A Jackal Teaches the King of the Gods

Long ago, on Mount Congtuo in the country of Bimo, there was a jackal. Chased by a lion, it fell into a wild well on a hillside. Three days had already passed, its heart resolved to accept death, and it spoke this verse of its own accord:

"All things are impermanent — I regret only that I did not become the lion's meal.
What use is this offending, hemmed-in body, clinging to life and dying for nothing?
Dying for nothing is regret enough — and now I foul the water that people drink.
I confess before the buddhas of the ten directions; may you look with compassion on my heart.
Every evil karma of my past lives — let it all be repaid and exhausted here and now.
From this, may I meet a wise teacher, and through practice at last become a buddha."

Śakra heard this, and together with eighty thousand devas flew in search of the place until they reached the side of the well. He said, "For a long time we have heard no sacred teaching, benighted with no guide; what you have just spoken is no ordinary speech — please expound the Dharma for us." The jackal answered: "You, the heavenly lord, are without proper instruction — you fail entirely to recognize what is fitting to the occasion. The Dharma teacher is below, while you place yourself above him; without first showing reverence, you ask for the essentials of the Dharma." Śakra let down his heavenly robe, drew the jackal up by it, and bowed his head in apology. The heavenly lord said: "I recall that in the past I have seen how, when people of the world wished to hear the true Dharma, they would first spread out a high seat, adorned and purified, before inviting the Dharma teacher." The devas then each removed their own heavenly jeweled robes and piled them into a high seat. The jackal ascended the seat and said: "There are two great reasons I cannot but speak: first, that expounding the Dharma to open and transform gods and men brings immeasurable merit; second, to repay the kindness of the food I was once given — how could I fail to speak?"

The heavenly lord said, "To be freed from the calamity of the well is already so great a merit — how could expounding the Dharma to repay a kindness not measure up to that?" The jackal answered: "Life and death each suit different people, each according to his kind. Some cling to life; some delight in death. There are those foolish and deluded who do not know that after death there is further birth, who turn their backs on the Buddha's teaching, never meet a wise teacher, kill, steal, commit sexual misconduct, and deceive, doing nothing but evil. Such people cling to life and fear death, and at death fall into hell. There are those of wisdom who serve the Three Jewels, meet a wise teacher, correct their evils and cultivate the good, care filially for their parents, revere their teachers and elders, live in harmony with their family, and are humble toward others. Such people find life hateful and death a delight, and at death are born in heaven." Śakra said, "As the venerable one has instructed, then preserving my own bodily life was of no real merit at all — I wish now to hear of the giving of food and the giving of the Dharma." The jackal answered: "To give food and drink saves a life for a single day; to give precious treasures relieves want for a single lifetime — but both only add to the causes that bind one to birth and death. To expound the Dharma and teach others is called the giving of the Dharma, and it alone leads sentient beings onto the path beyond the world: to the fruit of the arhat, to the pratyekabuddha, or to buddhahood — these three joys all come from hearing the Dharma and practicing as it teaches. And all sentient beings who escape the three evil destinies and receive the blessings of birth as human or god do so entirely through hearing the Dharma. This is why the Buddha said the merit of giving the Dharma is immeasurable."

The heavenly lord said, "Teacher, is this form of yours now a karmic retribution, or a responsive transformation-body?" He answered, "It is the retribution of my offenses — not a responsive transformation." The heavenly being said, "I had supposed you a bodhisattva, a sage manifesting to save beings — only now do I hear it is the fruit of an offense. I do not yet know the reason; I wish to hear the causes and conditions." The jackal said: "Long ago I was born in the city of Padma in Vārāṇasī, the son of a poor family of the kṣatriya caste. From childhood I was clever and bright, and especially fond of study. At the age of twelve I followed a wise teacher into the deep mountains, serving him with hardship and unflagging diligence; the teacher too, morning and night, instructed and refined me without ever missing the proper time. After fifty years, I had mastered all ninety-six schools — scriptures, prophetic records, treatises, medicine, spells, physiognomy, and the signs of calamity and fortune, omitting nothing. My talent and wisdom became known in every direction. I then reflected: 'That I have gained this deliverance is entirely owing to my teacher's kindness in instructing me — a debt too great to repay. But my family being poor, I have nothing to offer him; I should sell myself into servitude to repay his kindness.' My teacher said, 'A hermit dwelling in the mountains, living by begging alms, truly lacks for nothing — why destroy and sell your own precious self to support me? Now that you have perfected your wisdom and eloquence, you should instead go teach and transform the people of the world, becoming a lamp of the Dharma — is the merit of that teaching not repayment enough for my kindness?' So I remained in the mountains, sustaining myself by begging. Before long the king of that country died; the assembled ministers gathered more than five hundred scholars from throughout the realm, and for seven days they debated, the victor to become king. I, the poor family's son, won, and so received the kingship, and with the whole strength of the country's wealth I supported my teacher and my parents."

