The Caṇḍāla King, and the Four Reliances

"Good son, within this subtle and profound scripture of the great nirvāṇa, there are four kinds of people able to protect the true Dharma, establish the true Dharma, and hold the true Dharma in mind, bringing great benefit and compassion to the world, becoming a support and a source of ease for gods and humans alike. What are these four? One who appears in the world still possessing the nature of affliction is the first; a stream-enterer or a once-returner is the second; a non-returner is the third; and an arhat is the fourth. These four kinds of people, appearing in the world, are able to bring great benefit and compassion to the world, becoming a support and a source of ease for gods and humans alike."

"What is meant by still possessing the nature of affliction? If there is a person able to uphold the moral precepts, complete in bearing, establishing the true Dharma, who, having heard it from the Buddha, understands its words and meaning, and expounds it in turn for others — teaching, for instance, that few desires are the path and many desires are not the path, expounding at length the eight awakenings of a great person, instructing whoever has transgressed to confess openly, repent, and be cleansed of the offense, and who understands well the skillful, secret conduct of the bodhisattvas — such a person is called an ordinary being, not the eighth kind of person. The eighth kind of person is not called an ordinary being, but is called a bodhisattva, though not yet called a buddha."

"The second kind of person is called a stream-enterer or a once-returner: one who has attained the true Dharma, upholds the true Dharma, and, having heard the Dharma from the Buddha exactly as it was taught, writes it down, upholds it, reads and recites it, and expounds it in turn for others. Should such a person, having heard the Dharma, fail to write it down, fail to receive it, fail to uphold or expound it, and instead claim that the Buddha permits monks to keep servants and other improper possessions — this could not possibly be so. This is the second kind of person. Such a person has not yet attained the second or third abode, and is called a bodhisattva who has already received a prediction of future buddhahood."

"The third kind of person is called a non-returner. As for the non-returner: it could not possibly be so that such a person slanders the true Dharma or claims the Buddha permits keeping servants and other improper possessions, upholds the treatises and writings of heterodox schools, is obstructed by newly arisen, adventitious afflictions, or is covered over by long-standing afflictions, conceals the Tathāgata's own true relics, is afflicted by outward illness, or is assailed by the four great elements as though by poisonous serpents, or asserts the existence of a fixed self — none of this could possibly be so. It could be so, however, that such a person teaches no-self; it could not possibly be so that such a person remains attached to worldly things, though it could be so that such a person continues, without interruption, to expound the Great Vehicle. It could not possibly be so that the body such a person has received harbors eighty thousand kinds of worm; it could be so, however, that such a person is forever free of sexual desire, never once losing purity even in dreams. It could not possibly be so that such a person, on the point of death, gives rise to fear. What, then, is meant by non-returner? Such a person does not return. None of the faults described above can ever taint such a person's own coming and going. This is called a bodhisattva who has already received a prediction of future buddhahood, and who will, before long, accomplish unsurpassed, complete awakening — this is what is meant by the third kind of person."

"The fourth kind of person is called an arhat. An arhat has cut off every affliction, laid down every heavy burden, attained his own true benefit, and completed what needed to be done; abiding on the tenth ground, he has gained mastery of wisdom, and is able to manifest every kind of form according to what beings delight in; whatever he sets his mind to accomplishing toward buddhahood, he is able to accomplish. Having accomplished immeasurable virtues such as these, he is called an arhat. These, then, are the four kinds of people who, appearing in the world, are able to bring great benefit and compassion to the world, becoming a support and a source of ease for gods and humans, the most honored and excellent among gods and humans, just like the Tathāgata himself, foremost among people, a true refuge."

Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, I do not now rely on these four kinds of people. Why is this? In the Gośāla Sūtra, the Buddha taught the elder Gośāla: 'Should the heavenly Māra or Brahmā, wishing to cause harm, transform himself into an image of the Buddha, complete with the thirty-two marks and eighty minor characteristics, a halo a fathom wide, a face full and radiant as the moon at its fullest, and the white, snow-surpassing curl of hair between the brows, and come toward you adorned in this way, you should examine him closely to determine whether he is genuine or false, and, once you have recognized him, subdue him.' World-Honored One, if Māra can even transform himself into the Buddha's own body, how could he not also be able to take on the bodies of these four kinds of people — sitting or lying in open space, water flowing from his left side, fire from his right, smoke and flame pouring from his whole body like a blazing mass? For this very reason, I cannot give rise to faith in this teaching; whatever is taught in this way, I am unable to accept, and hold no reverence for it as something to rely upon."

The Buddha said: "Good son, if you can doubt even what I myself have taught, how much more should you doubt something like this? For this very reason you should skillfully distinguish and know what is wholesome from what is not, what should be done from what should not be done, and, having acted accordingly, you will find lasting ease through the long night ahead. Good son, it is like a thieving dog that slips into someone's house at night; if the household maid notices it, she should at once drive it out, scolding it: 'Get out at once — if you do not leave, I will take your life.' Hearing this, the thieving dog flees at once and never returns. From this day forward, you should subdue Pāpīyas in just the same way, saying to him: 'Pāpīyas, you should not take on such a form; should you persist in doing so, I will bind you with the five bonds.' Hearing this, Māra will turn back at once, just like that thieving dog, never to return again."

Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, if, as the Buddha taught the elder Gośāla, one who is able to subdue Māra in this way can thereby draw near this great parinirvāṇa on his own, why does the Tathāgata still need to name these four kinds of people as a refuge to rely upon at all? What these four kinds of people say cannot necessarily be trusted."

