A Thousand Carts, One Rut

Commentary on the Words of the Sūtra of the Lotus Blossom of the Wondrous Dharma, Fascicle One, Upper Part

Expounded by the Great Master Zhiyi of Tiantai

Chapter One: The Prologue. (For a Buddha to appear in the world is difficult; for the Buddha to preach is difficult; to transmit and translate this teaching is difficult; to awaken to it oneself is difficult; to hear a master expound it is difficult; to record it correctly after a single hearing is difficult. At twenty-seven I received this teaching by ear in Jinling; at sixty-nine I revised and polished it in Danqiu. I leave it as a gift to worthies of later ages, that together we may await the Buddha's wisdom.)

A detailed exegesis of the sūtra's title has already been given above. As for "prologue," it is glossed as "orderly sequence" — meaning that ranks and positions, host and guest, question and answer, are all set forth in proper order. The sūtra's compilers follow this sense, taking it to mean "sequence," "occasion," and "narration." The five items — such as the words "Thus have I heard" — placed at the head of the sūtra constitute its "sequence"; the emitting of light and the six auspicious signs that set the exposition in motion constitute its "occasion"; the questions and answers that resolve doubt, and the introductory passages that lead into the main teaching, constitute its "narration."

Having all three of these senses, it is called "prologue." As for "chapter," the Madhyama Āgama calls it baqu, which is translated as "chapter." A chapter is a passage in which items of the same category and meaning are gathered together — hence it is called a chapter. Sometimes the Buddha himself announced the chapter division, as in the Brahmajāla Sūtra; sometimes it was set by the compilers, as in the "Great Treatise" (the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra); sometimes it was supplied by the translator, as with Kumārajīva. Here, the chapter "The Past Deeds of the Medicine King" was announced by the Buddha himself; whether chapters such as "Wonderful Sound" and "Guanyin" were named by the sūtra's compilers or by the translator is not known. Since this is the first of all the chapters, it is called "Chapter One."

When the Buddha, responding to conditions, preached, he did so in two modes — "scattered blossoms" and "strung blossoms" — and those who compiled the canon transmitted his words accordingly, while the treatise-masters expounded them following the sūtra text; in neither case were section divisions originally marked. The lecture-masters of old simply expounded the meaning broadly without dividing the text into chapters and sections; if we relied solely on that approach, students of later generations would scarcely be able to tell where a passage began and ended. Moreover, since the Buddha preached in both the "strung" and "scattered" modes, those who compiled the texts established chapter divisions according to the sense of the content. The Ekottarika [Āgama] says: one part is the sūtra proper, one part is the vinaya, one part is the abhidharma. The sūtra portion is further divided into four: the Ekottarika, the Dīrgha, the Madhyama, and the Saṃyukta. The Ekottarika Āgama expounds the causes and effects governing rebirth among humans and gods; the Dīrgha Āgama refutes false views; the Madhyama Āgama expounds profound principles; the Saṃyukta Āgama expounds meditative concentration. The vinaya is divided into the five schools' recensions and the eighty recitations. The abhidharma is divided into the Six Feet, the Eight Categories, and so forth. The Āgamas hold that "giving, precepts, and wisdom, and the six perfections, are all complete within them" — meaning the eight groupings such as faculties, natures, paths, and concentrations. Vasubandhu, in composing his treatise on the Lotus Sūtra, divided the "Prologue" chapter according to seven merits, and the "Skillful Means" chapter according to five manifestations, with each of the remaining chapters likewise assigned its own disposition.

In the past, Feng of Hexi and Yao of Jiangdong, following this approach, marked off sections in the sūtra text, and by the end of that age their schemes had grown especially elaborate. Guangzhai [Fayun] made the divisions even finer still — like a heavy mist obscuring the great clear sky, so that the light of the sun, moon, and stars was dimmed by it — something those who sought the ford did not prize. Tanluan said: "Fine sub-sections rise like smoke, mixed grindings scatter like dust" — meaning that such schemes err either by excess or by deficiency.

Elder Long of Mount Lu divided the text into prologue, main teaching, and dissemination, and held that the sūtra's twenty-seven chapters fall under just two categories overall: from the "Prologue" chapter through the "Teacher of the Dharma" chapter, the Buddha speaks of the provisional and speaks of the true, because though the principle is one, it is taught as three vehicles; from "The Jeweled Stūpa" chapter onward, his body is provisional and his body is true, because the Buddha who is actually distant proclaims himself as near. He also held that from "Skillful Means" through "Peaceful Practices" constitutes the "cause gate," and from "Emerging from the Earth" onward constitutes the "effect gate." Yin of Zhongxing in Qi and Yao of Xiaoshan, having received the sūtra from [Huiyuan of Mount] Lu's lineage, divided the text the same way.

Xuanchang held that from "Prologue" through "Many Jewels" forms the "cause section," from "Encouraging Upholders" through "Supernatural Powers" forms the "effect section," and from "Entrustment" to the end of the sūtra forms the "section on upholding and protecting the Dharma." Another master held: "From 'Prologue' through 'Prediction for Those Still Learning and Beyond Learning' constitutes the essential body of the Lotus; from 'Teacher of the Dharma' through 'Entrustment' expounds the merit of upholding the sūtra; from 'Medicine King' to the end of the sūtra extols the bodhisattvas' original vows."

Another master made a fourfold division: the opening chapter is the "prologue section"; from "Skillful Means" through "Peaceful Practices" is the section of "opening the three to reveal the one"; from "Emerging from the Earth" to "Discrimination of Merits" is the section of "opening the near to reveal the far"; and everything thereafter, the remaining momentum of the teaching, is the "dissemination section." Guangzhai [Fayun], having received the sūtra from Yin, divided it into these same first three sections, then further subdivided each into two: the prologue into a "general prologue" and a "specific prologue"; the main teaching into a "cause gate" and an "effect gate"; and the dissemination into "converting others" and "one's own practice." The two prologues have five sub-divisions each, the two main-teaching sections have four each, and the two dissemination sections have three each, making twenty-four sections in all (and so on).

Now, the parsing and sectioning of a sūtra's text is entirely a matter of human judgment — the orchid and the chrysanthemum each excel in their own beauty. Students of later generations ought not to wrangle over which is right and which is wrong, lest they gain none of the "three benefits" and lose the "one path." The three benefits are the three siddhāntas beginning with the mundane siddhānta; the one path is the siddhānta of ultimate meaning.

The Great Master Zhiyi of Tiantai divided the text into three: the opening chapter is the prologue; from the "Skillful Means" chapter through the nineteen verses of "Discrimination of Merits" — fifteen and a half chapters in all — is called the main teaching; from after those verses to the end of the sūtra — eleven and a half chapters in all — is called the dissemination. At the same time, he also divided the sūtra into two: the fourteen chapters from the Prologue through "Peaceful Practices" expound, in terms of the trace gate, the opening of the provisional to reveal the true; the fourteen chapters from "Emerging from the Earth" to the end of the sūtra expound, in terms of the origin gate, the opening of the provisional to reveal the true. Each of the trace gate and the origin gate has its own prologue, main teaching, and dissemination. Within the trace gate: the opening chapter is the prologue; from "Skillful Means" through "Prediction for Those Still Learning and Beyond Learning" is the main teaching; from "Teacher of the Dharma" through "Peaceful Practices" is the dissemination. Within the origin gate: from "Emerging from the Earth" to the half-chapter ending at "Maitreya has already asked about this matter and the Buddha now answers it" is called the prologue; from "The Buddha said to Ajita" onward, through the verses of "Discrimination of Merits," is called the main teaching; everything after this to the end of the sūtra is the dissemination. This present commentary follows these three initial sections in construing the text.

Question: How can a single sūtra have two prologues?

Answer: The Avataṃsaka Sūtra assembles its audience anew in place after place; the Āgamas do likewise, chapter by chapter; the "Great Perfection of Wisdom" entrusts its teaching repeatedly from beginning to end — in none of these cases does this conflict with their being a single text, so what objection could there be to two prologues within one sūtra?

As for why the origin gate's prologue does not include all five standard items, it is because it does not stand at the very head of the sūtra. As for why the trace gate has only a dissemination section by itself, it is because the exposition of the Dharma is not yet complete there — this is the meaning of "having" and "not having" such elements. The present commentary now glosses the text under four headings: first, listing the number of readings; second, the reason for using four; third, textual proof; fourth, demonstrating their application.

As for listing the number: first, causes and conditions; second, in terms of the teachings; third, trace and origin; fourth, contemplation of mind. From the opening words "Thus have I heard" to the closing words "and withdrew," the text will be construed throughout by these four approaches, though for brevity I will sometimes give only three, two, or even one of them — what matters is grasping the meaning, not burdening the reader with excess ink.

Second, as to the reason: Question: If brevity means using just one approach, and thoroughness would require more than four, why settle on four?

Answer: Too much detail causes the understanding to falter; too little leaves the meaning incomplete. I now speak from a middle course, so that the meaning may be easily grasped. Causes and conditions are also called "stimulus and response": though sentient beings without the capacity to receive the teaching may be near yet fail to see it, the power of the Buddha's compassionate roots of goodness reaches even the far and spontaneously connects with them — because stimulus and response intersect on the same path, this reading uses "causes and conditions." Now, the beings who seek liberation are this "capacity," and they are many; the sage who rouses himself to respond does so in manifold ways as well — this topic could be expanded much further, so where does the middle course lie? Yet the Nirvāṇa Sūtra says: "The power of the compassionate roots of goodness has innumerable gateways; in brief, it is the Buddha's supernatural powers; as for the capacities and responses throughout the ten directions, they are as boundless as empty space." Here, in discussing how, in this Sahā world, the Buddha's work is carried out through sound, the gate of ambrosia opens — this reading, following the teaching, is made clear in the section "in terms of the teachings." As for adapting the teaching to the capacity of the hearer, the teachings differ in being provisional or true, shallow or deep, and one must therefore set aside the pointing finger to keep the moon, and forget the trace in order to seek the origin. Hence Sengzhao says: "Without the origin there would be nothing to manifest as trace; without the trace there would be no way to reveal the origin" — and so this reading uses "trace and origin." If one merely pursues the trace, the trace is vast and one only wearies oneself in vain; if one pursues the origin, the origin is lofty beyond all reckoning — like counting another's treasure day and night while possessing not half a coin oneself. One need only contemplate the loftiness and vastness of one's own mind, and strike upon the sage's boundless response; when the capacity matures it draws forth the response, and one attains one's own true benefit — hence this reading uses "contemplation of mind."

Third, textual proof. The "Skillful Means" chapter says: "The buddhas of the ten directions appear in the world for the sake of the one great cause and condition." Were this concerned with humans and gods, or with the Hīnayāna, it would be neither "one" nor "great," nor would it be the Buddha's own work — it would not constitute the meeting of capacity and response. "One" names ultimate reality; "great" names its vastness; the Buddha points to this as the "cause," and appears in the world for its sake — this is called "the one great cause and condition." It further says: "Through various dharma-gates, I proclaim and reveal the Buddha path." One should understand that the various forms of vocal teaching — whether subtle or overt, provisional or true — all serve as a fish-trap or rabbit-snare for the sake of the Buddha path; the Nirvāṇa Sūtra says: "Coarse words and gentle words alike return to the ultimate meaning" — this is what is meant. The "Lifespan" chapter says: "Now the gods, humans, and asuras all say that I left my household recently, went forth from the palace of the Śākya clan, and, not far from the city of Gayā, attained complete awakening. Yet in truth, since I attained buddhahood, immeasurable, boundless asaṃkhyeya kalpas have passed, and it is by this skillful means that I have been guiding and benefiting sentient beings." The "Skillful Means" chapter also says: "I originally made a vow that I would cause all beings universally to attain this same path, equal to my own, without difference." The "Prediction for the Five Hundred" chapter also says: "Secretly practicing the bodhisattva conduct while outwardly manifesting as a śrāvaka, in reality purifying their own buddha-lands, they show to the assembly the appearance of the three poisons, and even manifest wrong views; my disciples are like this — it is skillful means for saving beings." This shows both teacher and disciples alike making clear their origin and trace (and so on). The "Parable" chapter says: "If a person believes what you say, this is the same as seeing me, as well as seeing you and the assembly of monks and the bodhisattvas." One should understand that whenever something is heard, if one examines it with a sincere mind, one attains, within that faith, a vision of the Three Jewels: hearing the teaching expounded is seeing the Dharma Jewel; seeing me is seeing the Buddha Jewel; seeing you disciples is seeing the Saṃgha Jewel (and so on).

Fourth, as to demonstrating their application: let us first, in terms of the three sections, demonstrate the application of the "causes and conditions" reading. Sentient beings, in the far distant past, received the Buddha's skillful guidance, which caused the seed of the cause and condition for the Buddha path to be planted in them; meeting the Buddha again in the intervening time, he further employed various skillful means to help reveal the ultimate meaning and bring them to maturity. Today, as flowers rain down and the earth trembles, he liberates them through his own parinirvāṇa, causing them likewise to attain liberation.

Furthermore: the distant past is the "planting," the more recent past is the "ripening," and the present age is the "harvesting" — this is what is meant by the bodhisattvas "emerging from the earth" and the like.

Furthermore: the intervening time is the "planting," the four flavors of the teaching are the "ripening," and what occurs at Rājagṛha is the "harvesting" — this is what is meant, in the present sūtra, by "opening, showing, awakening to, and entering" the Buddha's knowledge and vision. Furthermore: the present age is the "planting," the next age is the "ripening," and the age after that is the "harvesting" — this refers to those who will attain liberation in the future. Although this is not yet an application to the origin gate, it is offered here to convey the general sense. Within this span, section by section, one may equally speak of three ages or nine ages as the "planting," "ripening," and "harvesting," and there should be no objection to this. Why is this so? Because it is spoken freely by virtue of the Tathāgata's power of unimpeded spiritual mastery, and the awesome, forceful power of his lion's vigorous stride. Because of all this, there is a prologue section. The assembly, seeing the rare and auspicious signs, gazed up in eager anticipation, longing to hear the complete path; the Buddha, according to the capacity of his listeners, set forth his teaching, opening, showing, awakening to, and causing entry into the Buddha's knowledge and vision — hence there is a main-teaching section. And since the benefit gained was not confined to that time alone, but would reach, five hundred years later, those far removed who would still be touched by this wondrous path, there is a dissemination section.

Further, to demonstrate the "teachings" aspect: this prologue is not a prologue for the pure ascent of humans and gods; it is not a prologue for the lesser path of the two vehicles; it is not a prologue for the shared teaching of emptiness held in common with the three vehicles; nor is it a prologue solely for the bodhisattva's own dharma — rather, it is a prologue for the Buddha's act of rightly and directly setting aside skillful means and preaching only the unsurpassed Buddha path. This "main teaching" does not point to the mundane world as its content; it does not point to the fragmentary wisdom likened to a firefly's glow; it does not point to the wisdom that comprehends dharmas, likened to a torch's flame; it does not point to the wisdom of the paths and their seeds, likened to the stars and moon — rather, it points to the wisdom of all modes, likened to the light of the sun. This "dissemination" is not the dissemination of a willow leaf, a wooden ox, or a wooden horse; it is not the dissemination of half-words, nor of words shared in common with the three vehicles, nor of separate words alone — it is purely the dissemination of the perfect and complete sūtra, the teaching in its full and complete words.

Next, to demonstrate the "trace and origin" reading: in the distant past, when the one who is now Śākyamuni was practicing the bodhisattva path, he proclaimed the Lotus Sūtra of earlier buddhas, and that too had three sections — upper, middle, and lower — and likewise had its own origin and trace. But since buddha looks back to buddha without end, if we single out the three sections of the Lotus Sūtra as preached at the time of his very first attainment of buddhahood, these alone are properly called "upper" and are called the "origin." Why is this? Because it was at his very first attainment of buddhahood, his very first preaching of the Dharma, that it is "upper" and "origin" — this meaning may be understood. As for the intervening ages, when he practiced and taught, assisting buddhas such as Mahābhijñājñānābhibhū and Dīpaṃkara, proclaiming the three sections of the Lotus, these are called only "middle," called only "trace." Why is this? Because there was an "upper" before them, because there was an "origin" before them. As for the three sections preached today at Rājagṛha, these are called only "lower," called only "trace" — and indeed, however far into the endless future the three sections may be preached by the power of the lion's vigorous stride, these too point back to that very first attainment as the "upper" and the "origin." It is like a great tree: though it has a thousand branches and ten thousand leaves, when one traces its root, one cannot go on tracing from branch to branch without eventually pointing to a single common root of one ancestral trunk. This analogy may be understood (and so on).

Next, to demonstrate the "contemplation of mind" reading: one should, with reference to one's own mind, discuss precepts, concentration, and wisdom as the three sections — in the order of practice, precepts come first, concentration in the middle, and wisdom last; but if one speaks in terms of the dharma-gate itself, wisdom is the origin, and concentration and precepts are the trace. Furthermore, precepts, concentration, and wisdom can each be divided into their own three sections: the preliminary expedients through the completion of the fourfold announcement and motion form the three sections of precepts; the twenty-five preliminary expedients, correct contemplation applied to one's circumstances, and skill in entering, emerging from, and abiding in the hundreds and thousands of samādhis, form the three sections of concentration; and dharmas arising from causes and conditions, contemplated as empty, as provisional, and as the middle, form the three sections of wisdom.

Having, in terms of the three sections, demonstrated the four modes of application, this is the sense that should be employed throughout. From "Thus" onward, all the way to "made obeisance and withdrew," the text will everywhere be construed by these four approaches. If one measures against this general sense, comparison and understanding come easily; but to articulate and display it in words is difficult — let the practitioner reflect well upon it. Though the phrasing may differ, the meaning is the same, like a thousand carts sharing one rut, or ten thousand streams alike returning to the salt sea.

○ The prologue has a "general" part and a "specific" part. From "Thus" to "withdrew and sat to one side" is the general prologue; from "At that time the World-Honored One" to the end of the chapter is the specific prologue. The general prologue is common to all the Buddha's teachings; the specific prologue is particular to this one sūtra alone. The general prologue is said to consist of five, or six, or seven items (and so on).

"Thus" points to the substance of the Dharma that was heard. "I heard" names the person who retained it. "At one time" means that the hearing and the retaining occurred together in harmony, not at different times. "The Buddha" means that it was from the Buddha, at that time, that it was heard. "On Vulture Peak at Rājagṛha" is the place of hearing and retaining. "Together with the great bhikṣus" names the companions in hearing and retaining. All of these are the harmonious coming together of causes and conditions, arising one after another in sequence.

Furthermore, as for "thus": the sūtras of the buddhas of the three times all place "thus" at their opening, showing that the buddhas' path is the same and does not contend with the world — this is the mundane siddhānta. The "Great Treatise" (the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra) says, "citing the time and place so as to cause people to give rise to faith" — this is the individual siddhānta. Furthermore, it counters and refutes the non-Buddhists' two syllables "a" and "ou," used to mean "not-thus" and "not-so" — this is the therapeutic siddhānta. And again, "thus" is a term of faith and compliance: through faith, the principle that was heard is comprehended; through compliance, the way between teacher and disciple is accomplished — this is the siddhānta of ultimate meaning. The "causes and conditions" exegesis is extremely extensive and cannot be given in full here (and so on).