"Afterward, the kingdom of Andhra had been at war with the kingdom of Mālava for many years without victory. The king of Andhra summoned his ministers and asked what plan might win him the kingdom of Mālava. His ministers answered: 'Only through the kingdom of Padma in Vārāṇasī. Its king, though born of humble origin, upholds the ten precepts and does not transgress against outside desires; though he has palace women, they are all advanced in years. Search throughout our country, without regard for rank, and select a hundred beautiful young women, pleasing in appearance — send them, together with great treasures, as tribute to him. If he accepts them, borrow troops from him, join forces, and attack — there will be no resistance we cannot overcome.' The king followed his ministers' plan and sent everything as proposed. I was overjoyed, and mustered a million elite troops to send in support. After a hundred days of bitter fighting, more than half the soldiers died, but the king of Mālava was finally captured and executed, and victory was won at last. But because of these beautiful women, I forgot my original resolve, indulged in extravagance and lust, and neglected the affairs of state; the many officials rose up in rebellion; the children of good people were seized as slaves; the weather turned against the seasons and famine filled the roads; enemies from foreign lands came to invade and plunder. From this the kingdom was ruined and lost, and I was reborn in hell, suffering every torment. But by the power of the wisdom I had learned before, I recalled my own past lives, and my heart was filled with remorse; I corrected my past ways and cultivated what was to come, and in a short time cast off that life, to be reborn among the hungry ghosts, where I again performed repentance and cultivated mindfulness of the ten good deeds; in a short time more I cast off that life as well, taking on this jackal's body, still remembering my past causes and again practicing the ten good deeds. Recently I encountered a lion and fell into this well, my heart resolved to accept death, hoping to be born in heaven and escape suffering for happiness — but because you drew me out, my original vow was thwarted, and I must now go on enduring hardship, not knowing when I shall be free of it. This is why I say that your saving my life was no true merit at all."

"The reason I entered your robe and came out is threefold: first, so as not to go against the heavenly being's own aspiration — for an aspiration left unfulfilled produces great suffering, and one who causes such suffering in others will find his own wishes thwarted wherever he is reborn. Second, because the devas wished to hear the Dharma — for if a person begrudges the Dharma, then life after life he will be born deaf, blind, and mute, his faculties all obstructed, born in a border land, foolish and ignorant, and even if born somewhere fortunate his understanding will be dull, his learning will come to nothing, and he will bring suffering on himself. Third, to let the Dharma's transformative power flow through and awaken gods and men — this itself is the giving of the Dharma. The benefit of giving the Dharma lets sentient beings know that death is followed by further birth, that good brings merit and evil brings calamity, and that cultivating the path leads to attaining it; from body to body as one is reborn, one's wisdom grows ever clearer, and one constantly remembers one's past lives — if born in heaven, one becomes a teacher to the gods; if born among humans, one becomes a wheel-turning king of gold, transforming the world through the ten good deeds, one's wisdom and light gradually increasing until one accomplishes the practice of a bodhisattva and reaches the acceptance of the non-arising of dharmas. Giving wealth is like a lamp that lights only a small room; giving the Dharma is like the sun, shining far across the whole world." At that time Śakra, together with his eighty thousand heavenly followers, received the ten good precepts, first subduing their faculties through the ten skillful means — namely the six perfections together with loving-kindness, compassion, joy, and equanimity. The devas then asked: "Now that we return to the heavenly palace, when will the venerable teacher cast off this karmic retribution and be born in heaven?" The jackal said: "In exactly seven days I shall cast off this body and be born in Tuṣita Heaven; you may then wish to be born in that same heaven, where there are many bodhisattvas expounding the Dharma." After seven days his life ended and he was born in the palace of Tuṣita's king, where he again recalled his past lives and practiced the path of the ten good deeds (Source: Adbhutadharma Sūtra, upper fascicle).

