Eighty-Four Thousand Ministers and the Question of Desire

As scripture states: when the Buddha turned the wheel of the Dharma, Kauṇḍinya and the other monks saw the Dharma, and the earth-spirits and yakṣas raised their voices, proclaiming everywhere that the Blessed One was now at the Ṛṣipatana Deer Park at Vārāṇasī, having turned the wheel of the Dharma three times, complete with its twelve aspects, and so on, at length. One asks: why is this treatise composed? The answer: it is composed in order to analyze the meaning of scripture — that is, scripture states that the Buddha turned the wheel of the Dharma, and the earth-spirits and yakṣas raised their voices, proclaiming this everywhere. Although scripture states this much, it does not analyze its meaning, nor does it state whether the earth-spirits themselves possessed this knowledge and insight, or came to know it through some other cause and thereby proclaimed it everywhere; scripture is the very root this treatise depends upon, and what it leaves unstated, this treatise should now state. Further, it is composed in order to bring those in doubt to a settled resolution — that is, scripture states that the earth-spirits raised their voices, proclaiming everywhere that the Buddha, at the Deer Park, had turned the wheel of the Dharma three times, and there are those who thereby give rise to the doubt that the earth-spirits themselves possessed direct, immediate knowledge and insight of this matter — in order to bring this doubt to a settled resolution, this treatise reveals that they possessed only inferential knowledge and insight, born of their own particular station, since the turning of the wheel of the Dharma does not fall within their own domain of direct perception — and it is on account of these causes and conditions that this treatise is composed. Did those earth-spirits possess genuine knowledge and insight, knowing that the Buddha had turned the wheel of the Dharma and that the monks had seen the Dharma? The answer: they did not, since this matter is exceedingly profound, and does not fall within their own domain.

How, then, did they come to know it? The answer: through five conditions. First, through faith in the Blessed One — that is, when the Buddha gives rise to the conventional thought, "I have turned the wheel of the Dharma, and the monks have seen the Dharma," it is on this account that they come to know it. That is, were the Buddha to give rise only to an uncontaminated thought, or to a conventional thought never previously experienced, no sentient being whatsoever would be capable of knowing it; it is only when he gives rise to a conventional thought of a kind previously experienced that certain classes of sentient beings become capable of knowing it. When the Buddha gives rise to this conventional thought, were he to wish even the dull-facultied to know it, then even snakes and slaves would be able to understand it; were he to wish even the sharp-facultied not to know it, then even Śāriputra, entering the fourth dhyāna at its very outer limit and giving rise to the wondrous knowledge of aspiration, would still be unable to know it; were he to wish even those of the evil destinies to know it, then even monkeys would be able to understand it; were he to wish even those of the good destinies not to know it, then no human or god whatsoever would be capable of knowing it.

Now, the Buddha, wishing the earth-spirits in particular to know it, gives rise to the conventional thought, previously experienced, "I have turned the wheel of the Dharma, and the monks have seen the Dharma" — the earth-spirits, having come to know this, raise their voices and proclaim it everywhere. One asks: why does the Buddha give rise to this conventional thought? The answer: across three incalculable eons, he cultivated manifold difficult and arduous practices for the benefit of sentient beings; now that the wheel of the Dharma has been turned and the monks have seen the Dharma, this is precisely the fruit of that earlier undertaking newly realized, and it is on account of the profound joy this gives rise to that he gives rise to this thought. Further, he had, in the past, made a vast vow for the benefit of others, and now, this fruit having first been realized, he gives rise to this thought on that account. Further, he had, in the past, made a great aspiration to rescue and deliver others, and now, this fruit having first been realized, he gives rise to this thought on that account. Further, the supreme aim he had long anticipated, benefiting and bringing joy to sentient beings, has now, for the first time, come to fruition, and it is on this account that he gives rise to this thought. Second, or else the Buddha tells another, "I have turned the wheel of the Dharma, and the monks have seen the Dharma," and it is thereby that they come to hear of it. That is, one who has attained skill with respect to mind alone is able to understand as soon as the Buddha has merely given rise to the thought; one who has attained skill only with respect to speech is able to understand only once the Buddha has told him directly. One asks: why does the Blessed One tell another, causing him to know? The answer: the Blessed One wishes to reveal that, within his own well-taught Dharma, what is spoken is true and sincere, seen and delighted in alike by all, and it is for this reason that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, across three incalculable eons, he cultivated manifold difficult austerities for the benefit of sentient beings, and now that this fruit has first been realized, it is on account of the profound joy this gives rise to that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, the Blessed One thereby reveals himself as the most honored and supreme among all ninety-six paths, one whom none can equal, and it is for this reason that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, it is in order to reveal that the Buddhadharma is genuinely capable of bringing about liberation, possessing great supernormal transformation, that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, the Buddha wishes to display Kauṇḍinya's own true and genuine virtue, and thereby to show the world a genuine field of merit, and it is for this reason that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, it is in order to cause gods and humans to give rise to profound reverence and faith in the Buddha's own noble teaching that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, the Blessed One thereby reveals his own freedom from any stinginess with respect to the Dharma, holding nothing back within his own closed fist with respect to what is rare and difficult to obtain, and it is for this reason that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, the Buddha wishes to display his own possession of the qualities of a great being, unlike those of any other path, and it is for this reason that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, the Blessed One thereby reveals his own possession of the marks of a truly wise one, unlike those of any other path, and it is for this reason that he tells another, causing him to know — exactly as scripture states, those who are truly wise possess three marks: first, they think well upon what is to be thought; second, they act well upon what is to be done; third, they speak well of what is to be spoken.

