The Vajra Body, and the Virtues of This Sūtra's Name

The Buddha said further to the monks: "If you have any doubt regarding the moral precepts, ask it now, without reserve, and I will explain it, so that your minds may rejoice. I have already trained fully in the empty, quiescent nature of every dharma, and understand it completely — you monks should not think the Tathāgata has cultivated only the empty, quiescent nature of dharmas." He said again to the monks: "If you have any doubt regarding the moral precepts, you may raise it now."

The monks then said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, we lack the wisdom to question the Tathāgata, the Worthy One, the Perfectly Awakened One. Why is this? The Tathāgata's own domain is beyond conceptual thought, every one of his meditative absorptions is beyond conceptual thought, and the teachings he proclaims are beyond conceptual thought — this is why we lack the wisdom to question the Tathāgata. World-Honored One, it is like an old man of a hundred and twenty years, long bedridden with illness, unable to rise or move about, his strength utterly spent, with little life left in him. A wealthy man, about to travel abroad on some errand, entrusts a hundred catties of gold to this old man, saying: 'I am now going abroad; I entrust this treasure to you, and will return for it in ten years, or twenty years — you are to return it to me then.' The old man accepts it. But this old man has no heir, and not long afterward, his illness grows severe and he dies, and the treasure entrusted to him is entirely scattered and lost. When the wealthy man returns and asks for his gold, there is nothing left to be found. Such a foolish man did not know how to judge whether this old man was fit to be entrusted with such a thing — and so, on his return, he found nothing left to reclaim, and through this very cause lost his treasure. World-Honored One, we śrāvakas are just the same: though we have heard the Tathāgata's earnest teaching and admonition, we are unable to uphold it so that the Dharma may long abide in the world, just like that old man who accepted another's treasure. Lacking wisdom regarding the moral precepts as we do, what could we possibly ask?"

The Buddha said to the monks: "If you question me now, you will be able to benefit all beings. This is why I tell you: whatever doubt you have, ask it freely, without reserve."

The monks then said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, it is like a man of twenty-five, in the prime of vigorous, handsome youth, possessed of much wealth — gold, silver, and lapis lazuli — whose parents, wife and children, and whole extended family are all still living. Someone comes to entrust his own treasure to this man, saying: 'I have some business and must go elsewhere; when my affairs are settled I will return, and you are to give it back to me then.' This vigorous young man guards the treasure as though it were his very own. Should he fall ill, he at once instructs his household: 'This gold and treasure was entrusted to me by another — should he come to reclaim it, return it to him in full.' A wise person acts in just this way, judging well, so that when the owner returns to reclaim his property, he receives it all, with nothing lost. The World-Honored One is just the same: if he entrusts the treasure of the Dharma to Ānanda and the other monks, it will not long abide — why is this? Because every śrāvaka, and Mahākāśyapa himself, are all subject to impermanence, just like that old man who accepted another's entrusted treasure. This is why the peerless Buddha-dharma should instead be entrusted to the bodhisattvas — for the bodhisattvas, being skillfully able to question and answer regarding this treasure of the Dharma, will cause it to abide for countless thousands of ages, growing ever more vigorous, bringing benefit and ease to beings, just like that vigorous young man who accepted another's entrusted treasure. For this reason, it is the great bodhisattvas alone who are fit to question you now — our own wisdom is like that of a mosquito or a gnat; how could we possibly inquire into the Tathāgata's profound Dharma?" The śrāvakas then fell silent.

The Buddha then praised the monks, saying: "Excellent, excellent! You have rightly attained the mind free of all outflows, the mind of an arhat. I too have long considered, for these same two reasons, that the Great Vehicle should be entrusted to the bodhisattvas, so that this wondrous Dharma may long abide in the world." The Buddha then said to the whole assembly: "Good sons, good daughters, my lifespan cannot be measured, nor can my eloquence in teaching ever be exhausted — you should now ask freely of whatever you wish, whether it concerns the precepts or the refuges." He said this a second time, and a third time as well.

At that time there was, among the assembly, a bodhisattva-mahāsattva, originally from the village of Tāla, of the brahmin clan, surnamed Mahākāśyapa, still young in years, who, by the Buddha's own spiritual power, rose from his seat, bared his right arm, circled the Buddha a hundred thousand times, set his right knee upon the ground, joined his palms toward the Buddha, and said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, I now wish to ask a small question; if the Buddha permits it, I will venture to speak." The Buddha said to Kāśyapa: "The Tathāgata, the Worthy One, the Perfectly Awakened One, grants you leave to ask whatever you wish; I will explain it for you, resolve your doubt, and bring joy to your heart." The bodhisattva-mahāsattva Kāśyapa then said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, since the Tathāgata, out of compassion, has already granted me leave, I shall now ask my question — though my own wisdom is as slight as a mosquito's or a gnat's. The World-Honored One's own virtue towers like a mountain of pure sandalwood, a lion hard to subdue, surrounded by an unbreakable assembly as his own retinue. The Tathāgata's own body is like true vajra, its color like lapis lazuli, genuinely indestructible, further encircled by an ocean of great wisdom such as this. Among this very assembly, the great bodhisattva-mahāsattvas have each accomplished immeasurable, boundless, profound and wondrous virtues, like fragrant elephants. Before such a great assembly as this, how could I dare to speak? It is only by relying on the Buddha's own spiritual power, and on the roots of goodness and majestic virtue of this whole assembly, that I venture to raise this small question." He then spoke this verse in question before the Buddha:

"How does one attain long life,
a body of vajra, indestructible?
By what further cause and condition
does one gain great, unshakable strength?