In a past age, there was a heavenly lord Śakra who said to the Buddha: "I have now received a precept: for as long as the Buddha's teaching remains in the world, for the whole span of my life, should anyone trouble me, I will on no account retaliate or trouble him in return." At that time the asura king Vemacitrin, hearing that Śakra had received such a precept, took up a sharp sword and came against him along the road. Śakra, seeing him from a distance, called out: "Asura, stand still — you shall be bound and unable to move," and at once he could not move. Śakra said, "If you will pledge an oath not to cause disorder, I will then release you." The asura king then spoke a verse:

"Wherever greed and desire lead, and wherever anger leads,
wherever false speech leads, and wherever slander of the wise leads —
should I now cause disorder, may I go to that very same destination."

Śakra then said, "I release you; go wherever you find peace." He then went before the Buddha and told him everything. The Buddha said, "Well done" (Source: Sūtra on Śakra Devānām Indra's Receiving of the Precepts).

Long ago, the heavenly lord Śakra found the five signs of decline departing from his body, and knew of himself that his life was at its end, that he was about to be born into a potter's household to take on the womb of a donkey. Grieving, he thought to himself: "Within the three realms, the only one who can save people from suffering is the Buddha." He hastened to where the Buddha was, bowed his head to the ground, and with utmost sincerity took refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the noble assembly. Before he had even risen, his life suddenly ended, and he entered the womb of a mother donkey. At that moment the donkey broke loose and shattered some pottery vessels; its owner beat it, and in that very instant injured the womb. His spirit at once returned to his former body, the five signs restored, and he became the heavenly lord once more. The Buddha praised him, saying, "Well done" — for at the very moment of his life's ending he had taken refuge in the Three Jewels, and the retribution for his offense was thereby exhausted, so that he need not undergo that suffering further. The Buddha then spoke a verse for him. Śakra, hearing it, penetrated the transformations of offense and merit, understood the root of rise and decline, and took up the practice of quiescence, attaining the fruit of stream-entry (Source: Dharmapada with Similes, fascicle 3).

The deva Sivali said to the Buddha: "In a past age of my own, I was a king named Sivali. At the four city gates I gave alms broadly as an act of merit, and I likewise gave alms at every crossroads within the city. Then my chief consort said, 'The king performs such great merit, yet I was there first' — so I said, 'The merit of the giving outside the east gate shall belong entirely to you.' My sons said the same, so I gave them the south gate; a great minister said the same, so I gave him the west gate; the generals and soldiers said the same, so I gave them the north gate; and when the common people said the same, I answered, 'The merit of the giving at the crossroads within the city shall belong entirely to all of you.' From that time on, my consort, sons, ministers, soldiers, and people all performed the giving themselves — but the merit of my own original giving was thereby cut off entirely. Those I had appointed to oversee the works of merit then came and told me: 'Great king, know that at every place of merit-making, your consort, your princes, your ministers, your soldiers, and your people each now carry out the giving themselves — while your own giving has, in all this, been cut off.' I answered: 'Whatever tribute comes in yearly from every region, let half go into the treasury and half go to that same giving.' Through this long practice over many nights, I constantly received a reward both dear and pleasing, and happiness without end. Through the fruit of this merit I entered a great mass of merit — just as the five great rivers join into a single stream, that is, the Ganges, which no one can measure, its waters numbering in the hundreds of thousands of millions of measures — so too this fruit could not be reckoned, and all of it entered that great mass of merit." When the deva Sivali had finished speaking, he rejoiced, bowed at the Buddha's feet, and vanished from sight (Source: Sūtra of the Buddhas' Verses for the Deva Sivali).