The Buddha said to Kāśyapa: "Good son, what I taught there is just the same as what I teach now — it is not otherwise. Good son, I taught the subduing of Māra for the sake of śrāvakas, those possessing only the fleshly eye, not for the sake of those who study the Great Vehicle. Though a śrāvaka may possess the heavenly eye, it is still called only the fleshly eye; but one who studies the Great Vehicle, though possessing only the fleshly eye, may still be said to possess the buddha-eye. Why is this? Because the scriptures of the Great Vehicle are themselves called the buddha-vehicle, and this buddha-vehicle is the highest and most excellent of all. Good son, it is like a person of great courage and might, whom the timid constantly come to rely upon; this courageous person constantly teaches the timid, saying: 'You should learn to draw the bow and loose the arrow in this way, and train in the use of the spear, the long hook, and the snare.' And he says further: 'In battle, though it may feel like walking on a blade's edge, you should not give rise to any thought of fear — you should regard both gods and humans as insubstantial and weak, and give rise instead to a mind of your own courage. Sometimes a person who has, at heart, no real courage at all will falsely put on a show of strength, arming himself with bow, sword, and every kind of weapon, and come shouting loudly onto the field of battle — but toward such a person too, you should not give rise to any anxiety or fear. If such a person sees that you show no fear before him, know that he will soon fall apart, just like that thieving dog.' Good son, the Tathāgata is just the same: I say to the śrāvakas, 'You should not fear Māra Pāpīyas; should Māra Pāpīyas transform himself into the Buddha's own body and come to you, you should diligently steady your own mind and subdue him — Māra will then grow sorrowful and displeased, and turn back the way he came.' Good son, just as that courageous person needs no further instruction from anyone else, one who studies the Great Vehicle is just the same: on hearing every kind of profound and secret scripture, his heart delights in it and gives rise to no alarm at all. Why is this? Because one who studies the Great Vehicle in this way has already made offerings to, revered, and paid homage to countless millions of buddhas in ages past; though countless millions of hosts of māras might come to assail him, he remains, in every such matter, entirely without alarm or fear. Good son, it is like a person who has obtained the agada medicine, and fears nothing at all — every venomous serpent fears the power of this medicine, which is also able to dissolve every poison entirely. The scriptures of the Great Vehicle are just the same: like the power of that medicine, they fear no poison of any māra at all, and are able to subdue every māra so that it never rises again."

"Furthermore, good son, it is like a dragon of an exceedingly jealous, malicious nature, who, wishing to harm a person, need only look at him or breathe upon him — and every lion, tiger, leopard, wolf, and dog is filled with terror at this dragon, such fierce beasts losing their lives the moment they hear its voice, see its form, or are touched by it. Yet one skilled in mantra, through the power of that mantra, is able to render even such venomous dragons, garuḍas, fierce elephants, lions, tigers, leopards, and wolves entirely tame, fit to be ridden and driven at will — such beasts, on encountering that skilled mantra, are subdued at once. The śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas are just the same: on seeing Māra Pāpīyas, they are all filled with terror, while Māra Pāpīyas himself feels no fear at all, and continues on with the business of Māra undisturbed. One who studies the Great Vehicle is just the same as that mantra-adept: seeing the śrāvakas terrified of Māra's own doings, and unable to give rise to faith and delight in the Great Vehicle because of it, he first subdues every māra through skillful means, rendering them all tame and fit to be ridden, and only then expounds every kind of wondrous Dharma at length. Once the śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas see that Māra has been subdued, and no longer feel any fear, they at last give rise to faith and delight in this peerless true Dharma of the Great Vehicle, saying to themselves: 'From this day forward, we should not become an obstacle within this true Dharma.'"

"Furthermore, good son, the śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas are filled with fear before every affliction, while one who studies the Great Vehicle has no fear at all — such is the power that studying the Great Vehicle brings. It was for this very reason that what I taught before was meant to help the śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas subdue māras, and was not meant for the Great Vehicle at all. This subtle and profound scripture of the great nirvāṇa cannot be dissolved or subdued by anything — it is exceedingly rare and wondrous. Whoever hears it, and, having heard it, believes and accepts it, coming to believe that the Tathāgata is the permanently abiding Dharma, is a person exceedingly rare, like the udumbara flower. Should anyone, after my parinirvāṇa, come to hear this subtle and profound scripture of the Great Vehicle and give rise to a mind of faith and reverence, know that such a person will not fall into any evil destiny for a hundred thousand million kalpas to come."

The Buddha then said to the bodhisattva Kāśyapa: "Good son, after my parinirvāṇa there will be countless hundreds of thousands of beings who slander and refuse to believe this subtle and profound scripture of the great nirvāṇa." The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said again to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, how soon after the Buddha's parinirvāṇa will these beings begin to slander this sūtra? And what kind of purely good beings will then be able to rescue those who slander the Dharma?"

The Buddha said to Kāśyapa: "Good son, for forty years after my parinirvāṇa this sūtra will circulate widely throughout Jambudvīpa, and only after that will it become hidden away in the earth. Good son, it is like sugarcane, rice, rock sugar, curds, and ghee — wherever these are found, the people of that land all say these are the finest of flavors. Yet there are also those who eat nothing but coarse millet and barnyard grass, and who likewise say that what they eat is the finest of all — such people are of scant merit, receiving the fruit of their own past karma. A person of true merit, by contrast, has never even heard the names of millet or barnyard grass, and eats only fine rice, sugarcane, rock sugar, and ghee. This subtle and profound scripture of the great nirvāṇa is just the same: those of dull faculties and scant merit take no delight in hearing it, just as the poor in merit despise fine rice and rock sugar. The followers of the two lesser vehicles are just the same, despising this peerless great nirvāṇa sūtra. But there are also beings whose hearts delight in hearing and receiving this sūtra, who, having heard it, rejoice and give rise to no slander at all — just like that person of true merit, who eats fine rice."