How does one, regarding this very sūtra,
reach all the way to the far shore?
I beg the Buddha to open what is subtle and hidden,
and expound it fully for the sake of beings.

How does one become vast enough
to be a support for the whole assembly —
not truly an arhat,
and yet equal to one?

How does one recognize the heavenly māra
when he sets obstacles before the assembly?
When the Buddha speaks, and when Pāpīyas speaks,
how does one tell the two apart?

How does every tamer of beings
proclaim the ultimate truth with a joyful heart,
rightly and fully accomplished,
expounding the four inversions?

How does one perform wholesome deeds?
I beg the great sage to speak of this now.

How do the bodhisattvas
come to see a nature so hard to see?

How does one understand the meaning
of the full letters, and of the partial letters?

How does one share in the noble conduct
of the sārasa bird,
of the kalandaka bird, of the sun and moon,
of Venus and of Jupiter?

How can one not yet have given rise to the resolve
and still be called a bodhisattva?

How does one, before the whole assembly,
attain fearlessness,
like gold of the Jambū river,
whose flaws no one can name?

How does one dwell in this turbid world
unstained, like a lotus flower?

How does one dwell amid affliction
untouched by that very affliction,
like a physician who treats every illness
without being tainted by any of them?

In the great ocean of birth and death,
how does one become its ferryman?

How does one cast off birth and death,
as a snake sheds its old skin?

How does one regard the Three Jewels
as though they were the wish-fulfilling tree of the gods?

If the three vehicles have no fixed nature of their own,
how can they still be taught?
It is like bliss not yet arisen —
how can it then be called something received?

How do the bodhisattvas
come to hold an unbreakable assembly?

How does one become an eye and a guide
for those born blind?

How does one show many heads?
I beg only that the great sage speak of this.

How does a teacher of the Dharma
grow like the moon in its first days?

How does one further manifest
the ultimate reach of nirvāṇa?

How does one who presses courageously forward
show others the path of gods and of māras alike?

How does one know the Dharma's own nature,
and thereby receive the joy of the Dharma?

How do the bodhisattvas
keep themselves far from every illness?

How does one, for the sake of beings,
proclaim what is secret and hidden?

How does one speak of what is final,
and of what is not yet final?

If one is to cut through the net of doubt,
how can one still speak without settling the matter?

How does one draw near
to the most excellent, peerless path?

I now ask this of the Tathāgata,
for the sake of the bodhisattvas —
I beg you to speak of the profound
and subtle practices, and all that is like them.

Within every dharma
there lies a nature of ease and joy —
I beg only the great sage, the honored one,
to distinguish and explain this for me.

The great support of all beings,
the wondrous medicine, most honored among the two-legged —
I now wish to ask about the aggregates,
though I myself have no wisdom for it.

Not even the most diligent bodhisattvas
are able to fully know
such profound matters as these,
the very domain of the buddhas themselves."

The Buddha then praised the bodhisattva Kāśyapa: "Excellent, excellent, good son! You have not yet attained the knowledge of all modes, which I have already attained; yet the profound, secret treasury you have asked about is no different from what one possessing the knowledge of all modes would ask…" The Buddha then said to the bodhisattva Kāśyapa: "Good son, listen closely, listen closely; I shall now explain to you the karma by which the Tathāgata attained long life… Good son, it is like a prince who, having committed a crime, is bound in prison; the king, out of deep pity and love for his son, personally turns his own carriage and goes to where the prince is imprisoned. A bodhisattva is just the same: wishing to attain long life, he should hold every being in mind, regarding them as his own children, giving rise to great loving-kindness, great compassion, great joy, and great equanimity, bestowing the precept against killing, and teaching the cultivation of wholesome dharmas. He should also settle every being in the five precepts and the ten wholesome deeds, and further enter hell, the realm of hungry ghosts, the animal realm, and the realm of asuras and every other destiny, rescuing the suffering beings found there, freeing those not yet freed, bringing across those not yet brought across, and causing those not yet in nirvāṇa to attain it, comforting all who are afraid. By karmic causes and conditions of this kind, a bodhisattva attains a long and far-reaching life, gains mastery over every kind of wisdom, and, when his life at last comes to its end, is reborn among the gods."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa then said again to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, the meaning of a bodhisattva-mahāsattva regarding beings equally, as his own children, is profound and hidden, and I have not yet been able to grasp it. World-Honored One, the Tathāgata should not say that a bodhisattva cultivates an equal mind toward all beings, regarding them as his own children. Why is this? Within the Buddha's own teaching there are those who break the precepts, those who commit the gravest transgressions, and those who slander the true Dharma — how could one regard such people equally, as one's own children?" The Buddha said to Kāśyapa: "It is so, it is so — I truly regard beings as my own children, just as I regard Rāhula."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said again to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, once, at a fortnightly poṣadha assembly, among the pure assembly of fully ordained monks, there was a young novice who had not cultivated wholesome conduct of body, speech, or mind, and who hid himself away to eavesdrop on the recitation of the precepts. The vajra-wielding spirit Guhyapāda, sustained by the Buddha's own spiritual power, crushed him to dust with his vajra mace. World-Honored One, this vajra spirit acted with the utmost violence, taking the very life of this young novice — how, then, can the Tathāgata be said to regard every being equally, as his own children, as he regards Rāhula?"