The Sun-King, together with countless heavenly beings, came before the Buddha, bowed his head, and said: "Through what conduct does one become the sun-deva, illuminating the four continents? And through what causes does one become the moon-deva, dispelling the darkness of night?" The Buddha said: "There are four things: constantly delighting in giving; cultivating the body and being careful in conduct; upholding the precepts without transgression; and lighting lamps at Buddhist temples — likewise planting light for one's parents, for śramaṇas, and for those who practice the way — together with refraining from killing and the rest of the ten good deeds in body, speech, and mind." The Buddha further said: "There are also four things by which one becomes the moon-king: giving to the poor; upholding the five precepts; reverently serving the Three Jewels; and quietly setting out lamplight for one's sovereign, one's father, one's teacher, and the temple" (Source: Sūtra on the Samādhi Surpassing the Sun's Brightness, latter fascicle).

Long ago in the Trāyastriṃśa palace there was a deva whose life was about to end, and seven signs appeared: the light at his neck went out, the flowers on his head wilted, his complexion changed, dust appeared on his robe, sweat flowed from beneath his arms, his bodily form changed, and he could no longer bear to remain on his own seat. He reflected that after his life ended he would descend to be born in the country of Kuśinagara, in the womb of a scabby, leprous sow, to become a piglet. Deeply distressed, he did not know what to do. A deva told him: "The Buddha is now here, expounding a sūtra for his mother — only the Buddha can free you from this fate." He went at once before the Buddha and bowed his head, but before he could even ask, the Buddha said to him: "All the myriad things return to impermanence — this you already know; why then do you grieve?" The deva told the Buddha everything. The Buddha said: "If you wish to escape the body of a piglet, you should recite the three refuges" — and so, three times a day, the deva took refuge morning and night, following the Buddha's teaching. Seven days later the deva's life ended, and he descended to be born as the son of an elder in the country of Vaiśālī.

While still in his mother's womb he took the three refuges three times a day; the moment he was born and fell to the ground he likewise knelt and took refuge. His mother's labor was easy, with no impure discharge; the maidservant attending her, terrified, fled her post, and his mother too was greatly astonished — the moment he fell to the ground he spoke, and they took this for an evil omen and wished to kill him. But then she thought, "This is my own young son — if I kill him, his father will surely blame me" — and resolved to tell the elder first. She took up the child and told the elder that a son had been born who, the moment he fell to the ground, had knelt with folded hands and taken refuge in the Three Jewels; the whole household was astonished and took it for an evil omen. The father said, "No, no — this child is no ordinary person. Men of the world may live a hundred years and never know how to take refuge in the Three Jewels, yet this one, the moment he fell to the ground, could invoke homage to the Buddha. Care for him well, and never treat him lightly." The child grew up, and by the age of seven was playing by the roadside when he encountered Śāriputra and Maudgalyāyana. The child bowed to them; the assembled sages were astonished that one so young could bow so properly. The child said, "Do you no longer recognize me?" and told them how he had met the Buddha in heaven, saying: "I was originally in heaven, due to be reborn into an evil destiny, but through the Buddha's compassion, who taught me to take refuge, I was able to become human instead."

The monks then pronounced a blessing: "Cirika, go tell Maudgalyāyana and Śāriputra that, on my word, they should invite the World-Honored One, the bodhisattvas, and the sangha, together with all of you as well." Receiving this, he went home and told his parents everything, asking that offerings be prepared, rich and delicious. His parents, loving him, followed what he asked, marveling that one so young could conceive so great an intention, and, astonished further, sought out his past lives — and prepared offerings of the most exquisite delicacies the world afforded, finer even than the child had asked. The Buddha and the assembled sangha each came by their own supernormal power to the child's house to take the meal. The Buddha then expounded a sūtra, and the child, his parents, and all his relatives within and without attained the stage of non-retrogression (Source: Sūtra on the Subduing of an Arhat).

Long ago there was a caravan leader who, together with five hundred merchants, traveled on business. Reaching a vast wilderness, they grew exhausted with hunger and thirst, and in their terror, having no other recourse, took refuge in the World-Honored One and in Śakra, Brahmā, and the Four Heavenly Kings. The caravan leader climbed to a high place and, gazing into the distance, saw trees and birds in flight, toward which he hoped there might be water; together they ran and soon arrived, finding trees standing round about, grass growing, and the ground clean and clear. The caravan leader said, "Let us all dig into the earth for water — surely it can be found." No sooner had they agreed than a heavenly being, gazing down from heaven and seeing them exhausted for want of water, arrived at that place in the time it takes to extend an arm, and dwelt there in the tree; extending his right hand, from between its five fingers there flowed water of eight excellent flavors, which he offered to the caravan leader and the five hundred men. Each took as much as he wished, and it never ran out, and all were fully satisfied. And why was this so? Because in a past life they had all, as kin, planted the seeds of mutual kindness — and for this reason the heavenly being remembered them and descended to give them sweet water, so that each found peace and ease (Source: Sūtra of Similes, fascicle 3).