As for the reading "in terms of the teachings": the sūtras hold that the dharma of the buddhas of the three times all begins with "thus," yet earlier buddhas had gradual, sudden, secret, and indeterminate sūtras, and the gradual teachings were further of the Tripiṭaka, shared, distinct, and perfect types; the present Buddha is likewise so — the sūtras differ from one another, and their "thus" differs as well; one should not expect a single key to open every door. Furthermore, "as" means that the Buddha's text and Ānanda's text do not differ; "is" means that the expounding words match what is expounded. Now, which text did Ānanda transmit from the Buddha, and which "is" did he expound? One cannot transmit a gradual text as expounding a "sudden is," nor use a partial text to expound a "perfect is" — if the transmission and the exposition go astray, then the text is not "as," and if the text is not "as," then the principle is not "is." This point is difficult to clarify and demands careful, close attention.

Let us first analyze this in terms of the gradual teaching. The Buddha taught that the conventional has the reality of words and letters, while the ultimate is without words and letters. Ānanda transmitted the Buddha's conventional-truth words and letters without differing from what the Buddha said — hence this is called "as"; and through these conventional words, one comes to understand the principle of ultimate truth — hence this is called "is." This, then, is what "thus" means at the opening of a Tripiṭaka-teaching sūtra. The Buddha taught that form itself is emptiness, and emptiness itself is form — form and emptiness, emptiness and form, without duality, without distinction: that emptiness and form do not differ is "as"; that very phenomena are themselves true is "is." Ānanda transmitted the Buddha's text without differing — this is "as"; the expounding words being identical with what is expounded is "is." This, then, is what "thus" means at the opening of a shared-teaching sūtra. The Buddha taught that saṃsāra is the bounded extreme and nirvāṇa is the unbounded extreme; that going out from the bounded extreme of saṃsāra one enters the unbounded extreme, and going out from the unbounded extreme of nirvāṇa one enters the middle way. Ānanda transmitted this going-out-from-being and entering-into-nothingness, going-out-from-nothingness and entering-into-the-middle, without differing from what the Buddha said — this is "as"; proceeding from the shallow to the deep, all of it without exception is called "is." This, then, is what "thus" means at the opening of a distinct-teaching sūtra. The Buddha taught that saṃsāra is itself nirvāṇa, and is itself the middle way — how much more, then, is nirvāṇa itself not other than the middle way? Suchness, the dharma-realm, true nature, and ultimate reality pervade every place and are nowhere other than the Buddha-dharma. Ānanda transmitted this without differing from what the Buddha said — hence it is called "as"; being thus-as-thus, unmoving, it is called "is." This, then, is what "thus" means at the opening of a perfect-teaching sūtra. If one moves from the conventional to enter the "as," this is the sense of the Tripiṭaka teaching; if without moving the conventional is itself the "as," this is the sense of the shared teaching; if one moves through the "as" to enter a higher "as," this is the sense of the distinct teaching; if without moving the "as" is nonetheless the "as," this is the sense of the perfect teaching (and so on). As for the sudden teaching, its "thus" is the same as that of the perfect teaching; the indeterminate teaching's "thus" alternates between earlier and later teachings; the secret teaching's "thus" is hidden and not transmitted openly. To spread the net of the eight teachings across the ocean of the dharma-realm, fearing some gap might be left uncovered — how, then, could a single mesh of that net be stretched out alone and expected to catch everything? Furthermore, to catch four arrows at once and let none fall to the ground cannot yet be called skillful; when even urging on a dull donkey or driving a lame turtle one may fail to manage even one task, how much more so four at once (and so on)?

As for expounding "thus" in terms of "trace and origin": throughout the three times and the ten directions, both across and along, it is everywhere so — in the far distant past, in the boundless present, in the endless future, it is everywhere "thus." Where, then, is the origin, and where is the trace? Let us take, in terms of Śākyamuni's very first attainment of the path, the "thus" at the opening of that sūtra as the origin; the "thus" at the opening of the sūtras he preached in the intervening ages and preaches today are all trace.

Furthermore, the "thus" that Ānanda transmitted is trace; the "thus" that the Buddha himself spoke is origin. Furthermore, the "thus" by which teacher and disciple penetrate to full understanding — not beginning today, nor only in the intervening ages — is the origin; while its occurring in the intervening ages and today is the trace.

As for the "contemplation of mind" reading: to contemplate all the foregoing meanings of "thus" — the siddhāntas, the teachings, the trace, and so on — as themselves dharmas arising from causes and conditions, is the "shared" contemplation; that causes and conditions are themselves empty and themselves provisional is the "distinct" contemplation; that the two contemplations serve as expedient paths by which one enters the ultimate meaning of the middle way, illuminating the two truths simultaneously, is the contemplation that is both shared and distinct; and that all the above is, in its entirety, the middle way, is the contemplation that is neither shared nor distinct. The text below says: "If a person believes what you say, he thereby comes to see me, and also sees you, and the assembly of monks, and the bodhisattvas" — this is the very text that makes plain the contemplative practice. Faith is a matter of capacity; seeing is a matter of response — this is the "causes and conditions" aspect. Furthermore, that faith has shallow and deep degrees, and seeing has provisional and true modes, with various distinctions among them, is the "differentiating the teachings" aspect. Furthermore, to have faith in the text of the Lotus is to see the origin of ultimate reality; to see the transformation-body of Śāriputra is to see the origin of the nāga-king's daughter; to see Śākyamuni's recent attainment of buddhahood is also to see the buddhas of the distant past whom he attained long ago; to see the twelve hundred bhikṣus and eighty thousand bodhisattvas is likewise to see their origin. Furthermore, when hearing the sūtra one's mind believes without doubt, and one becomes aware that this faithful mind is bright and pure — this is "seeing the Buddha"; when the faculty of wisdom is distinctly clear, this is "seeing Śāriputra"; when all the faculties are distinctly clear, this is "seeing the assembly of bhikṣus"; when the mind of compassion is pure, this is "seeing the bodhisattvas." Explained in terms of the mind, these four readings become ever clearer; when expounding other sūtras, only three approaches are used, because in them the origin has not yet been disclosed to reveal the trace. One should understand that, for the present sūtra, three of the readings are the same as for other sūtras, while one reading differs from them. Here ends the fourfold exegesis of "thus" (and so on).

As for "I heard": some versions say "heard thus," since the sūtra exemplars differ, the two phrases being cited in reverse order of one another. Here again I give the four readings. The "Great Treatise" says: "When the ear faculty is unimpaired, and sound is present within its range, and the mind is set on hearing, then the various conditions come together in harmony — hence it is said, 'I heard.'"

Question: One ought to say "the ear heard" — why say "I heard"?

Answer: The "I" is the master of the ear, and citing the "I" subsumes all the other conditions. This is the mundane-siddhānta reading. When Ānanda ascended the high seat and proclaimed "I heard," the great assembly ought to have wailed in grief, for they had just witnessed the Tathāgata's parinirvāṇa, yet now hearing "I heard," those beyond learning leapt up and spoke verses of joy. The Sūtra on the Buddha's Discourse records that when Mañjuśrī presided over the compilation, he first announced the title and then proclaimed "Thus have I heard," and the assembled multitude wailed in grief at that time. This is the individual-siddhānta reading. Ānanda ascended the high seat and proclaimed "I heard" in order to dispel the assembly's doubts — Ānanda's body resembled the Buddha's, being shorter than the Buddha's by only three finger-widths, and the assembly feared that the World-Honored One had appeared once more, or that a buddha had come from another world, or that Ānanda himself had become a buddha; but once he proclaimed "I heard," these three doubts were at once dispelled. This is the therapeutic-siddhānta reading. Ānanda, a disciple still in training, proclaimed "I heard" in accordance with worldly convention, though in terms of ultimate meaning there is neither "I" nor "hearing" in any substantial sense. The various exegeses handed down from of old are, in this, all of a single sense — that of causes and conditions.

As for the reading "in terms of the teachings," the Śāstra says: "Ordinary beings have three kinds of 'self' — the self of erroneous views, the self of pride, and the self as a mere name; the disciple in training has two kinds; the one beyond training has one kind." Ānanda is a disciple in training: he is without the false self of erroneous view, and is able to subdue the self of pride, so that using "I" in accordance with worldly convention involves no fault — this employs the sense of the Tripiṭaka teaching to explain "I." The Daśabhūmika-vibhāṣā [Śāstra] says: "To assert 'I' in any of the four propositions is to fall into wrong view; within the Buddha's true Dharma there is no self — who, then, is hearing?" — this employs the sense of the shared teaching. The Nirvāṇa Sūtra says: "Ānanda, the one of great learning, knows that self and no-self are not two, yet distinguishes both self and no-self" — this employs the sense of the distinct teaching. Furthermore, Ānanda, knowing that self and no-self are not two, became, as an expedient, the Buddha's attendant, transmitting and upholding the Tathāgata's unobstructed wisdom, and with a freely responsive voice transmitting both the provisional and the true — what fault could there be in this? This employs the sense of the perfect teaching to explain "I." Furthermore, the Sūtra of the True Dharma's Mindfulness speaks of three Ānandas: Ānandaḥ, meaning "Joy," who upheld the Hīnayāna piṭaka; Ānandabhadra, meaning "Joyful Worthy," who received and upheld the miscellaneous piṭaka; and Ānandasāgara, meaning "Joyful Ocean," who upheld the Buddha's own piṭaka. The Āgama Sūtra also speaks of an Ānanda who was "Keeper of the Canon," who upheld the bodhisattva piṭaka. This no doubt indicates that a single person was endowed with all four virtues, transmitting and upholding four dharma-gates — its meaning is self-evident (and so on).

As for the "trace and origin" reading: if Ānanda has not yet fully entered into the ultimate, one may say that Ānanda simply used "I" in accordance with worldly convention; but if the trace is disclosed to reveal the origin, then — having, together with Śākyamuni, first given rise to the resolve for awakening in the presence of King of Emptiness Buddha, and now, as an expedient, manifesting as the one who transmits the Dharma — what could he not do?

As for the "contemplation of mind" reading: to contemplate dharmas arisen from causes and conditions as empty, as provisional, and as the middle — the "empty" aspect is the self that is no-self; the "provisional" aspect is the distinguishing of self; the "middle" aspect is the true and wondrous self (and so on).

As for explaining "heard": Ānanda was born on the very night the Buddha attained the path, and attended the Buddha for over twenty years — before he became the Buddha's attendant, he ought not to have heard the earlier teachings. The "Great Treatise" says: "When Ānanda helped compile the Dharma, he himself said: 'When the Buddha first turned the Dharma wheel, I was not present at that time; I heard of it only through successive transmission.'" One should understand from this that he did not hear everything directly. An old interpretation holds: "Ānanda attained the Buddha's samādhi of awakening, and by that power was able to hear even what he had not attended." The Sūtra of Repaying Kindness says: "Ānanda sought four boons, one being that for sūtras he had not heard, he asked the Buddha to preach them again"; it also says, "the Buddha, by secret means of his mouth, preached them for him." The Garbha [Sūtra] says: "The Buddha, from within his golden coffin, put forth a golden arm, and once more, for Ānanda's sake, manifested the sign of entering the womb, so that he might hear all the sūtras" — how much more so, then, might he have heard sermons given elsewhere? The present text says: "Ānanda, having received his prediction of future buddhahood, thereupon recalled his original vow, and upheld the Dharma of the buddhas of the past exactly as though hearing it now." This is the "causes and conditions" reading.

As for the reading in terms of the teachings: Ānanda "Joy," whose face was like the pure full moon and whose eyes were like blue lotus flowers, personally received the Buddha's teaching as water poured into an unbroken vessel, and transmitted it to convert others as though pouring it into a different vessel — this is "transmitting what was heard, hearing the Dharma." Ānanda "Joyful Worthy," abiding at the stage of a disciple in training, attained the aspirationless samādhi of emptiness and signlessness, so that his eyes, ears, nose, and tongue and other faculties were free of outflow — this is "transmitting and upholding what was heard-yet-not-heard." Ānanda "Keeper of the Canon," embracing and receiving all things, was like a great cloud holding rain — this is "transmitting and upholding what was not heard, yet heard." Ānanda "Ocean," the one of vast learning, was naturally able to understand what is permanent and what is impermanent; knowing that the Tathāgata, in his permanent aspect, preaches no Dharma at all, is what is meant by a bodhisattva fully endowed with vast learning — the great ocean-waters of the Buddha-dharma flowed into Ānanda's mind: this is "transmitting and upholding what was not heard, and was not heard." The present sūtra is upheld by Ānanda the Ocean, who holds the wondrous Dharma that is "not heard, and not heard."

As for the "trace and origin" interpretation: the four kinds of "hearing" described above are all traces used to draw beings in, while his fundamental ground is inconceivable (and so on).

As for the "contemplation of mind" reading: to contemplate dharmas of causes and conditions is to contemplate "hearing what is heard"; to contemplate emptiness is to contemplate "hearing what is not heard"; to contemplate the provisional is to contemplate "not hearing what is heard"; to contemplate the middle is to contemplate "not hearing what is not heard" (and so on). To contemplate all this in a single thought-moment is the wondrous contemplation (and so on).

As for "at one time": Sengzhao says, "the time when the Dharma King set his teaching into motion, the occasion of the auspicious gathering" — this is the mundane-siddhānta reading. The Śāstra says, "kāla is 'real time,'" indicating the time proper to the disciples within the community — such as mealtime, the time for putting on robes — this is the individual-siddhānta reading. "The word samaya is 'conventional time,'" used to refute the false views of non-Buddhists — this is the therapeutic-siddhānta reading. When the time coincides with the attainment of the path, this is the ultimate-meaning siddhānta (and so on). If the assembly ranges from the seeing of the truths up through those still below the stage beyond learning, this is called the "lower one time"; if the three kinds of persons of the three vehicles together enter the ultimate meaning, this is called the "middle one time"; if they have ascended to the bodhisattva grounds and above, this is called the "upper one time"; if they have reached the first abiding and above, this is called the "upper-upper one time." The present sūtra is an instance of the "upper-upper one time" — this is the analysis in terms of the teachings.

As for trace and origin: all the aforementioned "one times" are trace; the "one time" of the truly attained, distant past is origin.

As for the "contemplation of mind" reading: to contemplate the mind first as empty, then as provisional, and finally as the middle, is sequential contemplation of mind; to contemplate the mind as simultaneously empty, provisional, and the middle, is the perfect and wondrous contemplation of mind.

As for "Buddha": at the beginning of an eon there is no illness, while at an eon's end illness abounds; in ages of long life there is happiness, in ages of short life there is suffering. The eastern continent is wealthy and long-lived; the western continent abounds in pearls, jewels, cattle, and sheep; the northern continent is without a sense of self and without ministers or subjects — in such times and places, the conditions do not draw forth a buddha's appearance. It is at the time of an eighty-thousand-year lifespan, or a hundred-year lifespan, in the southern continent, where the fruit is not yet seen and the causes must still be cultivated, that a buddha appears in that land. The Licchavi said: "The land of Magadha is like a great pool, and the Buddha's appearing in that land is like a great lotus flower." Anuttara said: "The Buddha regards all sentient beings equally, without distinction; it is you who, indulging and drowning in the five desires, fail to see the Buddha — it is not that the Buddha abandons you and leaves Magadha." These are all mundane-siddhānta readings. If the sun does not rise, then the lotuses in the pool — whether not yet sprouted or already sprouted — will alike wither and die without doubt; if the Buddha appears in the world, then there will be kṣatriyas, brāhmaṇas, householders, the Four Heavenly Kings, and on up to the gods of the Peak of Existence who benefit — this is the individual-siddhānta reading. Those of the three vehicles' capacities draw forth the Buddha's appearance in the world, while others cannot draw it forth; through it, beings skillfully sever the seeds of rebirth at the Peak of Existence and forever cross beyond the stream of birth and death — this is the therapeutic-siddhānta reading. The Buddha, with respect to the nature of dharmas, neither moves nor emerges, yet he is able to make sentient beings perceive him as though moving and emerging, while in the Tathāgata himself there is truly no movement or emergence — this is the ultimate-meaning siddhānta reading. All of these are the "causes and conditions" exegesis.

"Buddha" means "the awakened one," "the one who knows": beneath the bodhi tree, he knew and was awakened to the mundane and the supramundane, to their general and particular characteristics — his awakening to the mundane is awakening to suffering and its arising, his awakening to the supramundane is awakening to the path and cessation; and he is able, moreover, to awaken others. He whose body is sixteen feet tall and lives to eighty years, in the appearance of an aged bhikṣu, and who, beneath the bodhi tree, in thirty-four mind-moments extinguishes both the fundamental afflictions and their residual habits — this is the Tripiṭaka-teaching buddha awakening himself and awakening others.

He who bears the appearance of a bhikṣu yet manifests the sublime and distinguished body, and who, beneath the tree, in a single thought-moment corresponding to reality, severs the remaining habitual traces — this is the shared-teaching buddha awakening himself and awakening others. He who manifests solely the sublime and distinguished mark, seated on a lotus-blossom throne receiving the office of buddhahood — this is the distinct-teaching buddha awakening himself and awakening others. He who conceals the aforementioned three marks and shows only the inconceivable mark like empty space — this is the perfect-teaching buddha awakening himself and awakening others. Hence the sūtra says: "Some see the Tathāgata's sixteen-foot body; some see a small body, or a great body; some see him seated on a lotus throne, expounding the mind-ground Dharma to hundreds and thousands of Śākyamunis; some see his body as identical to empty space, pervading the dharma-realm without distinction" — this is precisely that meaning. This constitutes the analysis in terms of the teachings.

As for the "trace and origin" reading: the one ultimate buddha is the origin, and the other three buddhas described above are trace; in the interval, the repeated proclamations of birth and repeated proclamations of extinction are all trace — only the fundamental ground is origin, and there all four buddhas described are origin.

As for the "contemplation of mind" reading: to contemplate the mind that arises from causes and conditions first as empty, then as provisional, and finally as the middle, is in every case a partial awakening; to contemplate the mind as simultaneously empty, provisional, and the middle, is the perfect awakening (and so on).

As for "abiding": there is the subject that abides and the object in which it abides — the object abided in is this land of endurance (Sahā), namely Rājagṛha; the subject that abides is manifest through the four bodily postures, abiding in the world without yet passing into extinction — this is the mundane-siddhānta "causes and conditions" reading of "abiding." Furthermore, "abiding" can mean abiding in the ten good paths of action, abiding in the four dhyānas — this is the individual-siddhānta "causes and conditions" reading of "abiding." Furthermore, "abiding" can mean abiding in the three samādhis — the therapeutic-siddhānta "causes and conditions" reading of "abiding." Furthermore, "abiding" can mean abiding in the Śūraṅgama samādhi — this is the ultimate-meaning-siddhānta "causes and conditions" reading of "abiding" (and so on).

