The King Śakra Deceived

As the sūtra states: there are two kinds of full understanding — namely, full understanding through knowledge, and full understanding through cutting-off — and so on, at length. One asks: why is this treatise composed? The answer: it is composed in order to fully discriminate the meaning of this sūtra passage. As the sūtra states: there are two kinds of full understanding, namely full understanding through knowledge and full understanding through cutting-off, yet, having said this much, the sūtra does not discriminate its meaning fully. That sūtra is the fundamental basis upon which this treatise depends, and whatever it has left unstated ought now to be stated. Further, the foregoing has already spoken of the cutting-off and full understanding of the various graspings, without yet discriminating the meaning of "cutting-off and full understanding" itself, and it is in order to discriminate this that this treatise is now composed. What is full understanding through knowledge? The answer: whatever knowledge, vision, illumination, awakening, and direct realization there is — this is called full understanding through knowledge. Here, these various names alike reveal one and the same meaning; it is because the author of this treatise is skilled in the various meanings of these terms that he expresses it through a variety of wordings — that is, it is called "knowledge" because it serves as the antidote to ignorance; it is called "vision" because it serves as the antidote to wrong view; it is called "illumination" because it serves as the antidote to obscuring darkness; it is called "awakening" because it serves as the antidote to wrongful cognition; it is called "direct realization" because it serves as the antidote to a wrongful direct realization. One asks: which kind of knowledge, in this context, is spoken of as "full understanding through knowledge"? There are those who say: it refers solely to uncontaminated knowledge, since the passage speaks of "direct realization," and mundane knowledge cannot properly be called "direct realization." There are others who say: it broadly refers to both contaminated and uncontaminated knowledge, since it is knowledge that fully understands all dharmas, and the sūtras frequently speak of mundane knowledge in this connection.

One asks: can mundane knowledge, too, really be called "direct realization"? The answer: to observe clearly and distinctly is the meaning of "direct realization"; among mundane forms of knowledge, there exist those capable of clearly and distinctly observing a dharma, and these, too, are called "direct realization" — it is not that only the uncontaminated may bear the name "direct realization." Hence the Nagara Sūtra states: before I attained perfect enlightenment, I had already, in a genuine and direct way, observed birth conditioning aging and death — it is not that, only once perfect enlightenment was attained, there then first existed an observation of dependent origination; a genuine, uncontaminated knowledge alone may properly be called "direct realization." From this it is known that mundane knowledge, too, may be called "direct realization." One asks: which kind of mundane knowledge, specifically, is called "full understanding through knowledge"? The answer: excepting the mundane knowledge associated with the mental factor of intentional application through resolved conviction, every other kind — whether arising from hearing, from reflection, or from cultivation — that observes the particular and shared characteristics of dharmas,

whenever it is of the utmost clarity and distinctness among mundane forms of knowledge, may likewise be called "direct realization," and is likewise called "full understanding through knowledge." Wisdom arisen from hearing refers, for example, to the observation of the eighteen elements' own particular and shared characteristics; wisdom arisen from reflection refers, for example, to mindfulness of breathing and the four establishments of mindfulness; wisdom arisen from cultivation refers, for example, to warmth, summit, forbearance, and the supreme mundane dharma — these, together with uncontaminated wisdom, are alike called "full understanding through knowledge." What is full understanding through cutting-off? The answer: the permanent cutting-off of craving, the permanent cutting-off of hatred and delusion, the permanent cutting-off of every affliction whatsoever — this is called full understanding through cutting-off. One asks: it is by virtue of fully understanding a given object that the name "full understanding" is established — cutting-off possesses no object of its own, nor does it perform the function of full understanding, so why is it, too, called "full understanding"? The answer: cutting-off is the fruit of knowledge, and it is for this reason that it, too, is called "full understanding" —

just as an arhat, being the fruit of liberation, is likewise called "liberation"; just as the divine eye and divine ear, being the fruit of supernormal penetration, are likewise called "penetration"; just as the inner six sense-bases, being the fruit of karma, are spoken of as "former karma." So too is it here: cutting-off, being the fruit of knowledge, is likewise called "full understanding." One asks: the cutting-off belonging to the path of cultivation, being the fruit of knowledge, may properly be spoken of as "full understanding" — but the cutting-off belonging to the path of seeing, being the fruit of forbearance, how can it be called "full understanding"? The Venerable Saṅghavasu states as follows: this, too, is the fruit of wisdom, and it is for this reason that it is called "full understanding" — that is, full understanding is of two kinds: first, taking wisdom as its own nature; second, taking knowledge as its own nature. This position ought not to be maintained, since the sūtra states only that there are two kinds of full understanding: first, full understanding through knowledge; second, full understanding through cutting-off. Full understanding through knowledge takes knowledge as its own nature; full understanding through cutting-off takes cutting-off as its own nature — cutting-off, being the fruit of knowledge, is called "full understanding."

There exists nowhere any statement speaking of "full understanding through wisdom," since "full understanding" is a name for the function proper to knowledge alone. The Venerable Pārśva says: this cutting-off ought to be called "relinquishing full understanding," since it is through attaining this cutting-off that one relinquishes and casts off birth and death. The Venerable Ghoṣa states as follows: this cutting-off ought to be called "principled full understanding," since it is through beholding the supreme dharma and the supreme meaning and principle that one attains this ultimate, supreme cutting-off. Both of these statements fail to grasp the definitive meaning,

