The Ground of an Only Child

"Furthermore, good son, there was, in the city of Śrāvastī, a brahmin woman of the Vāsiṣṭha clan, who had but a single son, whom she loved most dearly, and who fell ill and died. This woman, at that time, her heart pierced with grief, became deranged and lost her own mind, wandering naked and without shame through the city's crossroads, weeping and crying out until her voice failed, calling out: 'My child, my child, where have you gone?' — roaming throughout the whole city without ever tiring. This woman, however, had already, under buddhas of the past, planted many roots of virtue. Good son, I gave rise to a mind of compassionate love toward this woman. This woman, at that moment, caught sight of me, and at once took me for her own child, her original mind restored, and came forward to embrace my body, kissing my mouth. I then told my attendant Ānanda: 'Bring some clothing for this woman.' Once the clothing had been given to her, I then expounded the essentials of the Dharma for her at length. This woman, hearing the Dharma, was filled with joy, leaping with delight, and gave rise to the mind of unsurpassed, complete awakening. Good son, I, at that time, was not, in reality, her son at all, nor was she my mother, nor was there any actual embrace. Good son, one should know that it was entirely through the power of loving-kindness's own wholesome root that this woman came to see things in this way.

"Furthermore, good son, there was, in the city of Vārāṇasī, a laywoman named Mahāsenadattā, who had already, under immeasurable buddhas of the past, planted every wholesome root. This laywoman, during the ninety days of the rains retreat, invited the whole assembly of monks and offered them medicine. At that time, there was, within the assembly, a monk afflicted with a grave illness. A skilled physician, examining him, determined that he required medicinal meat — should he obtain meat, his illness could be cured, but should he fail to obtain it, his life could not be preserved. When the laywoman heard the physician say this, she at once took gold in hand and went throughout every market, calling out: 'Whoever has meat to sell, I shall buy it with this gold — should anyone have meat, I shall pay its equal weight in gold.' She searched throughout the entire city, yet was unable to obtain any. This laywoman then took a knife herself and cut flesh from her own thigh, sliced it, and prepared it as a broth, seasoned with every kind of spice, and sent it to the sick monk. The monk, having taken it, was at once cured of his illness. This laywoman, suffering the pain of her own wound, unable to bear it, at once cried out: 'Homage to the Buddha! Homage to the Buddha!' I, at that time, was in the city of Śrāvastī, and, hearing her voice, gave rise, toward this woman, to a mind of great loving-kindness. This woman, at once, saw me bring good medicine and apply it to her wound, which healed at once, restored as it was before. I then expounded the Dharma for her at length, and, hearing the Dharma, she was filled with joy, and gave rise to the mind of unsurpassed, complete awakening. Good son, I, at that time, did not, in reality, go to the city of Vārāṇasī and apply medicine to this laywoman's wound. Good son, one should know that it was entirely through the power of loving-kindness's own wholesome root that this woman came to see things in this way.

"Furthermore, good son, the evil man Devadatta, in his craving, never satisfied, consumed a great quantity of ghee, and, suffering a severe pain in his head and stomach, unable to bear it, cried out: 'Homage to the Buddha! Homage to the Buddha!' I, at that time, was dwelling in the city of Ujjayinī, and, hearing his voice, at once gave rise to a mind of loving-kindness. Devadatta, at that moment, at once saw me come to where he was, place my hand upon his head and stomach, and give him salted water to drink, whereupon he recovered at once. Good son, I did not, in reality, go to Devadatta's own place, place my hand upon his head and stomach, and give him water to drink. Good son, one should know that it was entirely through the power of loving-kindness's own wholesome root that Devadatta came to see things in this way.

"Furthermore, good son, there were, in the kingdom of Kosala, a band of five hundred bandits, who, banding together, plundered and robbed, causing ever greater harm. King Prasenajit, troubled by their unchecked violence, sent soldiers to lie in wait and capture them, and, having captured them, gouged out their eyes, and cast them beneath a dark and gloomy forest thicket. These bandits, however, had already, under buddhas of the past, planted many roots of virtue, and, having lost their eyes, suffering great agony, each cried out: 'Homage to the Buddha! Homage to the Buddha! We have no one now to save and protect us!' — weeping and wailing aloud. I, at that time, was dwelling in the Jetavana monastery, and, hearing their voices, at once gave rise to a mind of loving-kindness. At that moment, a cool breeze arose, carrying fragrant medicinal herbs of every kind from a mountain of fragrance, filling their eye sockets, and, before long, their eyes were restored, exactly as they had been before. The bandits, opening their eyes, at once saw the Tathāgata standing before them, teaching the Dharma. The bandits, having heard the Dharma, gave rise to the mind of unsurpassed, complete awakening. Good son, I, at that time, did not, in reality, raise a wind to carry fragrant medicinal herbs of every kind from a mountain of fragrance, nor did I stand before these men and teach the Dharma. Good son, one should know that it was entirely through the power of loving-kindness's own wholesome root that these bandits came to see things in this way.