As for the teachings: the Tripiṭaka-teaching buddha, having given rise to true, untainted wisdom through the gate of analytic contemplation, abides in nirvāṇa with and without remainder. The shared-teaching buddha, having given rise to true wisdom through the gate of directly comprehending emptiness in phenomena, likewise abides in nirvāṇa with and without remainder. The distinct-teaching buddha enters through the sequential gate, abiding in the secret treasury. The perfect-teaching buddha enters through the non-sequential gate, abiding in the secret treasury. For the first three buddhas' abiding, both the subject and the object are coarse; for the last buddha's abiding, both the subject and the object are wondrous. The present sūtra is precisely the perfect-teaching buddha abiding in this wondrous abiding.

As for the "trace and origin" interpretation: the Tripiṭaka-teaching buddha, responding to the need to demonstrate nirvāṇa, out of compassion manifests the trace of a born body abiding in the world. The shared-teaching buddha, through the compassion of his vow, sustains residual habits in order to save sentient beings and carry out the Buddha's work. The distinct- and perfect-teaching buddhas both, through compassion, are infused with dharma-nature, and out of pity for sentient beings manifest their response throughout the dharma-realm.

One should understand that the abiding of these four buddhas is grounded in the original buddha's abiding: it is out of compassion that he abides in this land of endurance, at Rājagṛha, manifest in bodily deportment abiding in the world — this is called the trace of "abiding."

As for the contemplative interpretation: to contemplate "abiding" with respect to its object — whether abiding in the object of impermanence, or in objects that are empty, provisional, and the middle — since it is by the dharma of non-abiding that one abides within the object, this is called "abiding."

As for "Rājagṛha": in India it is called Rājagṛhapura — "Rājagṛha" translates as "king's house," and "pura" translates as "city." The kingdom's name, Magadha, translates as "no harm," a land without punitive execution; it is also called Mo-jie-ti, which translates as "heaven-net" — "heaven-net" being a king's name, the kingdom having been named for this king, who was the father of Brāhmadatta "Spotted-Foot." Long ago, in a distant kalpa, this king ruled over a thousand lesser kingdoms. Once, while touring the mountains, the king encountered a female lion; his attendants scattered in fright, and he then coupled with her. Later, when the months were full, a child was born and left on the palace steps; the king, knowing it was his own son, falsely declared: "Since I have had no son, this must be a gift from heaven" — and he raised the child as crown prince. Because the child's feet were mottled, people of the time called him "Spotted-Foot." When he later succeeded to the throne, he was fond of eating meat, and ordered the kitchen never to let the meat run short; when supplies once suddenly ran out, the cooks took the flesh of a small child newly dead west of the city and served it as a dish. The king pronounced it delicious and ordered that this meat be provided regularly; the kitchen staff seized one person each day, and the whole kingdom fell into terror. The thousand lesser kingdoms raised armies and deposed the king, exiling him to Mount Gṛdhrakūṭa, where various rākṣasas served him, making him their demon king; he thereupon made a vow with the mountain god, pledging to capture a thousand kings to sacrifice to the mountain. He seized nine hundred and ninety-nine, lacking only King Universal Light; he later lay in wait and captured him as well. The captured king wept bitterly, regretting that although he had always spoken the truth in life, he had now betrayed his own word. Spotted-Foot released him to return to his kingdom; there he made a great act of giving, installed his crown prince, and then came back to face death, his form at ease and his mind at peace. When Spotted-Foot questioned him about this composure, he answered: "I was able to hear the sacred Dharma." Spotted-Foot thereupon had him expound it; the king broadly praised a compassionate mind and condemned killing and harm, and then spoke the verses on the four kinds of impermanence (and so on). Spotted-Foot, upon hearing the Dharma, attained the ground of empty equanimity — that is, the first bodhisattva ground. The thousand kings each took a drop of blood and three strands of hair to fulfill the vow made to the mountain god. Spotted-Foot and the thousand kings together built a city among the five mountains, making it their capital and a great kingdom; each entrusted his thousand lesser kingdoms to his own heirs, and the thousand kings took turns administering the affairs of the great kingdom. Furthermore, the common people, dwelling within the five mountains, built their houses seven times, and seven times these were burned down; the people deliberated, saying: "Because of our meager merit, our dwellings are repeatedly reduced to ash, while the king, having merit and power, has a dwelling that is never burned — from now on, let us all call our houses 'the king's dwellings.'" By this, they were spared from further burning, and hence the place came to be called "Rājagṛha." Another account holds that Spotted-Foot and the thousand kings together built their dwellings on this ground, hence it is called "King's House." Yet another holds that when Spotted-Foot attained the path he pardoned the thousand kings, and because the thousand kings were pardoned on this ground, the place was named "King's Pardon," and the sūtra-compilers borrowed the sound to write it with the characters for "house" and "dwelling." This account is drawn from the "Great Treatise" and various other sūtras (and so on).

As for the teachings: the Sūtra Resolving Doubts about the Semblance Dharma says: "What the whole great assembly sees differs — some see the ground of the sāla grove as nothing but earth, sand, grasses, trees, and stone walls; some see it adorned in pure splendor with the seven treasures; some see this grove as the place where the buddhas of the three times have traveled and dwelt; some see this grove as the inconceivable true dharma-body that is the very domain of the buddhas." By analogy, one may understand this same principle: the four ways of seeing differ, and just as it is with the object abided in, so it is also with the subject that abides. This constitutes the analysis in terms of the teachings. The trace-and-origin and contemplation-of-mind readings will be given later.

As for "Gṛdhrakūṭa": this translates as "Sacred Vulture Peak," also called "Vulture Head," also called "Wolf's Track." Emperor Wu of Liang said: "It is the 'royal osprey' that the poet invoked in the line 'the ospreys cry' in the Book of Odes." The Erya says it resembles a kite. Another explanation holds that the mountain's peak resembles a vulture, and the peak's shape gave the mountain its name. Yet another says that south of the mountain there is a charnel forest, and vultures, having eaten the corpses there, would then roost on this mountain, so that people of the time called it "Vulture Mountain." Another explanation holds that buddhas past and present have all dwelt on this mountain; after a buddha's parinirvāṇa, arhats dwell there, and after the Dharma's disappearance, pratyekabuddhas dwell there, and where there are no pratyekabuddhas, spirits dwell there. Since it is the dwelling of sacred and numinous beings — all told, these three kinds — it is accordingly called "Sacred Vulture Peak." There are five hermitages on it: Vaihārabṛṣa, meaning "Cave of the Lord of Heaven"; Saptaparṇaguhā, meaning "Seven-Leaf Cave"; Indraśailaguhā, meaning "Serpent-Spirit Mountain"; Śarpaśuṇḍikāprāgbhāra, meaning "Mountain of Solitary Strength"; the fifth is Gṛdhrakūṭa itself.

Question: When the kalpa-fire blazes forth and heaven and earth are utterly swept clean, how can buddhas of the past and buddhas of the present dwell together on this same mountain?

Answer: When the following kalpa is established, the original features reappear, and those who have attained spiritual powers, knowing the former name, apply it to the present mountain — just as, in an earlier kalpa, the surname of the Buddha's clan was Gautama, and this original surname was likewise applied in the present.

The exegesis of "mountain" in terms of the teachings follows the same pattern as the meaning given for "city" above (and so on).

As for the contemplative interpretation: the "king" is the king-mind, and the "house" is the five aggregates — the king-mind constructs this house. If one analytically breaks down the house of the five aggregates into emptiness, taking this emptiness as the city of nirvāṇa, this contemplation is still shallow, like merely seeing earth and wood rather than what they compose. If one comprehends that the house of the five aggregates is itself empty, taking this emptiness as the city of nirvāṇa, this is the shared teaching. If one contemplates the house of the five aggregates and sees that by the extinguishing of impermanent form one attains permanent form, and that feeling, perception, mental formations, and consciousness are likewise so, then these four virtues are forever the domain in which the buddhas dwell and roam. If one contemplates that the five aggregates are themselves dharma-nature, and that dharma-nature is without separately existing feeling, perception, mental formations, or consciousness, one sees that all sentient beings are themselves nirvāṇa, incapable of further extinction — this house, ultimately empty and still, this nirvāṇa, is itself the true and real substance of suchness (and so on).

As for the contemplation-of-mind reading of "mountain": if one contemplates the aggregate of form as insentient, like the mountain; the aggregate of consciousness as numinous, like the vulture's spirit; and the remaining three aggregates as the vulture's body — then to contemplate this "sacred vulture" as impermanent is the analytical contemplation; to contemplate this "sacred vulture" as itself empty is the comprehending contemplation. The numinous spirit corresponds to the illuminating cause, the adornment of wisdom; the vulture corresponds to the accumulating conditioning cause, the adornment of merit; and the mountain corresponds to the direct cause of dharma-nature — these three unmoving factors are called the "secret treasury." To abide within it oneself, and also to use it to save others — the text below says, "the Buddha himself abides in the Great Vehicle" — this is the twofold contemplation of the distinct and perfect teachings (and so on).

As for "amid" (i.e., "in the midst of Vulture Peak"): the Buddha favors the middle way — he descended to be born amid the heavens, at midday, into the Middle Kingdom, and passed into extinction at midnight — all of these signify the middle way; and now, dwelling amid the mountain, he preaches the middle way.

The exegesis of the co-assembled listeners falls into three groups: first the śrāvakas, next the bodhisattvas, and last the miscellaneous assembly — most sūtras follow this pattern. Older explanations give both a "factual" and a "doctrinal" account. In the factual account: the order follows outward forms and traces, near or distant. The śrāvakas' outward form has left the net of worldly life, and their trace is close to the Tathāgata, so that in bearing witness to the sūtra they are "close," and hence are listed first; the gods and humans differ in form and dress, and their trace is not one of attending as monastics, so that in bearing witness to the sūtra they are "distant," and hence are listed last; the bodhisattvas' outward form is not bound by monastic regulation, and their trace has no fixed place — being neither identical to the laity nor different from the monastic assembly, they occupy a position between the two, like a middle sibling between elder and younger, and hence are placed in the middle. In the doctrinal account: the śrāvakas delight in nirvāṇa, while gods and humans are attached to saṃsāra — each has its own bias; the bodhisattvas neither delight in nirvāṇa nor are attached to saṃsāra, but dwell in the middle seeking the true source, and hence stand between the two. The sense of the Śāstra is likewise so. This single explanation resembles two readings: the "factual" explanation resembles the "causes and conditions" reading, and the "doctrinal" explanation resembles the reading "in terms of the teachings" (and so on).

As for the "trace and origin" interpretation: the śrāvakas, secretly bodhisattvas within while outwardly manifesting as śrāvakas, have never truly clung to and confirmed nirvāṇa; the gods and humans, in reality all great bodhisattvas, are hardly indulging in and attached to saṃsāra — all of this is the trace drawing forth an appearance at the two extremes, while their origin ever abides in the middle way.

As for the "contemplation of mind" reading: the contemplation of entering emptiness from the provisional is the one-sided breaking of attachment to saṃsāra; the contemplation of entering the provisional from emptiness is the one-sided breaking of attachment to nirvāṇa; the correct contemplation of the middle way admits no such sequence of before and after (and so on).

The listing of the śrāvakas falls into two: first the bhikṣus, next the bhikṣuṇīs. The bhikṣus are again divided into two: first those listed as widely renowned, next those listed as less renowned — traditionally called "greater renown" and "lesser renown." Although there is no firm basis for this, the present commentary follows the text and makes this division accordingly. With regard to the assembly of the widely renowned, the exposition proceeds under six headings: first, their category; second, their number; third, their rank; fourth, praise of their virtues; fifth, the listing of their names; sixth, the conclusion.

First, as to category: they are all of the class of "great bhikṣus." It is like how, among the various regions, the noble and the humble each have their own ranks and cohorts. Here, all these bhikṣus are ones widely known to the assembly, of lofty renown and great virtue.

The Śāstra explains "together with" (in "together with the great bhikṣus") as meaning "in common," and sets forth "seven ones" to explain this commonality: one time, one place, one set of precepts, one mind, one view, one path, and one liberation. If one runs through the four teachings, each should have its own "seven ones": the Tripiṭaka teaching has one set of the seven ones, the shared teaching has two, the distinct teaching has innumerable, and the perfect teaching has one. If the origin has not yet been disclosed, then this passage properly refers to the "seven ones" shared by the Tripiṭaka and shared teachings, and one need only clarify how these two senses differ slightly: time, place, precepts, and liberation are the same between them, while mind, view, and path differ among the three; once one reaches the "opening of the three to reveal the one," one then gains entry into the perfect teaching's "seven ones."

The Treatise on the Lotus Sūtra speaks of four kinds of śrāvakas. Here, "those abiding in the fruit" are opened into two: those abiding in the fruit through the analytical method are the śrāvakas of the Tripiṭaka teaching, while those abiding in the fruit through the comprehending method are the śrāvakas of the shared teaching. "Those manifesting a response" are opened into two: those who, having ascended to the bodhisattva grounds, manifest a response, are the śrāvakas of the distinct teaching; those who, having ascended to the ten abidings, manifest a response, are the śrāvakas of the perfect teaching. "Śrāvakas of the Buddha path" are likewise opened into two: those who cause others to hear the Buddha path in sequence are the śrāvakas of the distinct teaching; those who cause others to hear the Buddha path without sequence are the śrāvakas of the perfect teaching. The meaning of "śrāvaka" is vast and manifold — how, then, could one judge it solely by those who merely bear witness to nirvāṇa (and so on)?

As for "great": the Śāstra, in explaining "great," also speaks of "many" and "superior." The bhikṣus' capacity and stature are held in such high regard that they are revered by heavenly kings and other great persons — hence called "great"; they have risen above and gone beyond the ninety-five heterodox paths — hence called "superior"; they comprehensively know the scriptures both within and outside the Buddhist canon — hence called "many"; and, further, their number reaches twelve thousand — hence also called "many." Here it is explained that they possess the great path, the great function, and the great knowledge — hence called "great." As "superior": their path is superior, their function is superior, their knowledge is superior — hence called "superior." As "many": their path is manifold, their function is manifold, their knowledge is manifold — hence called "many." The "path" corresponds to the mindfulness of true nature, greater than the omniscience claimed by the non-Buddhists; the "function" corresponds to the shared mindfulness, superior to the mere supernatural powers of the non-Buddhists; the "knowledge" corresponds to the conditioned mindfulness, exceeding the four Vedas of the non-Buddhists. As for explaining "great," "many," and "superior" in terms of the teachings: being "revered by great persons" and the rest is simply the exegesis within the Tripiṭaka teaching. In the shared teaching: "great" means being revered by arhats of great power; "many" means comprehensively knowing that arising-and-ceasing is itself the dharma of no-arising-and-no-ceasing; "superior" means surpassing the four approaches of the Tripiṭaka teaching. Furthermore, in the distinct teaching: "great" means being revered by arhats of great power who comprehend dharmas; "many" means knowing all the Buddha-dharmas as numerous as the sands of the Ganges; "superior" means surpassing the practitioners of the two lesser vehicles. Furthermore, in the perfect teaching: "great" means being revered by all the great bodhisattvas; "many" means knowing all the immeasurable dharmas of the dharma-realm; "superior" means surpassing all the other bodhisattvas.

As for the "trace and origin" reading: these great worthies have long been praised by the buddhas; in their origin they attained the samādhi of the Victory Banner, surpassing all the non-Buddhists, and had already accomplished the omniscience of the wisdom of all modes — as trace, they have come to assist the Buddha in carrying out his teaching, showing themselves as "great," "many," and "superior" within the affliction of love and views, in order to lead beings, as milk, into curds; then showing themselves as "great," "many," and "superior" within the Tripiṭaka teaching, in order to lead the curds into fresh cream; showing themselves as "great," "many," and "superior" within the Vaipulya teachings, in order to lead the fresh cream into refined cream; showing themselves, in the shift to the teaching of the Prajñāpāramitā, as "great," "many," and "superior" there — in order to lead the refined cream into ghee, they show themselves in the Lotus Sūtra as "great," "many," and "superior." Yet their fundamental, original "greatness," "manyness," and "superiority" exceed even this (and so on).

As for the contemplation-of-mind reading: the emptiness contemplation is "great"; the provisional contemplation is "many"; the middle contemplation is "superior." Furthermore, directly in terms of the middle contemplation: the nature of mind, vast and broad like empty space, is therefore called "great"; simultaneously negating both extremes and entering the sea of quiescent cessation is therefore called "superior"; simultaneously illuminating the two truths and embracing much within, one mind containing all minds, is therefore called "many."

As for "bhikṣu": Sengzhao says, "In Chinese it means 'pure livelihood,' 'one who begs for food,' 'one who destroys the afflictions,' 'one who is able to uphold the precepts,' 'one who frightens Māra,' and so forth — the single Indian term contains all these four senses, and since there is no single Chinese word for it, the original term is kept." Kumārajīva says: "At the outset, having left behind wife and children and household, one ought to sustain oneself by begging for food, purely maintaining one's life; ultimately, having left the household of the three realms, one must destroy the afflictions and uphold the precepts to guard oneself. Having both these senses complete, the heavenly Māra is frightened by the monk's having gone beyond his domain." The Śāstra says: "'Frightening Māra,' 'destroying evil,' and 'mendicant' — Māra delights in saṃsāra; when a monk has left the household and, moreover, converts others to do likewise, all of them leave the three realms, going against Māra's wishes; though Māra tries to use his power to restrain them, he instead finds himself bound by the five fetters, left only with sorrow and fear — hence 'one who frightens Māra.' One who leaves the household must destroy the seven evils of body and speech — hence 'one who destroys evil.' Now, there are three proper occupations for a householder — farming, trade, and government service — by which to sustain body and life; the Buddha does not permit these to one who has left the household, who relies solely on begging to sustain himself, so that his body is at ease and the path is preserved, and merit and benefit accrue to his donors — these three senses, taken together, constitute the meaning of 'bhikṣu.'" The Nirvāṇa Sūtra and the Ratnakūṭa both cite "destroying evil" as the meaning of "bhikṣu," without giving the full explanation. Here it is made clear that these three senses should apply throughout, both at the beginning and at the end of practice: just as, when one first leaves the household, through the fourfold announcement-and-motion ordination procedure, the power of the unconditioned precept pervades every domain, thereby countering unconditioned evil; when one first cultivates meditative concentration, giving rise to the precept coextensive with concentration, one guards against and subdues the arising of greed and anger in the mental sphere; when one first cultivates contemplative wisdom, giving rise to the precept coextensive with the semblance path, one is able to subdue the afflictions. The initial resolve, too, may be called "destroying evil" — why should this be reserved solely for the final stage? As for "frightening Māra": from the very moment of shaving one's head and receiving the precepts, Māra is already made anxious; cultivating concentration aims to subdue the afflictions, cultivating wisdom aims to destroy the afflictions — the initial resolve, too, makes Māra afraid; why should this be reserved solely for the final stage? As for "mendicant": from the outset, leaving wrong livelihood to sustain oneself by begging, cultivating meditation amid varied circumstances, seeking concentration, cultivating wisdom in reliance on principle, and seeking the untainted — all of this is "mendicancy"; how much more so, then, once practice and principle correspond, would one not be a true mendicant? Having all these senses, one is generally called "bhikṣu." The sūtra-compilers, in praising the assembly, praise only bhikṣus of the final stage — but this is entirely the sense of the Tripiṭaka teaching. If one seeks the truth by moving through varied circumstances, this is called "mendicant"; destroying the delusion that obstructs principle is called "destroying evil"; cultivating this practice frightens the four Māras — this is the sense of the shared teaching. If one seeks principle by moving through the three truths, this is called "mendicant"; removing the delusions addressed by the shared and distinct teachings is called "destroying evil"; frightening the eight Māras or ten Māras — this is the sense of the distinct teaching. If, directly within saṃsāra, one seeks the flavor of ultimate reality, this is called "mendicant"; comprehending that the afflictions are themselves bodhi is called "destroying evil"; understanding that the domain of Māra is itself the domain of the Buddha — this is the sense of the perfect teaching. If the origin has not yet been disclosed, then only the first two senses apply; once the origin has been revealed, the latter senses are fully present as well.

