Chapter 4 : Faith Discernment

At that time the wisdom-destined Subhuti, Maha-Katyayana, Maha-Kasyapa, and Maha-Maudgalyayana, hearing from the Buddha the unprecedented Dharma and the prediction by the World-honoured One of Sariputra's future destiny of Anuttarasamyaksambodhi, were struck with wonder and ecstatic with joy.

Thereupon they rose from their seats, and, arranging their garments, humbly baring their right shoulders, placing their right knees on the ground, with one mind folding their palms, bending their bodies in reverence, and gazing upon his honoured face, spoke to the Buddha, “O, World-honoured One! Before this, we, considered ourselves having attained nirvana, being the head of the sangha and advanced in years, and that there is nothing more we are able to undertake, made no effort to seek Anuttarasamyaksambodhi. The World-honoured One for a long time has been preaching the Dharma, praising the Mahayana and we all the time seated in our places. We have become weary in our bodies and neglectful, only thinking of the void, of the formless, and of nonfunction, but in regard to the bodhisattva-dharmas, their supernatural displays, the purifying of the Buddha-lands, and the perfecting of all living beings, our hearts have not taken delight. Wherefore? The World-honoured One had caused us to escape the Triple Realm and to obtain proof to nirvana. What for to seek more? Furthermore, we are now very old. With the Anuttarasamyaksambodhi, for which the Buddha instructs the bodhisattvas, we have not conceived a single fond thought of joy. Now we, in the presence of the Buddha, hearing that sravakas are predicted to attain Anuttarasamyaksambodhi, are extremely glad in our minds and have obtained what we have never experienced before. Unexpectedly we now of a sudden heard this rare Dharma. Profoundly do we congratulate ourselves on having acquired so great and good a gain, like a poor man obtaining an inestimable jewel, without the seeking. O, World-honoured One! Now let us have the pleasure of speaking in a parable to make plain this meaning.

“Suppose there is a man of a rich family who is young in years and who, forsaking his father and running off, dwells long in another country, whether ten, or twenty, or as much as fifty years. Not only does he grow old, is also reduced to destitution, running about in all four directions in quest of food and clothing. At length, in his wanderings, he accidentally heads toward the country where his father stays. His father, who has preceded him, and who has sought his son without finding him, has stopped midway in a certain city. The father's house is great and rich, with treasure and jewels immeasurable, gold and silver, lapis lazuli and coral, amber and sphatika and other jewels. His treasure houses are all filled to overflowing. He has many servants, assistants, vassals, elephants and horses, carriages and chariots, oxen and sheep without number. The profits that flow in and out would spread to other countries and also merchants and itinerant traders are very numerous.

“At that time, the poor son, having visited various settlements and passed through kingdoms and metropolises, at length reaches the city where his father is staying. The father is always thinking of his son, for it has already been more than fifty years since he has parted with him. Yet, without ever mentioning such matters to others, he merely thinks to himself, his heart harbouring regret and resentment. He knows that he is old and decrepit, that he is wealthy and has a lot of gold, silver and many precious gems, with which his treasure houses are filled to overflowing; but he has no son. One day he will die, and his riches shall be scattered, for he will have no one to whom to bequeath them. He feels very pitiful. For this reason he is earnestly and constantly recalling his son. Again, he thinks, ‘If I should get a son to whom to bequeath my riches, I should be calmly happy, and have no further cares.’

“At that time, the poor son, hiring himself out as a labourer in his wanderings, by chance reaches his father's house. Stopping by the side of the gate, he sees in the distance his father seated on a lion seat and his feet resting on a jewelled footstool; Brahmans, Ksatriyas, and householders are all deferentially surrounding him; his body adorned with pearl necklaces valued in the thousands of myriads; attended on his left and right by vassals and servants holding white feather dusters in their hands; covered by a jewelled canopy, from which flowered banners are hanging down; the ground around him sprinkled with scented water and strewn with many outstanding flowers; with rows of precious objects that are given and received - having, in short, various adornments of this sort, whereby he appears most majestic and distinguished. As soon as the poor son sees his father with this great power, straightaway, harbouring great fear, he regrets having come to that place, and privately thinks, ‘This is either a king or the equal of a king. But, at any rate, this is no place for me to hire my labour and earn anything. The best thing for me to do is to go to a poor village, where there will be room for me to use my strength to the fullest and where food and clothing will be easy to obtain. If I stay long in this place, I may be forced to work.’