"Furthermore, good son, Prince Virūḍhaka, out of his own folly, deposed his father the king and set himself up as ruler in his place. Harboring, further, a long-held grudge, he did great harm to the Śākya clan, seizing twelve thousand women of the Śākyas, cutting off their ears and noses, severing their hands and feet, and casting them into a pit. These women, their bodies wracked with agony, cried out: 'Homage to the Buddha! Homage to the Buddha! We have no one now to save and protect us!' — wailing aloud once more. These women, however, had already, under buddhas of the past, planted every wholesome root, and I, at that time, dwelling within the bamboo grove, hearing their voices, at once gave rise to a mind of loving-kindness. These women, at that moment, saw me come to the city of Kapilavastu, wash their wounds with water, and apply medicine to them, and their pain and suffering was at once removed, their ears, noses, hands, and feet restored exactly as they had been before. I then expounded the essentials of the Dharma for them in brief, causing every one of them to give rise together to the mind of unsurpassed, complete awakening, and they thereupon went forth from the household life under the nun Mahāprajāpatī, receiving the full monastic precepts. Good son, the Tathāgata, at that time, did not, in reality, go to the city of Kapilavastu, wash their wounds with water, and apply medicine to relieve their suffering. Good son, one should know that it was entirely through the power of loving-kindness's own wholesome root that these women came to attain things in this way — and it is just the same for a mind of compassion and of sympathetic joy. Good son, it is for this very reason that a bodhisattva-mahāsattva's contemplation cultivated through loving-kindness is truly real, and not empty at all. Good son, what is immeasurable is inconceivable; what a bodhisattva practices is inconceivable; what every buddha practices, too, is inconceivable; and this scripture of the Great Vehicle, the Mahāparinirvāṇa, too, is inconceivable."

"Furthermore, good son, the bodhisattva-mahāsattva, having cultivated loving-kindness, compassion, and sympathetic joy, thereby comes to abide at the ground of utmost love, as an only child. Good son, why is this ground named 'utmost love,' and, further, named 'an only child'? Good son, it is like a parent who, seeing a child safe and at peace, is filled with great joy in his own heart. The bodhisattva-mahāsattva, abiding at this ground, is just the same: regarding every being as though he were his own only child, and, seeing one who cultivates wholesome conduct, being filled with great joy — it is for this very reason that this ground is named 'utmost love.' Good son, it is like a parent who, seeing a child fall ill, is filled with pain and distress in his own heart, grieving over him with anguish, and never once abandoning him. The bodhisattva-mahāsattva, abiding at this ground, is just the same: seeing every being bound and afflicted by the sickness of their own affliction, his heart is filled with sorrow and distress, grieving over them as though they were his own children, blood flowing forth from every pore of his own body — it is for this very reason that this ground is named 'an only child.' Good son, it is as when a small child picks up a clod of earth, some filth, a shard of tile, a dried bone, or a piece of wood, and puts it into his own mouth, and his parent, seeing this, fearing it will harm him, grasps his head with the left hand and pries it out with the right. The bodhisattva-mahāsattva, abiding at this ground, is just the same: seeing that beings have not yet increased their own Dharma-body, or that they engage in unwholesome conduct of body, speech, or mind, the bodhisattva, upon seeing this, uses the hand of wisdom to draw it out of them, not wishing them to wander on through birth-and-death, undergoing every kind of suffering — it is for this very reason that this ground is, further, named 'an only child.' Good son, it is like a parent whose beloved child is abandoned and comes to die, and the parent, grieving and distressed, wishes to perish together with him. The bodhisattva is just the same: seeing the icchantika fall into hell, he, too, wishes to be reborn together with him within that very hell. Why is this? Because, should this icchantika, at the moment of undergoing suffering, give rise to even a single thought of repentance and change, the bodhisattva would then at once teach him the Dharma in every way, causing him to give rise to even a single thought of a wholesome root. It is for this very reason that this ground is, further, named 'an only child.' Good son, it is like a parent who has but a single child, and whose mind is forever fixed upon that child, whether he sleeps or wakes, walks, stands, sits, or lies down; and, should the child commit some fault, the parent guides and instructs him with kind words, never inflicting any harm upon him. The bodhisattva-mahāsattva is just the same: seeing every being, whether fallen into hell, among the animals, among the hungry ghosts, or among humans or gods, engaged in wholesome or unwholesome conduct, his mind is forever fixed upon them, never once abandoning or forsaking them; and, should they engage in every kind of evil, he never once gives rise to anger, nor ever repays their evil with evil — it is for this very reason that this ground is, further, named 'an only child.'"

