great pain. I am so worried about you that I cannot restrain myself and am shedding tears for you"
The bandits were moved and decided to give up their evil ways.
One day, Ch'an Master K'ung-yeh was travelling on the road and met some bandits who wanted to rob him.
Tears fell from the Master's eyes.
The bandits started laughing and exclaimed, "What a coward!"
Master K'ung-yeh then said, "Don't think that I'm crying because I'm afraid of you. I am not even afraid of birth and death. I feel sorry for you young people. You are strong and healthy, yet instead of doing things that are beneficial for others, you hurt people by robbing them. Of course, what you are doing is not acceptable and cannot be tolerated by society. What is worse is that you will all go to hell and suffer great pain. I am so worried about you that I cannot restrain myself and am shedding tears for you"
The bandits were moved and decided to give up their evil ways.
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