since neither of them explains why cutting-off is called "full understanding." The Venerable Buddharakṣita states as follows: although cutting-off performs no function of fully understanding its object, it, too, is called "full understanding" with reference to its own characteristic — just as the eye of the past or the future, though it does not actually see visible form, is nonetheless, with reference to its own characteristic, still called "the eye"; and the same should be understood to hold for the ear, and on through the mind and its mental factors. The same is true here as well: cutting-off, being the characteristic mark of knowledge, is called "full understanding." That position, too, is not correct, since this cutting-off never at any time performs the function of fully understanding anything. There are other masters who say: the cutting-off belonging to forbearance is the fruit of mundane knowledge, and it is for this reason that it, too, is called "full understanding." That position, too, is not correct — within the desire realm, up through the sphere of nothing-whatsoever, this might perhaps hold; but, within the peak of existence, the cutting-off belonging to the path of seeing — how could this possibly be called the fruit of mundane knowledge, since mundane knowledge performs no function of permanently cutting anything off there? And, further, at the stage of an ordinary being, when one uses the mundane path to cut off what is abandoned by seeing across the eight lower stages, this is not yet called "full understanding"; only upon reaching the stage of the path of seeing, when "full understanding" is established, does no mundane knowledge remain present at all — how, then, could it be called the fruit of mundane knowledge? There are yet others who say: the cutting-off belonging to the path of seeing is the fruit, through the efficient cause of an agent's own action, of uncontaminated knowledge, and it is for this reason that it, too, is called "full understanding" — that is, when uncontaminated knowledge, cutting off the sixth uninterrupted path of the desire realm, realizes the fruit of a once-returner, one thereby fully attains the cutting-off of what is abandoned by seeing across the three realms, together with the cutting-off, through uncontaminated knowledge, of the six grades of the desire realm's own affliction abandoned by cultivation, for the sake of the fruit of a once-returner; when, cutting off the ninth uninterrupted path of the desire realm, one realizes the fruit of a non-returner, one thereby fully attains the cutting-off of what is abandoned by seeing across the three realms, together with the cutting-off of the desire realm's own affliction abandoned by cultivation, for the sake of the fruit of a non-returner; and when the vajropama-samādhi manifests before one, one thereby fully attains the cutting-off of what is abandoned by seeing and by cultivation across the three realms, for the sake of the fruit of arhatship — and it is for this reason that this cutting-off, too, is called "full understanding." This position, too, ought not to be maintained, since the six full understandings belonging to the path of seeing would thereby fail to be full understandings at all. It ought rather to be said: forbearance is a member of the family of knowledge, belonging to knowledge's own lineage, and it is for this reason that it, too, is called "knowledge"; cutting-off, being its fruit, is called "full understanding" — just as one born within the Gautama clan is called "Gautama," so too should this be understood. One asks: the cutting-off of even a single instance of the view of a real self is likewise called "full understanding" — why, then, does the passage speak of the permanent cutting-off of craving, and so on, up through the permanent cutting-off of every affliction, as "full understanding through cutting-off"? The answer: although the cutting-off of even a single fetter is indeed called "full understanding,"

this passage speaks specifically of complete and perfect full understanding, which is called "complete and perfect full understanding through cutting-off" only once every fetter whatsoever has been exhausted.

Further, the Blessed One, at times, applies the word "full understanding" to knowledge, and, at other times, applies the word "full understanding" to cutting-off. As for its application to knowledge, this is as the verse states:

"The youthful one, virtuous and tranquil, is able to benefit every world; the wise are able to fully understand that craving gives rise to every suffering. What the wise say ought to be done, should they not do it, ought not to be said; the wise ought to fully understand — those who merely speak without doing are many." The origin of this verse lies in the story of King Bahulobha. That is, there was, in ancient times, a king named Bahulobha, whose nature was fierce and violent, whose greed and craving knew no satiety,

who plundered the wealth and treasure of his own people. His ministers, in council together, thereupon deposed him, and installed his younger brother to succeed him upon the throne. King Bahulobha then went to a border town of the kingdom, where he wove sandals from straw in order to sustain himself, and lived thus for a long while. His brother, the new king, suddenly recalled him, and asked his ministers: where is my elder brother now? The ministers answered: we have heard that he dwells in a border town, sustaining himself by weaving sandals. Hearing this, the king was filled with sorrow, and thought as follows: since my elder brother has come to such a state, of what use is it for me to remain upon the throne? He at once summoned him back, and enfeoffed him with a single town. Yet many people flocked to him there, and the food supplied was insufficient, so the king enfeoffed him further with a second town, then a third, until he had granted him half the kingdom — and still he was not satisfied, and in the end raised an army, slew his brother, and set himself up as king once more. At that time, Śakra, lord of the gods, learning of this, thought to himself: this wicked king recognizes neither kindness nor righteousness — I shall now go and deceive him, so as to trouble him. He thereupon transformed himself into the likeness of a brahmin, wearing a cap and a coarse straw garment, holding a water-vessel and a staff, and came before the king, uttering auspicious words,

praising and blessing him, and stood to one side. The king said: brahmin, whence have you come? The brahmin answered: from beyond the great ocean. The king said: what is there, beyond the ocean? He answered: I have seen a certain land, secure, at ease, and prosperous, its people numerous, filled with rare treasures and marvelous jewels. The king said: might I, with my own strength, obtain it? The brahmin answered: going there, you would surely obtain it. The king further asked: who shall guide the way? He answered: I myself am able. The king said: after how many days might we set out? The brahmin answered: seven days from now. Having said this, he departed. King Bahulobha then mustered his troops, prepared every provision, and, on the seventh day, made ready his chariot to set forth — but, seeking the brahmin, he was unable to find him anywhere. The king thereupon fell into sorrow, thinking: had he come, I should have gained great benefit; but, having lost him, what I hoped for has not been realized — and he entered his chamber of grief, sitting there in melancholy distress, and no one in the whole kingdom was able to relieve his bitter sorrow. At that time, the bodhisattva Śākyamuni had been born in that country, in a great brahmin village, and, on account of some minor matter, came to the royal capital, where, hearing of this affair, a compassionate sorrow arose in him. He said to the ministers: I am able to untie the knot of sorrow within the king's own heart. The ministers rejoiced, and led him before the king, where, with auspicious words of praise and blessing, he stood to one side, and expounded for the king the verses of the Arthavargīya:

"One who pursues the objects of desire forever gives rise to hope and expectation; if what he desires comes to pass, his mind then rejoices greatly. One who pursues the objects of desire forever gives rise to hope and expectation; if what he desires fails to come to pass, he is afflicted and broken, as though pierced by an arrow." In this way, one after another, he expounded for the king the entirety of the verses reproving desire found within that chapter, and, at that very moment, the bodhisattva himself became free of the defilement of desire. The king, hearing this, thereupon had his heart's bitter sorrow dissolved, and spoke for the bodhisattva the first verse: "the youthful one, virtuous and tranquil," and so on, at length — the meaning of this verse is self-evident and requires no further discrimination. The bodhisattva then spoke for the king the second verse: "what the wise say ought to be done," and so on, at length. The first half of this verse reproves Śakra: that is, one who is wise says that, having promised another something, one must certainly carry it out; if one has no intention of doing so, one ought not to have spoken of it at all. The latter half reproves the king: that is, one who is wise ought to fully understand that, when someone makes a promise yet does not carry it out, he merely wishes to trouble and disturb another, with no genuine substance behind his words — how, then, could the king have so single-mindedly trusted such empty words? Who, indeed, could ever really come from beyond the ocean, and who could ever really cross over to the ocean's far shore?

the king ought not to have sought after such matters lying beyond his own proper concern. As for its application to cutting-off, this is as the sūtra states: the Buddha told the monks: I shall now expound for you the dharma to be fully understood, the own-nature of full understanding, and the one able to fully understand. As for the dharma to be fully understood, it refers to the five aggregates subject to grasping; as for the own-nature of full understanding, it refers to the permanent cutting-off of craving, the permanent cutting-off of hatred and delusion, the permanent cutting-off of every affliction whatsoever; as for the one able to fully understand, it refers to an arhat, whose every contaminant is permanently exhausted, who does not hold to any of the undetermined propositions, such as whether the Tathāgata exists after death, and the rest. Here, "the dharma to be fully understood, referring to the five aggregates subject to grasping" —

one asks: with reference to which kind of full understanding is this statement made — full understanding through knowledge, or full understanding through cutting-off? Suppose either is granted — what fault would follow? If it is stated with reference to full understanding through knowledge, then it ought to say that all dharmas are the dharma to be fully understood — why, then, does it speak only of the five aggregates subject to grasping? And if it is stated with reference to full understanding through cutting-off, this, too, does not accord with reason, since the five aggregates subject to grasping are, in common, the object of both kinds of full understanding, and it ought therefore not to be said that this is stated with reference to full understanding through cutting-off alone. There are those who say: this passage is stated with reference to full understanding through knowledge alone. One asks: if so, then it ought to say that all dharmas are the dharma to be fully understood — why, then, does it speak only of the five aggregates subject to grasping? The answer: just as, among the four truths, only the truth of suffering is said to be that which ought to be fully understood — the reason given there is precisely the reason here as well. There are other masters who say: this passage is stated with reference to full understanding through cutting-off alone. One asks: since the five aggregates subject to grasping are, in common, the object of both kinds of full understanding, it ought not to be said that this statement is made with reference to full understanding through cutting-off alone. The answer: just as, among the four truths, only the truth of cessation is said to be that which is to be directly realized —

the reason given there is precisely the reason here as well. Within this passage, there further exists a distinct reason not shared with the other case — namely, that full understanding through cutting-off is obtainable only with respect to the aggregates subject to grasping,

and not with respect to the own-nature of any other kind of full understanding, since it refers precisely to the permanent cutting-off of craving, the permanent cutting-off of hatred and delusion, the permanent cutting-off of every affliction whatsoever. One asks: a further sūtra passage states:

"it is through the cutting-off, dispassion, and cessation of all formations that this is called the realm of cutting-off, dispassion, and cessation." "All formations" refers to every contaminated dharma whatsoever — why, then, does this present passage speak only of the permanent cutting-off of every affliction as "full understanding through cutting-off"? The answer: that sūtra is of definitive meaning, expressing the matter without remainder; this present passage is of provisional meaning, expressing the matter only in part — that is, the Blessed One states that, once affliction is taken as what comes first, every contaminated dharma is thereby permanently cut off as well. Further, it is because affliction is difficult to cut off, difficult to break, and difficult to transcend, that this passage speaks of it in particular. Further, it is because affliction carries many faults and defects, causing one to lose one's way with respect to correct principle and obstructing nirvāṇa and the noble path, that this passage speaks of it in particular. Further, it is because affliction is cut off through the cutting-off of its own inherent nature, so that, once cut off, it is no longer possessed, whereas every other contaminated dharma is not cut off through the cutting-off of its own inherent nature, so that, once cut off, it may still be possessed — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks in particular of the permanent cutting-off of affliction. Further, it is because affliction stands in direct mutual opposition to the noble path, whereas every other contaminated wholesome or non-obstructive indeterminate dharma is not so — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of it in particular, exactly as a lamp and darkness stand in mutual opposition to one another, though this is not so for the lamp's own vessel, oil, or wick: when the lamp is lit and gives rise to its flame, it directly dispels the darkness, and, in the process, also heats the vessel, exhausts the oil, and burns down the wick. So too here: the noble path and affliction stand in mutual opposition to one another, and, when the noble path manifests before one, it directly cuts off affliction, and, in the process, also causes every remaining contaminated dharma to be cut off as well, since these share the very same antidote as affliction itself. "The one able to fully understand refers to an arhat," and so on, at length. One asks: a learner, too, is one able to fully understand — why, then, does this passage speak only of an arhat? The answer: this is spoken with reference to what is most superior — that is, the dharma of one beyond training,

among all dharmas, is the most superior, and the person of one beyond training, among all persons, is the most superior, and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. Further, although a learner fully understands, he is not yet able fully to cut off, whereas one beyond training both fully understands and is fully able to cut off, and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. Further, this passage speaks only of full understanding through cutting-off, with respect to which one beyond training is complete and ultimate, whereas a learner is not, and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. Further, it is because he has fully cut off that he is called "fully understanding through cutting-off," and a learner is not so, and it is for this reason that he is not mentioned. Further, the foregoing has already spoken of the permanent cutting-off of every affliction as "full understanding through cutting-off"; this passage now states that the one who accomplishes this full understanding is the arhat alone. As for those who take refuge in the Buddha — what, precisely, do they take refuge in? And so on, at length. One asks: why is this treatise composed? The answer: it is composed for the sake of those who give rise to the notion of "refuge" toward what is not, in fact, a true object of refuge, in order to reveal the genuine object of refuge, causing them to relinquish the former and take refuge in the latter, exactly as the sūtra states:

"People, driven by fear, mostly take refuge in mountains, in gardens, groves, and forests, in a solitary tree, a shrine, and the like — such refuge is not supreme, such refuge is not to be honored; it is not by means of this refuge that one is able to be freed from every suffering. Whoever takes refuge in the Buddha, and takes refuge in the Dharma and the Saṅgha, with respect to the four noble truths, forever observes them with wisdom — knowing suffering, knowing the origin of suffering, knowing the permanent transcendence of every suffering, knowing the noble eightfold path that leads to the security of nirvāṇa — such refuge is supreme, such refuge is to be honored; it is necessarily by means of this refuge that one is able to be freed from every suffering." Further, this treatise is composed for the sake of those confused and deluded with respect to refuge, so that they may attain correct understanding, free of hesitation — that is, there are those who hold that taking refuge in the Buddha means taking refuge in the Tathāgata's own head, neck, belly, back, hands, feet, and the rest, the composite body born of father and mother. This passage now reveals that this body, born and nurtured of one's parents, is a contaminated dharma, and is not the true object of refuge; the true object of refuge is precisely the dharma of enlightenment accomplished by the Buddha, one beyond training — that is, the Dharma-body itself. There are others who hold that taking refuge in the Dharma means taking refuge in the three truths, or in wholesome, unwholesome, and indeterminate dharmas generally, or in the rules of training that a monk observes —

referring to what ought and ought not to be done, and the like. This passage now reveals that these dharmas, being conditioned and contaminated, are not the true object of refuge; the true object of refuge is precisely the truth of cessation alone — the exhaustion of craving, nirvāṇa. There are others who hold that taking refuge in the Saṅgha means taking refuge in the monastic community of those gone forth from the four castes. This passage now reveals that this saṅgha's own deportment and outward form is a contaminated dharma, and is not the true object of refuge; the true object of refuge is precisely the dharma that constitutes the Saṅgha — the dharma of a learner and of one beyond training. It is on account of these causes and conditions that this treatise is composed. As for those who take refuge in the Buddha — what, precisely, do they take refuge in? The answer: whatever dharma truly exists, is presently existing, and is uniformly conceived of and designated through speech as "Buddha" — it is the dharma of enlightenment accomplished by one beyond training possessed by that Buddha that is called taking refuge in the Buddha. Here, "whatever dharma truly exists" reveals that there truly exists a substance of the Buddha, taking dharma as its own nature — this statement is meant to refute the position holding that "Buddha" is merely a name, merely a notion, merely a provisional designation, possessing no real substance whatsoever. "Presently existing" reveals that the Buddha's own substance, as presently manifest, truly exists, and is not merely something that once existed in the past. "Uniformly conceived of" reveals that the notion taking the Buddha as its object is uniform. "Conceived of" reveals that this notion arises in common among all who conceive it. "Designated" refers to a name established in dependence on this notion. "Speech" refers to what is expressed and communicated in dependence on this name. One asks: if the dharma of enlightenment accomplished by one beyond training is the true Buddha, then how is what the sūtra states to be reconciled? As it is stated: householder, what is called "Buddha"? It refers to a certain son of the Śākyas, who has shaved off his beard and hair, donned the kāṣāya robe, and, with pure faith, has gone forth from household life,

possessing complete omniscience — this is called "Buddha." The answer: it is by means of the body one depends upon that the dharma one thereby accomplishes is revealed, and it is for this reason that the sūtra speaks in this way, without conflicting with reason. One asks: if so, then why does one who, with a malicious mind, draws blood from the Buddha's own body thereby incur the offense of uninterrupted retribution? The answer: it is because he destroys the body one depends upon, thereby also destroying the dharma one accomplishes in dependence upon it, that he incurs the offense of uninterrupted retribution. Further, it is because he gives rise to a malicious mind with respect to the dharma of enlightenment accomplished by one beyond training that he incurs the offense of uninterrupted retribution —

that is, it is because he hates and despises the dharma of one beyond training that he harms the Buddha's own body and thereby incurs the offense of uninterrupted retribution, and not merely because he gave rise to the intention of drawing blood. As for those who take refuge in the Dharma — what, precisely, do they take refuge in? The answer: whatever dharma truly exists, is presently existing, and is uniformly conceived of and designated through speech as "Dharma" —

it is precisely this exhaustion of craving, this dispassion and cessation, nirvāṇa, that is called taking refuge in the Dharma. Here, "whatever dharma truly exists" reveals that there truly exists a substance of nirvāṇa. This statement is meant to refute the position of those who hold that "nirvāṇa" is merely a name for the cessation of every suffering, possessing no real substance of its own, and is intended to reveal that nirvāṇa truly does possess a substance of its own. "Presently existing" reveals that nirvāṇa, as presently manifest, truly exists, and is not merely something provisionally spoken of as existing. The rest is explained exactly as above. There are certain versions of the text that state simply "taking refuge in the exhaustion of craving, dispassion and cessation, nirvāṇa, is called taking refuge in the Dharma," without the words "truly exists," "presently existing," and the rest. What is the meaning of this?

It is that nirvāṇa's own substance is quiescent and free of characteristics, beyond the reach of notion, name, or speech, and that there exists, with respect to it, no one who grasps it as non-existent. This position ought not to be maintained, since the wrong view that denies the existence of quiescent nirvāṇa is indeed something one may actually encounter — this ought properly to be stated as above, and it is merely that the reciter has forgotten to include it. As for those who take refuge in the Saṅgha — what, precisely, do they take refuge in? The answer: whatever dharma truly exists, is presently existing, and is uniformly conceived of and designated through speech as "Saṅgha" —