"Good son, it is like a king dwelling in a dangerous, forbidding mountain stronghold: though sugarcane, fine rice, and rock sugar exist, they are hard to come by there, and so, prizing them too dearly, he hoards them away without daring to eat them, fearing they will run out, and eats only millet and barnyard grass instead. Another king, from a different land, hears of this and, with pity and amusement, sends him whole cartloads of fine rice and sugarcane. Once this king receives them, he distributes them at once, and the whole kingdom eats together; the people, having eaten, are filled with joy, and say to one another: 'It is because of that other king that we have come to enjoy this rare food.' Good son, these four kinds of people are just the same, serving as generals for this peerless great Dharma. Among these four, there may be one who, seeing countless bodhisattvas in some other land who, though they have studied these very scriptures of the Great Vehicle, copying them out themselves or having others copy them, do so only for personal gain, for praise, to understand the Dharma for their own sake, or to use as a basis, or to trade for other scriptures, and are thus unable to expound them widely for others — takes up this subtle and profound scripture and carries it to that other land, giving it to those bodhisattvas there, causing them to give rise to the peerless resolve for awakening and to abide securely in it. And these bodhisattvas, having received this sūtra, then expound it widely for others in turn, causing countless beings to receive the flavor of this Great Vehicle Dharma — all of this made possible by the power of that single bodhisattva, causing a scripture never before heard to be heard at last, just as those people came to enjoy that rare food through the power of that other king. Furthermore, good son, wherever this subtle and profound scripture of the great nirvāṇa circulates, know that the very ground there becomes vajra, and the people there likewise become like vajra; whoever is able to hear this sūtra will never regress from unsurpassed, complete awakening, and will accomplish whatever they aspire to, exactly as I have taught here today. You monks should uphold it well. Should there be any being unable to hear this sūtra, know that such a person is greatly to be pitied — for such a person is unable to receive and uphold the profound meaning of this scripture of the Great Vehicle."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, this scripture of the Great Vehicle, this great nirvāṇa sūtra, will circulate widely throughout Jambudvīpa for forty years after the Tathāgata's parinirvāṇa, and will then become hidden in the earth — after how long a time will it emerge again?" The Buddha said: "Good son, if eighty years remain of my true Dharma, then in the first forty years of the following period, this sūtra will again rain down as a great rain of the Dharma throughout Jambudvīpa."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said again to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, at the time when the true Dharma is being destroyed, when the true precepts are being violated, when what is contrary to the Dharma is on the rise, when there are no beings left who act in accordance with the Dharma — who then will be able to hear, uphold, read, and recite this scripture, mastering it fully, making offerings to it, and copying and explaining it? I beg only that the Tathāgata, out of compassion for beings, explain this at length, so that the bodhisattvas, having heard it, may uphold it, and, upholding it, attain the resolve for unsurpassed, complete awakening that never regresses."

The Buddha then praised Kāśyapa: "Excellent, excellent, good son! You have asked about this matter well. Good son, only one who has given rise to the resolve for awakening before as many buddhas as there are grains of sand in the Hiraṇyavatī River is able to uphold this sūtra in this evil age without giving rise to any slander of it at all. Good son, one who has given rise to the resolve for awakening before as many buddhas as there are grains of sand in a single Ganges River is able, in this evil age, not to slander this Dharma, and to cherish and delight in this scripture, but is not yet able to expound it widely and distinctly for others… Should there be beings who have given rise to the resolve for awakening before as many buddhas as there are grains of sand in eight Ganges Rivers, they are then able, in this evil age, not to slander this Dharma, to uphold, read, recite, and copy out this scripture, and further to encourage others to copy it as well, themselves listening and receiving it, and further encouraging others to listen, receive, read, and recite it fully, protecting and firmly upholding it out of compassion for the beings of the world, making offerings to this sūtra, and encouraging others to make offerings, revere, honor, recite, and bow to it as well — and, being complete in all of this, are able to fully understand its meaning and flavor, namely that the Tathāgata abides permanently, without change, in final and complete bliss, that every being without exception possesses buddha-nature, expounded at length, and that they come to understand well the whole of the Tathāgata's own treasury of the Dharma. Having made offerings to buddhas such as these, and having established, upheld, and protected this peerless true Dharma, whoever has only just now given rise to the resolve for unsurpassed, complete awakening should be understood to be one who will surely, in ages to come, be able to establish, uphold, and protect this true Dharma as well. This is why you should not now fail to recognize those who will protect the Dharma in ages to come — for whoever gives rise to this resolve will surely, in ages to come, be able to protect and uphold this peerless true Dharma."