The Buddha said to Kāśyapa: "You should not speak this way. That young novice was himself a manifested apparition, not a real person, conjured precisely in order to drive out and expel those who break the precepts and destroy the Dharma from the assembly; the vajra spirit Guhyapāda was likewise a manifested apparition. Kāśyapa, toward those who slander the true Dharma, toward the icchantika, toward those who kill living beings or hold wrong views or deliberately violate the precepts, I give rise, in every case, to a mind of compassion, regarding them equally as my own children, as I regard Rāhula. Good son, it is like a king whose various ministers, having broken the king's own law, are put to death according to their crime, without exception. The Tathāgata, the World-Honored One, is not like this: toward those who destroy the Dharma, he applies instead the acts of expulsion, of reproach, of probation, of public censure, of suspension pending acknowledgment, of suspension pending repentance, and of suspension for an unrelinquished wrong view. Good son, the reason the Tathāgata applies acts of subduing such as these to those who slander the Dharma is to show that every evildoer receives a due result… Good son, as for the unmanifest Dharma you wish to see, I shall now describe its form for you. After my parinirvāṇa, wherever there is a precept-keeping monk, complete in his bearing, upholding the true Dharma, who, on seeing one who destroys the Dharma, is able to drive that person out, reproaching and disciplining them — know that such a person gains merit beyond measure, beyond all reckoning…"

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said again to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, as the Buddha has just said, he does not, after all, regard every being equally, as his own children, as he regards Rāhula. World-Honored One, if one person were to strike the Buddha with a knife, and another were to anoint the Buddha with sandalwood, and the Buddha held an equal mind toward these two, how could it then also be said that those who break the precepts should be disciplined? If those who break the precepts are to be disciplined, then that earlier statement no longer holds."

The Buddha said to the bodhisattva Kāśyapa: "Good son, it is like a king, a great minister, or a chancellor who raises several sons, handsome and intelligent — say two, three, or four — and entrusts them to a strict teacher, saying: 'Please teach my sons for me — their bearing, their manners, their skills, their reading and writing, their reckoning and mathematics — see that they master it all. I now give you these four sons to instruct; even should three of them die from the discipline of the rod, the one remaining son must still be disciplined thoroughly, so that he is made to succeed. Though I lose three sons, I will hold no resentment for it.' Kāśyapa, would this father, or this teacher, be guilty of murder?" "No, World-Honored One. Why is this? Because it is done out of love, for the sake of the sons' own success, with no malicious intent at all — such instruction, given this way, gains merit beyond measure." "Good son, the Tathāgata is just the same: he regards those who destroy the Dharma equally, as his own single child. The Tathāgata has now entrusted the peerless true Dharma to kings, great ministers, chancellors, monks, nuns, upāsakas, and upāsikās. These kings and the fourfold assembly should encourage and exhort all who are training in the Dharma to attain the higher precepts, concentration, and wisdom. If there are those who fail to train in these three, who grow heedless, break the precepts, or destroy the true Dharma, the kings, ministers, and the fourfold assembly should discipline them severely. Good son, would these kings and this fourfold assembly then be guilty of any wrong?" "No, World-Honored One." "Good son, if these kings and this fourfold assembly are not guilty of any wrong, how much less the Tathāgata. Good son, the Tathāgata has skillfully cultivated just this kind of equality, regarding every being as his own single child. To cultivate in this way is what is called a bodhisattva's cultivation of an equal mind, regarding every being as his own single child."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said again to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, as the Buddha has taught, a bodhisattva who cultivates an equal mind, regarding beings as his own children, attains a long life — but the Tathāgata should not speak this way. Why is this? It is like a person learned in the teachings on filial devotion, able to expound every kind of teaching on treating one's parents well, who then returns home and strikes his own parents with tiles and stones. His parents are a true field of merit, a source of great benefit, rare and hard to encounter, and should be well cared for — yet instead he brings them harm; such a learned person's words and deeds are at odds with each other. What the Tathāgata has said is just the same: if a bodhisattva who cultivates an equal mind, regarding beings as his own children, should attain long life, understand his own past lives well, and abide constantly in the world without change — then why is it, World-Honored One, that you yourself have so short a lifespan, no different from an ordinary human? Could it be that the Tathāgata harbors some resentment toward beings after all? What evil deed did the World-Honored One once commit, and how many lives did he take, to deserve so short a life, not even a hundred years?"

The Buddha said to Kāśyapa: "Good son, for what reason do you now speak such coarse words before the Tathāgata? The Tathāgata's own life is, among every kind of life, the very highest and most excellent; the permanence he has attained is, among every kind of permanence, the very foremost."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said again to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, how, then, does the Tathāgata attain a long life?"