Third, or else it is heard from some great, virtuous sage-deva. One asks: what is meant by a "great, virtuous sage-deva"? There are those who say: this refers to a god of the pure abodes. There are yet other masters who say: this refers to a god of the desire realm who has already directly beheld the truths. There are yet others who say: there exists a certain long-lived deva who had once, in a former age, witnessed the very mark of a past buddha, the Blessed One, turning the wheel of the Dharma, and, now seeing the Blessed One display this same mark once more, rejoiced and leapt with joy, telling others, causing them to know — and the earth-spirits, having heard this, raised their voices and proclaimed it everywhere. Fourth, or else the Venerable Kauṇḍinya and the others themselves give rise to the conventional thought, "the Buddha has turned the wheel of the Dharma, and we ourselves have seen the Dharma," and it is on this account that they come to know it. One asks: why does the Venerable One give rise to this conventional thought? The answer: he had already slain the twenty kinds of the view of the perishable aggregation of self, had already cut off every cause of the evil destinies, the boundless round of birth and death now having a bound, the limitless ocean of suffering now having a limit, having already beheld the noble truths, having entered the assembly of the rightly settled — and it is on account of the profound joy this gives rise to that he gives rise to this thought. Further, the vast vow and great aspiration he had formerly made, together with his manifold austerities, having now first come to fruition, it is on account of the profound joy this gives rise to that he gives rise to this thought. Fifth, or else he tells another, and the earth-spirits come to hear of it thereby. One asks: why does the Venerable One tell another, causing him to know? The answer: the Venerable One wishes to reveal that, within his own well-taught Dharma, what is spoken is true and sincere, seen and delighted in alike by all, and it is for this reason that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, it is in order to reveal that the Blessed One, across three incalculable eons, cultivated manifold difficult austerities, and that this fruit has now first been realized, that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, it is in order to reveal that the Buddhadharma is the most honored and supreme among all ninety-six paths that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, it is in order to reveal that the Buddhadharma is genuinely capable of bringing about liberation, possessing great supernormal transformation, that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, it is in order to cause gods and humans to give rise to profound reverence and faith in the Buddha's own noble teaching that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, it is in order to draw forth, in countless sentient beings, a mind that delights in the Dharma, that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, it is in order to cause countless indolent sentient beings to apply themselves diligently that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, it is in order to reveal that the Tathāgata's own relinquishment of the most extreme austerities has borne so great a fruit that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, it is in order to reveal that his own taking refuge in the Buddha and the Dharma has not been in vain that he tells another, causing him to know. The full meaning of "turning the wheel of the Dharma" shall be broadly displayed further below, within the Non-Returner Nyāsa of the Concentration Aggregate. Further, scripture states: there are monks who have attained arhatship, their contaminants entirely exhausted, and the gods of the Thirty-Three, gathering again and again within the Hall of Good Dharma, proclaim: in such and such a place, there is such and such a venerable one, or a disciple of his, who, having shaved his beard and hair and donned the monastic robe, has gone forth in true faith, diligently cultivating the noble path, his contaminants entirely exhausted, having realized the uncontaminated liberation of mind and wisdom, personally attaining and abiding in its full realization within this very life.

and himself coming to know: my own births are exhausted, the pure conduct has been established, what was to be done has been done, and I shall undergo no further existence, and so on, at length. One asks: why is this treatise composed? The answer: it is composed in order to analyze the meaning of scripture — that is, the scripture of the celestial coral tree states that there are monks who have attained arhatship, their contaminants entirely exhausted, and the gods of the Thirty-Three, and so on, at length. Although scripture states this much, it does not analyze its meaning, nor does it state whether the gods of the Thirty-Three themselves possessed this knowledge and insight, or came to know it through some other cause, and thereby gathered within the Hall of Good Dharma to proclaim the matter; scripture is the very root this treatise depends upon, and what it leaves unstated, this treatise should now state. Further, it is composed in order to bring those in doubt to a settled resolution — that is, there are those who give rise to the doubt that those gods themselves possessed direct, immediate knowledge and insight of this matter; in order to bring this doubt to a settled resolution, this treatise reveals that they possessed only inferential knowledge and insight, born of their own particular station, since the virtue of the exhaustion of the contaminants does not fall within their own domain of direct perception — and it is on account of these causes and conditions that this treatise is composed. Did those gods possess genuine knowledge and insight, knowing that certain monks had attained arhatship, their contaminants entirely exhausted? The answer: they did not, since this matter is exceedingly profound, and does not fall within their own domain. How, then, did they come to know it? The answer: through five conditions. First, through faith in the Blessed One —

that is, when the Buddha gives rise to the conventional thought that certain monks have attained arhatship, their contaminants entirely exhausted, it is on this account that they come to know it. That is, were the Buddha to give rise only to an uncontaminated thought, or to a conventional thought never previously experienced, no sentient being whatsoever would be capable of knowing it; it is only when he gives rise to a conventional thought of a kind previously experienced that certain classes of sentient beings become capable of knowing it — exactly as broadly explained above — and so, when the Buddha, wishing those gods in particular to know it, gives rise to this conventional thought, previously experienced, that certain monks have attained arhatship, their contaminants entirely exhausted, those gods, having come to know this, gather within the Hall of Good Dharma to proclaim the matter. One asks: why does the Buddha give rise to this conventional thought? The answer: it is because this truly and fully accords with the Buddha's own intention — that is, it is only when a monk has permanently cut off future existence that this truly and fully accords with the Buddha's intention; these monks, their contaminants entirely exhausted, have permanently cut off future existence,

and all such monks truly and fully accord with the Buddha's intention, and it is for this reason that he gives rise to this conventional thought, causing the gods to know and gather to proclaim it.