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, what the Buddha has taught is secret in its meaning, and my own wisdom, being shallow, cannot fully understand it. If a bodhisattva, abiding at the ground of an only child, is able to be as the Buddha has described, then how is it that the Tathāgata, in ages past, as a king practicing the bodhisattva path, put an end to the lives of so many brahmins? If he had attained this ground at that time, he should have guarded and cherished them; and if he had not attained it, then for what reason did he not fall into hell? And if he truly regards every being with equal love, as his own only child, as he regards Rāhula himself, then why does he say to Devadatta: 'You foolish, shameless man, eater of another's spittle,' causing him, upon hearing this, to give rise to hatred and anger, and to give rise to an unwholesome mind, drawing blood from the Buddha's own body? And, once Devadatta had committed this evil deed, the Tathāgata further predicted that he would fall into hell and undergo suffering there for a full kalpa. World-Honored One, how can words such as these not contradict one another in meaning? World-Honored One, Subhūti, abiding at the ground of emptiness, whenever he wished to enter a city to beg for food, would first observe the people there, and, should any one of them harbor resentment or jealousy toward him, would stop and not go to him at all, even to the point of enduring extreme hunger rather than begging from him. Why is this? Because this Subhūti constantly thought to himself: 'I recall that, in ages past, I gave rise to a single unwholesome thought toward a field of merit, and, through this very cause and condition, fell into the great hell, undergoing suffering of every kind. I would now rather go hungry, fasting the whole day through, than ever cause another to give rise to resentment toward me, and thereby fall into hell to undergo suffering.' He thought further: 'Should any being resent my standing, I shall remain seated the whole day through, without rising at all. Should any being resent my sitting, I shall remain standing the whole day through, without moving from my place at all' — and likewise for walking and lying down. This Subhūti, for the sake of protecting beings, gave rise to a mind such as this — how much more so, then, should a bodhisattva? If a bodhisattva has truly attained the ground of an only child, for what reason did the Tathāgata utter such coarse words, causing beings to give rise to a mind of grave hatred?"

"Good son, you should not now raise an objection such as this, saying that the Tathāgata acts as a cause and condition of affliction for beings. Good son, even should a mosquito's proboscis be able to drain the ocean to its very bottom, the Tathāgata would never, in the end, act as a cause and condition of affliction for beings. Good son, even should the whole great earth become entirely formless, water take on the mark of solidity, fire take on the mark of coldness, wind take on the mark of fixed stillness, and the Three Jewels, buddha-nature, and empty space itself take on the mark of impermanence, the Tathāgata would never, in the end, act as a cause and condition of affliction for beings. Good son, even should one who has transgressed one of the four gravest offenses, or an icchantika, or one who slanders the true Dharma, attain, in this very body, the ten powers, the fearlessnesses, the thirty-two marks, and the eighty subsidiary signs, the Tathāgata would never, in the end, act as a cause and condition of affliction for beings. Good son, even should the śrāvaka and pratyekabuddha abide forever, unchanging, the Tathāgata would never, in the end, act as a cause and condition of affliction for beings. Good son, even should every bodhisattva of the ten abiding-stages transgress one of the four gravest offenses, become an icchantika, and slander the true Dharma, the Tathāgata would never, in the end, act as a cause and condition of affliction for beings. Good son, even should every immeasurable being lose and destroy their own buddha-nature, and the Tathāgata enter his own final parinirvāṇa in the ultimate sense, the Tathāgata would never, in the end, act as a cause and condition of affliction for beings. Good son, even should a thrown noose be able to bind the wind itself, teeth be able to shatter iron, and fingernails be able to destroy Mount Sumeru, the Tathāgata would never, in the end, act as a cause and condition of affliction for beings. I would rather dwell in the same place as a venomous serpent, thrust both my hands into the mouth of a starving lion, or bathe my own body in the burning coals of the khadira tree, than ever say that the Tathāgata, the World-Honored One, acts as a cause and condition of affliction for beings. Good son, the Tathāgata is truly able to sever and remove affliction for the sake of beings — he could never, in the end, act as its cause.

"Good son, as for what you have said, that the Tathāgata, in ages past, killed brahmins — good son, a bodhisattva-mahāsattva would not deliberately kill so much as an ant, how much less a brahmin? A bodhisattva constantly employs skillful means of every kind to bestow immeasurable life upon beings. Good son, to give food is itself to give life, and the bodhisattva-mahāsattva, when practicing the perfection of giving, constantly gives immeasurable life to beings. Good son, cultivating the precept against killing brings a long life, and the bodhisattva-mahāsattva, when practicing the perfection of moral discipline, thereby gives immeasurable life to every being. Good son, guarding one's speech from fault brings a long life, and the bodhisattva-mahāsattva, when practicing the perfection of patience, constantly encourages beings not to give rise to any thought of resentment, attributing what is right to another and taking what is wrong upon himself, engaging in no dispute at all, and thereby attaining a long life — and it is for this very reason that a bodhisattva, when practicing the perfection of patience, has already given immeasurable life to beings. Good son, diligently cultivating wholesome conduct brings a long life, and the bodhisattva-mahāsattva, when practicing the perfection of diligence, constantly encourages beings to cultivate wholesome dharmas diligently; and beings, once they practice this, attain immeasurable life — and it is for this very reason that a bodhisattva, when practicing the perfection of diligence, has already given immeasurable life to beings. Good son, cultivating a controlled mind brings a long life, and the bodhisattva-mahāsattva, when practicing the perfection of meditative concentration, encourages beings to cultivate a mind of equanimity; and beings, once they practice this, attain a long life — and it is for this very reason that a bodhisattva, when practicing the perfection of meditative concentration, has already given immeasurable life to beings. Good son, being free of heedlessness with regard to every wholesome dharma brings a long life, and the bodhisattva-mahāsattva, when practicing the perfection of wisdom, encourages beings to give rise to no heedlessness with regard to every wholesome dharma; and beings, once they practice this, through this very cause and condition, attain a long life — and it is for this very reason that a bodhisattva, when practicing the perfection of wisdom, has already given immeasurable life to beings. Good son, it is for this very reason that a bodhisattva-mahāsattva never, in the end, takes life from any being at all.