“When he has had this thought, he quickly runs off. At that time, the wealthy elder, from his lion seat seeing his son, instantly recognises him and, greatly pleased at heart, straightaway thinks, ‘My treasures and treasure houses now have someone to whom they can be bequeathed! I have been thinking of this son but had no way of seeing him. Then, quite suddenly, he came of his own, fulfilling my wishes. Though I am decrepit and aged, still I am yearning.’

“Straightaway, he dispatches an attendant to follow the young man and bring him back. The messenger, running quickly, goes and overtakes him. The poor son is alarmed, and cries out resentfully, ‘I have committed no offence! Why have I been seized?’ The messenger, grasping him all the more firmly, forces him to return with him. At that time, the poor son thinks to himself, ‘I am guiltless and yet have been seized. This surely means that I must die!’ All the more terrified, and helpless with agony, he falls to earth. Seeing this from afar, the father says to the messenger, ‘I do not want this man. Do not force him to come with you! Sprinkle him with cool water, bring him to consciousness but speak to him no more.’ Wherefore? The father knows that his son's ambitions are mean, and he knows that he himself, being rich and powerful, will be a source of trouble to his son. He knows perfectly well that this is his son, but for reasons of expediency he does not tell others that ‘This is my son’.

“The messenger says to the son, ‘I am now letting you go wherever you wish!’ The poor son rejoices, having gained something he has never had before. Rising from the ground, he goes to a poor village, there to seek food and clothing.

“At that time, the elder, wishing to entice his son, devises an expedient. He secretly dispatches two men, whose appearance is miserable and who have no dignity of bearing, saying to them, ‘You may find him and say gently to that poor fellow, “There is a work place here, where you will be given double wages.” If the poor fellow agrees, bring him along and put him to work. If he asks what you wish him to do, then you may say to him, “You are being hired to sweep away dung. We two shall also work with you.”’ At that time, the two messengers seek out the poor son directly. When they have found him, they tell him the above in detail. The poor son takes his pay and sweeps the dung with them. The father, seeing his son, is struck by both pity and amazement.

“Then, on another day, through a window he sees the figure of his son, weak and emaciated, wasted away, grimy and soiled with dung, dirt, and dust. He wishes to get near to his son and straightaway he removes his necklaces, his fine outer garments, and his ornaments, and puts on instead a rough, torn, dirty, tar-stained garment and, smearing dust over his body, takes in his right hand a dung-shovel. Now frightful in appearance, he addresses his workmen in front of his son, ‘Get on with your work. Don’t be lazy!’ By this means, he contrives to approach his son. Then after a few days, he addresses him, saying, ‘Ah, my man! Work here always, and do not go anywhere else! I have increased your wages. Whatever you need, whether pots or vessels, rice or flour, salt or vinegar, or that sort of thing, do not trouble yourself about it. There is an old and worn-out servant whom you shall be given if you need him. Be at ease in your mind. No need to worry. Wherefore? I am like your father. I am old, my years are great, while you are young and vigorous. Whenever you work, you are never guilty of lying or cheating, of idling, of anger or resentment, or of hateful words. I have never seen you guilty of these evils. From now on you shall be like my own son!’

“Straightaway the elder gives him a new name and calls him his son. The poor son, though delighted by this treatment, continues as before to call himself a lowly workman from elsewhere. For this reason, for twenty years he has been at work clearing away dung. At the end, he has complete confidence in himself, and comes and goes without anxiety. Yet he is lodged in the same place as before.

“O, World-honoured One! At that time, the elder is taken ill, and he knows that he is to die before long. He addresses his poor son, saying, ‘I now have much gold and silver and many precious jewels, with which my treasure houses are filled to overflowing. You are to find out whether there is much or little in those houses, what is to be taken in, what to be given out. Such are my thoughts, and you are to understand my meaning. Wherefore? It is that you and I are now to be no different. You are to exercise care and to let nothing get lost.’

“At that time, the poor son, straightaway receiving his instructions, takes charge of the multitude of things, the gold and silver, the precious jewels and the several treasure houses. Yet he has no craving for so much as a single meal, but continues to live as before in the same place, still unable to put off his lowly thoughts.