Second, or else the Buddha tells another that certain monks have attained arhatship, their contaminants entirely exhausted, and it is thereby that they come to hear of it. That is, one who has attained skill with respect to mind alone is able to understand as soon as the Buddha has merely given rise to the thought; one who has attained skill only with respect to speech is able to understand only once the Buddha has told him directly. One asks: why does the Blessed One tell another, causing him to know? The answer: the Blessed One wishes to reveal that, within his own well-taught Dharma, what is spoken is true and sincere, seen and delighted in alike by all, and it is for this reason that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, the Blessed One thereby reveals himself as the most honored and supreme among all ninety-six paths, one whom none can equal, and it is for this reason that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, it is in order to reveal that the Buddhadharma is genuinely capable of bringing about liberation, possessing great supernormal transformation, that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, the Buddha wishes to display those monks' own true and genuine virtue, and thereby to show the world a genuine field of merit, and it is for this reason that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, it is in order to cause gods and humans to give rise to profound reverence and faith in the Buddha's own noble teaching that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, the Buddha wishes to encourage other practitioners toward a bold and vigorous mind, and it is for this reason that he tells another, causing him to know.

Third, or else it is heard from some great, virtuous sage-deva — that is, that those monks' contaminants are entirely exhausted. One asks: what is meant by a "great, virtuous sage-deva"? The answer: this refers to one among the gods who has himself realized arhatship. One asks: do all those arhats alike possess this knowledge, and tell others accordingly?

The answer: this is not so — only those of superior faculties and the like are capable of knowing it, not the rest. Fourth, or else the venerable one himself gives rise to the conventional thought, "my own contaminants are exhausted, and I have attained arhatship," and it is on this account that he comes to know it. One asks: why does the venerable one give rise to this conventional thought? The answer: this venerable one, his body and mind having, from beginningless time, blazed with the heat of the afflictions, now attains coolness; the succession of birth and death, continuing without break from beginningless time, is now permanently cut off — having relinquished the sweltering heat, he attains coolness; having relinquished the taste of existence, he attains the tastelessness of freedom from existence; having relinquished indulgence, he attains liberation; having relinquished defilement, he attains purity — and it is on account of the profound joy this gives rise to that he gives rise to this thought. Fifth, or else he tells another, and the gods come to hear of it thereby. One asks: why does the venerable one tell another, causing him to know?

The answer: the venerable one wishes to reveal that, within his own well-taught Dharma, what is spoken is true and sincere, seen and delighted in alike by all, and it is for this reason that he tells another, causing him to know; the remainder should be understood accordingly, exactly as stated above with respect to the Buddha telling another, and Kauṇḍinya telling another. Further, it is in order to cause the donors who have long provided the venerable one with robes, food, bedding, and medicine to rejoice upon hearing this, their own merit thereby further increasing, that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, it is in order to cause those who had not previously held him in reverence and faith to give rise to reverence and faith that he tells another, causing him to know. Further, it is in order to reveal that going forth to diligently cultivate austerities bears so superior a fruit that he tells another, causing him to know. One asks: do the other classes of deva likewise proclaim the exhaustion of the contaminants? The answer: it should be said that they do as well. One asks: why, then, does this passage speak only of the gods of the Thirty-Three? The answer: it is because those gods repeatedly gather to discuss matters of good and evil that this passage speaks of them in particular — that is, those gods, on the dark and bright fortnights, on the eighth, fourteenth, or fifteenth day, gather within the Hall of Good Dharma to weigh the relative abundance of good and evil in the world. Further, the gods of the Thirty-Three constantly watch over and observe those who create good and evil, protecting those they see doing good, and jointly reproaching and condemning those they see doing evil, and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of them in particular. Further, the gods of the Thirty-Three, seeing a person do good, rejoice and give praise, and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of them in particular. Further, the gods of the Thirty-Three possess the celestial coral tree, which may serve as a simile for an arhat, and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of them in particular. One asks: do the gods of the Thirty-Three likewise proclaim together the achievements of those who are still learners? The answer: they do proclaim these as well — even ordinary sentient beings who filially support their parents are proclaimed by them, how much more so those who are still learners. One asks: if that is so, then why does scripture state that they proclaim together only arhats? The answer: this is spoken with reference to what is superior — that is, the dharma of the non-learner and the person who embodies it are both superior to those of the learner, and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of the superior case in particular. Further, it is because the celestial coral tree bears, for the most part, a resemblance to one whose contaminants are exhausted that it may serve as a simile, and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of the superior case in particular. Further, it is because one whose contaminants are exhausted is exceedingly delightful, free of every fault, exceedingly pure, without blemish, exceedingly rare to attain, beyond reproach, and worthy of offering that this passage speaks of him in particular,

proclaiming him together. Further, it is because an arhat's own liberation is perfect and complete in its every virtue, permanently exhausting birth, aging, sickness, and death, that this passage speaks of him in particular, proclaiming him together. Further, whenever an arhat appears in the world, gods and humans grow ever more numerous while the evil destinies diminish — exactly as when a virtuous king appears in the world — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. Further, whenever an arhat appears in the world, the host of gods increases while the host of asuras diminishes — exactly as, when the moon is full, the great ocean's own tide swells — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. Further, whenever an arhat appears in the world, the armies of the gods prevail over the asuras — exactly as, in battle, the sight of a valiant celestial prince inspires victory — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. Further, whenever an arhat appears in the world, celestial princes born afterward surpass those born before in lifespan, splendor, and renown — exactly as a poor and lowly person's own gift of mere rice-gruel surpasses every other donor's gift — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. Further, whenever an arhat appears in the world, even a small gift given to him obtains a great fruit — exactly as, when the Venerable Kāśyapa or the Venerable Aniruddha once received a coarse offering of food, gods and humans repeatedly received wondrous fruits in return — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. Further, whenever an arhat appears in the world, he is capable of causing even a mere onlooker to give rise to a slight purity of mind, thereby being reborn in heaven to enjoy its bliss — exactly as, when a dog or a toad breathes forth its own foul breath and yet somehow benefits — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. Further, whenever an arhat appears in the world, the prison of birth and death releases many from its grip — exactly as when a king's own son is born and a general amnesty is proclaimed throughout the realm — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. Further, whenever an arhat appears in the world, the paths of the good and evil destinies become clear and manifest —

exactly as, when the sun rises, it illuminates every safe and perilous place alike — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. Further, whenever an arhat appears in the world, he is able to cause the gods not to lose their own celestial rank — exactly as when the signs of Śakra, lord of the gods, once foretelling decline, were removed — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. Further, whenever an arhat appears in the world, the celestial palaces become filled with heavenly sages — exactly as one taken in by a good friend finds his own virtues thereby made abundant — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular.