As for "trace and origin": in origin, these great bhikṣus have already ascended the peak of the mountain of nirvāṇa, taking leave of ignorance, delusion, and craving as their "parents," and of karmic bonds as their "spouse and children," going forth from the household of both segmental and transformational rebirth, having long ago eliminated the five categories of affliction — what evil remains undestroyed? Having attained true dharma-joy, they are like one who, having eaten the milk-rice gruel that ended the Buddha's asceticism, needs nothing further. Upholding the precept-pāramitā coextensive with the middle way, gathering sentient beings through the perfection of morality, they have subdued the domain of Māra, so that it is identical with the domain of the Buddha. Fit to guide and be guided, their fundamental merit has long since been accomplished; yet, in order to tame sentient beings, as trace they display themselves as bhikṣus across the Buddha's teaching in the five flavors, drawing sentient beings onward — this follows the same pattern as explained above.

As for the contemplation of mind: to contemplate the single thought-moment of mind as pure like empty space, unobstructed by the shackles of the two extremes, its impartial great wisdom without abiding, without attachment — this is called "leaving the household"; to sustain oneself by the middle-way contemplation, nourishing the life and wisdom of the dharma-body — this is called "mendicant"; to contemplate the afflictions of the five categories as themselves bodhi — this is called "destroying evil"; to see that all the distorted views at every extreme are nothing other than the middle way — this is "frightening Māra" (and so on).

As for "assembly": in India it is called saṃgha, translated as "harmonious assembly" — a single person cannot be called "harmonious," but from four persons upward it may be so called. Harmony in practice means there is no assembly apart from this harmony; harmony in Dharma means there is no principle apart from this harmony. The Buddha was constantly accompanied by twelve hundred and fifty persons: the three Kāśyapa brothers accounted for a thousand, and Śāriputra and Maudgalyāyana together for two hundred and fifty. Another account gives Yaśas's fifty disciples, making up the difference. The Saṃyukta Āgama, fascicle forty-five, says: "Among the five hundred bhikṣus, ninety possessed the three insights, ninety were fully liberated in both respects, and the rest were liberated through wisdom alone." The Śāstra distinguishes four kinds of saṃgha: those who do not rely on pure livelihood are called the "precept-breaking saṃgha"; those who do not understand the Dharma and Vinaya are called the "ignorant saṃgha"; those still practicing the five expedient means are called the "saṃgha with a sense of shame"; those from the patient acceptance of the truth of suffering onward are called the "true saṃgha." Among these, the assembly here is not of the first three kinds, but is solely the "true saṃgha." If one follows the four teachings, this saṃgha, having passed through the seats of the partial and perfect teachings across the five flavors, serves as the co-assembled witnesses of this sūtra — and here it is precisely the witnessing and confirming saṃgha of the perfect teaching.

As for the "trace and origin" reading: in origin, they are in harmony with the principle of ultimate reality, and further in harmony with the capacities and conditions of the sentient beings of the dharma-realm; as trace, they appear as the saṃgha of the "half-word," provisional, practice and principle, passing through the five flavors to draw forth the various sentient beings (and so on).

As for the contemplative interpretation: the beginning student, within the middle contemplation, enters the semblance contemplation; not having yet given rise to the true wisdom, he feels shame before the heaven of ultimate meaning and remorse before the sages — this is the "saṃgha possessing a sense of shame"; once contemplative wisdom arises, this is the "true saṃgha." Apart from these, there are the earlier two kinds of saṃgha: those who do not rely on contemplative practice are the "precept-breaking saṃgha," and those who do not understand the marks of contemplation are the "ignorant saṃgha." Here ends the topic of "category."

Second, as to the number: this is the twelve thousand persons. As for "trace and origin": in origin they are twelve thousand bodhisattvas; as trace they are twelve thousand śrāvakas. As for the contemplative reading: to contemplate the twelve sense-bases — each base contains the ten dharma-realms, each realm in turn containing the other ten realms, and each realm-within-a-realm possessing the ten "suchnesses" — yields one thousand; since each base already yields a thousand, the twelve bases together yield the twelve thousand dharma-gates.

Third, as to rank: these bhikṣus are all arhats. The Ābhāsa Sūtra calls this "the worthy one"; the Ruiying [Sūtra] calls it "the true person" — both are exegeses of "arhat" in the sense of "no-arising." In the traditional translation, the term is rendered as "without attachment," "no-arising," and "worthy of offerings" — or it is said to admit of no single translation, the name containing all three senses. Freed from the husk of ignorance, in future ages he no longer undergoes the fruits and effects of birth and death in the karmic field — hence "no-arising"; the ninety-eight proclivities of affliction being exhausted, he is called "killer of the thief" of affliction; endowed with the merit of wisdom and its severing of delusion, fit to be a field of merit for humans and gods, he is called "worthy of offerings." Containing these three senses, the term explains "arhat." Another account holds that at the very outset of learning "no-arising," arising is not yet no-arising; though at first one "frightens Māra," Māra is not yet greatly frightened; though at first one is a "mendicant," one is not yet manifestly "worthy of offerings"; only now, having attained the patient acceptance of no-arising and utterly destroyed the thief of affliction, does one become a good field of merit — this explains the three senses of "arhat" by pairing effect against cause. If discussing accomplishment, one should take the three senses in terms of the effect; if extending this to the beginning of practice as well, one may also take the three senses in terms of the cause — but such explanations belong entirely to the sense of the Tripiṭaka and shared teachings. In the distinct and perfect teachings, the meaning is otherwise: it is not only "killing the thief" of affliction, but also "killing the non-thief" — the "non-thief" being nirvāṇa itself, which, too, must be transcended, and this too is the sense of "killing the thief." It is "not arising with respect to arising," and also "not arising with respect to non-arising" — the untainted itself is "no-arising"; and it is not only "worthy of offerings," but also itself "offering in response" — all sentient beings being worthy of offering-and-response. All of this praises the virtue of the first bodhisattva ground or the first abiding.

As for "trace and origin": in origin, these arhats have attained the samādhi of non-reception, unattached to either extreme — hence called "no-arising"; having severed the delusions of the five categories, they are called "killer of the thief"; being able to bring benefit and blessing to sentient beings across the nine realms, they are "worthy of offerings" — this is the meaning in terms of origin. As trace, through skillful means they save sentient beings, passing through the five flavors, appearing again and again as "no-arising" arhats — this is the meaning in terms of trace. Furthermore: in origin they are the dharma-body, as trace they display "one's own benefit"; in origin they are prajñā, as trace they display "no-arising"; in origin they are liberation, as trace they display "killing the thief" (and so on).

As for the contemplation of mind: the emptiness contemplation is prajñā, the provisional contemplation is liberation, the middle contemplation is the dharma-body. Further, as for the contemplation of mind: from entering emptiness through the provisional, the contemplation likewise has three senses, up to and including the contemplation of the middle way — it slays the thief of ignorance and does not give rise to the mind of the two lesser vehicles; to make offerings to such a person is to make offerings to the World-Honored One himself. The Vaipulya [sūtras] say: "To make offerings to the Buddha and to Mañjuśrī is not equal to sustaining, with a single meal, one who practices the Vaipulya teaching." The text below says: "The offense or merit of slandering or praising the Buddha is light; the offense or merit of slandering or praising one who upholds this sūtra is grave." Why is this?

The Buddha has no thought of food, having long since transcended the eight winds, unaffected by loss or gain; but one who sustains an upholder of the sūtra thereby preserves that person's very flesh, continues the span of his karmic life, nourishes his dharma-body, and increases his life of wisdom — hence there is merit in it. To slander such a person brings anguish and regret, and, if the right occasion is once lost, cannot be remedied — hence there is grave loss in it (and so on).

Fourth, as to the praise of their virtues: the text gives five phrases praising the three virtues described above. The Treatise on the Lotus Sūtra says: "The first phrase is general, the latter phrases are particular" — one should understand that all these phrases are, in fact, phrases praising the meaning of "arhat."

"All outflows exhausted, no more affliction" — these two phrases praise "killing the thief" above. "Outflow" refers to the three outflows. The Chengshi lun says: "It is called 'outflow' because it causes one to lose the path." The Vinaya says: "The deluded person, in creating karma, opens the gates of the outflows." The Abhidharma says: "Outflow means falling into saṃsāra." Though the Śāstra and the Vinaya use different words, they equally clarify the meaning of "outflow." It is precisely because the thief deceives and causes one to lose the treasure of principle, so that, impoverished and destitute, one creates all manner of evil karma and brings on the suffering of saṃsāra, losing the dharma-body, losing the life of wisdom, and losing this great treasure — all of this is the sense of "thief." One should not take this instead as praise in the sense of "no-arising." "Affliction" refers to the ninety-eight proclivities — the floods, the yokes, the entanglements, the hindrances, and the rest, which oppress and afflict the practitioner. Affliction is that which moistens karma into further rebirth; the karma of outflow is that which is moistened; once both the moistener and the moistened are exhausted, this is precisely the sense of "killing the thief" — how, then, could it be taken as praise in the sense of "no-arising"?

The single phrase "having attained one's own benefit" praises the virtue of "worthy of offerings": all the causes and effects of the three realms are called "other," while the merit of wisdom and its severing of delusion are called "one's own benefit" — since one's own benefit is fully complete, one becomes worthy of offerings.

"All the bonds of existence exhausted, the mind attaining mastery" — these two phrases praise "no-arising." The "existences" are the twenty-five realms of existence, the places of rebirth; the "bonds" are the causes of rebirth within these twenty-five existences. With the cause exhausted, the effect vanishes — this plainly praises "no-arising"; it should not be taken as praise for "killing the thief." Strictly speaking, an arhat should only have the bonds exhausted, not yet have existence itself exhausted; the phrase "existence exhausted" speaks of the effect in terms of the cause, meaning that its exhaustion is imminent.

As for "the mind attaining mastery": when concentration is complete, this is called mastery of mind; when wisdom is complete, this is called mastery of wisdom. Mastery of wisdom does not necessarily entail mastery of mind, but mastery of mind necessarily entails mastery of wisdom. Here, "mastery of mind" refers to one who is complete in both concentration and wisdom, one liberated in both respects; for such a person, rebirth is certainly exhausted — this confirms that this phrase praises the virtue of "no-arising." According to the Treatise on the Lotus Sūtra, this is called the "gate of arising from the higher into the higher," which is to explain the earlier phrase by means of the later. The Treatise says: "Because all outflows are exhausted, one is called an arhat; because the mind attains mastery, one is said to have the bonds of existence exhausted" — thus each phrase is explained, one by the next, in succession.

As for "trace and origin": "no-arising with respect to no-arising" is called great nirvāṇa — the source of the outflowing stream of affliction having long since dried up, such a one no longer falls back into the two lesser vehicles or the stage of an ordinary being — this is fundamental "no-arising." The merit of ultimate reality, the dharma-body and the wisdom that severs delusion, is called fundamental "own-benefit"; attaining the kingly samādhi, destroying the twenty-five realms of existence, and manifesting the true nature of self endowed with the eight masteries of self, is called fundamental "killing the thief." As trace, these arhats merely display the merit of the two lesser vehicles.

As for the contemplation of mind: the correct contemplation of the middle way does not fall into the outflow of either the empty or the provisional extreme, and the afflictions of both extremes are thereby extinguished; the mind able to perform this contemplation is called the "supreme concentration"; the jewel sewn into one's robe, the secret treasury, being one's own possession, is "one's own benefit"; when the correct contemplation of the middle way is achieved, the thief of the karmic bonds is severed, and since there are no bonds, "existence" too is severed; since neither extreme can bind the mind, this is called "mastery"; though affliction is present, it is as though there were none — this is the very meaning of "not severing affliction, yet entering nirvāṇa."

Fifth, as to the listing of names: the text briefly cites twenty-one venerable ones. All of the Buddha's disciples are complete in every practice, yet, concealing their perfect capability, each is named for a single virtue, in order to draw in beings of particular inclinations. The Ekottarika Āgama says: "Bhikṣu Kauṇḍinya was accompanied by those who shared the name 'elder'; those of great virtue kept company with one another; Śāriputra was accompanied by those of deep and keen wisdom; Maudgalyāyana was accompanied by those of great supernatural power." Each held sway in a single dharma, drawing in beings according to their particular inclinations. If one wishes to explain each name, one must know the corresponding practice; naming by virtue, the explanation will go through without obstruction in every case. Each and every arhat, in turn, will be given the fourfold exegesis (and so on).

"Kauṇḍinya" is his family name, translated as "Fire Vessel" — he was of the brahmin caste, whose ancestors served the fire-god, and from this his lineage took its name.

"Fire" carries two senses: illumination and burning. Where there is illumination, darkness does not arise; where there is burning, things do not arise — the family name is taken from this sense of "non-arising." "Ājñāta" is his given name, translated as "already known," or also rendered "without knowledge" — "without knowledge" does not mean without any knowledge at all, but rather knowing "nothingness"; in terms of the two truths, this is knowing the truth, taking the wisdom of no-arising as his name. The Sūtra of Immeasurable Life, the Questions of Mañjuśrī, the Abhidharma, and the Vibhāṣā all render it as "comprehending the original limit" or "knowing the original limit"; in terms of the four noble truths, this is knowing cessation, though most sūtras name it "no-knowledge," or else translate it as "attaining the path." The Ekottarika Āgama says: "Among those in my Buddha-Dharma of broad benevolence and vast learning, the first to receive the flavor of the Dharma is Bhikṣu Kauṇḍinya." Hence he was named "Ājñāta." As for his vow: long ago, in an age of famine, the Buddha, in a former life, transformed himself into a great fish with red eyes, holding his breath so as not to gasp, showing the appearance of death; five woodcutters were the first to hack at the fish's flesh with their axes. The Buddha then vowed: "In a future age, I shall save these five first." Having first vowed to bring them to no-arising, he is therefore called Ājñāta. Again, in the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, nine people were studying the path; five of them had not yet attained the fruit, and vowed to be the very first to awaken within Śākyamuni's teaching. Drawn by this original vow, he attained no-arising ahead of the others, and hence is named Ājñāta. As for "conduct": it is the conduct of wisdom arising and delusion being extinguished, the severing accomplished by wisdom. Now, through the long night of deep sleep, no one is able to awaken; before the sun's light rises, the morning star appears first. Bhikṣu Kauṇḍinya, the first to attain the wisdom of no-arising, is likened to the morning star at the very beginning of all lights — the wisdom of all people that shines forth has none before Kauṇḍinya, hence he is called Ājñāta. The very first to break the darkness is none other than the morning star; Kauṇḍinya is likewise so — the darkness of all people is dispelled with none preceding Kauṇḍinya, hence he is called Ājñāta. As to "preceding": when the crown prince abandoned his kingdom and renounced his throne to enter the mountains and study the path, his father the king, in longing concern, sent five men to follow and attend him — namely, Kauṇḍinya; Aśvajit, also called Vāṣpa, also Aśvaka; Bhadrika, also Mahānāman; Daśabala-Kāśyapa; and the prince of the Koliya clan — two of these were relatives of his mother, three were relatives of his father. The two maternal kin held that indulgence in desire was purity; the three paternal kin held that ascetic practice was purity. When the crown prince diligently practiced asceticism, the two maternal kin abandoned him and left, while the three paternal kin continued to attend him; when the crown prince gave up asceticism and resumed taking food, ghee, and warm water, the three paternal kin in turn abandoned him and left. When the crown prince attained the path, he first preached the four noble truths to the five men: he first taught two of them, and Kauṇḍinya's Dharma-eye became pure, while the other four had not yet attained it; the three as yet untaught went out to beg for food, and all six shared the meal together. He then taught the remaining three, and their Dharma-eyes became pure, while the first two went to beg for food, and again all six shared the meal together. At the third preaching, the five including Kauṇḍinya, together with eighty thousand devas, became free of dust and defilement; the five attained no-arising. The Buddha asked three times, "Do you now know the Dharma?" and they answered three times, "We have already thus understood." The earth-spirits proclaimed it, and the sky-spirits transmitted the news, on up to the Brahma heaven.

All declared it "already known," with Kauṇḍinya foremost among them: he was the first to see the mark of the Buddha's path, the first to hear the drum of the Dharma, the first to taste the fragrance of the path, the first to savor the ambrosia of the Dharma, the first to enter the stream of the Dharma, the first to ascend to the ultimate truth — attaining the path in Jambudvīpa before all other people, all other devas, and all other arhats. Hence the Sūtra of the Twelve Roamings says: "In the first year after the Buddha's attainment of the path, he saved the five men; in the second year, he saved the three Kāśyapa brothers; in the fifth year, he saved Śāriputra and Maudgalyāyana." One should understand from this that Ājñāta's precedence is thereby made clear. This is the "causes and conditions" exegesis.

As for the Tripiṭaka teaching's reading of "no-arising": blindness is likened to the wisdom of no-arising, and the mirror to the object contemplated in no-arising — that is, the aggregates, sense-bases, and elements. The head and the other five parts of the body reflected are likened to present causes, and the reflected image is likened to the future effect. If one opens the eyes and picks up the mirror, a form arises corresponding to the reflected image, and, being deluded, one does not sever attachment to it; if one closes the eyes as though blind, then nothing is seen. Not seeing the six parts is the "non-arising" of the cause; not seeing the mirror-image is the "non-arising" of the effect. Hence the Āgama Sūtra says: "If one holds that form exists, that form is pure, then this 'purity' is itself arising, not non-arising; if one holds that feeling, perception, mental formations, and consciousness exist, that consciousness is pure, then this 'purity' is itself arising, not non-arising; if one holds that feeling exists, that feeling is pleasure, then this 'pleasure' is itself arising, not non-arising — and so on up to form, holding that form is pleasure, then this 'pleasure' is arising, not non-arising; if one supposes that perception and mental formations exist, that mental formations are the self, then this 'self' is arising, not non-arising — and so on up to form, supposing that form is the self, then this 'self' is arising, not non-arising; if one supposes that consciousness exists, that consciousness is permanent, then this 'permanence' is arising, not non-arising — and so on up to form, supposing that form is permanent, then this 'permanence' is arising, not non-arising." It is like grasping a mirror and seeing one's face: the face reflected is arising, not non-arising; so too, if one holds that the five aggregates exist, this is entirely arising, not non-arising. But if one is able to know that form is not pure, and so on up to that consciousness is not permanent, and further is able to know that form is impermanent, suffering, empty, and impure, and so on up to that consciousness is impermanent, suffering, without self, and impure — this is "non-arising," not "arising." It is like the blind man holding the mirror and not seeing the image arise — this is "non-arising," not "arising." Having thus known non-arising, how could one still, within this, suppose that the self is form, that the self is different from form, that the self is within form, or that form is within the self? And so it is likewise for consciousness. Contemplating in this way, the present cause and the future effect are both, entirely, non-arising — like the blind man before the mirror, not seeing any image — this is called the contemplative wisdom of the non-arising of the aggregates.