Long ago, when a certain deva's life in Trāyastriṃśa was about to end, five signs appeared: his flowers wilted, his garments grew soiled, sweat flowed from beneath his arms, his celestial maidens dwindled, and he no longer delighted in his own throne — as if his body had broken out in sores. This deva, showing the five signs, grieved and groaned aloud. Śakra, hearing this, asked which deva it was, and went to him and asked why he grieved so. The deva struck his own thigh and answered that some strange calamity had befallen him. Śakra then spoke a verse:

"All conditioned things are impermanent; whatever is born must come to an end.
Birth is inevitably followed by death — and this very cessation is the highest joy."

The deva said, "I have never heard such a thing." Śakra said, "All love and affection must end in separation." The deva said, "How then could I not grieve? All the pleasures of this heavenly palace must now be parted from — for when my life ends I shall be born into the womb of a sow in Rājagṛha, eating only filth, and in the end be slaughtered by a butcher. It is because I see this that I grieve." Śakra then said: "You should now take refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha — for as the Buddha said in a verse:

"Whoever takes refuge in the Buddha shall not go to the three evil destinies;
he receives the blessings of birth as god or human, and afterward attains nirvāṇa."

The deva then folded his hands and said: "The World-Honored One is all-wise, seeing all things — I beg to be saved. I now take refuge in the Buddha, take refuge in the Dharma, take refuge in the Sangha." And so he did not enter the sow's womb after all, but was instead born into the household of the foremost elder of Rājagṛha, and on seeing this he rejoiced beyond measure (Source: Ekottarika Āgama, fascicle 19).

There was once a heavenly maiden sitting upon a lotus flower a hundred yojanas across; this flower alone was wondrous, surpassing all others, and whatever she needed arose from the flower according to her thought, moving and resting always with her. Maudgalyāyana asked what good deed she had performed to receive such a reward. The heavenly maiden answered: "After the Buddha Kāśyapa entered final nirvāṇa, his relics were left entire, and his disciples built for them a stūpa of the seven treasures, forty li high and broad. At that time I was a woman who went out and saw the image within that jeweled stūpa; faith and reverence arose in me, and, thinking of the Buddha's merit, I took the flower from my own head and offered it to the image" (Source: Miscellaneous Repository Sūtra).

The heavenly king Vaśavartin has a jeweled heavenly maiden named Sukanthā, "Good Voice." Within a single word of hers there emerge a hundred thousand delightful sounds, and within each of those sounds there emerge yet a hundred thousand further sounds. Sons of the Buddha, know this: from a single sound of Sukanthā's, immeasurable sounds are born, each according to what is needed, bringing understanding to all who hear it (Source: Avataṃsaka Sūtra, fascicle 29).

In a past age, in the kingdom of Kosala, there was a man who played the lute, named Lugniu, "Deer-Ox." Resting once during a journey in the wilderness, he came upon the six vast heavenly palaces. A heavenly maiden came and said to him, "Uncle, uncle, play the lute for me, and I shall sing and dance." Lugniu played, and the gods of the six heavens sang and danced. The first song's words ran:

"If a man or a woman gives fine and excellent robes as alms,
through the causes of giving robes, what is born thereby is superior.
Having given the finest things, one is born in heaven according to one's wish,
and sees oneself dwelling in a palace, roaming freely through the open sky.
The heavenly body is like a mass of gold; the heavenly maiden surpasses a hundred others.
Contemplating this very merit, may it be dedicated to the very highest of all."

The words of the other heavens were roughly similar in kind (too long to record here). Lugniu, too, bowed in reverence, and when the bow was done, the gods suddenly vanished from sight (Source: Sūtra of the Man Who Played the Lute in a Past Age).