it is precisely the dharma constituting the Saṅgha possessed by learners and by those beyond training that is called taking refuge in the Saṅgha. Here, "whatever dharma truly exists" reveals that there truly exists a substance of the Saṅgha, taking dharma as its own nature. This statement is meant to refute the position of those who hold that "Saṅgha" is merely a name, merely a notion, merely a provisional designation, possessing no real substance of its own. "Presently existing" reveals that the substance of the Saṅgha, as presently manifest, truly exists, and is not something that merely once existed. The rest is explained exactly as above. One asks: what, precisely, is the object of refuge, and what is that which takes refuge, and what is the meaning of "refuge"? The answer: the object of refuge is the truth of cessation in its entirety, together with a small portion of the truth of the path — that is, excepting the two kinds of uncontaminated path belonging to a bodhisattva, and the three kinds of uncontaminated path belonging to a pratyekabuddha, every remaining portion of the truth of the path is the object of refuge. As for that which takes refuge, there are those who say it is a name and the rest; there are those who say it is verbal karma; there are those who say it also includes bodily karma; there are those who say it is faith. It ought rather to be said: it is bodily and verbal karma, together with the mind and mental factors that give rise to them, and every accompanying activity — these five wholesome aggregates together constitute the substance of that which takes refuge. As for the meaning of "refuge," it refers to the sense of rescue and protection — this is the meaning of "refuge." One asks: if the sense of rescue and protection is the meaning of "refuge," then Devadatta, too, once took refuge in the Three Jewels — why, then, did he still fall into the uninterrupted hell? The answer: those who take refuge in the jewels of the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha, who do not violate the rules of training, do not transgress the codes of conduct, and do not overstep the bounds of the Dharma, are thereby able to receive rescue and protection; he violated the rules of training, transgressed the codes of conduct, and overstepped the bounds of the Dharma, and so, although he had taken refuge in the Three Jewels, he was not thereby rescued and protected — exactly as, when a person, fearing an enemy, goes to take refuge with a king, seeking his protection, the king says to him: if you are able always to abide by my law and never overstep my domain, I shall be able forever to provide you with rescue and protection;

but, if you violate my law and overstep my domain, then I shall be unable to do so. Sentient beings are just the same: fearing the evil destinies and the suffering of birth and death, they take refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha, and, provided they do not break the precepts and diligently cultivate the path, they thereby receive rescue and protection; otherwise, they do not. Further, according to the superior, middling, or inferior grade of the mind that takes refuge, one receives, correspondingly, that much rescue and protection from the Three Jewels — and it is for this reason that Devadatta, excepting only a single lifetime in the hells, attained non-analytical cessation with respect to birth and death in every other evil and wholesome destiny — is this not, then, a case of the Three Jewels rescuing and protecting him? And it is therefore established that the sense of rescue and protection is indeed the meaning of "refuge." One asks: does one who takes refuge in the Buddha take refuge in a single Buddha, or in all buddhas? Suppose either is granted — what fault would follow? If one takes refuge in a single Buddha, then how is this not merely a partial refuge? And if one takes refuge in all buddhas, then why does one merely say, "I take refuge in the Buddha," and not "in all buddhas"? And how, further, is what the sūtra states to be reconciled? As it is stated: "I am a disciple of the Tathāgata Vipaśyin"; "I am a disciple of the Tathāgata Śikhin";

and so on, up through: "I am a disciple of the Tathāgata Śākyamuni." The answer: it ought to be said that one who takes refuge in the Buddha takes refuge in every buddha, in number equal to the sands of the Ganges. One asks: if so, then why does one merely say, "I take refuge in the Buddha," and not "in all buddhas"? The answer: the word "Buddha" broadly subsumes every tathāgata, since they are alike of the same kind, and it is for this reason that a single word suffices to express it. One asks: how, then, is what the sūtra states to be reconciled? As it is stated: "I am a disciple of Vipaśyin," and so on, at length. The answer: this refers to whichever buddha one has, in dependence upon him, gone forth from household life and beheld the truth, and it is said with reference to him that one is "that buddha's disciple" — this statement concerns one's own reliance, and does not concern refuge. One asks: does one who takes refuge in the Dharma take refuge in the cessation of the aggregates within one's own continuum, or in the cessation of the aggregates within another's continuum, or in the cessation of the aggregates belonging to what is not a sentient being at all? Suppose either is granted — what fault would follow? If one takes refuge only in the cessation of the aggregates within one's own continuum, then how is this not merely a partial refuge? And if one also takes refuge in the cessation of the aggregates within another's continuum and the rest, then why does one merely say, "I take refuge in the Dharma," and not "in all of it"? And how, further, could it be said that the sense of rescue and protection is the meaning of "refuge," since the cessation of the aggregates within another's continuum and the rest holds no sense of rescue and protection with respect to oneself? The answer: it ought to be said that one takes refuge in the cessation of every aggregate — one's own, another's, and that belonging to what is not a sentient being alike. One asks: if so, then why does one merely say, "I take refuge in the Dharma," and not "in all of it"? The answer: the word "Dharma" broadly subsumes the cessation of every dharma whatsoever,

since they are alike of the same kind, and it is for this reason that a single word suffices to express it. One asks: the cessation of the aggregates within another's continuum, and the rest, holds no sense of rescue and protection with respect to oneself — why, then, does one take refuge in it?

The answer: although it holds no sense of rescue and protection with respect to oneself, it does hold such a sense with respect to another — the character of rescue and protection being uniform across the two, and it is for this reason that one takes refuge in it as well. This may be explained with reference to its dependent basis:

that is, if one speaks with reference to its own inherent nature, then, corresponding to however many contaminated dharmas exist, that many cessations exist as well, and the cessation attained by oneself and that attained by another are no different from one another; since I, too, within every one of my own contaminated aggregates, have attained freedom from bondage, every such cessation whatsoever holds, for me, a sense of rescue and protection. One asks: does one who takes refuge in the Saṅgha take refuge in the disciples of a single buddha, or in the disciples of all buddhas? Suppose either is granted — what fault would follow? If one takes refuge only in the disciples of a single buddha, then how is this not merely a partial refuge? And if one takes refuge in the disciples of all buddhas, then why does one merely say, "I take refuge in the Saṅgha," and not "in all of it"? And how, further, is what the sūtra states to be reconciled? The Buddha told the merchants: in a future age there will be a saṅgha, and you, too, ought to take refuge in it. The answer: it ought to be said that one takes refuge in the disciples of all buddhas. One asks: if so, then why does one merely say, "I take refuge in the Saṅgha," and not "in all of it"? The answer: the word "Saṅgha" broadly subsumes the disciples of every buddha, since they are alike of the same kind, and it is for this reason that a single word suffices to express it. One asks: how, then, is what the sūtra states to be reconciled? The Buddha told the merchants, and so on, at length. The answer: although there likewise exist the disciples of past and present buddhas, these are not presently visible before them, whereas the future saṅgha, once it comes to be, will be presently visible — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of it in particular, since it is understood that Kauṇḍinya and the others were, at that time, presently visible in the world. Further, it is in order to reveal how exceedingly difficult it is to obtain the jewel of the Saṅgha —