"Good son, there are wicked monks who, hearing of my parinirvāṇa, feel no sorrow at all, but think: 'How fortunate — the Tathāgata is entering parinirvāṇa today. While the Tathāgata lived, he stood in the way of our own gain; now that he enters parinirvāṇa, who is left to stand in our way at all? With no one to stand in our way, we can go back to enjoying support and offerings just as before. While the Tathāgata lived, the precepts were strict and severe; now that he enters parinirvāṇa, we can set them all aside. This robe we wear, once a mark of the Dharma, can now be discarded like a bare wooden pole.' People such as these slander and reject this scripture of the Great Vehicle. Good son, you should now bear this well in mind: whoever accomplishes immeasurable virtue in full is able to believe in this scripture of the Great Vehicle, and, believing it, to uphold it. As for other beings who delight in the Dharma, whoever is able to expound this sūtra widely for them will, once they have heard it, have every unwholesome deed committed across countless past kalpas entirely removed. But whoever does not believe in this scripture will, in this very life, be afflicted by countless illnesses and sufferings, reviled and insulted by many, and, after death, held in contempt by others, ugly in appearance, struggling for a livelihood, forever lacking what is needed, obtaining at best only coarse, poor, and inferior things, born again and again into poverty, low station, and households that slander the true Dharma and hold wrong views. Should such a person come to the end of life amid chaos and disorder, when swords and soldiers rise up in every direction, when kings grow cruel and enemies close in with hatred and vengeance, even a good friend will be nowhere to be found; whatever is needed to live cannot be obtained, and even the little that is gained brings no relief from constant hunger and thirst; such a person is known and regarded only by the lowest of people, entirely overlooked by kings and ministers. Even should such a person hear something taught, even were it entirely true, he would never come to believe or accept it. Such a person will not reach any good place at all — like a bird with a broken wing, unable to fly, such a person, likewise, will be unable to reach any good place among gods or humans in ages to come. But whoever is able to believe in this scripture of the Great Vehicle will, even if born originally with a coarse and unlovely form, become handsome through the very merit of this scripture, his dignity, complexion, and strength increasing day by day, forever a joy for gods and humans to behold, cherished and loved without any wish to be parted from him. Kings, ministers, and his own family and relatives, hearing what he teaches, will all come to revere and believe it. Whoever among my śrāvaka disciples wishes to accomplish the very rarest and most excellent deed should proclaim this scripture of the Great Vehicle widely for the sake of the world."

"Good son, it is like mist and dew, which, however much they may wish to linger, cannot outlast the sunrise — once the sun has risen, they vanish entirely, leaving nothing behind. Good son, the unwholesome karma of every being is just the same: whatever power it may have to persist in the world cannot outlast the day this great nirvāṇa is finally beheld — once that day has dawned, it is able to remove every unwholesome deed entirely."

"Furthermore, good son, it is like a person who has gone forth and shaved his head, and, though he now wears the monastic robe, has not yet received the ten novice precepts; should an elder come to invite the whole assembly of monks to a meal, this not-yet-ordained person is invited together with the rest of the assembly all the same — though not yet ordained, he is already counted among the saṅgha. Good son, it is just the same for any being who has only just given rise to the resolve to begin studying this scripture of the Great Vehicle, this great nirvāṇa sūtra, copying, upholding, reading, and reciting it: though not yet complete in the ten abodes, such a person is already counted among their number. Whether a being is my own disciple or not, if, out of craving, fear, or the wish for material gain, such a person listens to and receives even a single verse of this sūtra, and, having heard it, gives rise to no slander, know that such a person has already drawn near to unsurpassed, complete awakening. Good son, it is for this very reason that I name these four kinds of people as a support for the world. Good son, it could not possibly be so that these four kinds of people would call something the Buddha's own teaching when it is not — this is why I name these four kinds of people as a support for the world. Good son, you should make offerings to these four kinds of people."

"World-Honored One, how am I to recognize such a person, so as to make offerings to them?" The Buddha said to Kāśyapa: "Whoever establishes and protects the true Dharma — such a person should be sought out and entreated, and one should give up even body and life to make offerings to them, just as I have taught in this scripture of the Great Vehicle:

'Whoever knows the Dharma,
whether old or young,
should for this reason be offered to,
revered, and bowed before —
just as brāhmaṇas
serve the sacred fire.

Whoever knows the Dharma,
whether old or young,
should for this reason be offered to,
revered, and bowed before —
just as the gods
serve and honor Śakra.'"

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, offering to one's teachers and elders should indeed be as the Buddha has taught. But I now have a doubt, and beg only that you explain it at length. If a senior monk who has upheld the precepts learns something he has not heard before from a junior monk, should he then bow to that junior monk? If he should, then he could hardly be called one who keeps the precepts. And if a junior monk who upholds the precepts learns something he has not heard before from a senior monk who has broken the precepts, should he then bow to him? And if a renunciant learns something he has not heard before from a layperson, should the renunciant then bow to the layperson? Yet a renunciant should not bow to a layperson at all. And within the Buddha's own teaching, the young should revere the old and senior, since these elders received the full precepts first and are complete in their bearing, and so should be honored and revered. Yet the Buddha has said: 'One who breaks the precepts has no place at all within the Buddha's own teaching, just as a fine field can still be overrun with weeds' — and yet the Buddha has also said: 'Whoever knows the Dharma, whether old or young, should for this reason be offered to, as one honors Śakra.' What is the meaning of these two statements together? Could the Tathāgata be speaking falsely? The Buddha has also said: 'Even a precept-keeping monk may still commit some transgression' — why does the Tathāgata say this? The World-Honored One has also, in other scriptures, spoken of permitting the correction of those who break the precepts — the meaning of all this remains unclear to me."