Further, whenever an arhat appears in the world, he is able to cause the gods to grow weary of the pleasures of the five senses — exactly as when Śakra, lord of the gods, or the wheel-turning king Yama,

though wondrous sensual pleasures stand before them, are nonetheless able to give rise to weariness and renunciation — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. Further, whenever an arhat appears in the world, he causes the world to hear the true Dharma, the jewels of the factors of enlightenment thereby becoming abundant everywhere — exactly as a ship laden with treasure benefits wherever it makes port — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. Further, whenever an arhat appears in the world, every sentient being alike comes to enjoy happiness — exactly as when timely rain falls and the crops ripen in abundance — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks of him in particular. It is on account of such manifold causes and conditions as these that the gods speak only of the non-learner in this way. One asks: do the gods of the Thirty-Three proclaim together every single arhat, or only some? There are those who say: they proclaim together every one, since those gods delight in praising the virtues of others, and the accomplishment of what an arhat has to accomplish is itself so rare a thing that they proclaim it in every case. There are yet other masters who say: they do not proclaim together every one. Why is this so? There may be a hundred, or even a thousand, arhats who, relying on mountain valleys, enter final quiescence there, unknown even to those who dwelt alongside them, much less proclaimed together by gods and humans dwelling far away. One asks: which arhats, then, do they proclaim together? The answer: it is those spoken of within this very scripture that are proclaimed together — namely, those arhats whose actions have produced and increased renown; those who have produced no such renown-generating actions, or who have produced them without their increasing, are not proclaimed together. Further, if one of noble and eminent birth goes forth, he is proclaimed together, exactly as with kings and the like. Further, if one of vast wealth and great virtue goes forth, he is proclaimed together, exactly as with Aniruddha and the like. Further, if one of great wisdom, tirelessly benefiting others, goes forth, he is proclaimed together, exactly as with Śāriputra and the like. Further, if one capable of upholding the Buddhadharma, to whom the multitude turns for refuge, goes forth, he is proclaimed together, exactly as with Kāśyapa and the like. Further, if one whose very birth caused the earth to quake and light to appear, he is proclaimed together. Further, if one who has gone forth to diligently practice austerities, capable of accomplishing what is difficult to accomplish, upholding the Buddhadharma and benefiting gods and humans, he is proclaimed together — every other arhat is not thereby proclaimed together. One asks: do the gods know of those possessing overreaching pride, or not? There are those who say: they know of some, and not of others — that is, if overreaching pride is based on some genuinely superior virtue, the gods do not know of it; if it is based on some inferior virtue, the gods do know of it. Further, if overreaching pride is based on some subtle and wondrous virtue, the gods do not know of it; if it is based on some coarse and shallow virtue, the gods do know of it. Further, if overreaching pride is based on a virtue belonging to the higher realms, the gods do not know of it; if it is based on a virtue belonging to the desire realm, the gods do know of it. There are yet other masters who say: the gods do not know of overreaching pride at all — exactly as Śakra, lord of the gods, in an age without a buddha, upon seeing an outsider dwelling alone in quiet retreat, would go to that place, observe him, and pay him reverence, mistaking him for a tathāgata — even Śakra was thus deceived, how much more so the host of lesser gods. One asks: do the gods know of those who violate the precepts, or not? The answer: they know of some, and not of others — that is, they know of a coarse and grave violation of the precepts, but do not know of a subtle and minor one.

As scripture states: the various ministers of the country of Magadha, some converted through transformation, and some practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma, and so on, at length. One asks: why is this treatise composed? The answer: it is composed in order to analyze the meaning of scripture — that is, the Scripture of Sublime Majesty states as follows: the Blessed One was once dwelling at Nāḍikā, in the Giñjakāvasatha grove, when eighty-four thousand ministers of the country of Magadha all perished at one and the same time. There are those who say: they died of an epidemic. There are those who say: they were slain by Ajātaśatru — that is, having slain his own father, the king, Ajātaśatru further slew these eighty-four thousand ministers as well. Their surviving families went to where Ānanda was, and said as follows:

there are believers in the Buddha, in every land and city, who, their bodies having perished and their lives having ended, the Tathāgata has, in every case, foretold where they were reborn; the eighty-four thousand ministers who once served the former king of Magadha were themselves all believers in the Buddha, and have now already died, yet have not received the Blessed One's own prediction of where they were reborn — we beg you, on our behalf, to make this request.

Ānanda granted their request, and, in the early part of the day, went to where the Tathāgata was, bowed his head at his two feet, and withdrew to stand to one side, and, with reverence, palms joined, displaying an attitude of close affection, made this request by way of skillful means, saying: there are believers in the Buddha, in every land and city, who, their bodies having perished and their lives having ended, the Buddha has foretold where they were reborn; the eighty-four thousand ministers of King Bimbisāra of Magadha were themselves all believers in the Buddha, and have now already died, yet the Tathāgata has not foretold their rebirth — their surviving families' minds have thereby given rise to sorrow and distress; should the Buddha fail to foretell where they were reborn, I fear their families may give rise to resentment — I beg the Blessed One, out of compassion, to make this prediction for their sake.