“Then, after some time, the father knows that his son has at length become more at ease, that, having achieved a great ambition, he is ashamed of his former state of mind. When facing his end, the old man gathers his kinsmen, as well as kings, great ministers, Ksatriyas, and householders, who are all to gather together. Then he proclaims to them, ‘Sirs! Know that this is my son, begotten by me. Having forsaken me in such-and-such a city and run off, he suffered loneliness and hardship for more than fifty years. His original name was so-and-so. My own name is thus-and-so. Formerly, in my native city, affected by grief, I sought him, but to no avail. Suddenly I encountered him here by accident and got him back. He is really my son. I am really his father. Now all the treasure I have belongs to my son. What was formerly paid out and taken in, my son knows it all.’

“At this time, the poor son, hearing his father's words, straightaway rejoices greatly, having gained something he has never had before. Then he thinks, ‘Formerly I had no thought of seeking or expecting anything, and now these treasure houses have come to me of themselves!’

“O, World-honoured One! The great wealthy elder is the Tathagata. We are all like the Buddha's sons. The Tathagata always tells us that we are his sons. O, World-honoured One! By reason of the three kinds of woe, in the midst of birth and death we suffered various annoyances. Erring and ignorant, we clung in desire to lesser dharmas. Now the World-honoured One by the power of expedient devices, caused us to take thought and to clear away the dung of frivolous assertions concerning the dharmas. In the course of this, we, striving all the more earnestly, contrived to arrive at nirvana. Having earned one day's wages, we rejoiced greatly at heart, imagining this to be enough. Then we said to ourselves that in the Buddha-dharma, thanks to our increased efforts, what we had gained was broad and plentiful. Yet the World-honoured One, knowing beforehand that our thoughts were addicted to base cravings and that we desired lesser dharmas, made a show of permissiveness, and did not specify to us. We should have a portion in the treasure house of the Tathagata's wisdom and insight! The World-honoured One by resort to the power of expedient devices preached to the great bodhisattvas the wisdom of the Tathagata. We, having attained from the Buddha the nirvana, imagined that we had gained a great thing, and had no ambitions with regard to this Mahayana. We, for the sake of the Tathagata's wisdom, preached it to bodhisattvas, but we ourselves had no expectations regarding it. Wherefore? The Buddha, knowing that in our thoughts we craved the lesser dharmas, by resort to the expedient power he helped us to preach the dharma. We did not know that we are truly bodhisattvas. Now, at last, we know that with regard to Buddha's wisdom, the World-honoured One is unstinting. Wherefore? From of old we have been truly bodhisatvas. Because we have craved only lesser dharmas, the Buddha did not preach to us. If we had had a craving for the greater, then the Buddha would have preached for us the Dharma of the Mahayana. In this sermon he preaches only the Ekayana. Also, in former times, in the presence of bodhisattvas, he maligned the sravakas who craved the lesser dharmas. Yet the Buddha teaches and converts us by recourse to Mahayana. This is why we say that, whereas formerly we had no thought of seeking or expecting anything, now the great jewel of the Dharma King has come to us of its own accord. What the bodhisattvas should gain, that we have already gained.