The Buddha said to Kāśyapa: "Good son, it is like the eight great rivers — the Ganges, the Yamunā, the Sarasvatī, the Ajitavatī, the Mahī, the Sindhu, the Vakṣu, and the Sītā — these eight great rivers, together with every lesser river, all flow into the great ocean. Kāśyapa, in just this way, the great river of every lifespan — among humans, among gods, on the earth, and through open space — flows entirely into the ocean of the Tathāgata's own life; this is why the Tathāgata's life is immeasurable. Furthermore, Kāśyapa, it is like Lake Anavatapta, from which four great rivers flow forth; the Tathāgata is just the same, the source from which every life flows forth. Kāśyapa, it is like how, among every permanent thing, space itself is foremost; the Tathāgata is just the same, foremost among every kind of permanence. Kāśyapa, it is like how, among every medicine, ghee is foremost; the Tathāgata is just the same, foremost in lifespan among all beings."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said again to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, if the Tathāgata's life is truly such as this, he should remain for a kalpa, or at least for less than a kalpa, forever proclaiming the wondrous Dharma, like a great rain pouring down."

"Kāśyapa, you should not now give rise to a notion of the Tathāgata's utter extinction. Kāśyapa, if even a monk, a nun, an upāsaka, an upāsikā, or even a heterodox practitioner who has attained the five superknowledges and mastery over them, can, remaining for a kalpa or less than a kalpa, walk through open space, sit and lie down at will, send forth fire from the left side of his body and water from the right, his whole body streaming with smoke and flame like a mass of fire, and, wishing to prolong his life, do so exactly as he wishes, lengthening or shortening his own lifespan at will — if such a person, through these five superknowledges alone, can gain spiritual power of this kind, exercised entirely at will, how much more the Tathāgata, who has gained mastery over every dharma — how could he possibly be unable to sustain his life for half a kalpa, or a whole kalpa, or a hundred kalpas, or a hundred thousand kalpas, or immeasurable kalpas? For this reason, you should know that the Tathāgata is the permanent Dharma, the unchanging Dharma. This body of the Tathāgata's is a manifested, transformation body, not a body that eats mixed food; for the sake of bringing beings across, he shows himself as though subject to the same tree of poison as they are, and for this reason manifests the appearance of relinquishing it and entering parinirvāṇa. Kāśyapa, you should know that the Buddha is the permanent Dharma, the unchanging Dharma. In this ultimate truth, you should all strive diligently, cultivating it single-mindedly, and, having cultivated it, expound it widely for the sake of others."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, what difference is there between what transcends the world and what belongs to the world? The Buddha has said: 'The Buddha is the permanent Dharma, the unchanging Dharma.' Yet the world also says: 'Brahmā is permanent; Maheśvara is permanent, without change; the self is permanent, own-nature is permanent, and even the atom is permanent.' If it is said that the Tathāgata is the permanent Dharma, then why does the Tathāgata not always manifest himself? And if he does not always manifest himself, what difference is there at all — since Brahmā, and the atom, and own-nature likewise do not always manifest themselves?"