Further, it was in this very country of Magadha that the Buddha attained complete, perfect enlightenment, this land itself bearing him a debt of kindness; and King Bimbisāra, moreover, held profound faith in the Three Jewels, offering reverent service without ever once lapsing — it is for these reasons that the Blessed One ought surely to make this prediction. The Buddha, out of compassion for them, silently granted the request, and thereupon took up his robe and bowl and entered Nāḍikā, begging for food in accordance with the Dharma; having finished his meal, he returned to the Giñjakāvasatha grove, put away his robe and bowl, washed his feet, and entered his own dwelling-room, spreading his seat and sitting down, settling his body and stilling his mind, fixing his mindfulness in contemplation, observing where the ministers of Magadha had been reborn. One asks: for the Buddha, with respect to every dharma, his unobstructed knowledge and insight operates spontaneously the very instant a thought is raised — why, then, did he enter his own room to contemplate this with such focused effort? The answer: it is in order to reveal that the fruit of karma is exceedingly profound and deep, exceedingly subtle, difficult to perceive, difficult to make manifest, and difficult to directly witness — it is on this account that, among the entirety of the three canonical baskets, the Vinaya-piṭaka is the most profound of all, since it explains, in the greatest detail, the manifold distinctions of karma and its fruit; among the sūtras, the passages on karma and its fruit are said to be the most profound of all; among the twelve links, the link of formations, which is of two kinds, is said to be the most profound of all; among the Buddha's own ten powers, the power of knowledge of his own karma is said to be the most profound of all; among these eight aggregates, the fourth, the Karma Aggregate, is said to be the most profound of all; and, among the four inconceivable matters, the karma and its fruit belonging to sentient beings is said to be the most profound of all — and it is for this reason that the Buddha entered his own room to contemplate this with focused effort. Further, the Buddha wished to display the manifold, distinct causes and effects, obstructions and antidotes, deaths and rebirths, each individually different, belonging to the body and mind of each of the Magadha ministers — and it is for this reason that he entered his own room to contemplate this with focused effort. Further, those capable of being converted had not yet gathered — that is, the Buddha's own teaching of the Dharma is never for the sake of a single person alone, exactly as a great dragon-king's own rain must universally moisten the earth, and so he awaited the countless sentient beings capable of being converted, and it was for this reason that he first entered his room to contemplate, fixing his mindfulness there. Further, the celestial prince Sublime Majesty had not yet arrived — that is, King Bimbisāra, after being slain by his own son, was reborn within the Hall of Vast Learning, under the name Sublime Majesty; upon hearing that the Tathāgata was about to speak of the differing rebirths of his own former ministers, he would surely come to listen and receive the teaching,

and it was in order to await him that the Buddha again entered his room. Further, it was in order to cause Ānanda to hold the Dharma in reverence and esteem — that is, were the Buddha to expound the Dharma to him too readily,

he would fail to hold the Dharma in profound reverence and esteem; the Buddha wished to cause him to thirst after it, so that, once he heard it, he would surely receive and uphold it, reflecting upon it in accordance with reality and broadly expounding it to others — and it was for this reason that he first entered his own room, fixing his mindfulness there in contemplation. Further, it was in order to cut off the arrogant pride of the foolish — that is, one without true wisdom, though possessing nothing genuine of his own, harbors the pride of supposed cleverness, and, when questioned by another, answers rashly without weighing whether the matter is shallow or deep; the Buddha, wishing to cut off this very pride, displayed his own knowledge and insight operating spontaneously with respect to every dharma — yet, even so, when questioned by another, he still reflects carefully and answers only after due deliberation, how much more, then, ought one without true wisdom to reflect before answering when questioned! Further, the Buddha wished to display the very manner of the true and virtuous one — that is, the truly virtuous possess three marks, namely, thinking well upon what is to be thought, and so on, as stated above,

and it is for this reason that he did not answer lightly, without first being asked. Further, the Buddha wished to display the very mark of the truly wise — that is, the truly wise reflect carefully before speaking,

and it is for this reason that the Buddha, having been asked, first fixed his mindfulness in contemplation. There are those who say: the Buddha wished to enter his room simply to enjoy the play of meditative absorption, and it was because Ānanda had made his request that he had not yet given his answer. At that time, the Blessed One, in the latter part of the day, rose from his absorption, went out to where the assembly was, and, as was his custom, spread his seat and sat down in composed dignity.

The Venerable Ānanda came before the Buddha, bowed his head at his two feet, joined his palms in reverence, and said to the Buddha: the Tathāgata's countenance is now pure and radiant, his every movement composed and at ease, his faculties utterly still — surely he has been enjoying the bliss of meditative absorption directly experienced in this very life; I beg that what I earlier requested might now be told. The Buddha told Ānanda: just so, just so, exactly as you have said — listen closely, listen closely, and reflect most well upon it, and I shall now explain this for you. The eighty-four thousand ministers of the country of Magadha who have already died were, in every case, either converted through transformation, or practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma — all of them having cut off the three fetters, having attained the fruit of stream-entry, never again to fall back or retreat, certain to proceed toward enlightenment, bounded within, at most, seven further returns, passing back and forth between the human and heavenly realms seven times before reaching the very limit of suffering — one group having been reborn among the gods of the Four Great Kings, and so on, in this same way, up through another group being reborn within the class of homogeneous being belonging to the gods who control the transformations of others, and so on, at length. One asks: what is the meaning of "ministers"? The answer: they constantly protected and upheld the Three Jewels — the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha — allowing them to suffer no diminishment, and it is for this reason that they are called ministers. Further, it is because they all served as intimate attendants of King Bimbisāra that they are called ministers. Further, it is because they all assisted King Bimbisāra in caring for and sustaining the people of the country that they are called ministers. Further, this name had already been established for them in a former age — it is told that, in ancient times, there was a king, complete with the seven treasures, ruling over the four continents, leading eighty-four thousand ministers, traveling through the air at will; at one point, the wheel-treasure and the rest suddenly ceased to move, and the king, alarmed and afraid, said to his ministers: could it be that I have lost my throne, or that my own life is about to end? The spirit of the bodhi tree, looking up, spoke to the king, saying: not far below lies a bodhi tree, upon which every buddha relies in order to attain complete, perfect enlightenment — it is not fitting to travel through the air above it. The king, hearing this, swiftly descended, bowed in reverence, and made confession; together with his ministers, he reverently circled the tree to the right, and, having made offerings, departed by another road. That wheel-turning king is none other than the present King Bimbisāra, and those eighty-four thousand ministers are none other than the very ones slain by Ajātaśatru — and it is thereby known that "ministers" was a name already established in a former age. Although scripture states this much, it does not analyze its meaning; scripture is the very root this treatise depends upon, and what it leaves unstated, this treatise should now state, and it is for this reason that this treatise is composed. What is meant by "converted through transformation"? What is meant by "practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma"? The answer: whoever sees the Dharma while among the gods is called "converted through transformation";