“We on this day
Have heard the Buddha's voice and teaching
And are ecstatic with joy at
Having obtained the unprecedented.
The Buddha declares that sravakas
Will become Buddhas;
Peerless collection of treasures
Have received without seeking.
It is like a youth,
Immature and ignorant,
Who leaves his father and runs away
To other lands far distant,
Wandering about in many countries
For over fifty years.
His father, with anxious care,
Searches in four directions.
Wearied with his search,
He abides in a certain city.
Where he builds a house,
Enjoying the pleasures of the five desires
Very rich is his house,
With abundance of gold and silver,
Moonstones and agates,
Pearls and lapis lazuli,
Elephants, horses, oxen, and sheep,
Palanquins, litters, carriages,
Servants, slaves,
And a multitude of people;
His revenues and investments
Spread even to other countries;
His merchants and traders
Are found everywhere;
A thousand myriad kotis of people
Surround and honour him;
Constantly by the king
He is held in affection;
All the ministers and noble families
Honour him highly;
For all these reasons
His guests are many;
Such are the abundance of his wealth
And the greatness of his power.
But his years are wearing away
And he grieves the more over his son;
Morning and night he ponders:
‘The time of my death is approaching;
My foolish son has left me
For over fifty years;
These things in my storehouses -
What shall I do?’
At that time the poor son
Seeks food and clothing
From city to city,
From country to country,
Sometimes getting something,
Sometimes nothing;
Famished, weak, and gaunt,
Covered with scabs and sores,
Gradually he passes along
To the city where his father dwells.
Hired for wages he roams about,
At last reaching his father's house.
At that very hour the elder
Within his gates
Has set up a great jewelled curtain
And sits on a lion seat
Surrounded by his attendants,
Everybody taking care of him.
Some are counting
Gold, silver, and precious things,
Giving or receiving properties
Noting and recording bonds.
The poor son, seeing his father
So noble and splendid,
Thinks: ‘This must be a king
Or one of royal rank.’
Alarmed and wondering:
‘Why have I come here?’
Again he thinks to himself:
‘If I tarry long,
I may suffer oppression
And be driven to forced labour.’
Having pondered thus,
He runs off in haste
In search of some poor place,
That he may go and hire his labour.
At that time the elder
On his lion seat,
Seeing his son from afar,
Secretly recognises him
And instantly orders servants
To pursue and fetch him back.
The poor son cries in alarm,
Faints away, and falls on the ground:
‘These men have caught me;
I shall certainly be killed.
Why, for food and clothing,
Did I come here?’
The elder, knowing that his son,
Being foolish and inferior,
Will not believe in his word,
Nor believe that he is his father.
With tactful method
Again dispatches other men,
One-eyed, small in size and ugly
And unimposing.
‘You can tell him,
Saying: “You will be hired along with us
To remove dung and dirt
And you shall be given double wages.”’
The poor son hearing this
Is glad, and comes with them,
For the purpose of removing dung and dirt
And cleaning houses and rooms.
The elder, through a lattice,
Always sees his son,
And thinks of him as foolish
And pleased with humble things.
Then the elder,
Donning a tattered dirty garment,
Takes a dirt hod,
Goes to where his son is,
And by this expedient device gets near him,
Bidding him to be diligent.
On one other day
Seeing his son and says:
‘I have increased your wages,
Giving you oil for your feet,
And plenty of food and drink,
And thick warm mats.
No need to go far away
To seek for food and clothing.’
Then with sharp words he thus chides:
‘Get on with your work.’
Again he speaks gently:
‘You are as if you were my son.’
The elder, being wise,
Gradually causes him to go in and out,
And after twenty years
Employs him in house affairs,
Showing him gold and silver,
Pearls and crystal,
And the incoming and outgoing of things;
All these he makes him know.
Still he dwells outside
Lodging in a hovel,
For himself thinking of penurious things,
‘These things are not mine.’
The father, knowing his son's mind
Has gradually developed,
And wishing to give him his wealth,
Gathers together his relatives,
King and ministers,
Kshatriyas and householders.
In this great assembly,
He announces, ‘This is my son,
Who left me and went elsewhere
For fifty years;
Since I saw my son arrive,
Twenty years have passed.
Long ago in a certain city
I lost this son;
In wandering round in search of him,
At last I arrived here.
All that I have,
Houses and people,
I entirely give to him;
He is free to use them as he will.’
The son thinks of his former poverty
And inferior disposition,
Anew from his father
Obtains such great treasures,
Together with houses and buildings
And all this wealth,
Rejoices greatly
On receiving such unexpected.
So is it with the Buddha;
Knowing that we are pleased with trifles,