The Buddha said to Kāśyapa: "Good son, I spoke that verse for the sake of future bodhisattvas who study the Great Vehicle, not for the sake of śrāvaka disciples. Good son, as I have said before, at the time when the true Dharma is being destroyed, when the true precepts are being violated, when the breaking of precepts is on the rise, when what is contrary to the Dharma flourishes, when every true sage has withdrawn from view, and when the keeping of servants and other improper possessions has become common — at just such a time, one among these four kinds of people will appear in the world, shaving his head and beard, going forth to cultivate the path. Seeing that the monks everywhere keep servants, attendants, and other improper possessions, unable to tell pure from impure or to distinguish what accords with the Vinaya from what does not, this person, wishing to bring these monks under control, blends his own light with theirs without mixing with their dust — knowing well, within himself, the difference between his own true conduct and the Buddha's own conduct. Though he sees others commit even the gravest offenses, he remains silent and does not expose them. Why is this? Because he has appeared in the world in order to establish and protect the true Dharma, and it is for this reason that he remains silent and does not bring such charges. Good son, though such a person may appear to transgress for the sake of protecting the Dharma, this cannot be called breaking the precepts."

"Good son, it is like a king who falls ill and dies, leaving behind only a young, still immature crown prince, not yet fit to succeed him. There is a caṇḍāla, immensely wealthy, possessed of countless riches and a great retinue, who, relying on his own strength, waits for the kingdom to grow weak and then usurps the throne for himself. Before he has ruled for long, the people of the kingdom, the householders, and the brāhmaṇas flee in rebellion, escaping far into other lands; even those who remain can hardly bear even to look upon this king. Some elders and brāhmaṇas, unable to leave their own native soil, remain — like trees that, once rooted in a place, must also die there. Realizing that so many of his people have fled in rebellion, the caṇḍāla king at once dispatches his own caṇḍāla kinsmen to guard every road, and, after seven days, has drums beaten and a proclamation made: 'Whichever brāhmaṇa is able to serve as my own consecrating priest shall be rewarded with half the kingdom.' On hearing this proclamation, not a single brāhmaṇa comes forward, each saying to himself: 'What brāhmaṇa anywhere could possibly do such a thing?' The caṇḍāla king then proclaims further: 'If not one among the brāhmaṇas will come to serve as my priest, I will see to it that every brāhmaṇa is made to dwell, eat, and sleep together with caṇḍālas, sharing in their very trade; but whoever comes to consecrate me, I promise, without fail, half the kingdom as his reward — and we shall share together, too, in the deathless nectar of the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven that my own spells can summon.'"

"At that time there was a young brahmin, still barely of age, of pure conduct, his hair grown long as a mark of his practice, well versed in the mantric arts, who came before the king and said: 'Great king, whatever you command, I am able to do.' The king, filled with joy, accepted this youth as his consecrating priest. On hearing of this, the brāhmaṇas were filled with fury, and rebuked the youth: 'You are a brāhmaṇa — how could you become a caṇḍāla's own priest?' The king then divided half his kingdom and gave it to the youth, and the two of them ruled the kingdom together for a long time after. The youth then said to the king: 'I gave up the brahmanical way of life to become your royal priest, teaching you the subtle and secret mantric arts — and yet, even now, you still do not treat me as someone close to you.' The king answered: 'How could I not treat you as someone close to me?' The youth replied: 'The deathless medicine the former king possessed — we have still never shared it together.' The king said: 'Excellent, excellent, great teacher! I truly did not know of this. If you need it, please, take it for yourself.' On hearing the king's words, the youth took the medicine home at once, and invited the king's own ministers to share it with him. Once the ministers had eaten it, they said together to the king: 'How wonderful, great teacher, to have this nectar of deathlessness!' Hearing this, the king said to his teacher: 'Why does the great teacher share this nectar only with the ministers, and not with me?' The youth then gave the king a different medicine instead, mixed with poison, and had him take it. No sooner had the king swallowed it than the poison took effect, and he collapsed to the ground in confusion, unconscious, as though dead. The youth then installed the former crown prince as king once more, saying: 'The lion's own throne should never, by rights, be mounted by a caṇḍāla. Never before, from ancient times to now, have I heard of any caṇḍāla becoming a king — for a caṇḍāla to govern a kingdom and rule its people could not possibly be right. You should now return to your rightful place, succeeding your former king, and rule the kingdom with the true Dharma.' Having set this right, the youth then gave the caṇḍāla an antidote, reviving him, and, once revived, had him driven out of the kingdom entirely. Though the youth had done all this, he never once lost his own brahmanical conduct throughout; the rest of the householders and brāhmaṇas, hearing of what he had done, marveled at what they had never seen before, and praised him, saying: 'Excellent, excellent, noble one! How skillfully you have driven out the caṇḍāla king!'"