"Good son, as for what you have just asked, whether I had already attained this ground at the time I killed those brahmins — good son, I had, at that time, already attained it. It was out of loving affection that I ended their lives — it was not done with an evil mind. Good son, it is like a parent who has but a single child, whom he loves most dearly, and who transgresses the ruler's own law; the parent, out of fear for him, either has him banished or has him put to death — yet, though he does banish or put him to death, he does so with no evil mind at all. The bodhisattva-mahāsattva, in protecting the true Dharma, is just the same: should any being slander the Great Vehicle, he at once has him flogged and punished with suffering, or even takes his life, wishing to cause him to change his ways and practice wholesome conduct instead. A bodhisattva should constantly reflect in this way: 'Through what cause and condition am I able to cause beings to give rise to a mind of faith?' — and, according to whatever skillful means this requires, he must certainly act. Once these brahmins had died and were reborn in the Avīci hell, they were certain to have three successive thoughts: first, they thought to themselves, 'From where have I come, to be born in this place?' and at once knew of themselves that they had come from the human realm; second, they thought to themselves, 'Where, exactly, have I now been born?' and at once knew of themselves that this was the Avīci hell; and third, they thought to themselves, 'Through what karmic cause and condition have I come to be born in this place?' and at once knew of themselves that it was through slandering the Vaipulya scriptures of the Great Vehicle, disbelieving their cause and condition, and being put to death by the ruler of the country, that they had come to be born here. Having reflected on this matter, they at once gave rise to a mind of faith and reverence toward the Vaipulya scriptures of the Great Vehicle, and, before long, at the end of their lives there, were reborn within the world-system of the tathāgata Amṛtadundubhi ("the Drum of Nectar"), where their lifespan there was fully ten kalpas. Good son, it is for this very reason that I, in ages past, in fact gave this very person ten kalpas of life — how, then, could this be called killing? Good son, if a person digs the earth, cuts grass, fells a tree, chops apart a corpse, or reviles and flogs something — does he, through this very karmic cause and condition, fall into hell?"

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, as I understand the meaning of what the Buddha has taught, one should fall into hell. Why is this? For the Buddha has, in the past, taught the śrāvakas: 'You monks, toward even a burnt and withered log, you should give rise to no unwholesome mind at all. Why is this? Because every being, on account of an unwholesome mind, falls into hell.'"

At that time, the Buddha praised the bodhisattva Kāśyapa: "Excellent, excellent! As you have said, this should be well upheld and remembered. Good son, if one falls into hell on account of an unwholesome mind, then the bodhisattva, at that time, in truth, had no unwholesome mind at all. Why is this? Because the bodhisattva-mahāsattva gives rise to a mind of compassion and benefit toward every being, even down to a worm or an ant. Why is this so? Because, well knowing every cause and condition and every skillful means, he uses the power of skillful means, wishing to cause beings to plant every kind of wholesome root. Good son, it is for this very reason that I, at that time, through skillful and wholesome means, though I took their lives, did so with no unwholesome mind at all. Good son, according to the law of the brahmins, should one kill enough ants to fill ten cartloads, there is no karmic retribution for it. Killing enough mosquitoes, gadflies, fleas, lice, wildcats, lions, tigers, wolves, bears, every evil creature and beast, and every other thing capable of harming beings, to fill ten cartloads, likewise carries no retribution; and taking the life of a spirit, a rākṣasa, a kumbhāṇḍa, a piśāca, a pūtana, or any other deranged and withered spirit capable of afflicting and harming beings, likewise carries no retribution at all; but should one kill an evil person, there is karmic retribution for it — and, having killed him, should one feel no remorse, one falls among the hungry ghosts; yet, should one be able to repent, fasting for three days, this transgression is entirely dissolved, with nothing left over. But should one kill one's own preceptor, or harm one's own parents, a woman, or a cow, one remains in hell for countless thousands of years. Good son, the Buddha and every bodhisattva know that killing is of three grades — namely, the lowest, the middling, and the highest.

"The lowest is an ant, on up through every animal — the bodhisattva alone excepted, when he manifests himself as being born as one of them. Good son, the bodhisattva-mahāsattva, through the cause and condition of his own vow, manifests himself as receiving an animal's body — killing such a being is called the lowest killing; and, through the cause and condition of this lowest killing, one falls into hell, among the animals, or among the hungry ghosts, undergoing the lowest grade of suffering in full. Why is this? Because these animals possess some slight wholesome root, and it is for this reason that whoever kills them undergoes karmic retribution for it in full — this is called the lowest killing. The middling killing is that of anyone from an ordinary person up through a non-returner — this is called the middling grade — and, through this karmic cause, one falls into hell, among the animals, or among the hungry ghosts, undergoing the middling grade of suffering in full — this is called the middling killing. The highest killing is that of one's own parents, on up through an arhat, a pratyekabuddha, or a bodhisattva certain of buddhahood — this is called the highest grade — and, through this very karmic cause and condition, one falls into the great Avīci hell, undergoing the highest grade of suffering in full — this is called the highest killing. Good son, should there be one able to kill an icchantika, this does not fall within these three kinds of killing at all. Good son, every one of these brahmins was, in fact, an icchantika. It is just as with digging the earth, cutting grass, felling a tree, chopping apart a corpse, or reviling and flogging something, which carry no karmic retribution — killing an icchantika is just the same, carrying no karmic retribution at all. Why is this? Because these brahmins were entirely without even the five faculties, beginning with faith — and it is for this very reason that, though killed, they do not cause one to fall into hell.