whoever sees the Dharma while among humans is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." Further, whoever sees the Dharma without having first undertaken and upheld the precepts is called "converted through transformation"; whoever sees the Dharma having first undertaken and upheld the precepts is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." Further, whoever plants and ripens wholesome roots while among humans, and afterward, reborn among the gods, attains liberation there, is called "converted through transformation";

whoever plants and ripens wholesome roots while among humans, and attains liberation there, within that very human life, is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." Further, whoever cultivates, while among humans, the wholesome roots conducive to penetration, and afterward, reborn among the gods, attains realization there, is called "converted through transformation"; whoever cultivates, while among humans, the wholesome roots conducive to penetration, and attains realization there, within that very human life, is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." Further, whoever cultivates, while among humans, the path of applied practice, and afterward, reborn among the gods, enters the certainty of rightness there, is called "converted through transformation"; whoever cultivates, while among humans, the path of applied practice, and enters the certainty of rightness there, within that very human life, is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." Further, whoever cultivates, while among humans, the wholesome roots of the truths, and afterward, reborn among the gods, attains the direct realization of the truths there, is called "converted through transformation"; whoever cultivates, while among humans, the wholesome roots of the truths, and attains their direct realization there, within that very human life, is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." Further, whoever cultivates and refines wholesome roots while among humans, and afterward, reborn among the gods, attains purity of vision there, is called "converted through transformation"; whoever cultivates and refines wholesome roots while among humans, and attains purity of vision there, within that very human life, is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." Further, whoever undertakes the merely nominal precepts while among humans, and afterward, reborn among the gods, attains the precepts beloved of the noble ones there, is called "converted through transformation"; whoever undertakes the merely nominal precepts while among humans, and attains the precepts beloved of the noble ones there, within that very human life, is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." Further, whoever attains, while among humans, the restraint of individual liberation and of meditative absorption, and afterward, reborn among the gods, attains the uncontaminated restraint there, is called "converted through transformation"; whoever attains, while among humans, the restraint of individual liberation and of meditative absorption, and attains the uncontaminated restraint there, within that very human life, is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." Further, whoever undertakes, while among humans, the precepts arisen from applied intention, and afterward, reborn among the gods, attains the naturally-arisen precepts there, is called "converted through transformation"; whoever undertakes, while among humans, the precepts arisen from applied intention, and attains the naturally-arisen precepts there, within that very human life, is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." Further, whoever attains, while among humans, the higher training in discipline and the higher training in mind, and afterward, reborn among the gods, attains the higher training in wisdom there, is called "converted through transformation"; whoever attains, while among humans, the higher training in discipline and the higher training in mind, and attains the higher training in wisdom there, within that very human life, is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." Further, whoever cultivates, while among humans, the factors of stream-entry, and afterward, reborn among the gods, attains the fruit of stream-entry there, is called "converted through transformation"; whoever cultivates, while among humans, the factors of stream-entry, and attains the fruit of stream-entry there, within that very human life, is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." Further, whoever attains, while among humans, conventional faith, and afterward, reborn among the gods, attains verified purity there, is called "converted through transformation"; whoever attains, while among humans, conventional faith, and attains verified purity there, within that very human life, is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." Further, whoever cultivates, while among humans, the thirty-seven factors of enlightenment, and afterward, reborn among the gods, attains their fulfillment there, is called "converted through transformation"; whoever cultivates, while among humans, the thirty-seven factors of enlightenment, and attains their fulfillment there, within that very human life, is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." One asks: why is one who sees the Dharma while among the gods called "converted through transformation," while one who sees the Dharma while among humans, within that very human life, is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma"? The answer: one who sees the Dharma while among the gods has undertaken but little applied practice; one who sees the Dharma while among humans has undertaken far more applied practice. That is, one who sees the Dharma while among humans must first diligently show reverence and make offerings to teachers and friends, reciting the sūtras, studying the Vinaya, and receiving instruction in the analysis of the Abhidharma, contemplating and observing the particular and shared characteristics of every dharma; once this has become thoroughly ripened, he proceeds to a mountain forest or some other quiet, secluded place, and, throughout the first and last watches of the night, casting off drowsiness, he gradually undertakes the lesser and greater sevenfold practices, from sunset to sunrise sitting cross-legged, his head held still and steady, practicing the discipline of the staff, his diligence blazing forth, fixing his mindfulness in contemplation before finally entering the noble path — it is on account of undertaking so many such practices as these that he is called "one practicing dharma-in-accordance-with-dharma." One who sees the Dharma while among the gods, by contrast, does so through the power of what he had, in a former human life, heard, reflected upon, and cultivated, the noble path now manifesting before him spontaneously — it is because he is thus transformed by rebirth and sees the Dharma through this conversion that the distinct name "converted through transformation" is established for him.