"Good son, the bodhisattvas who protect the true Dharma after my parinirvāṇa are just the same: through skillful means, they take part in the very same affairs as those monks who, in name only, have broken the precepts and keep every kind of improper possession. Should such a bodhisattva see someone who, though he has broken many precepts himself, is nonetheless able to bring wicked, precept-breaking monks under control, that bodhisattva will go to him, bow in reverence, and make the four kinds of offering, presenting him with scriptures, books, and every useful implement; and should the bodhisattva himself have none of these to give, he will use skillful means to seek them out from donors and provide them all the same. For this very purpose he may keep the eight kinds of improper possession. Why is this? Because this person is working to bring wicked monks under control, just as that youth drove out the caṇḍāla. Though such a bodhisattva bows in reverence to this person, and keeps and uses the eight kinds of improper possession, he incurs no fault at all in doing so. Why is this? Because this bodhisattva does so in order to expel and correct wicked monks, so that the pure saṅgha may dwell in peace, so that the scriptures of the Great Vehicle may circulate widely, and for the benefit of every god and human being. Good son, it is for this very reason that I spoke, within this sūtra, the two verses causing every bodhisattva to praise together those who protect the Dharma, just as those householders and brāhmaṇas praised the youth, saying: 'Excellent, excellent.' A bodhisattva who protects the Dharma should act in just this way. Should anyone see a protector of the Dharma taking part in the same affairs as those who have broken the precepts, and declare that person guilty of some fault, know that it is that very accuser who brings misfortune upon himself — the true protector of the Dharma is, in fact, entirely without fault. Good son, if a monk breaks the precepts and, out of arrogance, conceals it without repenting, know that such a person truly breaks the precepts. A bodhisattva-mahāsattva who, for the sake of protecting the Dharma, appears to transgress cannot be said to break the precepts at all — why is this? Because he holds no arrogance, and confesses and repents openly."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, are such bodhisattva-mahāsattvas, so extremely lax in their observance of the precepts, still complete in the precepts they originally received?" The Buddha said: "Good son, you should not speak this way. Why is this? The precepts one has originally received remain just as they were from the start; should any transgression occur, one need only confess and repent, and, having repented, become pure once more. Good son, it is like an old embankment, worn through with holes, through which water leaks and drains away — this is only because no one repairs it; were someone to repair it, the water would no longer escape. A bodhisattva is just the same: though he joins in the poṣadha, the receiving and confession of precepts, and the general business of the saṅgha together with those who have broken the precepts, his own moral conduct is not thereby worn through and leaking away like that embankment. Why is this? Because if there were no one of pure precept-keeping present at all, the saṅgha would decline, and laxity and heedlessness would only grow day by day; but where there is a person of pure precept-keeping present, the precepts remain complete and unlost. Good son, laxity toward the Vehicle is properly called laxity; laxity toward the precepts, in this case, is not properly called laxity at all. A bodhisattva-mahāsattva whose mind holds no laxity or heedlessness toward this Great Vehicle is said to keep his original precepts intact. Bathing himself, for the sake of protecting the true Dharma, in the very waters of the Great Vehicle, such a bodhisattva, though he may appear to break the precepts, cannot be called lax at all."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "Among the assembly of monks there are these four kinds of people, hard to tell apart, like a mango fruit whose ripeness cannot be judged from outside — how, then, can one tell precept-breaking from precept-keeping?" The Buddha said: "Good son, this can be known easily by relying on this subtle and profound scripture of the great nirvāṇa. How can it be known through this great nirvāṇa sūtra? It is like a farmer who sows rice and other grain, and weeds out the barnyard grass — to the ordinary eye, the field looks clean and pure, but once the crop has ripened, the true grain and the weeds show themselves as entirely distinct. It is the same with these eight practices that defile the saṅgha: were they removed, the ordinary eye would see purity at once. Whether a monk keeps or breaks the precepts is hard to tell by the ordinary eye so long as no wrongdoing has come to light — but once wrongdoing is exposed, it becomes easy to recognize, just as the barnyard grass becomes easy to distinguish once it has grown. It is the same within the saṅgha: whoever is able to keep far from these eight impure, poisonous-serpent practices is called a pure and holy field of merit, worthy of offerings from gods and humans alike — but this pure result cannot be discerned by the ordinary eye."

"Furthermore, good son, it is like a forest of kalaka trees, among which stands a single tinduka tree. The fruit of the kalaka and the fruit of the tinduka closely resemble each other and cannot be told apart. When the fruit ripens, a woman gathers it all together — for every portion of tinduka fruit there are ten portions of kalaka fruit — and, unable to tell the two apart, carries it to market to sell. Some foolish, ignorant children, likewise unable to distinguish them, buy the kalaka fruit, eat it, and die. On hearing of this, some wise people ask the woman: 'Sister, where did you gather this fruit?' The woman shows them the place, and the people say to one another: 'In that place there are countless kalaka trees, and only a single tinduka tree.' Having learned this, they laugh and walk away."

"Good son, the eight impure practices within the great assembly are just the same: within this assembly there are many who indulge in these eight practices, and only a single person of pure precept-keeping who refuses these eight impure practices, though he knows well that the others keep improper possessions, and yet does not separate himself from their company — just like that single tinduka tree standing amid the kalaka forest. Suppose there is an upāsaka who, seeing that many in this assembly engage in improper conduct, refuses to show reverence or make offerings to any of them; before making any offering, he should first ask: 'Venerable ones, do you keep and use these eight kinds of possession? Did the Buddha permit this? And if the Buddha did permit it, are such people still permitted to join in the poṣadha and the confession ceremony together with the rest of the saṅgha?' Once this upāsaka has asked this, suppose the whole assembly answers: 'The Tathāgata, out of compassion, permits all eight of these practices.' The upāsaka should then say: 'At the Jetavana monastery there were monks who said the Buddha permitted keeping gold and silver, and others who said he did not — and those who said it was permitted were not allowed to dwell together with those who said it was not, nor to join them in the recitation of precepts or the confession ceremony, not even to drink from the same river, nor to share in any of the same offerings. How, then, can you all now say the Buddha permitted this?' Even were the Buddha, that god among gods, himself to accept such things, you, the ordinary saṅgha, should still not keep them. Whoever does keep them should not be allowed to join in the recitation of precepts, the confession ceremony, or any business of the saṅgha at all; and whoever does join with them in these things will, upon death, fall straight into hell — just like those people who ate the kalaka fruit and died."