"Good son, as for what you have said before, asking why the Tathāgata reviled Devadatta, calling him a foolish man who eats another's spittle — you should not, in fact, raise a question of this kind at all. Why is this? Whatever every buddha, every world-honored one, has to say is inconceivable. Good son, there is speech that is true, and loved by the world, and yet, being untimely and improper, brings no benefit — speech of this kind I would never, in the end, utter. Good son, there is, further, speech that is coarse and false, untimely and improper, unloved by the one who hears it, and unable to bring benefit — this, too, I would never utter. Good son, but should there be speech that, though coarse, is true and not false, and, being timely and proper, is able to bring benefit to every being — even should the one who hears it feel no pleasure, I would certainly speak it. Why is this? Because every buddha, every world-honored one, the worthy one, the fully and rightly awakened one, knows how to employ skillful means. Good son, it is as when, on one occasion, I was traveling through a wilderness, a hamlet with scattered trees, and, resting beneath its forest, there was a spirit there, named 'the Wilderness,' who fed purely on flesh and blood, killing beings in great numbers, and who, further, within that very hamlet, devoured one person every day. Good son, I, at that time, expounded the essentials of the Dharma at length for this spirit; yet, being violent and evil, foolish and without wisdom, he would not accept this teaching, and so I transformed my own body into a spirit of great strength, and shook his very palace, so that he could find no peace within it. This spirit, at that time, gathered his own retinue, came forth from his palace, and sought to resist and oppose me. This spirit, upon seeing me, at once lost his own presence of mind, and, terrified, collapsed to the ground, falling into confusion and unconsciousness, exactly like a dead man. I, moved by compassion, placed my hand upon his body, whereupon he at once rose and sat up, and spoke these words: 'How wonderful — I have, today, regained my very life! This great spirit-king, endowed with great awesome virtue and a compassionate heart, has forgiven my own transgression.' He thereupon gave rise, toward me, to a mind of wholesome faith. I then returned to my own form as the Tathāgata, and expounded the essentials of the Dharma for him at length once more, causing this spirit to receive the precept against killing. On that very same day, there was, within the wilderness village, an elder whose turn it was to die, and the villagers had already delivered him over to this spirit. The spirit, having received him, at once offered him to me; and I, having accepted him, thereupon gave this elder a new name, calling him 'Elder Hasta' ('the Hand'). At that time, this spirit said to me: 'World-Honored One, I and my retinue depend entirely upon flesh and blood in order to survive — now, on account of this precept, how are we to live?' I answered him at once: 'From this time forward, I shall instruct my śrāvaka disciples that, wherever the Buddha-dharma is practiced, they should always give you food and drink there.' Good son, it is through this very cause and condition that I established this very precept for the monks: that you should, from now on, always give food to this wilderness spirit — and should there be any dwelling place unable to provide this offering, you should know that those dwelling there are not my disciples at all, but are, rather, followers and retinue of the heavenly demon Māra. Good son, the Tathāgata, wishing to tame and subdue beings, manifests skillful means of every kind such as this — it is not done in order to cause them fear for its own sake.

"Good son, I have, likewise, struck a Dharma-protecting spirit with a piece of wood. And, on another occasion, upon a certain mountain, I pushed a spirit with the head of a sheep, causing it to fall down the mountainside. I have, further, cast down from a treetop a spirit that protected monkeys; I caused an elephant that guarded treasure to see five lions; I caused the vajra-wielding spirit to terrify the naked ascetic Satyaka; and I have, likewise, pierced with a needle the body of a spirit covered in arrow-like feathers. Though I have done things of this kind, I have never once caused any of these spirits to be destroyed or annihilated — I wished only to cause them to abide firmly within the true Dharma, and it is for this reason that I manifest skillful means of every kind such as this. Good son, I, at that time, did not, in reality, revile or insult Devadatta at all; nor is Devadatta, in reality, a foolish man who eats another's spittle; nor is he, in reality, reborn among the evil destinies, undergoing suffering in the Avīci hell for a full kalpa; nor did he, in reality, disrupt the saṅgha or draw blood from the Buddha's own body; nor did he, in reality, transgress one of the four gravest offenses or slander the true Dharma of the Great Vehicle scriptures; he is neither an icchantika, nor a śrāvaka, nor a pratyekabuddha. Good son, Devadatta is, in truth, not within the domain of any śrāvaka or pratyekabuddha at all — he is known and seen only by every buddha. Good son, it is for this very reason that you should not now raise the objection, asking why the Tathāgata rebukes and reviles Devadatta — you should not give rise, in this way, to a net of doubt regarding the very domain that belongs to every buddha."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, it is like sugarcane, which, boiled and pressed again and again, yields flavor of every kind — I am just the same: hearing the Buddha's teaching again and again, I obtain the flavor of the Dharma in ever greater measure — namely, the flavor of renunciation, the flavor of freedom from desire, the flavor of still extinction, and the flavor of the path. World-Honored One, it is like true gold, which, smelted and hammered again and again, melted down and refined, becomes ever more lustrous and pure, pliant and soft, its light and color subtle and wondrous, its value beyond all reckoning, and only then does it become a treasure prized among gods and men. World-Honored One, the Tathāgata is just the same: through earnest and repeated questioning, one comes to hear and see meanings of the profoundest kind, causing those of profound practice to uphold and cultivate them, and immeasurable beings to give rise to the mind of unsurpassed, complete awakening — and only then does he become revered by every god and every human, honored and given offerings."