As for the contemplation of the sense-bases and elements: whatever is called an "ocean," however deep and vast, still has a near shore and a far shore — it is, after all, but a small body of water by comparison. But when the eye, having seen form, gives rise to craving, attachment, and delight, and thereby generates karma of body, speech, and mind, this is the true great ocean, in which all the worldly devas, humans, and asuras are drowned. One should understand that the eye is the great ocean, form is its surging waves, craving for this form is its whirling eddies; within it, the arising of unwholesome thoughts is the ocean's fierce fish and dragons, the arising of jealousy and malice is its male rākṣasas, the arising of defiled craving is its female demons, and the resulting karma of body, speech, and mind is like drinking the brine and drowning oneself. This is how, from the eye's ignorance regarding form, ignorance and craving arise; from craving's arising, there is what is called "volitional formation"; from formation's arising, there is what is called "karma"; karma binds consciousness, which then enters the intermediate state — this is the arising of "consciousness"; the receiving of the fetal state, before the five swellings of the embryo are formed, is the arising of "name-and-form"; once the five swellings are formed, this is the arising of the "six sense-bases"; when the six sense-bases are not yet able to distinguish suffering from pleasure, this is called the arising of "contact"; distinguishing suffering from pleasure is called the arising of "feeling"; giving rise to defilement toward sense-objects is called the arising of "craving"; seeking about in the four directions is called the arising of "grasping"; creating karma of body, speech, and mind is called the arising of "becoming"; being due to receive the five aggregates in the future is called the arising of "birth"; the future aggregates' changing is called the arising of "old age," and the future aggregates' disintegration is called the arising of "death"; inward heat of mind is called the arising of "sorrow"; crying out aloud is called the arising of "lamentation"; and the body and mind being distressed and trembling is called the arising of "suffering and vexation." This is what is meant by saying that, at the very moment the eye sees form, the great mass of suffering of the twelve links of dependent origination across the three times arises — it is not "non-arising." The ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind, and correspondingly the eye-element up through the mind-object-element, are likewise so — this is the arising of the sense-bases and elements, not their non-arising.

How, then, is there non-arising? When contemplating the eye and form, one does not plant the seed of suffering, does not give rise to the sprout of suffering, does not exude the foul fluid, and does not draw the maggots and flies; if the seed does not arise, then the sprout does not arise, the foul fluid does not arise, and the maggots and flies do not arise — hence this is called "non-arising." What is the "seed of suffering"? When the eye sees form and gives rise to thoughts of craving and aversion, this is the seed of suffering; dwelling on the dharmas of the five desires is the arising of the sprout of suffering; the six faculties grasping at the six sense-objects is called the flowing-out of the foul fluid; the competing arising of good and evil within the six sense-objects is called the maggots and flies. If one knows that the eye and form are impermanent, suffering, empty, and without self, then craving and aversion do not arise, dwelling on desire does not arise, grasping at objects does not arise, and good-and-evil conduct does not arise — this is "non-arising"; and it is likewise so for the ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind — and likewise for the eye-element up through the mind-object-element. Because Ājñāta was the very first to attain this Tripiṭaka-teaching wisdom of non-arising, he is named Ājñāta-Kauṇḍinya.

As for the shared teaching's contemplation of no-arising: it is like an illusory person holding an illusory mirror, bringing illusory bodily parts before the illusory mirror and beholding an illusory image. The image does not arise from the mirror, nor from the face, nor from the mirror and face combined, nor apart from the mirror and face; since it does not arise from any of the four propositions, it is neither internal, nor external, nor in between; it is not permanently self-existent, nor does it have any place of extinction; it does not go to the east, west, south, or north — its nature is fundamentally without arising, and this is not an arising that has been extinguished into non-arising, but rather non-arising from the very start; its nature is fundamentally without cessation, and this is not a cessation that has been extinguished into non-cessation. Being without arising and without cessation, it is therefore called "no-arising"; and feeling, perception, mental formations, and consciousness are likewise so. Furthermore, contemplate illusory form as like the image in an illusory mirror; contemplate feeling as like a bubble; contemplate perception as like a heat-mirage; contemplate mental formations as like a plantain trunk; contemplate consciousness as like an illusion. The illusion does not arise from the illusory object, nor from the illusionist, nor from the object and illusionist combined, nor apart from the object and illusionist; seeking the arising of the illusion through the four propositions, its arising has no origin; seeking the extinction of the illusion in the four directions, its extinction has no destination; its nature is fundamentally without arising — not an arising extinguished into non-arising; its nature is fundamentally without cessation — not a cessation extinguished into non-cessation. Being without arising and without cessation, it is therefore called "no-arising." Contemplate the faculties and sense-objects — the village where the bandit of the karmic bond lodges — as, from the very beginning, one and all unreal, arising only because of false imagining; the mechanism of karmic power is provisionally taken as an empty gathering-place; the very substance and nature of ignorance is fundamentally non-existent, existing only through the coming together of false imagining and conditions — its existence being fundamentally non-existence, conditions bring about all things, and the suffering of karmic affliction is like a whirling wheel of fire. To contemplate its fundamental non-existence, in every respect as explained above, is the sense of the shared teaching (and so on). ◎

As for the wisdom of non-arising according to the distinct teaching: the mirror is a metaphor for the dharma-realm, and the eye a metaphor for the wisdom that contemplates it. Blue, yellow, red, white, and small, large, short, long are metaphors for the ten dharma-realms: blue is a metaphor for the causes and effects of the hells, yellow for those of the hungry ghosts, red for those of the animals, white for those of humans and gods; the small form-image is a metaphor for the causes and effects of the two vehicles, the large form-image for the causes and effects of bodhisattvas of the shared teaching, the short form-image for the causes and effects of bodhisattvas of the distinct teaching, and the long form-image for the causes and effects of the buddhas — all distinguished within the mirror without error. If one wishes to rectify oneself, one causes the nine lesser causes-and-effects not to arise and the one true cause-and-effect to arise; if one wishes to rectify others, one likewise causes their nine causes-and-effects not to arise and their one cause-and-effect to arise. Relying on the dharma-realm, one carries out the conduct of bodhi: in due order, one first uses the analytical contemplation of substance to cut off the arising born of the four abodes of affliction, causing it not to arise; next one uses Buddha-dharmas numberless as the sands of the Ganges to cut off the afflictions of adventitious dust, causing nescience not to arise; and finally one uses the wisdom of ultimate reality to cut off fundamental ignorance, causing the root itself not to arise. Where the four abodes of affliction are absent, fragmentary birth-and-death does not arise; where nescience is absent, the birth-and-death of skillful means does not arise; where fundamental ignorance is absent, the birth-and-death of true recompense does not arise — arising itself does not arise, and non-arising, too, does not arise; hence it is called non-arising. This is what is meant by the wisdom of non-arising according to the distinct teaching.

As for the wisdom of non-arising according to the perfect teaching: one contemplates the roundness of the mirror itself, without regard to its back or its face, without regard to the images it reflects — neither back nor darkness, neither face nor brightness; one does not seize upon its various contours, nor upon the various images set within its frame, but contemplates only its roundness, which has no boundary or edge, no beginning or end, no brightness or darkness, and no distinction of sameness or difference. This is a metaphor for the perfect contemplation, which does not seize upon the characteristics of the ten dharma-realms — there is no good or evil, no false or true, no small or large, and so forth; all such distinctions are effaced. One instead takes as one's object the true reality of all dharmas, the dharma-nature that is itself the Buddha-dharma: whether it be form or fragrance, none of it is other than true reality. Contemplating that the arising of afflictions and karma is itself non-arising — non-arising itself does not arise — this is called non-arising. The suffering of the aggregates, sense-fields, and elements is itself the dharma-body; it is called the dharma-body not because it is manifest, but because obstruction itself is the dharma-body. Greed, hatred, and delusion are themselves prajñā; it is called prajñā not because it illuminates, but because, having nothing that it need illuminate, its nature is of itself luminous. The bondage of karmic action is itself called liberation, not because bondage is severed and liberation thereby attained, nor because there is any substance that binds or any agent that binds — hence it is called liberation. Liberation is itself the non-arising of karma; prajñā is itself the non-arising of affliction; the dharma-body is itself the non-arising of suffering. These three non-arisings are a single non-arising, and this single non-arising is the three non-arisings; being neither three nor one, it is called non-arising. How much more so, then, is this true of the afflictions, karma, and suffering of transformational birth-and-death, which are likewise nothing other than non-arising? This is the contemplative wisdom of non-arising according to the perfect teaching (and so on).

As for trace and origin: Ājñāta-Kauṇḍinya is originally, from the outset, non-arising — his is not a non-arising that has a beginning. In order to lead beings from the taste of milk to that of curdled milk, his trace was the non-arising of the initial teaching; in order to lead them from curdled milk to fresh butter, his trace was the non-arising of the shared teaching; in order to lead them from fresh butter to clarified butter, his trace was the non-arising of the distinct teaching; and in order to lead them from clarified butter to ghee, his trace was the non-arising of the perfect teaching. Yet in his true origin he abides in the gate of the letter A, which is to say, in the truth that all dharmas are from the outset non-arising. If one hears the gate of the letter A, one then understands that the meaning of everything is neither arising nor non-arising; and it is by manifesting traces to guide and transform beings that he can appear as either arising or non-arising. If sentient beings are able to comprehend the perfect non-arising, they become identical to Ājñāta himself — neither origin nor trace, neither arising nor non-arising — and the great matter of causes and conditions is thereby brought to completion. Hence the text below says: "Pūrṇa, were I to explain in full the various transformations, sentient beings who heard it would harbor doubt and confusion in their hearts" — this is precisely that meaning. The Āgama says: "Ānanda, holding a parasol and a lamp, followed behind the Buddha; Mahābrahmā, holding a parasol and a lamp, followed behind Kauṇḍinya." All of this is a manifestation of trace meant to reveal origin.

As for the non-arising of the contemplation of mind: it may be understood in terms of the threefold contemplation and its non-arising; there is no need to say more.

"Mahākāśyapa" is rendered "Great Tortoise Clan." In an earlier generation, an ancestor of his who was cultivating the way was answered by a numinous tortoise bearing a chart of the immortals on its back, and the clan took its name from this virtuous sign — hence "Tortoise Clan." The Tripiṭaka Master Paramārtha renders it "Light-Wave": an ancient sage's bodily radiance blazed so brightly that it could outshine all other light and make it disappear, hence "Light-Wave." He is also called "Drinker of Light," since Kāśyapa's own bodily radiance likewise outshone all things. His personal name was Pippala, or Pippalāyana, or Ti-pi-li — that is, the pippala tree; his parents prayed to the tree spirit and thereby obtained this son, and so named him after the tree. He was born in a village of the Vṛji people, and the villagers took this as his epithet; his family was extremely wealthy. The Ekottarika Āgama says: "In Rājagṛha there was a very wealthy elder named Kapila, whose wife was named Dhanā, whose son was named Pippala, and whose daughter-in-law was named Bhadrā; his household was a thousand times greater than King Bimbisāra's, and among the sixteen great kingdoms none could rival it as a neighbor." The Fu fa zang [zhuan yin yuan jing] says: "After the parinirvāṇa of the Buddha Vipaśyin, the golden luster of a stūpa image had worn away and been damaged. At that time a poor woman begged for a gold bead and hired a craftsman to beat it into gold leaf."

The goldsmith was delighted, and when he had finished burnishing and restoring the Buddha-image, the two took a vow to become husband and wife. For ninety-one kalpas, whether born among humans or among the gods, their bodies were forever the color of gold and their minds forever experienced bliss. In his final birth he was conceived in the household of a Brahmin of the Nyagrodha clan in the kingdom of Magadha; fearing to offend the reigning king by outdoing him, the family reduced the customary offering by one plow's worth, using only nine hundred and ninety-nine pairs of oxen with golden plows. The sūtra further says: "In that household there was a length of fine cloth, the very lowest grade of which was worth a hundred thousand taels of gold; when a nail was driven seven feet into the ground to test it, the cloth remained unpierced and undamaged, exactly as before. There were sixty storehouses of gold grain, each storehouse holding three hundred and forty bushels." A ku is a kind of granary. The sūtra also says: "Because in a past life they offered wheat-gruel to a pratyekabuddha, they experienced bliss a thousand times over as far as the Trāyastriṃśa heaven, and their bodies bore thirty of the Buddha's major marks." Speaking strictly of golden color: even Jāmbūnada gold, lying at the bottom of murky water, shines through to the water's surface, yet in darkness its light is extinguished — whereas Kāśyapa's own bodily radiance surpassed even this gold, his light illuminating a full yojana. He lacked two of the marks — presumably the white ūrṇā curl and the uṣṇīṣa crown-protuberance. Hence, when the devas entreated him at the time of the First Council, they praised him, saying: "Elder in years, his anger and pride now gone, his form is like a pillar of purple gold; from head to foot dignified and unmatched in splendor, his eyes are bright and pure as the lotus flower." He gave up his family estate; and though he had taken a wife whose complexion, too, was of gold, they lay side by side without desire between them, and he renounced the household life to go forth. His body was clothed in a priceless jeweled robe, which he cut and made into a saṃghāṭī, folded fourfold and offered to the Buddha as a seat. To renounce in this threefold way is without equal in the world — this is called the greatness of renunciation.

In the village of the Vṛjis, he encountered the Buddha and offered his jeweled robe; the Buddha in turn gave him a great robe of discarded rags. This robe was the great robe of the great sage, and moreover it was neither coarse nor heavy; hence Kāśyapa said: "Having received the Buddha's robe, I regard it with the thought 'teacher,' with the thought 'stūpa' — never have I used it as a pillow for my head, still less have I lain covered by it. Such a great robe greatly advances my practice." Hence this is called the greatness of receiving.

Among the Buddha's disciples there were many named Kāśyapa — such as the ten-powers Kāśyapa, and the three Kāśyapa brothers — all of them great men; but among all those who shared this name he was the most senior, and so he alone is designated "Mahā," Great, Kāśyapa. In the village of the Vṛjis, he first heard from the Buddha the teachings of the higher morality, concentration, and wisdom, and thereupon attained the state without outflows. He undertook the practice of alms-begging and carried out the twelve dhūta ascetic practices, and even as he grew old he would not give them up. Later the Buddha said to him: "You are advanced in years; you may now give up begging for alms and return to the assembly to receive food, and you may give up the coarse and heavy robe of discarded rags for the plain-colored, light robe of a householder." Kāśyapa replied to the Buddha: "Had the Buddha not appeared in the world, I would myself have become a pratyekabuddha, practicing the dhūta austerities to the end of my life. I dare not now abandon what I have long practiced in favor of something else — and moreover, I do this to serve as a beacon for ages to come, so that people of the future may say: 'The elder Kāśyapa, praised by the Buddha — I too should learn such difficult and arduous practice.'" The Buddha said: "Excellent!" This is called the greatness of practice.

The Ekottarika Āgama says: "Among those in the Buddha's teaching who practice the twelve dhūta austerities, difficult and arduous practices, Mahākāśyapa is foremost. Having long practiced the dhūta austerities, his hair and beard had grown long and his robes were worn, and when he came before the Buddha the other bhikṣus felt disdain toward him. The Buddha bade him come and share his own half of the seat, but Kāśyapa would not consent. The Buddha said: 'I possess the four dhyānas, in which the concentrated stilling of mind, from beginning to end, never diminishes — and Kāśyapa is just the same. I possess great loving-kindness that covers all beings, and your very nature, too, is compassionate in just this way. I possess great compassion that saves and delivers sentient beings, and you are just the same. I possess the four divine samādhis — first, formlessness; second, boundless intent; third, pure accumulation; and fourth, non-regression — and you are just the same. I possess the six superknowledges, and you are just the same. I possess the four concentrations — first, the concentration of dhyāna; second, the concentration of wisdom; third, the concentration of insight; and fourth, the concentration of morality — and you are just the same.'" The Ekottarika Āgama also says: "A certain Brahmin said to the Buddha, 'Yesterday a Brahmin came to my house — who was it?' The Buddha pointed to Kāśyapa. The Brahmin asked again, 'But this is a monk, not a Brahmin.' The Buddha said, 'The discipline of monks and the discipline of Brahmins — I know them both, and Kāśyapa knows them both as well. Kāśyapa's merit is no different from my own; why then should he not sit beside me?' When the assembled bhikṣus heard the Buddha's praise, their hair stood on end in astonishment."

The Buddha then recounted the causal circumstance behind this: long ago there was a sage-king named Mandhātṛ, whose talent and ability had no peer, and whose virtue Śakra, Lord of the Gods, himself admired. Śakra sent a thousand chariots to build a gate-tower and welcome the king, coming out himself to receive him and sit together with him as an equal; and after they had enjoyed each other's company, he sent the king back to his own palace. "Long ago Kāśyapa, using the seat of birth-and-death, bade me sit beside him as an equal; now that I have become a Buddha, I repay his former merit by using the seat of the true Dharma" — and when Kāśyapa sat beside the Buddha, all the gods and men alike called him the Buddha's teacher. On another occasion, Kāśyapa together with Ānanda taught the Dharma to the bhikṣuṇīs. One bhikṣuṇī, displeased, said: "A needle-peddler's child is selling needles in front of the needle-maker!" Kāśyapa said to Ānanda: "This bhikṣuṇī takes you for the needle-maker, and me for the needle-peddler's child." Kāśyapa then said to the nun: "The Buddha taught the Sūtra of the Moon Simile, saying that one who daily grows and increases, ever as if newly learning, is none other than Mahākāśyapa — have you heard this? That in the great assembly he was given half the seat — have you heard this? That in the great assembly the Buddha praised him as equal to the Buddha's own vast and great merit — have you heard this? How, then, can this man be a needle-peddler's child?" Instances such as these are cases in which he was affirmed and sealed by the Buddha as great.

As for the greatness of rank: he was great among the great assembly, great among the twelve hundred and fifty, great among the five hundred, and great among the four great disciples; he served as abbot over five mountain monasteries and as the presiding elder in charge of affairs throughout Jambudvīpa. Hence this is called the greatness of rank.