"Furthermore, good son, it is like a city marketplace where a medicine-seller offers a fine, sweet medicine that comes from the Himalayas, but also sells, alongside it, many other, inferior medicines whose taste closely resembles it. People wishing to buy this fine medicine, unable to tell it apart from the rest, go to the seller and ask: 'Do you have the medicine from the Himalayas?' The seller answers that he does — but, being a cheat, hands the buyer some other, inferior medicine instead, saying: 'This is the fine, sweet medicine from the Himalayas.' The buyer, unable to judge for himself by the ordinary eye, buys it and takes it away, thinking to himself: 'I have now obtained the fine medicine from the Himalayas.' Kāśyapa, it is the same within the śrāvaka saṅgha: there is the saṅgha in name only, the truly genuine saṅgha, and the saṅgha as an undifferentiated whole — whether keeping or breaking the precepts, all should equally receive offerings, reverence, and homage from an upāsaka unable to tell them apart by the ordinary eye, just as that buyer could not distinguish the true Himalayan medicine from the rest. Who truly keeps the precepts, and who breaks them? Which is the true saṅgha, and which only bears its name? Only one possessed of the heavenly eye is able to tell them apart. Kāśyapa, if an upāsaka knows for certain that a given monk has broken the precepts, he should not give offerings, homage, or reverence to that monk; and if he knows that this person keeps and uses the eight kinds of improper possession, he should likewise not provide for his needs or show him homage or reverence. Wherever there is one who has broken the precepts within the saṅgha, one should not show him reverence or homage merely because he wears the monastic robe."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said again to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, excellent, excellent! What the Tathāgata has taught is true and without falsehood — I shall receive it with my whole heart. It is like a treasure of vajra, a jewel beyond any other. As the Buddha has taught, monks should rely on these four things. What are the four? Rely on the Dharma, not on the person; rely on the meaning, not on the words; rely on wisdom, not on ordinary consciousness; rely on the definitive teaching, not on the provisional teaching. One should verify these four principles, and not simply rely on any of the four kinds of people directly."

The Buddha said: "Good son, relying on the Dharma means relying on the Tathāgata's own great parinirvāṇa. Every dharma taught by every buddha is itself the Dharma-nature, and this Dharma-nature is itself the Tathāgata — this is why the Tathāgata abides permanently, without change. Whoever says the Tathāgata is impermanent neither knows nor sees this Dharma-nature; and whoever neither knows nor sees this Dharma-nature should not be relied upon. As I have said above, the four kinds of people who appear in the world to protect the Dharma should be recognized and relied upon — why is this? Because such a person well understands the Tathāgata's own subtle and profound treasury, and is able to know that the Tathāgata abides permanently, without change; for such a person to say the Tathāgata is impermanent or subject to change could not possibly be so. These four kinds of people are themselves rightly called the Tathāgata — why is this? Because such a person is able both to understand the Tathāgata's own hidden meaning and to teach it in turn. Whoever is truly able to understand the Tathāgata's own profound and secret treasury, and to know that the Tathāgata abides permanently, without change, could never, for the sake of personal gain, say that the Tathāgata is impermanent. Such a person can indeed be relied upon — how much more, then, should these four kinds of people be relied upon? Relying on the Dharma means relying on the Dharma-nature; not relying on the person means not relying on the śrāvaka. The Dharma-nature is itself the Tathāgata; the śrāvaka is himself a conditioned thing. The Tathāgata is permanently abiding; the conditioned is impermanent. Good son, whoever breaks the precepts and, for the sake of personal gain, says the Tathāgata is impermanent and subject to change, should not be relied upon at all. Good son, this is what is meant by the settled meaning of reliance on the Dharma."

"Relying on the meaning, not on the words, means this: meaning here means full comprehension; full comprehension means being free of weakness; being free of weakness means being complete; being complete means that the Tathāgata abides permanently, without change; the Tathāgata's permanent abiding, without change, means that the Dharma is permanent; and the Dharma's permanence means that the Saṅgha is permanent — this is what is meant by relying on the meaning, not on the words. What kind of words, then, should not be relied upon? Namely, elaborate treatises and ornately decorated language. It is like when someone, having heard the Buddha's own countless scriptures, becomes insatiably greedy, deceitful, and flattering, falsely feigning closeness with others, cultivating appearances in order to seek personal gain, managing lay affairs and putting laypeople to work for himself, and further proclaiming: 'The Buddha permits monks to keep servants and other improper possessions, gold, silver, and treasures, granaries of grain, cattle, sheep, elephants, and horses, buying and selling for profit; and, out of compassion for his disciples in times of famine, the Buddha permits monks to stockpile provisions and cook for themselves, eating food not formally offered to them.' Words such as these should not be relied upon at all."

"Relying on wisdom, not on ordinary consciousness, means this: what is called wisdom here is itself the Tathāgata. If there is a śrāvaka who is unable to properly understand the Tathāgata's own virtues, that person's own ordinary consciousness should not be relied upon. Whoever understands that the Tathāgata is himself the Dharma-body — that person's true wisdom should be relied upon. Whoever, seeing only the Tathāgata's own skillfully manifested body, says that it is subsumed under the aggregates, elements, and sense-fields, and nourished by food, should likewise not be relied upon — this is why ordinary consciousness cannot be relied upon. And should anyone teach in this way, their scriptures and writings should likewise not be relied upon."