He did not before proclaim,
‘You will become Buddhas,’
But said that we
Who were attaining faultlessness
And perfect in Hinayana
Were his sravaka disciples.
The Buddha commanded us,
Preach the highest Path,
‘That those who practise it
Will become Buddhas.’
We, receiving the Buddha's teaching,
For the sake of great bodhisattvas,
By numerous causes and conditions
By various parables,
And by so many expressions,
Preached the Supreme Path.
The Buddha-sons,
Hearing the Dharma from us,
Day and night ponder over
And with unflagging zeal practise it.
Then the Buddha
Predicts of them:
‘You, in a future incarnation,
Shall become Buddhas.’
Of all the Buddhas'
Mystic Dharma
Only to bodhisattvas
Expound in full reality,
But not to us
Was this truth preached.
Just as that poor son
Who came to be near to his father,
Though he knows all the things,
But he owns none of them.
Though we proclaimed
The treasury of the Buddha-dharma,
Yet had no will or wish for it,
Being also like him.
We, with the inside extinction
Considered ourselves satisfied;
Having thus settled this matter,
Nothing more remained to be done.
Even if we had heard
Of the purification of Buddha-lands
And the conversion of living beings,
We would never have rejoiced.
Wherefore?
All dharmas
Were altogether void,
Without birth, without extinction,
Nothing large, nothing small,
Without fault, without effort.
Pure Lands and Bodhi
Are also void.
Thinking thus,
With no conception of joy.
We, for long night,
To the Buddha-wisdom,
Neither coveted nor were attached
Nor had we any will or wish.
But we, with regard to the Dharma
Considered we had reached finality.
We, for a long night
Practising the Dharma of the Void,
Obtained release from the Triple Realm's
Distressing troubles,
Dwelling in the final bodily state
Of nirvana with remains.
Being instructed by the Buddha,
We had, without a doubt, attained the Path
And that we had therefore
Repaid the Buddha's grace.
Though we, for the sake
Of all Buddha-sons,
Had preached the Bodhisattva-dharma,
That they should seek the Buddha Path,
Yet we, in regard to this Dharma
Had never any wish or pleasure.
Our Leader saw and let us alone,
Because he looked into our minds;
At first he did not stir up our zeal
By telling the true gain.
Just as the rich elder,
Knowing his son's inferior disposition,
By his tactfulness
Subdues his mind,
And afterward gives him
All his wealth,
So is it with the Buddha
In his display of rarities.
Knowing those who delight in trifles,
And by his tactfulness
Subduing their minds,
He instructs them in the great wisdom
To take vow in Ekayana,
The Supreme Path.
Today we have obtained
What we have never had before;
What we have not previously looked for
Now we have unexpectedly obtained,
Just as that poor son
Obtained inestimable treasures.
O, World-honoured One! Now we
Have obtained the Path and obtained the Fruit,
But not the real gain.
If, in the faultless Dharma
Attained to pure eyes,
It is then the real gain.
We for long night
Having kept the Buddha's pure commands,
Today for the first time
Obtain their fruit and reward.
In the Dharma of the Dhama-king,
Having long practised Brahman-conducts,
Now we have attained to the faultless,
Peerless great fruit;
Now we are
Real sravakas
With the sound of the Buddha Path,
Cause all beings to hear.
Now we are
Real arhats,
Who, in all the worlds
Of gods, men, Maras, and Brahmas,
Universally by them
Are worthy of worship.
The World-honoured One, in his great grace,
By things which are rare
Has compassion for and instructs
And benefits us;
Through countless kotis of kalpas,
Who could repay him?
Service by hands and feet,
Homage with the head,
All kinds of offerings,
Are all unable to repay him.
If one bore on one's head,
Or carried on one's shoulders
Through kalpas as the sand of the Ganges;
Is unable to repay him;
Or with the best of food,
Or countless jewelled garments
And all kinds of bedding,
Or every sort of medicament;
Or with ox-head sandalwood
And all kinds of jewels
Erected stupas and monasteries;
Or carpeted the ground with precious garments;
With such things as these
As offerings
Through kalpas as the sand of the Ganges,
Yet one would be unable to repay.
The World-honoured One is rare
With infinite and boundless,
Inconceivably
Great transcendental powers;
He is faultless and effortless,
The King of the Dharmas
Who is able to, for the inferior,
Patiently endure these things,
And for common folk attached to externals
To preach as is befitting.
The World-honoured One in the Dharma
Attains to supreme power.
Knowing all living beings,
With their various desires and pleasures,
And their power of mind.
According to their capacities,
By innumerable parables,
He preaches the Dharma to them.
According to the living beings'
Wholesome roots of past lives,
Also knowing who is mature
And who immature,
When, as a result of varied weighing and measuring,
He knows with discrimination,
Then, concealing the Path of Ekayana
As appropriate, he preaches the three.”