At that time, the Buddha praised the bodhisattva Kāśyapa: "Excellent, excellent! A bodhisattva-mahāsattva, wishing to bring benefit to every being, questions and consults the Tathāgata about profound meanings such as this. Good son, it is for this very reason that, according with your own wish, I have taught this profound and secret dharma of the Great Vehicle's own Vaipulya teaching — namely, the ground of utmost love, as an only child."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, if a bodhisattva who cultivates loving-kindness, compassion, and sympathetic joy attains the ground of an only child, what ground, then, does he attain when he cultivates a mind of equanimity?"

The Buddha said: "Excellent, excellent, good son! You know well the proper time, and, knowing what I wish to teach, you now ask this question. The bodhisattva-mahāsattva, when he cultivates a mind of equanimity, thereby comes to abide at the ground of empty equality, just as Subhūti did. Good son, the bodhisattva-mahāsattva, abiding at the ground of empty equality, no longer sees any father, mother, brother, sister, child, relative, friend, enemy, or one in between — nor does he even see the aggregates, sense-fields, or elements, a being, or a lifespan. Good son, it is like empty space, which has no father, mother, brother, wife, or child, nor even any being or lifespan. Every dharma is just the same: it has no father, mother, and so on, up through no lifespan. The bodhisattva-mahāsattva, seeing every dharma in just this way, holds a mind of perfect equality, just like that empty space. Why is this? Because he is well able to cultivate every one of the empty dharmas."

The bodhisattva Kāśyapa said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, what is meant by emptiness?"

"Good son, emptiness means the following: internal emptiness, external emptiness, internal-and-external emptiness, the emptiness of the conditioned, the emptiness of the unconditioned, the emptiness without beginning, the emptiness of intrinsic nature, the emptiness of what has no existence at all, the emptiness of the ultimate meaning, the emptiness of emptiness itself, and the great emptiness. How does the bodhisattva-mahāsattva contemplate internal emptiness? This bodhisattva-mahāsattva contemplates the emptiness of internal dharmas — this emptiness of internal dharmas means that there is no father, mother, enemy, loved one, one in between, being, lifespan, permanence, bliss, self, purity, Tathāgata, Dharma, Saṅgha, or any possession at all. Within these internal dharmas, though buddha-nature is indeed present, this buddha-nature is neither internal nor external. Why is this? Because buddha-nature abides forever, without change — this is called the bodhisattva-mahāsattva's contemplation of internal emptiness. External emptiness is just the same, containing no internal dharma at all. Internal-and-external emptiness is just the same as well. Good son, only the Tathāgata, the Dharma, the Saṅgha, and buddha-nature are not included within these two emptinesses. Why is this? Because these four dharmas are permanence, bliss, self, and purity, and it is for this very reason that these four dharmas are not called empty. This is called the combined emptiness of the internal and the external. Good son, the emptiness of the conditioned means that every conditioned dharma, without exception, is empty — namely, internal emptiness, external emptiness, internal-and-external emptiness, and the emptiness of permanence, bliss, self, purity, a being, a lifespan, the Tathāgata, the Dharma, the Saṅgha, and the ultimate meaning. Within this, buddha-nature is not a conditioned dharma, and it is for this reason that buddha-nature is not emptied by the emptiness of the conditioned. This is called the emptiness of the conditioned. Good son, how does the bodhisattva-mahāsattva contemplate the emptiness of the unconditioned? Every unconditioned dharma, without exception, is empty — namely, impermanence, suffering, impurity, no-self, the aggregates, sense-fields, and elements, the mark of a being and a lifespan, the conditioned, what is subject to outflow, internal dharmas, and external dharmas. Within the unconditioned, the four dharmas of the Buddha and the rest are neither conditioned nor unconditioned: their nature is wholesome, and so they are not unconditioned; their nature abides forever, and so they are not conditioned. This is called the bodhisattva's contemplation of the emptiness of the unconditioned. How does the bodhisattva-mahāsattva contemplate the emptiness without beginning? This bodhisattva-mahāsattva sees that birth-and-death, without any beginning, is, in its entirety, empty and still. What is empty is this: permanence, bliss, self, and purity are, in their entirety, empty and still, without any change; a being, a lifespan, the Three Jewels, buddha-nature, and every unconditioned dharma are likewise so — this is called the bodhisattva's contemplation of the emptiness without beginning. How does the bodhisattva contemplate the emptiness of intrinsic nature? This bodhisattva-mahāsattva contemplates every dharma as, in its own intrinsic nature, entirely empty — namely, the aggregates, sense-fields, and elements, permanence and impermanence, suffering and bliss, purity and impurity, self and no-self — and, contemplating every dharma of this kind, sees no intrinsic nature in any of them at all. This is called the bodhisattva-mahāsattva's contemplation of the emptiness of intrinsic nature. How does the bodhisattva-mahāsattva contemplate the emptiness of what has no existence at all? It is as when a man without a son says that his own house is empty, contemplating it to its very limit as empty, with no one there to love; or as when a foolish person says that every direction is empty; or as when a destitute person says that everything, without exception, is empty. Reckonings of this kind are, in some cases, truly empty, and, in other cases, not truly empty at all. When a bodhisattva contemplates in this way, he does so as the destitute person does — everything, without exception, is truly empty. This is called the bodhisattva-mahāsattva's contemplation of the emptiness of what has no existence at all. How does the bodhisattva-mahāsattva contemplate the emptiness of the ultimate meaning? Good son, when the bodhisattva-mahāsattva contemplates the ultimate meaning, he sees that, at the moment the eye arises, it comes from nowhere at all, and, at the moment it ceases, it goes to nowhere at all; originally absent, it now exists, and, having existed, it returns to absence once more; seeking its own real nature, there is no eye there, and no master of it either. Just as the eye has no intrinsic nature, every dharma is just the same. What, then, is called the emptiness of the ultimate meaning? There is karmic action, and there is its fruit, and yet no agent who performs it is to be found — an empty dharma of this kind is called the emptiness of the ultimate meaning. This is called the bodhisattva-mahāsattva's contemplation of the emptiness of the ultimate meaning. How does the bodhisattva-mahāsattva contemplate the emptiness of emptiness itself? This emptiness of emptiness is, in fact, the very place where the śrāvaka and pratyekabuddha become lost and confused. Good son, 'this is existence, this is non-existence' — this is what is called the emptiness of emptiness; 'this is thus, this is not thus' — this, too, is called the emptiness of emptiness. Good son, even a bodhisattva of the ten abiding-stages penetrates only some small portion of this, no more than a mote of dust — how much more so, then, for anyone else? Good son, this emptiness of emptiness is, likewise, not the same as the concentration on the emptiness of emptiness attained by a śrāvaka. This is called the bodhisattva's contemplation of the emptiness of emptiness. Good son, how does the bodhisattva-mahāsattva contemplate the great emptiness? Good son, what is called the great emptiness is the perfection of wisdom itself — this is called the great emptiness. Good son, the bodhisattva-mahāsattva, having attained gateways of emptiness such as these, thereby comes to abide at the ground of equality with empty space."