The Buddha said to Kāśyapa: "It is like an elder who owns many cattle, of every color, kept together in a single herd, entrusted to a herdsman to graze on water and grass, kept only for the sake of their ghee, not for milk or curds. This herdsman milks them and eats the milk himself. When the elder dies, all his cattle are seized and carried off by a band of robbers. Once the robbers have the cattle, having no women among them, they milk the cows themselves, and eat what they get. The robbers then say to one another: 'That great elder kept these cattle not for milk or curds, but for ghee alone. What method should we now devise to obtain it? Ghee is said to be the finest flavor in the whole world.' But they say further: 'We have no proper vessel — even if we obtain milk, we have nowhere to put it.' They say again: 'We have only leather sacks; we could hold it in those.' Though they now have something to hold it in, they do not know how to churn it, and even curdled milk is hard for them to produce, let alone fresh butter. The robbers, in their eagerness for ghee, then add water to the milk, and because of the excess water, they lose the milk, the curds, and the ghee all together. Ordinary people are just the same: whatever wholesome dharmas they possess are all merely leftover fragments of the Tathāgata's own true Dharma. Why is this? Because after the Tathāgata, the World-Honored One, enters parinirvāṇa, they steal the wholesome dharmas he left behind — precepts, concentration, and wisdom — just as those robbers plundered the herd of cattle. Though ordinary people obtain these — precepts, concentration, and wisdom — they have no skillful means, and cannot properly explain them. For this reason they are unable to attain permanent precepts, permanent concentration, permanent wisdom, or liberation — just as those robbers, lacking the proper method, lost the ghee. And just as those robbers, in their eagerness for ghee, added water to the milk, ordinary people are just the same: in their eagerness for liberation, they speak of a self, of a sentient being, of a life-force, of a person, of Brahmā, of Maheśvara, of the atom, of own-nature, of precepts, concentration, and wisdom, and of liberation, and say that the heaven of neither-perception-nor-non-perception is itself nirvāṇa — yet in truth they attain no liberation, no nirvāṇa at all, just as those robbers never obtained the ghee. These ordinary people, having practiced a little pure conduct and made some offering to their parents, are, through this cause, reborn among the gods, and receive a small measure of ease — just like the milk those robbers diluted with water. Yet these ordinary people do not truly understand that it was through cultivating a little pure conduct and making offering to their parents that they were reborn among the gods; nor are they able to truly understand precepts, concentration, and wisdom, or to take refuge in the Three Jewels. Because they do not understand this, when they speak of permanence, bliss, self, and purity, though they speak these very words, they do not truly understand them. This is why, only after the Tathāgata appears in the world, are permanence, bliss, self, and purity finally taught in their true meaning. It is like when a wheel-turning king appears in the world: by the power of his own merit, the bands of robbers scatter and flee, and not one of the cattle is harmed. The wheel-turning king then entrusts the cattle to a single herdsman, one skilled in method, and this person, through skillful means, obtains the ghee at once — and because of this ghee, every being is freed from affliction. In just this way, when the Dharma-wheel-turning sage-king appears in the world, those ordinary people unable to properly explain precepts, concentration, and wisdom scatter and flee, just as the robbers scattered. The Tathāgata then skillfully teaches both worldly and transcendent dharmas, and, for the sake of beings, causes the bodhisattvas to expound them in turn. The bodhisattva-mahāsattvas, having obtained the ghee themselves, then cause countless, boundless beings to obtain the peerless flavor of the nectar of the Dharma — namely, the Tathāgata's own permanence, bliss, self, and purity. For this reason, good son, the Tathāgata is the permanent, unchanging Dharma — not at all like what the foolish and ignorant people of the world call permanent, such as Brahmā and the rest. This permanent Dharma is properly and exclusively the Tathāgata, and no other dharma. Kāśyapa, you should understand the Tathāgata's body in just this way. Kāśyapa, every good son and good daughter should constantly fix their minds on cultivating these two words: the Buddha abides permanently. Kāśyapa, if any good son or good daughter cultivates these two words, know that such a person follows in my own conduct, and arrives where I myself arrive. Good son, if one cultivates these two words while still holding a notion of their eventual extinction, know that the Tathāgata will, for that very person, appear to enter parinirvāṇa. Good son, the meaning of nirvāṇa is precisely the Dharma-nature of every buddha."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, what is the meaning of the Buddha's own Dharma-nature? World-Honored One, I now wish to know the meaning of Dharma-nature; I beg only that the Tathāgata, out of compassion, explain it fully. If Dharma-nature is itself the relinquishing of the body, and relinquishing the body means having nothing at all — then if there is nothing at all, how can the body still exist? And if the body still exists, how can it then be said that the body has a Dharma-nature? And if the body has a Dharma-nature, how can it come to exist at all? How am I now to understand this meaning?"

The Buddha said to the bodhisattva Kāśyapa: "Good son, you should not now speak of this Dharma-nature as something extinguished. Dharma-nature has no extinction at all. Good son, it is like the heaven of no-perception, where beings accomplish the aggregate of form but are without any perception of form — one should not ask how such gods abide there, how they experience joy and pleasure, how they engage in mental formations, or how they see and hear. Good son, the Tathāgata's own domain is not something known by śrāvakas or pratyekabuddhas. Good son, one should not say that the Tathāgata's body is a dharma subject to extinction. Good son, this very matter of extinction is itself the Buddha's own domain, beyond the reach of any śrāvaka or pratyekabuddha. Good son, you should not now try to reckon where the Tathāgata abides, where he moves, where he sees, or where he finds joy. Good son, such a matter as this is likewise beyond what you yourselves are able to know — the Dharma-body of every buddha, and its every kind of skillful means, is beyond conceptual thought."

"Furthermore, good son, you should cultivate the perception of permanence with regard to the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha. These three things should never be given a perception of difference, a perception of impermanence, or a perception of change. Whoever cultivates a perception of difference regarding these three things should be understood to have, for the pure threefold refuge, no true foundation at all; their moral precepts will remain incomplete in every case, and they will never be able to realize the fruit of awakening, whether of the śrāvaka or the pratyekabuddha. But whoever is able to cultivate the perception of permanence with regard to this inconceivable matter will have a true foundation. Good son, it is like how, because of a tree, there is a tree's shadow; the Tathāgata is just the same: because there is the permanent Dharma, there is a refuge to be taken — it is not something impermanent. If one says the Tathāgata is impermanent, then the Tathāgata could not be a refuge for any god or any person in the world."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, it is like a tree in darkness, which casts no shadow." "Kāśyapa, you should not say the tree casts no shadow — it is only that the shadow cannot be seen by the fleshly eye. Good son, the Tathāgata is just the same: his nature abides permanently, and is without change; it simply cannot be seen without the eye of wisdom, just as a tree's shadow cannot be seen in the dark. Ordinary people, after the Buddha's parinirvāṇa, who say the Tathāgata is an impermanent thing, are doing just the same. If one says the Tathāgata is different from the Dharma and the Saṅgha, then the threefold refuge cannot be established at all — it would be like saying your own parents are each entirely different people, and so must be impermanent in relation to one another."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said again to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, from this day forward I shall take the permanent abiding of these three things — the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha — and awaken my own parents, and their ancestors down through seven generations, so that all of them may uphold this teaching. How wondrous, World-Honored One! I shall now study this inconceivable matter of the Tathāgata, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha, and, having studied it myself, shall expound this teaching widely to others as well. Should there be any who cannot believe and accept it, know that such people have long cultivated the notion of impermanence — for such people, I myself will become as frost and hail." The Buddha then praised the bodhisattva Kāśyapa: "Excellent, excellent! You are now well able to protect and uphold the true Dharma; protecting the Dharma in this way, you deceive no one. Through the wholesome karma of deceiving no one, you shall attain long life, and understand your own past lives well."