After the Buddha's body was cremated, four Pāṭala trees grew up on the site of the pyre — this signifies that Kāśyapa compiled the Dharma accumulated over three asaṃkhyeya kalpas into the Tripiṭaka and the four Āgamas. The preface by Sengzhao says: "The ultimate source is beyond all names and designations; sages and worthies abide in it through profound silence. Yet its mysterious purport cannot be transmitted without words, and so Śākyamuni established his teaching through them: with regard to body and speech he guarded them by the disciplinary precepts; to clarify good and evil he guided beings by the discourse-sūtras; and to expound the subtle and profound he distinguished them through the treatises on dharma-characteristics." This is precisely an explanation of the Tripiṭaka of morality, concentration, and wisdom. The Ekottarika clarifies the causes and effects of humans and gods; the Dīrgha refutes false views; the Madhyama clarifies the profound meaning; and the Saṃyukta clarifies meditative concentration — all of these are the achievement of Mahākāśyapa. If one speaks of the compilation according to its several parts, Ānanda recited and brought forth the Sūtra-piṭaka, Upāli recited and brought forth the Vinaya-piṭaka, and Kāśyapa recited and brought forth the Abhidharma-piṭaka. Hence this is called the greatness of the Council compilation.

After the Tathāgata's departure, the Dharma was entrusted to Kāśyapa, so that he could serve as a refuge for all beings, just as the Tathāgata himself had done. Why is this? As long as there are dhūta ascetics practicing austerities, the Buddha's Dharma will endure; if there are no such persons, it will not endure. Kāśyapa was able to bear the burden of the Buddha-dharma and cause it to abide long in the world; and it is only after he has, at the coming of the future Buddha, completed the transmission of the Dharma and the robe, that he will then enter extinction. Hence this is called the greatness of upholding the Dharma.

When Kāśyapa was about to withdraw into concealment, he first ascended to the heavens to pay reverence to the Buddha's hair-relic, and there taught the Dharma to the gods, saying: "Doing good, one is born in the heavens; doing evil, one sinks into the abyss. The five desires are impermanent, like dew upon a flower, which vanishes the moment the sun appears." With this he took his leave. The gods, weeping, lamented: "Those of the back alleys, poor and wretched, suffering hardship and infirmity, destitute and unsheltered — he was ever compassionate toward them. Now that he has left us and entered extinction, who will shelter and protect them again?" (and so on)

As for explaining the dhūta austerities in terms of the teachings — beginning with the Tripiṭaka teaching — the dhūta practices shake off twelve kinds of faults. Fine clothing brings the suffering of seeking it while one lacks it, great anxiety while one possesses it, and vexation when one loses it. The robe of discarded rags is free of the five fears of water, fire, theft, robbery, and royal exaction; and were one to keep many such robes, the labor of sewing, mending, washing, and carrying them would likewise be great — hence one keeps only three robes. Eating within the community of monks involves attending to and assisting in the community's affairs, and so one instead begs for food. Accepting leftover food or a light meal disturbs one and wastes one's time, and so one eats only once, sitting. Eating too much is hard to digest and induces drowsiness and sloth, while eating too little leaves one hungry and weak, and so one measures and limits one's food. Using many vessels for washing and carrying is a great hindrance, and so one eats from a single bowl. Because seeking out beverages involves exertion, one does not drink fruit juices. Because a dwelling gives rise to attachment, one dwells beneath a tree; and because even beneath a tree attachment may arise, one dwells instead among the graves; because dwelling among the graves is hindered by grief and sorrow, one dwells in the open; and because lying down dissolves one's diligence and increases indolence, one always sits rather than lies down. Of these, two concern the rule of robes, six concern the rule of food, and four concern the rule of dwelling.

Let us take, for instance, the explanation of the dhūta austerities with regard to alms-begging: when alms are easily obtained one feels joy, and when they are hard to obtain one feels anger; when one obtains good food one feels attachment, and when one obtains poor food one feels distress — such distress and joy arise dependent on form, and this is the aggregate of form; the experience of this distress and joy is the aggregate of feeling; grasping at the marks of distress and joy is the aggregate of perception; distress and joy themselves are the aggregate of mental formations; and distinguishing between distress and joy is the aggregate of consciousness. Distress and joy, as mental objects, enter through the mind sense-base into the three realms — and realms, sense-bases, and aggregates are themselves the truth of suffering. Reflecting, "I am able to beg for alms" — calculating a self or no-self, taking begging as the path or taking begging as real — such reckoning gives rise to affliction: praise brings joy and blame brings anger; that one can be reproached yet still feel this is doubt; not to understand is delusion. These are the ten fundamental afflictions, which, distributed through the three realms and the four truths, make up the eighty-eight proclivities constituting the truth of accumulation. If, within the practice of begging, one recognizes the four inversions — mistaking what merely seems continuous and unbroken for permanence, mistaking what is merely agreeable for happiness, mistaking what is merely the covering activity of the body for a self, and mistaking what is merely covered by thin skin for purity — then, recognizing these four coverings, one is free of the four inversions; diligently one wards off the two kinds of evil and cultivates the two kinds of good, and cultivates the four foundations of mindfulness, powers, faculties, factors of enlightenment, and the path — this is the truth of the path.

Within the practice of begging, if one does not reckon a self, then delusion is extinguished; because delusion is extinguished, craving is extinguished; because craving is extinguished, anger is extinguished; because anger is extinguished, one does not exalt oneself, and so pride is extinguished; because pride is extinguished, one feels no doubt when reproached; because there is no self, the view of self is extinguished; because the view of self is extinguished, extreme views are extinguished; not clinging to wrong practice as the path, attachment to precepts and vows is extinguished; not reckoning it as real, attachment to views is extinguished; not clinging wrongly, wrong views are extinguished. Because these ten are extinguished, the eighty-eight proclivities are extinguished; because the eighty-eight are extinguished, the bondage of the seed is extinguished; because the bondage of the seed is extinguished, the bondage of the fruit is extinguished; because the bondage of the fruit is extinguished, the twenty-five states of existence are extinguished — this is the truth of cessation. If, within the practice of begging, one does not see the four noble truths, one will for long ages circulate in the great ocean of suffering of birth-and-death; but if one is able to see the four truths, one attains the cutting off of birth-and-death. When birth-and-death is exhausted, one no longer receives any further existence — this is the contemplative wisdom of the dhūta austerities within the practice of begging; and the rules of robes and of dwelling are to be understood in just the same way. This is the dhūta practice of the Tripiṭaka teaching.

As for the dhūta austerities according to the shared teaching: taking as one's object true reality and realizing quiescence is itself one's dwelling; the wisdom of emptiness is one's food; performing every act with a mind that understands emptiness is one's robe. Since the nature of all things is constantly empty, there is never a time when it is not empty by nature; the dhūta austerities practiced through the wisdom of emptiness are all understood as illusory transformations, and deluded thoughts and every evil are stilled and no longer arise, since the mind and its mental factors no longer operate — because all this is unobtainable. Among all forms of accordance, accordance with emptiness is foremost; among all austerities, the practice of emptiness is foremost; among all dhūta practices, the dhūta of the wisdom of emptiness is foremost. This concludes the brief explanation.

As for the dhūta austerities according to the distinct teaching: one relies on the dharma-body as one's dwelling, and on the wisdom of prajñā as one's food; every act of adornment and covering becomes one's robe. This covering shakes off the evil of dark karma, prajñā shakes off the evil of affliction, and the dharma-body shakes off the evil of the suffering of birth-and-death. First one shakes off the affliction, karma, and suffering of fragmentary birth-and-death, and next one shakes off the affliction, karma, and suffering of transformational birth-and-death — this is the dhūta austerity of the correct contemplation of the middle way, which surpasses the austerities practiced by the two vehicles (and so on).

As for the dhūta austerities according to the perfect teaching: dwelling, robe, and food are but a single dharma, distinguished in speech as three. To shake off one thing is to shake off all things; to shake off all things is to shake off one thing; it is neither one nor all — and in every act of shaking off, there is nothing that is not true reality. This is the practice carried out by all buddhas, the practice of the Tathāgata himself, surpassing in purity the practices carried out by all bodhisattvas (and so on).

As for trace and origin: in his origin, Kāśyapa sits together with the Tathāgata in the principle of ultimate emptiness, has together attained the vast and great dharma-body, has together attained unobstructed wisdom, and has together attained immeasurable merit; inwardly he has abandoned attachment to the Dharma, and outwardly he is free of all defilement — inwardly and outwardly, his dhūta practice was from the outset already pure. Yet in order to lead beings, he manifests, at the taste of milk, the dhūta austerities within phenomenal practice; next, at the taste of curdled milk, the dhūta austerities within emptiness; next, at the taste of fresh butter, the dhūta austerities of the distinct teaching; and next, at the taste of clarified butter, the dhūta austerities of the perfect teaching.

As for the contemplation of mind: contemplating emptiness, one shakes off the grasping at marks; contemplating the provisional, one shakes off the afflictions numberless as dust and sand; contemplating the middle, one shakes off fundamental ignorance — within a single mind, one shakes off the five abodes of affliction all at once (and so on).

As for the three Kāśyapas — "Kāśyapa" is to be explained as before. "Uruvilvā," also rendered Urubilva or Uruvela, is translated "Wood-Apple Grove." "Nadī" is translated "River," or "Stream." "Gayā," also rendered Gayā or "Elephant," is translated "City-Home." This place lies seven yojanas south of Rājagṛha; at the time of the Buddha Vipaśyin, these three together erected a commemorative pillar there, and by this bond they became brothers. The eldest brother was teacher to King Bimbisāra and had five hundred disciples of his own; the two younger brothers each had two hundred and fifty disciples, following their elder brother's practice. The Buddha performed ten kinds of miraculous transformation for their sake: the venom of the dragon that dwelt in Uruvilvā's fire-hall could not harm him; the dragon's fire could not burn him; the waters of the Ganges could not drown him; he gathered fruit from the three other directions; he gathered rice from the north; he received sweet dew from the Trāyastriṃśa heaven; he knew when he was resented and would withdraw from sight; he knew when he was thought of and would appear; fire that had gone out would not rekindle at Uruvilvā's command, and an axe once raised would not fall. Many such auspicious signs were manifested at length; yet although he witnessed all these transformations, his false attachment remained unchanged, and he still said: "Though Gautama has spiritual power, it is not equal to the truth of my own path." The Buddha then said to him: "You are not an arhat, nor have you attained the path." At this he suddenly awakened, and both master and disciples submitted; his two younger brothers, seeing these signs, likewise took refuge in the Buddha — and so there came to be a thousand bhikṣus in all.

As for these three in terms of the teachings: the Ekottarika Āgama says: "Uruvilvā is foremost in being able to care for and protect the fourfold assembly, supplying the four necessities so that nothing is lacking; the bhikṣu Nadī is foremost in tranquility of mind, having subdued all the fetters, and in diligence; the bhikṣu Gayā is foremost in contemplating and understanding all dharmas without any attachment whatsoever, and in his skill at teaching and transforming others." This represents their significance within the teaching of the taste of curdled milk. Should one turn and enter the teaching of fresh butter, they would then be ashamed of the lesser vehicle and aspire to the greater — the pattern may be inferred. Should one turn and enter the teaching of clarified butter, they would then devote themselves fully to their task and receive the teaching. Should one turn and enter the teaching of ghee, then, as in this present sūtra, they receive the prediction of buddhahood.

As for trace and origin: these three abide in the three virtues — the grove signifies prajñā, the city signifies the dharma-body, and the water signifies liberation; this is their hidden, original treasury. Yet in trace, they rely upon grove, city, and water in order to deliver sentient beings.

As for the contemplation of mind: the correct contemplation of the nature of mind — the middle way, unmoving, is like the city that wards off enemies; unmoving yet moving, it is like the water that cleanses the inverted views of all extremes; illuminating both the withered and the flourishing at once, it is like the lushness of the grove. These three dharmas, sustaining one another, are precisely the brothers of a single, connected branch.

"Śāriputra" — given in full, this should be said as Śāriputra. It is translated "Son of the Body," and also, taking śāri to mean "pearl" — his mother, among women, was the most intelligent, and the sign of her intelligence lay in her pearl-like eyes; being born of this "pearl," he is called "Son of the Pearl." It is also translated by taking śāri as "body" — this woman had a fine bodily form, and being born of this "body," he is called "Son of the Body." People of the time made known the mother through the son, and so this epithet was formed. His father gave him his personal name, Upatiṣya, or a variant thereof, which is translated "Debate," since the father had won his wife through debate, and so, on the occasion of that debate, named his son to mark the father's own virtue. The Treatise says: "My name is Tiṣya; following my own name, my son was named, and so he was called Upatiṣya." Upa here means "following," and Tiṣya is the name of a star. Further, the syllable śā marks the father and the syllable ri marks the mother; jointly indicating both father and mother, he is called Śāriputra — putra meaning "son." His clan-name was Kauṇḍinya, and he was of the Brahmin caste. The Ekottarika says: "Among those in my Dharma whose wisdom is boundless and who resolve all manner of doubt, Śāriputra is foremost." Long ago — so the Jātaka sūtra tells — an uncle and his nephew were both

weavers. Learning of the king's treasury, they tunneled through the earth to steal from it and made off with a great store of treasure. The keeper of the treasury reported this to the king, and the king said, "Do not make it known — the thieves will surely come again; watch for them and seize them." When they returned, the nephew caused his uncle to fall in first and be caught; fearing that his uncle would be recognized, the nephew cut off his uncle's head. The king had the corpse placed at a crossroads where four paths met, so as to draw out the dead man's kin. Later, taking advantage of a crowd of merchants gathered noisily together, the nephew loaded two carts with firewood and hid the body beneath it. The king again set watchers to seize it, so the nephew, using children at play, had them cast it into a fire and burn it. He also held a feast and set out wine; when the watchers had grown thoroughly drunk, he filled a wine-jar with the bones and made off with it. The king, troubled by such cunning, sent out his own daughter to keep close watch, first warning her: "Seize and call out to whoever comes to the water's edge." The nephew floated a log on the water; the watching girl, taking it for a man, went to look, and found only a log. After several days of this, her vigilance relaxed, and by this means he was able to come and have secret intercourse with the girl. She seized hold of his garment to detain him, but he slipped free, leaving in her grasp the hand of a corpse, and made his escape; the girl cried out in alarm, and on looking found it to be only a dead man's hand. From this union she conceived, and bore a son of fine appearance. The king ordered a wet-nurse to carry the child out in public, with orders to seize whoever kissed it. The nephew, hungry and thirsty for several days running, came at last beneath a baker's oven; the baker gave him cakes, and he kissed the child. The king then had the child taken out again, and set out fine wine, and when the watchers had grown thoroughly drunk he took the child in his arms and fled, crossing over into another kingdom. The king of that other kingdom, admiring his cunning, offered him marriage to a minister's daughter, but he would not accept it; instead he was adopted as that minister's own son, and was betrothed to a princess of his own former kingdom, and the match was granted. Suspecting he might be the former thief, the former king arranged that the party of five hundred mounted horsemen sent to escort the bride all be dressed identically; and when they came to receive the bride, the former king recognized him, questioned him as the former thief, and, marveling at his cunning and deceit, nonetheless gave him his daughter in marriage. The nephew in this story is Śāriputra in a past life; the uncle is Devadatta (and so on).

As for his time in the womb: his father, Upatiṣya, whose learning encompassed all the classic treatises, once bound an iron plate about his belly and wore a crown of fire upon his head, and walked alone through Rājagṛha beating the drum of debate. The kingdom's preceptor Dāra, recognizing on his own that his former standing was now inauspicious by comparison, conceded the argument and, yielding, gave Upatiṣya his own daughter, together with a fief, in marriage. His wife dreamed that a man clad in armor, wielding a vajra club, shattered every mountain, and then stood beside a single remaining mountain. Waking, she found her body heavy with child, and asked her husband what this meant; he said: "The one you carry will defeat every master of debate, save one alone, whom he cannot surpass, and to whom he will become a disciple." Her brother was named Kauṣṭhila; he had always defeated his sister in debate, but now that she carried within her a man of wisdom, in debate she surpassed her own brother. The brother thought to himself: "This cannot be my sister's own power — she must be carrying within her a man of wisdom, who lends eloquence to his mother's very mouth. If this is so while he is still in the womb, how much more will it be once he is born!" He then left his household to travel widely in search of learning, with no time even to cut his nails, so that people of the time called him "the long-nailed brahmacārin" (and so on).

The two nāga kings Nanda and Upananda protected the city of Rājagṛha, sending rain in its proper season, so that the kingdom never knew famine. The king and his subjects held a great assembly each year, setting out three high seats for the king, the crown prince, and the master of debate. When Śāriputra, at the age of eight, arrived in person at the assembly hall, he asked the attendants about the three seats, and when they had answered him in full, he stepped past the assembly and mounted the seat of debate. The assembled scholars were all ashamed and unwilling to debate with him — to defeat so small a child would bring no glory, while to fail to surpass him would be a humiliation indeed! They therefore all sent their attendants to relay questions to him in their stead. His answers surpassed every question put to him, and one by one every opposing banner fell, with none daring to stand against him. The king and his subjects rejoiced without end, saying that the kingdom was about to know great peace, now that a man of wisdom had appeared in the world. By the age of sixteen he had mastered every text of Jambudvīpa, being versed in all things, learned in both the old and the new, and able to expound the deep and subtle with eloquence; in debate he was without peer among the sixteen great kingdoms, foremost throughout the five regions of India. He studied under the brahmacārin Sañjaya, and mastered every one of his teacher's arts and methods. His teacher had two hundred and fifty disciples, all of whom, through Śāriputra, were brought to accomplishment. As Sañjaya was dying he smiled with delight; when Śāriputra asked him why, he answered: "Ordinary people, lacking true insight, cling to what they love. I have seen that when a king of the Land of Gold dies, his consort casts herself into the funeral pyre, wishing to be reborn together with him in the same place." With these words he passed away. Later, Śāriputra met a merchant from the Land of Gold and, on inquiring, found this to be exactly true. Śāriputra, filled with regret, thought: "I had not yet exhausted my teacher's art, and he did not impart this teaching to me — was it because I was not fit to receive it, that my teacher kept it secret from me?" Knowing that he himself had not yet reached the ultimate, he sought out a still higher teaching, yet found no teacher fit to serve. Though he had not attained this one particular art, he was versed in every other, and among the followers of other paths he was foremost. On the road he saw Aśvajit, whose bearing and deportment were composed and dignified, and so questioned him about his teacher's Dharma. Aśvajit answered, saying: "All dharmas arise from conditions; it is for this reason that the Buddha speaks of causes and conditions. These dharmas, too, have conditions for their ending — thus does my teacher teach." At these words alone Śāriputra at once attained the fruit of stream-entry. He then came to the Buddha, and within seven days had fully penetrated the entire ocean of the Buddha-dharma. It is also said that after fifteen days he attained arhatship, and served as preceptor to Rāhula, with Gavāṃpati as the ordaining teacher, and became the disciple on the Buddha's right hand among the assembly of śrāvakas. When Devadatta caused a schism in the saṅgha and led five hundred bhikṣus away, Śāriputra went and converted the five hundred, bringing them back (and so on). In the contest of strength with Rāja-pralamba, when Rāja-pralamba became a lotus pond, Śāriputra became an elephant that plucked lotus blossoms and trampled the pond; when Rāja-pralamba became a yakṣa demon, Śāriputra became King Vaiśravaṇa — in every such transformation Śāriputra prevailed, and Rāja-pralamba was subdued. The Madhyama Āgama says: "Śāriputra is the mother who bears the fourfold assembly, and Maudgalyāyana is the mother who nurtures it (and so on)."