"Good son, when I now, within this great assembly, taught these very meanings of emptiness, bodhisattva-mahāsattvas as numerous as the sands of ten Gaṅgā rivers at once came to abide at the ground of equality with empty space. Good son, the bodhisattva-mahāsattva, having abided at this ground, encounters, with regard to every dharma, no obstruction, no bondage, and no attachment at all, his mind free of any confusion — it is for this very reason that this is named the ground of equality with empty space. Good son, it is like empty space, which gives rise to no craving or attachment toward a pleasing form, and gives rise to no anger toward an unpleasing one. The bodhisattva-mahāsattva, abiding at this ground, is just the same: toward both a pleasing and an unpleasing form, his mind holds neither craving nor anger. Good son, it is like empty space, vast and boundless, able to contain and receive every dharma without exception. The bodhisattva-mahāsattva, abiding at this ground, is just the same: vast and boundless, able to contain and receive every dharma without exception — and it is for this very reason that this, too, is named the ground of equality with empty space."

"Good son, the bodhisattva-mahāsattva, abiding at this ground, both sees and knows with regard to every dharma: whether it is a practice or an object, whether it is a nature or a mark, whether it is a cause or a condition, whether it is a being's own mind, faculty, meditative concentration, or vehicle, whether it is a good friend, the upholding of the restraining precepts, or an act of giving — dharmas of every such kind he entirely sees and knows. Furthermore, good son, the bodhisattva-mahāsattva, abiding at this ground, knows without seeing. What is meant by knowing here? He knows the practice of self-starvation, of throwing oneself into a deep pool or into fire, of casting oneself down from a high cliff, of constantly standing on one leg, of scorching one's own body with the five fires, of constantly lying upon ashes and earth, of a bed woven from thorns, of lying upon tree leaves, foul grass, or cow dung; of wearing coarse hempen robes, cast-off rags gathered from a graveyard, felt woolen cloaks, the hides of musk deer, or garments of straw; of eating vegetables, grazing on grass, subsisting on lotus roots, oil dregs, cow dung, or wild roots and fruits; of, when going out to beg for food, limiting oneself to a single house, and, should its master say there is nothing to give, at once departing, and, even should one be called back afterward, never once turning to look; of refusing salt, meat, and the five products of the cow, and constantly drinking only rice-husk water or boiling water; of upholding the vow of a cow, a dog, a chicken, or a pheasant; of smearing ashes upon one's body and wearing one's hair long as a mark of holiness; of, when offering a sheep in sacrifice, first reciting an incantation and only then killing it; of serving the fire god for four months, subsisting on wind alone for seven days, and making offerings of a hundred thousand million flowers to the gods, believing that every wish is thereby accomplished. That practices of this kind could ever serve as a cause of unsurpassed liberation is simply not possible. This is what is meant by knowing. What is meant by not seeing? The bodhisattva-mahāsattva has never seen a single person who, practicing dharmas of this kind, attained true liberation — this is what is meant by not seeing.