that is, although the Buddha had already appeared in the world, the Saṅgha itself did not yet exist. Further, since the saṅgha of the future age was not yet presently visible, the Buddha spoke of it in particular, so as to cause the merchants and the rest to give rise to a longing eagerness for it. Further, although there did exist a saṅgha in the present and the past, the Buddha wished to reveal that he himself would, in the future age, have his own disciples, and it is for this reason that he spoke as he did. Further, the sūtra's statement, "there will also be," itself reveals that there likewise exist other buddhas' own disciples in whom one ought to take refuge — fearing that they might suppose there to be no future jewel of the Saṅgha at all, the Buddha spoke thus in order that they might take refuge in it as well. One asks: in which destinies and in which places does this refuge exist? The answer: refuge is of two kinds: first, that which arises together with formal restraint; second, that which does not arise together with formal restraint. That which arises together with formal restraint exists only within the human destiny, in the three continents, and nowhere else; that which does not arise together with formal restraint extends to every other destiny and place. One asks: if one receives formal restraint without having received the refuges, does one thereby attain the restraint, or not? There are those who say: one does not, since one who receives formal restraint necessarily relies on the threefold refuge, this threefold refuge serving as the gateway through which formal restraint is attained. There are those who say: one does attain it — that is, if, not knowing the proper sequence of the threefold refuge and formal restraint, or through forgetfulness and error, one receives formal restraint without having received the threefold refuge, one nonetheless attains the restraint, though the one who administers it incurs an offense; but if, out of arrogance and conceit, one deliberately declines the threefold refuge and receives only the formal restraint, one certainly does not attain it. One asks: is it only through one's own verbal expression that one receives and attains refuge, or may one also attain refuge through another's verbal expression on one's behalf? There are those who say: it is only through one's own verbal expression that refuge is received and attained. One asks: if so, then how is what the sūtra states to be reconciled — namely, that, when the Blessed One was on the verge of complete nirvāṇa, Ānanda said to the Buddha that the strongmen of Kuśinagara, together with their retinues, all together took refuge in the jewels of the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha? There are those who say: it was through the Buddha's own supernormal power that, on the verge of complete nirvāṇa, those who relied on another's verbal expression on their behalf to receive the threefold refuge were nonetheless able to attain it — at any other time, this would not be possible, and one must necessarily receive it oneself. There are other masters who say: the Venerable Ānanda had already earlier entered the city of Kuśinagara and administered the threefold refuge to the strongmen and the rest, and only afterward reported this to the Buddha — this passage is meant to reveal that the Blessed One, on the very verge of complete nirvāṇa, still had countless disciples yet to be converted; it is not that it was only at the moment Ānanda reported this to the Buddha that refuge was actually attained. There are yet others who say: refuge received through another's verbal expression on one's behalf is indeed attained — exactly as with the woman of Kāśī, and other mute persons, who, relying on another's verbal expression on their behalf, attained refuge as well.

One asks: for one still in the womb, or in infancy, may the mother or another administer the threefold refuge and restraint on the child's behalf — does the child thereby attain it, or not? The answer: since the child possesses no discerning mind of his own, he attains neither, yet it ought nonetheless to be administered on his behalf, so that he may later be inclined toward cultivating what is wholesome — that is, should he, once grown, disparage the Three Jewels

or commit some evil deed, others would then reproach him, saying: while still in the womb, or in infancy, you had already received the threefold refuge and restraint — how is it that you now disparage the Three Jewels and commit evil deeds? Hearing this, he would feel shame and moral dread, and, revering the Three Jewels, would depart from every evil deed, and would then receive and uphold it once again — since there is this benefit, it ought therefore to be administered beforehand. Further, it is so that the child may be protected by the divine spirits that the mother and others administer the threefold refuge and restraint on his behalf — that is, once it has been administered, and he comes to have faith in and reverence for the Three Jewels, the various wholesome gods will certainly protect him, so that he will not die an untimely death or encounter illness and misfortune.

One asks: what wholesome karma did that being cultivate in a former life, such that, while still in the mother's womb or in infancy, another administers the threefold refuge and restraint on his behalf? The answer: in a former life, he constantly delighted in praising the threefold refuge and the pure precepts, and likewise exhorted countless hundreds of thousands of sentient beings to take the threefold refuge and receive the pure precepts, or else gave to others the provisions needed to receive and uphold the threefold refuge and restraint, thereby causing his own body to obtain such wholesome benefit as this. As the sūtra states: one who takes refuge in the Buddha does not fall into the evil destinies, and is born among gods and humans, receiving every manner of joy and happiness. One asks: it is plainly observed, in the world, that those who take refuge in the Buddha nonetheless sometimes fall into the evil destinies, or undergo all manner of suffering — why, then, does the Blessed One speak in this way? The answer: it is only when one takes refuge in the Buddha with a superior mind, giving no thought to one's own body or life, that one attains this wholesome benefit — it is not said of every case, and it is for this reason that this is not a contradiction. There are other masters who say: this is said with reference to one who has already attained the purity of realization, and is not said of every case. One asks: the Buddha himself arises in dependence upon the Dharma, and the Dharma is superior to the Buddha — why, then, does the sūtra speak first of taking refuge in the Buddha? The answer: the Buddha is the founder of the teaching — were it not for the Buddha, the Dharma could not be spoken and could not be made manifest, and it is for this reason that refuge in the Buddha is spoken of first. Further, it is exactly as with one who is ill:

he first seeks out a skilled physician, then seeks the excellent medicine, and only afterward seeks one to attend and care for him — the Buddha is like the skilled physician, the Dharma is like the excellent medicine, and the Saṅgha is like the skillful attendant who administers the medicine — and it is for this reason that the threefold refuge follows this very sequence. Vibhāṣā, Miscellaneous Aggregates, Chapter One, the First Part of the Shamelessness Nyāsa: "What is shamelessness? What is lack of moral dread?" — such is the chapter, and the meaning of the chapter is thus explained. Having already grasped its sense, one ought now to set it forth fully. One asks: why is this treatise composed? The answer: it is composed in order to fully discriminate the meaning of this sūtra passage. That is, the sūtra speaks of shamelessness and lack of moral dread, yet, having said this much, does not discriminate them fully — what is meant by shamelessness, and what is meant by lack of moral dread? That sūtra is the fundamental basis upon which this treatise depends, and whatever it has left undiscriminated ought now to be discriminated fully. Further, this treatise is composed in order to bring those in doubt to a settled resolution — that is, these two dharmas closely resemble one another in their mutual operation, and worldly sentient beings, upon seeing one who is shameless, call him lacking in moral dread, and, upon seeing one lacking in moral dread, call him shameless, as though these two possessed but a single substance; this treatise now wishes to reveal the distinction in their own inherent nature and characteristic, so that those in doubt may attain a settled understanding. Further, these two dharmas are solely unwholesome, and are further posited as the predominant cause of unwholesomeness generally, exactly as it is said: which mental cluster, associated with a fetter, is unwholesome in every case? It is that associated with shamelessness and lack of moral dread — this treatise now reveals their characteristic, so that they may swiftly be grown weary of and abandoned. Further, these two dharmas destroy and ruin the world, exactly as the Blessed One has stated: there are two dark dharmas capable of destroying and ruining the world — namely, shamelessness and lack of moral dread — and this treatise now reveals their characteristic, so that they may swiftly be grown weary of and abandoned.

Further, these two dharmas are able to bring about every manner of distinction among sentient beings, exactly as the sūtra states: were the world without shamelessness or lack of moral dread,

there would exist no distinction whatsoever among pigs, dogs, and the rest — this treatise now reveals their characteristic, so that they may swiftly be grown weary of and abandoned, and it is for this reason that this treatise is composed. What is shamelessness? The answer: whatever shamelessness there is, whatever absence of shame there is, whatever divergent shame there is, whatever lack of modesty there is, whatever absence of modesty there is, whatever divergent modesty there is, whatever absence of respect there is, whatever absence of the characteristic of respect there is, whatever absence of mastery there is, whatever absence of the characteristic of mastery there is — with respect to one who possesses mastery, there arises no sense of awe — this is called shamelessness. This treatise's own author, being skilled in the various wordings of the meaning, expresses this through a variety of wordings, though its substance is not thereby distinct. One asks: do the various distinct terms spoken of in this passage reveal its own inherent nature, or do they reveal its aspect,

or do they reveal its object? There are those who say: this reveals shamelessness's own inherent nature. One asks: if so, then what is shamelessness's own aspect? The answer: it is like the aspect of any unwholesome mind and mental factor generally — this aspect, too, is of this same kind, since it stands in association with them. One asks: what is shamelessness's own object? The answer: the four noble truths. There are other masters who say: this passage reveals shamelessness's own aspect. This aspect, in relation to other things, ought to be set out in four alternatives: there is a case of shamelessness that does not operate through shamelessness's own aspect — namely, shamelessness operating through some other aspect; there is a case of operating through shamelessness's own aspect that is not shamelessness — namely, a dharma associated with shamelessness operating through shamelessness's own aspect; there is a case that is both shamelessness and operates through shamelessness's own aspect — namely, shamelessness operating through shamelessness's own aspect; there is a case that is neither shamelessness nor operates through shamelessness's own aspect — if this class is taken broadly, one ought to say that a dharma associated with shamelessness operates through some other aspect; if not, one ought to say that this refers to whatever remains apart from the foregoing. Just as the case of "operating" admits of these four alternatives, so too, "having already operated" and "about to operate" should be understood in just the same way. Just as shamelessness's own aspect admits of these three sets of four alternatives, so too should every other aspect be understood. One asks: if so, then what is shamelessness's own inherent nature? The answer: its own substance, its own particular characteristic, is precisely its own inherent nature — exactly as it is said, the inherent nature of dharmas is precisely their own particular characteristic, and their belonging to the same class is their shared characteristic. One asks: what is shamelessness's own object? The answer: the four noble truths. There are yet others who say: this passage reveals shamelessness's own object — that is, whatever shamelessness there is, whatever absence of shame there is, whatever divergent shame there is, whatever lack of modesty there is, whatever absence of modesty there is, whatever divergent modesty there is —

these are said to take the truths of suffering and origin as their object. "Whatever absence of respect there is, whatever absence of the characteristic of respect there is, whatever absence of mastery there is, whatever absence of the characteristic of mastery there is — with respect to one who possesses mastery, there arises no sense of awe" — these are said to take the truths of cessation and the path as their object; their own inherent nature and aspect are as explained above. What is lack of moral dread? The answer: whatever lack of moral dread there is, whatever absence of moral dread there is, whatever divergent moral dread there is, whatever lack of remorse there is, whatever absence of remorse there is, whatever divergent remorse there is — one who, with respect to every wrongdoing, feels no dread, no fear, and perceives no cause for dread — this is called lack of moral dread. This treatise's own author, being skilled in the various wordings of the meaning, expresses this through a variety of wordings, though its substance is not thereby distinct. One asks: do the various distinct terms spoken of in this passage reveal its own inherent nature, or do they reveal its aspect, or do they reveal its object? There are those who say: this reveals lack of moral dread's own inherent nature. One asks: if so, then what is lack of moral dread's own aspect? The answer: it is like the aspect of any unwholesome mind and mental factor generally — this aspect, too, is of this same kind, since it stands in association with them. One asks: what is lack of moral dread's own object? The answer: the four noble truths. There are other masters who say: this passage reveals lack of moral dread's own aspect. This aspect, in relation to other things, ought to be set out in four alternatives: there is a case of lack of moral dread that does not operate through lack of moral dread's own aspect — namely, lack of moral dread operating through some other aspect; there is a case of operating through lack of moral dread's own aspect that is not lack of moral dread — namely, a dharma associated with lack of moral dread operating through lack of moral dread's own aspect; there is a case that is both lack of moral dread and operates through lack of moral dread's own aspect — namely, lack of moral dread operating through lack of moral dread's own aspect; there is a case that is neither lack of moral dread nor operates through lack of moral dread's own aspect — if this class is taken broadly, one ought to say that a dharma associated with lack of moral dread operates through some other aspect; if not, one ought to say that this refers to whatever remains apart from the foregoing. Just as the case of "operating" admits of these four alternatives, so too, "having already operated" and "about to operate" should be understood in just the same way. Just as lack of moral dread's own aspect admits of these three sets of four alternatives,