The World-Honored One then said further to Kāśyapa: "Good son, the Tathāgata's own body is a permanently abiding body, an indestructible body, a body of vajra, not a body that eats mixed food — it is itself the Dharma-body."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, as the Buddha has just described it, I do not see any such body at all — I see only a body that is impermanent, subject to destruction, made of fine particles, and that eats mixed food. Why is this? Because the Tathāgata is about to enter parinirvāṇa."

The Buddha said: "Kāśyapa, you should not now think that the Tathāgata's body is fragile and destructible, like an ordinary person's body. Good son, you should now understand that the Tathāgata's body, throughout immeasurable millions of kalpas, has been firm and hard to destroy — it is not a body of gods or humans, not a body of terror, not a body that eats mixed food. The Tathāgata's body is not, properly speaking, a body at all: this body is unborn and unceasing, neither habituated nor cultivated, immeasurable and boundless, leaving no footprint, without knowledge and without form, ultimately pure, without any motion, without receiving and without acting, neither abiding nor produced, without flavor and without any admixture; it is not conditioned, not karma, not a fruit, not a formation, not cessation, not mind, not a numbered thing; it is beyond conceptual thought, forever beyond conceptual thought; without consciousness, yet not apart from mind; its mind is entirely equal, without existence and yet also existing, without any coming or going and yet also coming and going; it is not broken, not destroyed, not cut off, not severed, does not emerge, does not cease; it is not a master, and yet is a master; it is neither existent nor nonexistent, neither perceiving nor observing, neither a word nor a non-word, neither fixed nor unfixed; it cannot be seen, and yet is seen with utter clarity; it has no place, and yet has a place; it has no dwelling, and yet has a dwelling; it has no darkness and no light; it is without any stillness, and yet is also still; it has nothing at all; it neither receives nor gives; it is pure and free of any defilement; it is without any dispute, having cut off every dispute; it abides in the abode of non-abiding; it neither grasps nor falls; it is neither dharma nor non-dharma; it is neither a field of merit nor not a field of merit; it is inexhaustible and yet not inexhaustible, apart from every exhaustion; it is empty, and apart even from emptiness; though it does not abide permanently, it does not perish moment by moment either; it has no defilement or impurity; it has no word, and is apart from every word; it is neither sound nor speech, nor is it any kind of cultivation; it cannot be named or measured; it is neither one nor different; it has no image and no mark, and yet is adorned with every mark; it is neither courageous nor fearful; it is neither still nor unstill; it is neither hot nor free of heat; it cannot be beheld, and has no describable form at all. The Tathāgata brings every being to liberation, and yet, because there is no such thing as liberation, he is able to understand beings; because there is no such thing as understanding, he awakens beings fully; because there is no such thing as awakening fully, he teaches the Dharma exactly as it is. Because there is no duality, he is beyond measure, beyond any equal or comparison. Level as open space, he has no describable form at all, identical with the unborn nature, neither cut off nor eternal. He forever practices the one vehicle, though beings see three. Never regressing, never turning back, he has cut off every fetter. Without contention, without contact, he neither abides in any fixed nature nor lacks one; he neither unites nor separates; he is neither long nor short, neither round nor square; he is neither the aggregates, sense-fields, and elements, nor apart from them; he neither increases nor diminishes, neither prevails nor is defeated. The Tathāgata's body has accomplished immeasurable virtues of this kind — there is no one who knows it, and no one who fails to know it; no one who sees it, and no one who fails to see it; it is neither conditioned nor unconditioned, neither worldly nor unworldly, neither made nor unmade, neither dependent nor independent, neither the four great elements nor apart from them, neither a cause nor without cause, neither a sentient being nor not a sentient being, neither a śramaṇa nor a brāhmaṇa — it is the lion, the great lion; it is neither a body nor not a body, and cannot be spoken of at all. Except for this single mark of the Dharma, it cannot be counted or numbered; entering parinirvāṇa, it does not truly enter parinirvāṇa at all. The Tathāgata's Dharma-body has, in every case, accomplished immeasurable, subtle virtues such as these."

"Kāśyapa, only the Tathāgata knows this mark — it is not known by any śrāvaka or pratyekabuddha. Kāśyapa, it is virtues such as these that constitute the Tathāgata's body, not a body nourished and sustained by mixed food. Kāśyapa, since the Tathāgata's own true body has virtues such as these, how could it come to suffer illness and affliction, fragile and unstable as an unfired clay vessel? Kāśyapa, the reason the Tathāgata manifests the appearance of illness and suffering is in order to tame and guide beings. Good son, you should now understand that the Tathāgata's body is itself the body of vajra; from this day forward you should always reflect single-mindedly on this meaning, never thinking of it as a body that eats, and you should also teach others that the Tathāgata's body is itself the Dharma-body."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, since the Tathāgata has accomplished virtues such as these, how could his body ever come to suffer illness, or be impermanent and subject to destruction? From this day forward I shall constantly reflect that the Tathāgata's body is the permanent Dharma-body, a body of ease and bliss, and shall expound this teaching widely to others as well. But, World-Honored One, though the Tathāgata's Dharma-body is truly vajra, indestructible, I have not yet been able to understand what its cause might be."