What is meant by "great desire"? And so on, at length. One asks: why is this treatise composed? The answer: it is composed in order to analyze the meaning of scripture — that is, scripture states that there is great desire, and there is dissatisfaction, yet, though scripture states this much, it does not analyze its meaning; scripture is the very root this treatise depends upon, and what it leaves unstated, this treatise should now state, and it is for this reason that this treatise is composed. What is meant by "great desire"? The answer: whatever desires already exist, that one now desires, or will come to desire — this is called great desire. The master of this treatise, having attained skill with respect to the meaning of synonymous expressions, thus displays "great desire" through a variety of names, the wording differing though the substance remains undivided. What is meant by "dissatisfaction"? The answer: whatever is not delighted in, not equally delighted in, not pervasively delighted in, not already delighted in, and will not come to be delighted in — this is called dissatisfaction. The master of this treatise, having attained skill with respect to the meaning of synonymous expressions, thus displays "dissatisfaction" through a variety of names, the wording differing though the substance remains undivided. What distinction is there between great desire and dissatisfaction? And so on, at length. One asks: why is this treatise further composed?

The answer: it is composed in order to bring those in doubt to a settled resolution — that is, these two dharmas so closely resemble one another that, seeing one of great desire, the world commonly calls him dissatisfied, and, seeing one who is dissatisfied, the world commonly calls him greatly desirous; there are those who thereby give rise to the doubt that these two are, in fact, one and the same — and it is in order to bring this doubt to a settled resolution, revealing that these two possess genuinely distinct meanings, that this treatise is composed. What distinction is there between great desire and dissatisfaction? The answer: with respect to whatever pleasing forms, sounds, scents, tastes, and tangibles, whatever clothing, food, bedding, medicine, and further requisites one has not yet obtained, the yearning, seeking, longing, and scheming after them — this is called great desire. Here, "with respect to whatever pleasing forms, sounds, scents, tastes, and tangibles one has not yet obtained" is spoken with reference to the householder — that is, he pursues such not-yet-obtained pleasing forms and the rest in four directions: the farmer pursues fields, gardens, cattle, sheep, and every other kind of livelihood-sustaining property; the wealthy and eminent pursue superior rank, land, cities, elephants, horses, and every treasured implement of pleasure. "With respect to whatever clothing, food, bedding, medicine, and further requisites one has not yet obtained" is spoken with reference to the one gone forth — that is, he pursues, in various ways, not-yet-obtained robes, bowls, dwellings, requisites, and disciples. Though the terms "yearning" and the rest differ in wording, their substance remains undivided, all alike serving to display the meaning of great desire. With respect to whatever pleasing forms, sounds, scents, tastes, and tangibles, whatever clothing, food, bedding, medicine, and further requisites one has already obtained, the further yearning, further desiring, further delighting in, and further seeking of them — this is called dissatisfaction. Here, "with respect to whatever pleasing forms, sounds, scents, tastes, and tangibles one has already obtained" is spoken with reference to the householder — that is, he fails to find satisfaction in the pleasing forms and the rest he has already obtained, and instead yearns for further: the farmer, having obtained one field or garden, yearns for a second, and so on, at length; the wealthy and eminent, having obtained one superior rank, yearn for a second, and so on, at length. "With respect to whatever clothing, food, bedding, medicine, and further requisites one has already obtained" is spoken with reference to the one gone forth — that is, he fails to find satisfaction in the robes and the rest he has already obtained, and instead yearns for further, having obtained one robe, bowl, dwelling, requisite, or disciple, yearning for a second, and so on, at length. Though the terms "further yearning" and the rest differ in wording, their substance remains undivided, all alike serving to display the meaning of dissatisfaction. Such, then, is their distinction: to display great desire, yearning, seeking, longing, and scheming — that is, great desire is itself the cause of yearning and the rest, since, were the mind without craving, there would be no such yearning and the rest; and, to display dissatisfaction, further yearning, further desiring, further delighting, and further seeking — that is, dissatisfaction is itself the cause of further yearning and the rest, since, were the mind without greed, there would be no such further yearning and the rest. This, then, is how great desire and dissatisfaction are displayed — though both alike have the unwholesome root of greed as their own inherent nature, they are distinguished according to whether they arise with respect to an object not yet obtained or already obtained. There are those who say: dissatisfaction is the cause, and great desire is the effect — here, cause and effect mutually display one another. There are also those who say: yearning and desiring constitute great desire, while seeking and pursuing constitute dissatisfaction. There are yet others who say: what is difficult to satisfy is great desire, since it yearns for so much; what is difficult to sustain is dissatisfaction, since it is so particular in its preferences.

There are yet other masters who say: great desire belongs solely to the mental ground, since it takes the future as its object; dissatisfaction spans the six consciousness-bodies, since it takes the present as its object. The verdict: it should be said that these two are both the unwholesome root of greed belonging to the desire realm in its entirety, and both span the six consciousnesses — that is, the sense in which one fails to find satisfaction with respect to already-obtained objects such as form is called dissatisfaction, while the sense in which one greatly yearns with respect to not-yet-obtained objects such as form is called great desire, and it is for this reason that these two both span the desire realm, arising together with the unwholesome root of greed across all six consciousnesses. What is meant by "few desires"? And so on, at length. One asks: why is this treatise composed? The answer: it is composed in order to analyze the meaning of scripture — that is, scripture states that there are few desires, and there is contentment, yet, though scripture states this much, it does not analyze its meaning; scripture is the very root this treatise depends upon, and what it leaves unstated, this treatise should now state. Further, the treatise has already spoken of great desire and dissatisfaction, and now wishes to speak of their own immediate antidotes, and it is for this reason that this treatise is composed. What is meant by "few desires"? The answer: whatever is not desired, has not already been desired, and will not come to be desired — this is called few desires. The master of this treatise, having attained skill with respect to the meaning of synonymous expressions, thus displays "few desires" through a variety of names, the wording differing though the substance remains undivided. What is meant by "contentment"? The answer: whatever is delighted in, equally delighted in, pervasively delighted in, already delighted in, and will come to be delighted in — this is called contentment. The master of this treatise, having attained skill with respect to the meaning of synonymous expressions, thus displays "contentment" through a variety of names, the wording differing though the substance remains undivided. What distinction is there between few desires and contentment? And so on, at length.