The Madhyama Āgama, fascicle two, says: "The bhikṣus keeping the rains retreat in that place praised Pūrṇamaitrāyaṇīputra, saying that he had few desires and was content, diligent and given to solitude, single-minded in right mindfulness, and possessed of the unafflicted wisdom, and they urged one another on by speaking of these same qualities. At that time Śāriputra, hearing this, thought: 'When shall I be able to see this man? When will he come to where the Buddha is?' Others told him: 'One who is fair of complexion, with a high nose and a beak like a parrot's — that is his likeness.' Later they met each other in the Andha Grove — meaning 'Grove of Victory' — and Śāriputra asked him: 'Worthy one, do you practice the holy life under Gautama?' He answered: 'I do.' Śāriputra asked further: 'Do you practice the holy life for the purity of morality?' He answered: 'No.' 'Do you practice the holy life for purity of mind, purity of view, purity in crossing over doubt, purity in knowing the path from the not-path, purity in the knowledge and vision of the path and its traces, or purity in the wisdom and severance of the path and its traces?' He answered: 'No.' Śāriputra asked again: 'A moment ago you said "I do," and now you say "No" — what is the meaning of this?' He answered: 'It is for the sake of nirvāṇa without remainder that I practice the holy life.' Śāriputra asked further: 'Is it, then, for the sake of purity of morality that you posit nirvāṇa without remainder?' He answered: 'No.' — and so on, up to: 'Is it for the sake of purity in the wisdom and severance of the path and its traces that you posit nirvāṇa without remainder?' He answered: 'No.' Śāriputra asked: 'What, then, is the meaning of this?' He answered: 'If one posits nirvāṇa without remainder on the basis of purity of morality, this is to call what still has remainder "without remainder"; and so too, if one posits nirvāṇa without remainder on the basis of purity in the wisdom and severance of the path and its traces, this too is to call what still has remainder "without remainder." If one is free of these seven, then an ordinary person would attain parinirvāṇa, since an ordinary person is already free of these seven. But because one is not yet free of them, one must pass from purity of morality to purity of mind, and on up to purity in the wisdom and severance of the path and its traces. Sir, hear me offer a simile.

It is like King Prasenajit, wishing to travel from Kośala to Sāketa, who set out seven relay chariots along the way: he left behind the first to mount the second, and so on until he left behind the sixth to mount the seventh. If a man of Sāketa were asked, "Did he ride in the first chariot?" the answer would be "No." "Did he ride, then, in the seventh chariot?" the answer would again be "No." "Was he then apart from these seven chariots?" the answer would again be "No." This simile answers your question.' Śāriputra then asked: 'Worthy one, what is your name — how do the practitioners of the holy life address you?' He answered: 'My father's name is Maitrī, and my mother's name is Karuṇā; the practitioners of the holy life call me Maitrāyaṇīputra.' Śāriputra exclaimed in admiration: 'Excellent! Worthy Maitrāyaṇīputra, a disciple of the Tathāgata, wise and eloquent, resolute, at peace and fearless, possessed of great eloquence and the banner of the ambrosial Dharma, having himself borne witness to the ambrosial — those who meet you gain great benefit, and every practitioner of the holy life should wrap you in robes and bear you upon their heads.' Maitrāyaṇīputra then asked: 'Worthy one, what is your name, and how do the practitioners of the holy life address you?' He answered: 'My father is named Upatiṣya, my mother is named Śāri; hence I am called Śāriputra.' Maitrāyaṇīputra exclaimed: 'Just now I was debating with one equal to the World-Honored One's own disciples and did not know it — debating with a second World-Honored One and did not know it — debating with the very general of the Dharma and did not know it — debating with a disciple who himself turns the wheel of the Dharma once turned by the Buddha and did not know it! Had I known who you were, Venerable One, I could not have answered even a single phrase, still less have engaged in such deep debate. Excellent! Excellent! A true disciple of the Tathāgata — I too should wrap you in robes and bear you upon my head' (and so on)." From a single phrase spoken by the Buddha, Śāriputra, taking that one phrase as his basis, roared the lion's roar for seven days and seven nights, bringing forth ever new phrases and new flavors of meaning without end or exhaustion — how much more so, then, given how much the Buddha himself expounded, could Śāriputra's wisdom and eloquence ever be exhausted?

The Madhyama Āgama, fascicle twenty, says: "The Buddha was at Lake Anavatapta, and the nāga king said: 'This assembly does not see Śāriputra here — may the Buddha summon him.' The Buddha ordered Maudgalyāyana to go to Jetavana and call him. Śāriputra was at that moment mending his patched robe of five pieces, and answered: 'You go on ahead; I will come after.' Maudgalyāyana said: 'I am the Buddha's own messenger — how can I go on ahead without you?' Maudgalyāyana then stroked the robe with his hand, and the mending was at once complete. Śāriputra thought: 'Maudgalyāyana is testing me for sport — I will test him in return.' He then threw the robe's cord upon the ground and said: 'Can you lift this?' Maudgalyāyana thought: 'Śāriputra is testing me for sport,' and exerted all his strength, yet could not lift it. Śāriputra then tied the cord to the jambu tree, and the entire single world-system trembled; he tied it to two, three, and four such systems, and the four-fold world-system likewise would not stand firm; he tied it further to a chiliocosm, a dichiliocosm, and a trichiliomegachiliocosm, and still it would not stand firm; and he tied it further to the very legs of the seats of buddhas in other directions, and the world-realms of the ten directions all shook without settling. Maudgalyāyana thought to himself: 'I am foremost in spiritual power — how is it that I cannot move this now? Can I have lost my spiritual power?' And so he urged Śāriputra to go on. Śāriputra answered: 'You go ahead.' Maudgalyāyana returned to where the Buddha was, and found that Śāriputra was already there before the Buddha. The nāga king, seeing the earth tremble, asked the Buddha the cause, and the Buddha answered: 'It was the power of these two.' The nāga king and the five hundred bhikṣus present felt a slight disdain toward Maudgalyāyana on account of this; the Buddha said: 'Śāriputra has mastery over the four bases of spiritual power, and Maudgalyāyana too has such mastery — that he could not pull it free was due only to the Buddha's own power.' He then said to Maudgalyāyana: 'Show your spiritual power.' Maudgalyāyana then gathered the five hundred bhikṣus within his begging bowl and lifted them up to the Brahmā heaven, with one foot planted on Mount Sumeru and the other reaching to the Brahmā palace; and remaining bodily in that place, he spoke verses that filled the great trichiliocosm, and the hearts of the five hundred were subdued (and so on).'"

As for Śāriputra in terms of the teachings: according to the Tripiṭaka teaching, his wisdom is precisely the ten kinds of knowledge of the one beyond training, cutting off the fetters and realizing the truth in order to assist the Buddha in spreading his transformative teaching — the Treatise, fascicle forty, calls him "the great general on the right," referring to exactly this. As for his wisdom according to the shared teaching: as the Perfection of Wisdom sūtras themselves explain the reason he is called a mahāsattva — namely, that he breaks through the view of self, the view of sentient beings, the view of Buddha, the view of bodhi, and the view of the turning of the Dharma-wheel — it is by breaking through views such as these that he is called a mahāsattva; and all the sages and worthies who declare their own attainments are unlike present-day people who make vain and idle claims. One should understand that Śāriputra breaks through not only the view of birth-and-death, but also the view of Buddha, of bodhi, of the Dharma-wheel, of nirvāṇa, and the like — and this wisdom differs from that of the initial teaching. As for his wisdom according to the distinct teaching: this should be distinguished with reference to the five flavors. If, from the very outset, one hears only of the flavors of milk and curdled milk and no other flavor, and, arousing the resolve, cultivates practice only within the framework of milk and curdled milk, this is the wisdom of the initial teaching. If one hears only of curdled milk, understanding that curdled milk does not depend on milk — that the nature of good and evil is itself from the outset empty, and that one need not, by cultivating good to destroy evil, extinguish form in order to grasp emptiness, but rather cultivates directly the very emptiness of all dharmas — this is the wisdom of the shared teaching. If, from the very outset, one has heard of ghee, and, for the sake of that ghee, milks the cow to obtain milk, boils the milk into curdled milk, turns the curdled milk into fresh butter, and turns the fresh butter into clarified butter, only thereby at last obtaining ghee, then the practice cultivated in this manner is precisely the wisdom of the distinct teaching. And if, from the very outset, one hears only that the cow feeds on forbearance-grass and directly produces ghee, and that whoever partakes of it is cured of every illness, all other medicines being subsumed within it, and cultivates practice on this basis — this is precisely the wisdom of the perfect teaching.

As for trace and origin: in his origin, Śāriputra abides in the mother that is prajñāpāramitā, the wisdom that fathoms true reality; wisdom is born from its object, and the object is itself the "body" while wisdom is itself the "son" of the name Śāriputra. Out of compassion for sentient beings, in trace he manifests through the five flavors. Wishing to transform the evil blood of affliction into the good milk of the teaching, he manifested as a master of debate among the heterodox teachings, becoming a great treatise-master; wishing to lead beings from boiling milk into curdled milk, he manifested the wisdom of the Tripiṭaka teaching, becoming a second World-Honored One; wishing to lead beings from curdled milk into fresh butter, though inwardly vast he outwardly appeared small, and accepted rebuke from Vimalakīrti; wishing to lead beings from fresh butter into clarified butter, he comforted and benefited his fellow practitioners of the holy life, receiving the teaching within the Prajñāpāramitā assembly; and wishing to lead beings from clarified butter into ghee, he attained his first awakening within the Lotus Sūtra itself. All of this is his outward manifestation within trace, while in his true origin he has, deep within, long kept secret his true reality.

As for the contemplation of mind: the threefold contemplation within a single mind subsumes every form of wisdom. Contemplating that mind is empty, one subsumes the wisdom of curdled milk; contemplating that mind is provisional, one subsumes the wisdom of the two butters as well as mundane wisdom; contemplating that mind is the middle, one subsumes the wisdom of ghee. This is what is meant, within the contemplation of mind, by "one wisdom is every wisdom, and every wisdom is one wisdom" — being neither one wisdom nor every wisdom (and so on).

"Mahāmaudgalyāyana" — Maudgalyāyana is his clan-name, translated "Praise and Recitation"; the Sūtra of Mañjuśrī's Questions translates it "Radish Root." Paramārtha says: "Mudgara is translated 'bean' — these two things, radish and bean, were favored by the ancient sages, and so the clan took its name from them." The Treatise says: "This was the surname of his father, a master of augury; his personal name was Kolita, from the kolita tree — his parents prayed to the tree spirit and thereby obtained this son, and so named him after it." He is also rendered Maudgalyāyana in other transliterations. The Sūtra of Past and Future Causes and Effects says: "There were many who shared the name Maudgalyāyana, and so 'Great' is added to distinguish him." The Treatise says: "Śāriputra was prized for his brilliant talent, while Maudgalyāyana was esteemed for his bold and open bearing; in wisdom and ability they were comparable, and in virtuous conduct the two were alike." The Ekottarika Āgama says: "Among my disciples, foremost in spiritual powers, in lightly rising up and flying to the ten directions, is Mahāmaudgalyāyana." The Treatise, fascicle forty-one, calls him "the disciple on the left."

A teacher of another path, together with his five hundred disciples, used spells to move a mountain; after a full month it had begun to shake and totter. Maudgalyāyana thought: "Should this mountain actually move, it will cause great harm." He then sat in full lotus posture in the empty space above the mountain's peak, and the mountain no longer moved. The heterodox teacher and his followers said to one another: "By our art the mountain was moving, and by our reckoning it should surely have shifted by now — why then does it remain fixed and firm, just as it was at the very start? This must be the doing of some śramaṇa." Recognizing that their own power was too weak, they turned their hearts toward the Buddha's path, and Maudgalyāyana thereby caused countless people to go forth into the true Dharma.

"Nanda and Upananda" were two brothers who dwelt in the sea beside Mount Sumeru. The Buddha would often fly through the air up to the Trāyastriṃśa palace, and this angered the nāgas: "Why does this shaven-headed man pass over us so?" Later, when the Buddha again wished to ascend to the heavens, these nāgas spewed forth black clouds and dark mist, obscuring the sun, moon, and stars. The bhikṣus all wished to subdue them, but the Buddha did not permit it. Maudgalyāyana said: "I am able to subdue these nāgas." The nāgas coiled their bodies seven times around Mount Sumeru, their tails stirring up the sea and their heads resting on the mountain's peak. Maudgalyāyana then manifested his own body twice as large, coiling fourteen times around the mountain, his tail reaching out beyond the sea and his head resting on the Brahmā palace. The nāgas, growing still more enraged, rained down vajra-hard sand; Maudgalyāyana transformed the sand into jeweled flowers, light and soft and delightful. Still their anger did not abate. Maudgalyāyana then transformed himself into a minute body and entered into the nāgas' own bodies, going in through the eye and out through the ear, in through the ear and out through the nose, boring and gnawing at their flesh, so that they suffered great pain, and only then were their hearts subdued. Maudgalyāyana then withdrew his body, whether vast or minute, back to its ordinary form, manifesting the appearance of a śramaṇa, and led the two nāgas to where the Buddha was. When Devadatta led away five hundred bhikṣus to become his own followers, Maudgalyāyana, disliking this, caused them to fall into a deep sleep, snoring like thunder and passing wind loudly; Kokālika kicked at them, yet still they would not wake. Śāriputra then taught the Dharma and turned back the hearts of the five hundred, and Maudgalyāyana bore them away in his own hands, and the saṅgha was thereby restored to harmony.

The Saṃyukta Āgama, fascicle twenty-nine, says: "The Buddha was at Śrāvastī on the fifteenth day, the day for the recitation of the precepts, yet the Buddha remained silent and did not speak. Ānanda made the request four times; the Buddha said: 'The assembly is not pure — I will not now recite the precepts. Let the elder, or whoever upholds the discipline and recites the precepts, do so instead.' Maudgalyāyana then entered samādhi and, contemplating who among the assembly was impure, saw the two bhikṣus Aśvaka and Punarvasu; he took them by the hand and led them out, shut the door, and again requested the Buddha to speak. The Buddha said: 'I do not speak twice — I will not now myself recite the precepts.' Maudgalyāyana said: 'Since the assembly was impure, I too will no longer serve as its overseer.'" "Jīvaka" is translated "Firmly Alive"; he was reborn in the Trāyastriṃśa heaven. When a disciple of Maudgalyāyana's fell ill, Maudgalyāyana rode his spiritual power to heaven to inquire after him, and encountered the gods going out to sport in their gardens. Jīvaka, riding in his chariot, did not descend, but only pressed his palms together in greeting. Maudgalyāyana stopped him, and Jīvaka said: "The gods, absorbed in their pleasures, are in such haste that they have no time to look upon one another — Venerable One, what is it you seek?" Maudgalyāyana explained in full the reason for his coming, and Jīvaka answered: "Fasting is what matters most." Maudgalyāyana then released him, and his chariot was able to go forward. Śakra, having triumphed in battle against the asuras, built the Hall of Victory, its towers and terraces of the seven jewels adorned with singular splendor, its beams and pillars and every joint holding but a single thread's width, unconnected and yet able to support one another — such is the wondrous power of heavenly merit. Maudgalyāyana flew there, and Śakra led him to view the hall; but all the heavenly maidens, ashamed before Maudgalyāyana, hid themselves away and would not come out. Maudgalyāyana thought: "Śakra is attached to pleasure and does not cultivate the root of the path," and so, by transformation, set the Hall of Victory ablaze, so that it collapsed in a sudden blaze; he then expounded at length to Śakra on impermanence. Śakra rejoiced, and afterward the hall stood again just as before, without any trace of ash or smoke. He also gathered the five hundred arhats within a net-bag, as was told before.

The Tathāgata's Brahmā-voice carries so far and deep that even at the greatest distance it sounds exactly as it does when heard close beside the Buddha. Maudgalyāyana, wishing to discover just how far it carried, found that no matter how far he traveled it still sounded as if heard nearby; and so, using his spiritual power, he flew past lands as numerous as the sands of the Ganges to the west, yet still heard the voice of Śākyasiṃha exactly as before, unchanged. He continued on and on without pause, until his spiritual power was spent and his body grown weary, and he happened upon another buddha-land where a great assembly was taking its meal together; he then rested, walking about upon the rim of a begging bowl. The people there were astonished: "Where has this tiny, worm-like creature come from?" That buddha said to them: "This is the foremost disciple in spiritual powers of a buddha called Śākyamuni, of a buddha-land immeasurably far to the east; he has followed the sound of that Buddha's voice all the way here — he is no worm." The Nirvāṇa Sūtra says: when the Buddha sought an attendant, his heart was already set on Ānanda, just as the morning sun in the east shines upon a wall in the west (and so on).

As for spiritual powers discussed in terms of the teachings: relying on the four dhyānas and the fourteen kinds of transformation, and on the unafflicted phenomenal meditations of contemplation, refinement, mastery, and cultivation, one is able to perform the eighteen transformations — this is the spiritual power of the initial teaching. Relying on emptiness to arouse wisdom, and cultivating every spiritual power with a mind of the wisdom of emptiness — this is the spiritual power of the shared teaching. Cultivating and attaining spiritual power in due order by relying on the three truths, advancing ever more deeply, surpassing the two vehicles — this is the spiritual power of the distinct teaching. The spiritual power attained by relying on true reality itself, seeing all buddha-lands without recourse to any duality of characteristics, arising in response from the true while never departing from the ultimate truth, and pervading the ten dharma-realms — this is the spiritual power of the perfect teaching (and so on). In a past life, Maudgalyāyana once assisted a pratyekabuddha, shaving his head, washing and dyeing his robes, and sewing his kāṣāya, and, on the strength of this, made the vow that won him his spiritual powers (and so on).

As for trace and origin: in his origin, Maudgalyāyana abides in the Śūraṅgama samādhi of ultimate truth, able within a single thought-moment to respond throughout the ten directions, manifesting in every manner to carry out the Buddha's work. Out of compassion, in trace he manifests the spiritual powers of the five flavors, leading beings on to the ultimate (and so on).

As for the contemplation of mind: contemplating that within a single mind all minds suddenly arise, and contemplating that within all minds no mind whatsoever suddenly remains — mind being neither existent nor nonexistent — one penetrates through to true reality: this is the contemplation of spiritual power.

"Mahākātyāyana" is translated "Ornamented with Learning," also "Shoulder-Vehicle" — some say this is a copyist's error and it should properly read "Fan-Cord," also "Fine Shoulder," also called Kāra, which is translated "Superior Thought"; all of these derive the personal name from the clan-name. The Ekottarika Āgama says: "Foremost in skillfully distinguishing the meaning of the teaching and expounding the way is Kātyāyana."