The Buddha said: "Kāśyapa, it is through the cause and condition of being able to protect and uphold the true Dharma that this vajra body is accomplished. Kāśyapa, it is through the causes and conditions of protecting the Dharma in ages past that I have now accomplished this vajra body, permanently abiding and indestructible. Good son, one who protects and upholds the true Dharma need not receive the five precepts or cultivate the ordinary monastic bearing — such a person should instead carry swords, bows and arrows, and spears, to guard and protect the precept-keeping, pure monks."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, if there is a monk who abandons such protection and dwells alone in solitude, among graveyards or beneath trees, such a person should be called a true monk; but if there is one who instead follows after these armed protectors, such a person should be understood as a mere shaven-headed householder."

The Buddha said to Kāśyapa: "Do not speak of them as shaven-headed householders… Good son, in ages past, throughout immeasurable, boundless asaṃkhyeya kalpas, there appeared, in this very city of Kuśinagara, a buddha named Nandivardhana Tathāgata, Worthy One, Perfectly Awakened One… That buddha, the World-Honored One, abided in the world for an immeasurable time, and, having taught beings fully, at last entered parinirvāṇa among twin sāla trees. After that buddha's parinirvāṇa, the true Dharma abided in the world for immeasurable millions of years, with forty years still remaining before the Dharma was to be extinguished. At that time there was a precept-keeping monk named Kakuvimarda, surrounded by many followers and disciples, who was able to roar the lion's roar, proclaiming and expounding the ninefold scriptures at length, and forbidding monks from keeping servants, cattle, sheep, or any other improper possessions. At that time there were many monks who had broken the precepts, and, hearing him teach this way, all gave rise to malicious intent, took up swords and staves, and pressed in upon this teacher of the Dharma. At that time there was a king named Yǒudé — Possessed of Virtue — who, hearing of this, went at once, for the sake of protecting the Dharma, to where the teacher of the Dharma was, and fought fiercely against these evil, precept-breaking monks, so that the teacher of the Dharma escaped danger and harm. In the course of this battle, the king's own body was wounded by swords and arrows, until there was no part of him left unmarked, down to the size of a mustard seed. Kakuvimarda then praised the king, saying: 'Excellent, excellent! You, great king, are now a true protector of the true Dharma; in the age to come, this very body of yours will become a vessel for the Dharma beyond measure.' The king, having heard this teaching, was filled with great joy, and, dying soon after, was reborn in the buddha-land of Akṣobhya, becoming that buddha's own foremost disciple. Among the king's own soldiers and followers, some had fought in the battle and some had merely rejoiced in it, but every one of them, never regressing from the resolve for awakening, was, upon death, reborn likewise in the buddha-land of Akṣobhya. The monk Kakuvimarda, when his own life later came to its end, was likewise reborn in the buddha-land of Akṣobhya, becoming that buddha's second disciple among the śrāvakas. Whenever the true Dharma is about to be utterly extinguished, it should be upheld and protected in just this way. Kāśyapa, the king in that story was myself; the teacher of the Dharma was the buddha Kāśyapa. Kāśyapa, one who protects the true Dharma attains rewards immeasurable such as these. It is through this very cause that I have today attained every kind of mark, adorning myself with them, and have accomplished the Dharma-body, the indestructible body."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said again to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, the Tathāgata's permanent body is like a painting carved into stone."

The Buddha said to the bodhisattva Kāśyapa: "Good son, for this very reason, monks, nuns, upāsakas, and upāsikās should diligently protect and uphold the true Dharma; the reward for protecting the Dharma is vast and immeasurable. Good son, this is why upāsakas who protect the Dharma should take up swords and staves to guard and protect monks who uphold the Dharma in this way. Whoever holds only the five precepts cannot be called a follower of the Great Vehicle; one who does not hold the five precepts but instead protects the true Dharma is the one properly called a follower of the Great Vehicle. One who protects the true Dharma should take up swords, blades, and weapons to attend the teacher of the Dharma."

Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, if monks keep company with such upāsakas who carry swords and staves, do such monks then have a proper teacher, or not? Are they keeping the precepts, or breaking them?"

The Buddha said to Kāśyapa: "Do not regard such people as having broken the precepts. Good son, after my parinirvāṇa, in an age of turbidity and evil, kingdoms will fall into chaos, people will plunder one another, and the population will go hungry. At that time many will go forth into homelessness simply out of hunger, and such people will be called mere shaven-headed men. These shaven-headed men, on seeing a precept-keeping monk, complete in bearing, pure, upholding the true Dharma, will drive him out, or even kill or harm him… Good son, this is why I now permit precept-keeping monks to keep company with lay followers who carry swords and staves. If kings, ministers, elders, or upāsakas take up swords and staves for the sake of protecting the Dharma, I say that they too are keeping the precepts — though they carry swords and staves, they should not take a life. If they can act in this way, they are rightly called the very foremost among those who keep the precepts."