"Relying on the definitive teaching, not on the provisional teaching, means this: the provisional teaching refers to the śrāvaka vehicle, which, on hearing of the Tathāgata's own profound and secret treasury, gives rise only to doubt and bewilderment, unaware that this treasury issues from the great ocean of wisdom itself — like an infant, unable to discern anything at all. This is what is meant by the provisional teaching. The definitive teaching belongs to the bodhisattva, whose true wisdom follows freely from his own mind, an unobstructed great wisdom, like a fully grown person who lacks nothing in understanding — this is what is meant by the definitive teaching. The śrāvaka vehicle, again, is called the provisional teaching; the peerless Great Vehicle alone is called the definitive teaching. To say the Tathāgata is impermanent and subject to change is the provisional teaching; to say the Tathāgata abides permanently, without change, is the definitive teaching. What the śrāvakas teach still needs to be further verified — this is the provisional teaching; what the bodhisattvas teach needs no further verification — this is the definitive teaching. To say the Tathāgata is nourished by food is the provisional teaching; to say he abides permanently, without change, is the definitive teaching. To say the Tathāgata's entering nirvāṇa is like firewood burning out and a flame going out is the provisional teaching; to say the Tathāgata enters the Dharma-nature is the definitive teaching. The teaching of the śrāvaka vehicle should not be relied upon — why is this? Because the Tathāgata, for the sake of bringing beings across, taught the śrāvaka vehicle only as a skillful means, just as an elder teaches his son the half-letters first. Good son, the śrāvaka vehicle is like a field only just ploughed, not yet bearing fruit — this is why it is called the provisional teaching, and why it should not be relied upon. The teaching of the Great Vehicle, however, should be relied upon — why is this? Because the Tathāgata, for the sake of bringing beings across, taught the Great Vehicle through skillful means as well, and this is why it should be relied upon, and is called the definitive teaching. These four reliances should be well understood."

"Furthermore, relying on the meaning means this: meaning here means what is genuine and upright; what is genuine and upright means what is luminous; what is luminous means what is free of weakness; what is free of weakness means the Tathāgata himself. Further, what is luminous means wisdom; what is genuine and upright means permanent abiding. The Tathāgata's own permanence means relying on the Dharma; the Dharma means what is permanent, and is also called boundless, beyond conceptual thought, unable to be grasped, unable to be bound — yet also able to be seen. Whoever says it cannot be seen at all should not be relied upon — this is why one relies on the Dharma, not on the person. Whoever, in the most subtle and beautiful language, proclaims impermanence, should not be relied upon — this is why one relies on the meaning, not on the words. Relying on wisdom means this: the saṅgha is permanent, unconditioned, and unchanging, keeping none of the eight kinds of improper possession — this is why one relies on wisdom, not on ordinary consciousness. Should anyone say that consciousness itself acts and receives, and that there is no such thing as a harmonious saṅgha at all — why is this wrong? Because harmony itself means having no fixed substance of its own; and how could something with no fixed substance of its own be called permanent? This is why such a consciousness cannot be relied upon. Relying on the definitive teaching means this: the definitive teaching means contentment, never falsely feigning a pure, dignified bearing while secretly harboring arrogance and pride and greedily seeking personal gain, and never clinging to any of the Tathāgata's own teachings, given as they are through skillful and appropriate means — this is what is meant by the definitive teaching. Whoever is able to abide within such things should be understood to have already come to abide in the ultimate truth — this is why it is called relying on the definitive teaching."

"Not relying on the provisional teaching: the provisional teaching is as stated elsewhere in the scriptures — that everything is burning, everything is impermanent, everything is suffering, everything is empty, everything is without self. This is called the provisional teaching. Why is this? Because failing to understand this teaching in its true meaning causes beings to fall into the Avīci hell. Why is this so? Because of clinging and attachment, the true meaning is not grasped. 'Everything is burning' means that even nirvāṇa, as the Tathāgata has taught it, could be said to burn; 'everything is impermanent' means that even nirvāṇa could be said to be impermanent; and it is the same for suffering, emptiness, and no-self. This is why such teaching is called provisional, and should not be relied upon. Good son, it may also be said that the Tathāgata, out of compassion for all beings, skillfully knows the right time for each teaching, and, knowing the time, sometimes teaches what is light as though it were grave, and what is grave as though it were light. When the Tathāgata sees that his disciples have donors providing for their every need, leaving them wanting for nothing, the Buddha does not permit such disciples to keep servants, gold, silver, treasures, or engage in buying and selling improper goods. But when his disciples have no such donors to provide for their needs, and famine makes food and drink hard to come by, then, for the sake of establishing and protecting the true Dharma, I permit my disciples to keep servants, gold, silver, carriages, land, houses, and grain, and to trade for what they need — though I permit them to keep such things, they must always be donated onward, in the end, to some sincere and faithful benefactor. These four principles should be relied upon. Whatever Vinaya text, Abhidharma treatise, or sūtra does not contradict these four should likewise be relied upon. But should anyone say that there is a right time and a wrong time, that some are able to protect the Dharma and others are not, and that the Tathāgata permits every monk without exception to keep such improper possessions regardless — such words should not be relied upon. And should any Vinaya text, Abhidharma treatise, or sūtra agree with such words, none of these three should be relied upon either. I have taught these four reliances for the sake of beings possessing only the fleshly eye, never for those who already possess the eye of wisdom. This is why I now teach these four reliances: the Dharma is itself the Dharma-nature; the meaning is that the Tathāgata abides permanently, without change; wisdom is fully knowing that every being without exception possesses buddha-nature; and the definitive teaching is fully mastering every scripture of the Great Vehicle."