As the Dīrgha Āgama relates: there was a heterodox teacher who held to the view of annihilationism, maintaining that there is no world beyond this one; there follow in all ten rounds of question and answer. The heterodox teacher said: "There is no other world." Kātyāyana answered: "Are the sun and moon of the present day, then, of the heavens, or of men? Do they belong to this world, or to another? If there were no other world, there could then be no tomorrow." The heterodox teacher asked further: "I have observed that the dead do not return — how, then, can one say they suffer in another world? Hence I know there is no other world." Kātyāyana answered: "It is like a condemned criminal placed under guard — can he simply return home?" The heterodox teacher asked further: "If he is reborn in heaven, why does he not return? Hence I know there is no other world." Kātyāyana answered: "It is like a man who has fallen into a latrine and managed to climb out — would he willingly go back into the latrine again? Moreover, a single day in the heavens is equal to a hundred years here; one born there, after only three or five of their days, would have no time yet to think of returning — and even if he wished to return, you yourself would already have died and been transformed by then; how could you ever know of it?" The heterodox teacher asked further: "I have boiled a condemned criminal in a cauldron and sealed it tightly over, and, watching closely, have never seen any spirit escape — hence I know there is no other world." Kātyāyana answered: "When you sleep by day, does someone standing beside you see your spirit leave your body?" The heterodox teacher asked further: "I have flayed a dead man's skin, cut his flesh into pieces, and broken his bones, seeking his spirit and never finding it — hence I know there is no other world." Kātyāyana answered: "It is like a child splitting kindling, cutting it inch by inch in search of the fire within — can the fire ever be found this way?" The heterodox teacher asked further: "I have weighed a dead man and found him heavier than before he died — were the spirit to have departed, he should be lighter; since there is no departing spirit, there is no other world." Kātyāyana answered: "It is like iron combined with fire — the iron becomes lighter; when the iron loses the fire, it becomes heavier again. A person, while alive, possesses spirit, and so is lighter; when he dies and loses his spirit, he becomes heavier." The heterodox teacher asked further: "I have observed the dying turn and toss about, seeking their spirit and never finding it — hence I know there is no other world." Kātyāyana answered: "It is like a man turning a conch shell about, searching for its sound within — can the sound ever be found that way?"

The heterodox teacher said: "Though you have refuted me in every manner, I have held to this view for so long that I cannot let it go." Kātyāyana answered: "It is like a man gathering wild grain: at first, seeing hemp, he takes the hemp; then he discards the hemp and takes the hemp-bark; then he discards the hemp-bark and takes the thread; then he discards the thread and takes cloth; then he discards the cloth and takes silk; then he discards the silk and takes silver; then he discards the silver and takes gold — discarding the lesser to take the greater. Why, then, can you not let go?" The heterodox teacher asked further: "It is not only I who hold this view — many others say the same. How, then, can you say that I alone am wrong?" Kātyāyana answered: "Two merchants once encountered a demon in the guise of a man, who said to them: 'The road ahead is rich in rice and grass in plenty — why do you carry your own?' One merchant thereupon discarded his provisions, and when the road ahead proved to have neither for man nor ox, both starved and were devoured by the demon. The other merchant said: 'Only once I have obtained fresh rice and grass should I discard the old' — and so neither he nor his oxen were devoured by the demon. What people falsely claim is just like the demon's deceitful words; that you will not accept what I say is just like discarding one's old provisions — now that you have obtained the new, why will you not discard the old?" The heterodox teacher asked further: "I cannot let go of this view — whenever anyone urges me to, I only grow angry." Kātyāyana answered: "You are like a man who keeps pigs, who, coming upon dung on the road, lifts it upon his head and carries it home; caught in rain along the way, its liquid runs down and befouls his head, and when a bystander tells him to throw it away, he only grows angrier still, saying that it is because the other does not keep pigs that he tells him to throw it away, and turns his anger upon the one who advised him." Thus, refuting him point by point, Kātyāyana expounded these many meanings at length, until the heterodox teacher at last submitted and praised him, saying: "Venerable One, when you first spoke of the sun and moon, I had already understood — but wishing to hear more of your wisdom and eloquence, I kept raising objection after objection. Excellent! A wondrous exposition." Kātyāyana's skill in the marks of debate was of just this kind in every case.

The Vinaya says: "He was skilled at converting people to take up the precepts, causing a butcher to accept the precept for the night and a fornicator to accept the precept for the day, so that when each later received their retribution, they would each see, by day and by night, the pleasant sign befitting the time they had kept the precept (and so on)." Also, a Brahmin master of the secular treatises said to five hundred Śākyas: "Can any of you debate with me?" The five hundred Śākyas said: "There is Gavāṃpati, but in our country he is reckoned neither clever nor learned, and his speech is coarse and unrefined; there is also Cūḍapanthaka, who among the monks is likewise reckoned among the lowest. If you can defeat these two in debate, we will grant you renown." The Brahmin thought to himself: "To defeat these two is nothing to be proud of, but should I fail to match even them, it would be a humiliation indeed!" Later, on the road, he met Cūḍapanthaka and asked: "What is your name?" Cūḍapanthaka answered: "You ought to ask about the meaning of the teaching — why trouble to ask my name?" The Brahmin asked further: "Can you debate with me on the meaning?" He answered: "I could debate even with Brahmā himself — how much more so with a blind man such as you, who has no eyes?" The Brahmin asked: "Blind is the same as eyeless, and eyeless the same as blind — is this not needless repetition?" Cūḍapanthaka then performed the eighteen transformations, at which the Brahmin said: "This man can only fly about and transform himself — he does not understand the meaning at all." Kātyāyana, hearing this from afar with his divine ear, concealed Cūḍapanthaka and manifested himself in that same form, descending from the sky and asking: "What is your name?" The Brahmin answered: "My name is 'Male, a Grown Man.'" Kātyāyana asked further: "Male is the same as a grown man, and a grown man the same as male — is this not needless repetition?" The Brahmin answered: "Enough, enough! Set aside such trivial disputation — let us discuss a deeper meaning." He asked: "Can one, perhaps, attain nirvāṇa without relying on any dharma at all?" Kātyāyana answered: "Without relying on the dharmas of the five aggregates, one is able to attain nirvāṇa." He asked further: "On what do the five aggregates depend for their arising?" Kātyāyana answered: "They arise dependent on craving." He asked further: "How, then, does one cut off craving?" Kātyāyana answered: "By relying on the eightfold noble path, one is able to cut off craving." Hearing this, the Brahmin became far removed from dust and free of defilement. Other such instances all follow this same pattern.

As for debate in terms of the teachings: relying on impermanence, suffering, emptiness, and no-self to refute the views of annihilationism and eternalism and the like — this is debate according to the initial teaching.

Relying on emptiness, on the absence of anything to be possessed, and on the unobtainable, to refute the afflicted views of annihilationism and eternalism — this is debate according to the shared teaching; hence the heavenly maiden says: "It is because I have nothing to obtain that I can speak in this way." Relying on the dhāraṇīs and the four unhindered forms of eloquence, observing the capacities of one's listeners and illuminating the provisional in order to apply the right medicine to the right ailment, and thereby refuting the views of annihilationism and eternalism — this is the mark of debate according to the distinct teaching. Relying on true reality, which is ultimately neither existent nor nonexistent, to refute the views of annihilationism and eternalism — this is debate according to the perfect teaching.

As for trace and origin: in his origin, Kātyāyana abides in the twofold adornment of merit and wisdom, able both to question and to answer; out of pity for sentient beings, in trace he becomes merely a master of debate within the five flavors.

As for the contemplation of mind: contemplative wisdom investigates its object, and the object gives rise to wisdom in turn — wisdom and object move back and forth between one another: this is the debate of the contemplation of mind.

"Aniruddha," also rendered Anuruddha or Aniruddha in other transliterations, are all merely variant renderings of the same Sanskrit sound. It is translated "Without Want," also "As One Wishes," also "Without Hunting" — these are all his personal name. Long ago, in a time of famine, he offered a pratyekabuddha a meal of coarse millet, and for ninety-one kalpas thereafter received abundant reward as recompense; hence he is named "Without Craving."

As for his clan-name: at the beginning of the kalpa, when the great waters were blown by the wind and congealed to form the world, the lifespan of the beings of the Ābhāsvara heaven came to an end, and they were reborn by transformation as human beings, their bodies possessed of their own light, moving by flight, taking joy itself as their food; there was as yet no male or female, no noble or base, and since they were born together in common they were called "the multitude born," that is, sentient beings. There was then a naturally occurring earth-essence, its flavor like ghee, its color like fresh butter, and its sweetness like honey. Those who ate much of it lost their light and grew wan, unable to fly; those who ate little retained their radiance. Thus arose distinctions of superior and inferior, and mutual disputes over right and wrong followed, until the earth-essence was lost altogether, and they ate instead the natural earth-skin that arose next.

Growing contemptuous of one another in turn, they lost the earth-skin as well, and ate the earth's natural rind. As further evils arose, they lost the rind too, and ate the naturally occurring unhusked rice. Once they ate rice, male and female organs arose, and they became husbands and wives. Ashamed of this, they built dwellings and stored up large quantities of rice; but later the rice began to grow husks, and once cut it would not grow again, and withered stumps appeared, and people began to steal and plunder from one another. They therefore established one capable and impartial person as lord of the fields, to govern disputes and litigation — this was the first "lord of the people." The lord of the people had a son named Jewel-Treasure, and Jewel-Treasure had a son named Good-Flavor. From this original founding by the lord of the people onward, the golden-wheel kings succeeded one another in unbroken line down to Sujāta; and from Ikṣvāku down to Śuddhodana, four generations were iron-wheel kings, making in all eighty-four thousand two hundred and ten kings.

The Sūtra of Twelve Wanderings says: "In a distant kalpa there was a king who lost his parents young, and, entrusting his kingdom to his younger brother, went to serve a certain Brahmin. The Brahmin said to him: 'You should set aside your royal garb and take up the clan-name of Gautama.' He accordingly did so, and people of the time called him Little Gautama; he dwelt in a sugarcane grove. A thief, having stolen another's goods, passed through this grove; those pursuing the thief, tracking his footprints, seized Little Gautama instead, and shot him through with a wooden stake, so that his blood flowed and stained the ground. The elder Gautama, grief-stricken, gathered up the blood-soaked earth, carried it back to the grove, placed it in a vessel to either side, and invoked it, saying: 'If this Gautama's heart was sincere, may the gods transform this blood into human form.' After ten months, from the left arose a boy, and from the right a girl — and from this the clan-name Gautama was continued." Gautama is translated "Pure and Good"; this clan is also called Śākya — Śākya being a name of noble lineage.

At the beginning of the Bhadrakalpa, at the time when the Tathāgata Ratna appeared in the world, the consciousness of Gautama first took birth by transmigration. If one traces this meaning, then from the lord of the people onward the clan-name was already Gautama. From King Ikṣvāku's four sons — first Face-Light, second Elephant-Food, third Road-Finger, fourth Adornment — these four, having fallen under suspicion, were exiled to a forest of straight trees north of the Himalayas; the people of the kingdom who gladly followed them were as numerous as a marketplace crowd, and they flourished into a mighty kingdom. Their father the king exclaimed in wonder: "My sons have such ability!" — and it was from this that the four sons took their clan-name. Moreover, in that land the Śāka tree grew luxuriantly, translated "Straight Grove," and since they founded their kingdom within that grove, they took the grove as their clan-name. In foreign speech the term carries several senses at once, and Śākya likewise means both "straight" and "able." The line that Śuddhodana now continues descends from King Adornment, Adornment being the same as Udaka; Udaka begot Udakara; Udakara begot Nikṣura; Nikṣura begot Siṃhahanu — that is, "Lion-Jaw"; Siṃhahanu begot the three -bhāta brothers, and Droṇodana, one of these three, had two sons: the elder named Mahānāman, and the younger Aniruddha. Aniruddha was thus the nephew of King Śuddhodana, the second son of King Droṇodana, first cousin to the World-Honored One, elder cousin to Ānanda, and uncle to Rāhula — by no means an ordinary man. Hence the Duke of Zhou himself exclaimed: "I am the son of King Wen, the younger brother of King Wu, and the uncle of King Cheng — by no means a man of low station in the realm — and yet, when a worthy man called, I would three times spit out the food in my mouth and three times wring out my wet hair to receive him at once. If I showed such reverence to the worthy, how much more should others do the same!"

The Sūtra of the Wise and the Foolish says: "In the age of the Final Dharma of the Buddha Puṣya, when the world suffered famine, there was a pratyekabuddha named Ilāta who went begging and returned with an empty bowl, having received nothing. A certain poor man, seeing this, was moved to sorrow, and said: 'Noble one, would you accept some coarse millet?' and offered him what he himself had to eat. Having eaten it, the pratyekabuddha performed the eighteen transformations. Later, when the poor man went out again to gather millet, a rabbit leapt up and clung to his back, transforming into a corpse; alone, with no companion, he could not free himself of it. Waiting until dark, he returned home, and when he set the body down upon the ground it turned at once into a golden man — whatever finger was plucked from it would immediately grow back, and whatever was taken from its foot would likewise reappear, so that it could be taken from without end. Evil men and an evil king who came to seize it found only a corpse, while what he himself perceived was pure gold and treasure; for ninety-one kalpas his reward was abundant and sufficient, and hence he was called 'Without Want.' After this birth, his household's fortune overflowed, increasing day and night; when his parents wished to test this, they sent him covered, empty vessels, and on opening them found them filled with a hundred flavors. At his gate there were every day some twelve thousand people — six thousand coming to borrow, and six thousand coming to repay their debts. After he went forth as a monk, wherever he went people rejoiced to see him, and whatever he needed was provided as though it were his own household."

Aniruddha, striving in diligence, went seven days and seven nights without closing his eyes; since sleep is the food of the eyes, having gone seven days without sleep, he lost his physical sight. Having lost the eye of flesh, the Buddha bade him seek the divine eye; fixing his mindfulness upon its object, the pure form of the four great elements arose from half his head, penetrating every obstruction within and without, so that he perceived all things bright and dark alike, and could say to Brahmā: "I behold Śākyamuni's great trichiliocosm as though gazing at a fruit in the palm of my hand." The Ekottarika says: "Among those in my Dharma who see with perfect clarity by the divine eye, the bhikṣu Aniruddha is foremost." Once Aniruddha had lost his eye of flesh, the Buddha and the other bhikṣus would regularly sew and mend garments for him. When the Buddha was at the Kosala cave near Śrāvastī, he gathered together with eight hundred bhikṣus to make three robes for Aniruddha; the Buddha himself stretched out the cloth, while the other bhikṣus cut and sewed it, and in a single day the robes were completed. The Buddha then expounded at length on going forth and receiving the robe, and on advancing and resting together in harmony, and countless people thereby attained the path.

As for the divine eye in terms of the teachings: to develop the divine eye by relying on meditative concentration is the way of the ordinary person or the follower of other paths. To develop the divine eye by relying on the unafflicted phenomenal meditations is the meaning of the Tripiṭaka teaching. To develop the various practices by relying on the unafflicted wisdom that comprehends dharmas directly, and to develop the divine eye by relying on these practices, is the sense of the shared teaching. To develop the physical eye by relying on scattered good, the divine eye by relying on concentration, the wisdom-eye by relying on the truth, the dharma-eye by relying on the conventional, and the buddha-eye by relying on the middle, is the sense of the distinct teaching. To develop the divine eye by relying on true reality — where the divine eye is itself the buddha-eye — is the sense of the perfect teaching. Again: to cultivate the physical eye by relying on scattered good, and the divine eye by relying on concentration, is the sense of the Tripiṭaka teaching. To cultivate both the physical and divine eyes by relying on emptiness is the sense of the shared teaching. To cultivate the five eyes in sequence, one after another, is the sense of the distinct teaching. To cultivate the five eyes not in sequence, all at once, is the sense of the perfect teaching.

As for trace and origin: in his origin, Aniruddha abides in the true divine eye of true reality, seeing all buddha-lands without recourse to any duality of characteristics; in trace he manifests the divine eye that arose from half his head.

As for the contemplation of mind: to contemplate the good mind born of causes and conditions is the physical eye; to contemplate that the mind born of causes and conditions is empty is the divine eye; to contemplate that the mind born of causes and conditions is provisional is the dharma-eye; and to contemplate that it is the middle is the buddha-eye (and so on).

"Kapphiṇa" is translated "Lodging in the Room-Constellation" — his parents prayed to the Room constellation and were thereby blessed with this son, and so his name came from the star under which he was born. When this bhikṣu had newly gone forth but had not yet seen the Buddha, he set out for where the Buddha was; caught in rain by night, he took shelter in a potter's hut, using straw for a seat. Later that evening another bhikṣu likewise came seeking shelter there, and the first bhikṣu made room, pushing the straw over to him, and himself sat upon the bare ground. In the middle of the night they asked each other where they were bound; Kapphiṇa answered, "I seek the Buddha." The other bhikṣu then taught him the Dharma — the words of which may be found in the Āgama — and he suddenly attained the path. That other bhikṣu was in fact the Buddha himself. Having thus lodged together with the Buddha, he came to behold the dharma-body, and so, from the place of his attainment of the path, he was named — hence he is called Kapphiṇa, "Lodging." Vaiśravaṇa carries a parasol and follows behind Kapphiṇa, since Vaiśravaṇa is the lord of the constellations, and, being himself in attendance upon the constellations, he attends upon Kapphiṇa in just the same way. This bhikṣu was also skilled at divining by the stars and constellations, clearly versed in their configurations, and so, from this understanding, he received the name Kapphiṇa. The Ekottarika Āgama says: "Among those in my Dharma who are skilled in knowledge of the stars, constellations, sun, and moon, the bhikṣu Kapphiṇa is foremost."

As for Kapphiṇa in terms of the teachings: to analytically break apart the dwelling of the sense-faculties and their objects, and thereby lodge together with the Buddha in the room of ultimate truth, is the sense of the Tripiṭaka teaching. To comprehend the sense-faculties and their objects directly, without analysis, and thereby lodge together with the Tathāgata in the room of ultimate truth, is the sense of the shared teaching. To distinguish the dwellings of the sense-faculties and objects throughout the ten dharma-realms, and thereby attain the vision of every buddha, is the sense of the distinct teaching. Within a single dwelling of sense-faculty and object, to see at once every dwelling and every buddha, is the sense of the perfect teaching.

As for trace and origin: in his origin, Kapphiṇa dwells together with the Tathāgata in true reality itself; in trace he merely manifests his various lodgings under the constellations.

As for the contemplation of mind: to contemplate that the dwelling of the five aggregates is, through analysis, empty, is to lodge together with the transformation-body Buddha; to contemplate that the dwelling of the five aggregates is itself provisional is to lodge together with the recompense-body Buddha; to contemplate that the dwelling of the five aggregates is itself the middle is to lodge together with the dharma-body Buddha (and so on).