"Kāśyapa, one who protects the Dharma is one who possesses right view, who is able to proclaim the scriptures of the Great Vehicle widely, who never takes hold of a king's own jeweled canopy, oil, grain, or fruit for his own use, who does not draw close to kings, ministers, or elders for the sake of personal gain, whose mind harbors no flattery or deceit toward any donor, who is complete in bearing, and who subdues those who break the precepts and do evil — such a person is called a teacher who keeps the precepts and protects the Dharma, a true and good spiritual friend to beings, whose mind is as vast and expansive as the great ocean. Kāśyapa, if there is a monk who teaches the Dharma to others for the sake of personal gain, then his own followers and disciples will likewise imitate their teacher in greedily seeking personal gain, and such a person thereby destroys his own assembly. Kāśyapa, there are three kinds of assembly: the mixed assembly of those who break the precepts, the assembly of the foolish, and the pure assembly… It is just so, good son: the Buddha-dharma is immeasurable, beyond conceptual thought, and the Tathāgata is likewise beyond conceptual thought."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, it is so, it is so, truly as your holy teaching says. The Buddha-dharma is immeasurable, beyond conceptual thought, and the Tathāgata is likewise beyond conceptual thought — and so I know the Tathāgata abides permanently, indestructible, without any change. I shall now study this well, and shall also proclaim this meaning widely to others."

The Buddha then praised the bodhisattva Kāśyapa: "Excellent, excellent! The Tathāgata's body is itself the vajra, the indestructible body; bodhisattvas should study this well, with right view and right knowledge. If one can know and see this with utter clarity, this is itself seeing the Buddha's own vajra body, the indestructible body, as clearly as seeing every form reflected in a mirror."

The Tathāgata then said further to Kāśyapa: "Good son, you should now well uphold this sūtra's every letter, chapter, and verse, and all the virtues they contain. If any good son or good daughter, on hearing the very name of this sūtra, should still be reborn into one of the four evil destinies — there is no such possibility. Why is this? Because this scripture is precisely what immeasurable, boundless buddhas have themselves cultivated; I shall now explain the virtues it contains."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, what should this sūtra be named? And how should a bodhisattva-mahāsattva uphold it?"

The Buddha said to Kāśyapa: "This sūtra is named 'Mahāparinirvāṇa' — excellent in its opening words, excellent in its middle words, and excellent in its closing words. Its meaning and flavor run deep, and its very language is excellent as well, complete and replete with pure conduct, a treasury of vajra fulfilled without any lack. Listen well now, and I shall explain it. Good son, the word 'great' here means permanent, just as the eight great rivers all flow into the great ocean; this sūtra is just the same, subduing every fetter, every affliction, and every nature of māra, and, only then, in the great parinirvāṇa, relinquishing body and life — and this is why it is named Mahāparinirvāṇa. Good son, it is also like a physician who has a single secret formula that encompasses every other medical remedy there is; the Tathāgata is just the same: every wondrous dharma he has taught, every secret and profound treasury-gate, is gathered entirely into the great parinirvāṇa, and this is why it is named Mahāparinirvāṇa. Good son, it is like a farmer who, sowing seed in the spring months, holds constant hope for the harvest, and, once the fruit is gathered in, finds every such hope finally at rest. Good son, every being is just the same: in studying other scriptures, they constantly hope for some flavor of truth, but once they hear this Mahāparinirvāṇa, their hope for whatever flavor other scriptures might hold is forever put to rest. This great nirvāṇa is able to bring beings across every stream of existence. Good son, it is like how, among the tracks of every creature, the elephant's track is supreme; this sūtra is just the same, foremost among the samādhis of every other sūtra. Good son, it is like how, in ploughing a field, autumn ploughing is finest; this sūtra is just the same, finest among every other sūtra. Good son, it is like how, among every medicine, ghee is foremost, well able to cure the fevered, disturbed minds of beings; this great nirvāṇa is likewise foremost among all things. Good son, it is like sweet cream, which is complete with eight flavors; this Mahāparinirvāṇa is just the same, complete with eight flavors. What are these eight? First, permanence; second, constancy; third, security; fourth, coolness; fifth, freedom from old age; sixth, freedom from death; seventh, freedom from defilement; eighth, true happiness — these are its eight complete flavors. Being complete with these eight flavors, it is named Mahāparinirvāṇa. And because the bodhisattva-mahāsattvas who abide within it are then able to manifest the appearance of nirvāṇa everywhere, in every place, it is likewise named Mahāparinirvāṇa. Kāśyapa, if any good son or good daughter wishes to attain nirvāṇa within this Mahāparinirvāṇa, they should study, in just this way, that the Tathāgata abides permanently, and that the Dharma and the Saṅgha do just the same."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said again to the Buddha: "How wondrous, World-Honored One! The Tathāgata's own virtue is beyond conceptual thought, the Dharma and Saṅgha are likewise beyond conceptual thought, and this great nirvāṇa is beyond conceptual thought as well. Whoever studies and cultivates this scripture attains the gateway to the true Dharma, and can become a true and skillful physician; but whoever has not yet studied it should be understood to be blind, without the eye of wisdom, and covered over by ignorance."