so too should every other aspect be understood. One asks: if so, then what is lack of moral dread's own inherent nature? The answer: its own substance, its own particular characteristic, is precisely its own inherent nature.

Exactly as it is said, the inherent nature of dharmas is precisely their own particular characteristic, and their belonging to the same class is their shared characteristic. One asks: what is lack of moral dread's own object? The answer: the four noble truths.

There are yet others who say: this passage reveals lack of moral dread's own object — that is, "whatever lack of moral dread there is, whatever absence of moral dread there is, whatever divergent moral dread there is, whatever lack of remorse there is, whatever absence of remorse there is, whatever divergent remorse there is" — these are said to take the truths of cessation and the path as their object; "one who, with respect to every wrongdoing, feels no dread, no fear, and perceives no cause for dread" — this is said to take the truths of suffering and origin as its object; their own inherent nature and aspect are as explained above. What distinction is there between shamelessness and lack of moral dread? The answer: with respect to one who possesses mastery, there arising no sense of awe, is shamelessness; with respect to every wrongdoing, perceiving no cause for dread, is lack of moral dread — such is their distinction. One asks: why is this treatise further composed?

The answer: the Abhidharma states that these two dharmas mutually stand in association with one another, their own characteristics closely resembling one another; this treatise now wishes to discriminate the distinction in the own-nature and characteristic of shamelessness and lack of moral dread, and it is for this reason that this treatise is composed. That is, with respect to one who possesses mastery, there arising no sense of awe, is shamelessness; with respect to every wrongdoing, perceiving no cause for dread, is lack of moral dread. Further, lack of reverence is shamelessness; lack of dread is lack of moral dread. Further, not growing weary of and disdaining affliction is shamelessness; not growing weary of and disdaining evil conduct is lack of moral dread. Further, committing evil without regard for oneself is shamelessness; committing evil without regard for others is lack of moral dread. Further, committing evil without shame before oneself is shamelessness; committing evil without shame before others is lack of moral dread. Further, committing evil without any sense of shame at all is shamelessness; committing evil while remaining proud and unrestrained is lack of moral dread. Further, committing an offense alone, without any sense of shame, is shamelessness; committing an offense before others, without any sense of shame, is lack of moral dread. Further, committing an offense before but a few people, without any sense of shame, is shamelessness; committing an offense before a multitude of people, without any sense of shame, is lack of moral dread. Further, committing an offense before sentient beings of the evil destinies, without any sense of shame,

is shamelessness; committing an offense before sentient beings of the wholesome destinies, without any sense of shame, is lack of moral dread. Further, committing an offense before the foolish, without any sense of shame, is shamelessness; committing an offense before the wise, without any sense of shame, is lack of moral dread. Further, committing an offense before those of lowly station, without any sense of shame, is shamelessness; committing an offense before those of eminent station, without any sense of shame, is lack of moral dread. Further, committing an offense before a householder, without any sense of shame, is shamelessness; committing an offense before one gone forth from household life, without any sense of shame, is lack of moral dread. Further, committing an offense before one who is not one's own preceptor or instructor, without any sense of shame, is shamelessness; committing an offense before one's own preceptor or instructor, without any sense of shame, is lack of moral dread. Further, one who, in doing evil, feels no shame before the gods, is shamelessness; one who, in doing evil, feels no shame before other people, is lack of moral dread. Further, being unable to reproach and disparage the causes of evil is shamelessness; being unable to grow weary of and dread the fruits of evil is lack of moral dread. Further, the natural outflow of greed is shamelessness; the natural outflow of delusion is lack of moral dread — such, then, are the distinctions between shamelessness and lack of moral dread. These two dharmas are bound solely to the desire realm, and are solely unwholesome, standing pervasively in association with every unwholesome mind and mental factor, excepting only their own respective inherent natures. One asks: given that shamelessness and lack of moral dread are solely unwholesome, and carry such grave faults, why are they not established among the nature of the latent tendencies? The answer: these two possess none of the characteristics proper to a latent tendency — that is, it is a subtle affliction that bears the characteristic of a latent tendency; these two are coarse and agitated, and are therefore not latent tendencies. Further, it is a keen and sharp affliction that bears the characteristic of a latent tendency; these are not keen and sharp, and are therefore not latent tendencies. Further, it is an affliction that does not arise frequently, but, once arisen, continues for a long duration, that bears the characteristic of a latent tendency; these two arise frequently, but, once arisen, do not continue for a long duration, and are therefore not latent tendencies. Further, it is a heavy and weighty affliction that bears the characteristic of a latent tendency; these two are light and slight, and are therefore not latent tendencies. Further, it is an affliction whose habitual imprint is firm and difficult to extinguish that bears the characteristic of a latent tendency — just as, wherever a fire of hard charcoal has been, its heat is difficult to dispel, so too is this the case; these two, their habitual imprint being hollow and insubstantial, are easily extinguished, and are therefore not latent tendencies — just as, wherever a fire of grass or leaves has been, its heat is easily dispelled, so too is this the case. Further, it is a root affliction that bears the characteristic of a latent tendency; these two, being subsumed under the secondary afflictions, are therefore not latent tendencies, since they are the natural outflow fruit of craving and ignorance.