One asks: why is this treatise further composed? The answer: it is composed in order to bring those in doubt to a settled resolution — that is, these two dharmas so closely resemble one another that, seeing one of few desires, the world commonly calls him content, and, seeing one who is content, the world commonly calls him one of few desires; there are those who thereby give rise to the doubt that these two are, in fact, one and the same — and it is in order to bring this doubt to a settled resolution, revealing that these two possess genuinely distinct meanings, that this treatise is composed. What distinction is there between few desires and contentment? The answer: with respect to whatever pleasing forms, sounds, scents, tastes, and tangibles, whatever clothing, food, bedding, medicine, and further requisites one has not yet obtained, the absence of yearning, of seeking, of longing, of searching, and of scheming after them — this is called few desires. Here, "with respect to whatever pleasing forms, sounds, scents, tastes, and tangibles one has not yet obtained" is spoken with reference to the householder — that is, he gives rise to no yearning for such not-yet-obtained pleasing forms and the rest: the farmer gives rise to no yearning for fields, gardens, and the rest; the wealthy and eminent give rise to no yearning for superior rank and the rest. "With respect to whatever clothing, food, bedding, medicine, and further requisites one has not yet obtained" is spoken with reference to the one gone forth — that is, he gives rise to no yearning for not-yet-obtained robes, bowls, dwellings, requisites, or disciples. Though the terms "absence of yearning" and the rest differ in wording, their substance remains undivided, all alike serving to display the meaning of few desires. One asks: why does this passage ask about "few desires" yet answer with "absence of desire"? The answer: with respect to not-yet-obtained pleasing forms and the rest, there are, in total, two kinds — namely, what accords with the Dharma, and what does not accord with the Dharma; one possesses desire with respect to what accords with the Dharma, and gives rise to no desire with respect to what does not accord with the Dharma. Further, one possesses desire with respect to what ought properly to be received, and gives rise to no desire with respect to what ought not to be received.

Further, one possesses desire with respect to what is capable of bringing suffering to an end, and gives rise to no desire with respect to what merely increases the afflictions. Further, one possesses desire with respect to what is sought for the sake of the pure conduct, and gives rise to no desire with respect to what is sought for the sake of sensual craving, existence-craving, or a wrongful form of the pure conduct sought amiss. Further, one possesses desire with respect to what benefits others, and gives rise to no desire with respect to what harms others. One should understand that, in this passage, "gives rise to no desire" refers to unwholesome desire, while "possesses desire" refers to wholesome desire. With respect to whatever pleasing forms, sounds, scents, tastes, and tangibles, whatever clothing, food, bedding, medicine, and further requisites one has already obtained, the absence of further yearning, of further desiring, of further delighting, and of further seeking — this is called contentment. Here, "with respect to whatever pleasing forms, sounds, scents, tastes, and tangibles one has already obtained" is spoken with reference to the householder — that is, he gives rise to contentment with respect to such already-obtained pleasing forms and the rest, and yearns for no further: the farmer, whatever measure of fields, gardens, and the rest he has obtained sufficient to sustain himself, gives rise to contentment and yearns for no further; the wealthy and eminent, whatever rank and the rest he has already obtained, gives rise to contentment and yearns for no further. "With respect to whatever clothing, food, bedding, medicine, and further requisites one has already obtained" is spoken with reference to the one gone forth — that is, he gives rise to contentment with respect to such already-obtained robes and the rest, and yearns for no further: whatever measure of robes, bowls, dwellings, requisites, and disciples he has already obtained, he gives rise to contentment and yearns for no further. Though the terms "absence of further yearning" and the rest differ in wording, their substance remains undivided, all alike serving to display the meaning of contentment. Such, then, is their distinction: to display few desires, absence of yearning, absence of seeking, and so on, at length — that is, few desires is itself the cause of this absence of yearning and the rest, since, were the mind possessed of craving, there would be such yearning and the rest; and, to display contentment, absence of further yearning and the rest — that is, contentment is itself the cause of this absence of further yearning and the rest, since, were the mind possessed of greed, there would be such further yearning and the rest.

This, then, is how few desires and contentment are displayed — though both alike have the wholesome root of non-greed as their own inherent nature, they are distinguished according to whether they arise with respect to an object not yet obtained or already obtained. There are those who say: contentment is the cause, and few desires is the effect — here, cause and effect mutually display one another. There are also those who say: absence of yearning and desiring constitutes few desires, while absence of seeking and pursuing constitutes contentment. There are yet others who say: what is easily satisfied is few desires, since it yearns for so little; what is easily sustained is contentment, since it is not particular in its preferences. There are yet other masters who say: few desires belongs solely to the mental ground, since it takes the future as its object;

contentment spans the six consciousness-bodies, since it takes the present as its object. The verdict: it should be said that these two are both bound to the three realms, and both unbound, both the wholesome root of non-greed, and both span the six consciousnesses — that is, the sense in which one gives rise to contentment with respect to already-obtained objects such as form is called contentment, while the sense in which one yearns but little with respect to not-yet-obtained objects such as form is called few desires, and it is for this reason that these two both span what is bound to the three realms and what is unbound, arising together with the wholesome root of non-greed across all six consciousnesses.

One should understand that, within this discussion, there may be one of few desires who is nonetheless called greatly desirous — as when one who needs only a single dose or two of medicine to be fully provided for instead yearns for two doses, and so on, at length —

and there may be one of great desire who is nonetheless called one of few desires — as when one who needs a hundred or a thousand implements of livelihood to be fully provided for desires only that much, and yearns for no more. There may be one whose seeking is slight who is nonetheless called dissatisfied — as when one who, having obtained but a little, is already fully provided for, and yet continues to seek further — and there may be one whose seeking is great who is nonetheless called content — as when one who, having obtained but a little, is not yet at all fully provided for, still requiring a hundred or a thousand things to provide for his own body, but seeks only that much and no further.