"Furthermore, good son, the bodhisattva-mahāsattva both sees and knows in this further way. What is meant by seeing? He sees that beings who practice these heterodox dharmas will certainly fall into hell — this is what is meant by seeing. What is meant by knowing? He knows that beings who come forth from hell and are born among humans, should they be able to practice the perfection of giving, and, further, become fully endowed with every perfection, will certainly attain entry into true liberation — this is what is meant by knowing. Furthermore, good son, the bodhisattva-mahāsattva has, further, this way of both seeing and knowing. What is meant by seeing? He sees permanence and impermanence, suffering and bliss, purity and impurity, self and no-self — this is what is meant by seeing. What is meant by knowing? He knows that every tathāgata does not, in any ultimate sense, actually enter parinirvāṇa at all; he knows that the Tathāgata's body is a vajra body, indestructible, not a body composed of affliction, nor a foul and decaying body; and he is, further, able to know that every being, without exception, possesses buddha-nature — this is what is meant by knowing.

"Furthermore, good son, the bodhisattva-mahāsattva has, further, this way of both knowing and seeing. What is meant by knowing? He knows that this being's faith has become accomplished, and that this being seeks the Great Vehicle; that this person flows along with the current, that person flows against it, and that other person abides correctly, and he knows that this being has already reached the far shore. Flowing with the current means the ordinary person; flowing against the current means anyone from a stream-enterer up through a pratyekabuddha; abiding correctly means every bodhisattva; and reaching the far shore means the Tathāgata, the worthy one, the fully and rightly awakened one. This is what is meant by knowing. What is meant by seeing? The bodhisattva-mahāsattva, abiding within this scripture of the Mahāparinirvāṇa of the Great Vehicle, cultivating a mind of pure conduct, with his own pure heavenly eye, sees that beings who commit unwholesome acts of body, speech, and mind fall into hell, among the animals, or among the hungry ghosts; sees that beings who cultivate wholesome karma, at the end of their lives, will be born among the gods above or among humans; sees beings who pass from darkness into darkness, beings who pass from darkness into light, beings who pass from light into darkness, and beings who pass from light into light. This is what is meant by seeing.

"Furthermore, good son, the bodhisattva-mahāsattva has, further, this way of both knowing and seeing. The bodhisattva-mahāsattva knows that beings who cultivate the body, cultivate moral discipline, cultivate the mind, and cultivate wisdom, and who, in this present life, have already accumulated unwholesome karma — whether through craving, anger, or delusion — karma that should certainly bring retribution in hell, will, precisely because they cultivate the body, moral discipline, the mind, and wisdom, receive this retribution lightly, in this present life, and not fall into hell at all. How is it that karma of this kind can bring its retribution in this very life? Through confessing and openly disclosing every unwholesome act one has committed, and, having repented of it, never daring to commit it again; through the accomplishment of conscience and shame; through making offerings to the Three Jewels; and through constantly reproaching oneself — through the very cause and condition of wholesome karma of this kind, such a person does not fall into hell, but receives retribution in this present life instead — namely, a headache, a pain in the eyes, a pain in the belly, a pain in the back, a sudden and unexpected death, being reproached and reviled, being flogged and imprisoned, or suffering hunger and hardship — receiving lightened retribution of this kind in the present life. This is what is meant by knowing. What is meant by seeing? The bodhisattva-mahāsattva sees that a person unable to cultivate the body, moral discipline, the mind, and wisdom, who commits even a small unwholesome act, will, through the cause and condition of this very act, certainly receive its retribution in this present life. Should such a person, having committed even this small evil, be unable to repent of it, failing to reproach himself, giving rise to no conscience or shame, and holding no fear of it at all, this karma will grow and increase, and he will receive its retribution in hell instead. This is what is meant by seeing.

"There is, further, knowing without seeing. What is meant by knowing without seeing? Knowing that every being, without exception, possesses buddha-nature, yet, being covered over by every affliction, being unable to actually see it — this is what is meant by knowing without seeing. There is, further, knowing with only a little seeing: the bodhisattva-mahāsattvas of the ten abiding-stages equally know that every being possesses buddha-nature, and yet their seeing of it is not fully clear, like something seen in the dark of night, not fully discerned. There is, further, both seeing and knowing at once — namely, every buddha, every tathāgata, both sees and knows it fully. There is, further, both seeing and knowing in one respect, and neither seeing nor knowing in another: both seeing and knowing means such things as worldly letters, language, man and woman, carts and vessels, houses and cities, clothing and food, mountains, rivers, and gardens, a being and its lifespan — this is called both knowing and seeing. What is meant by neither seeing nor knowing? The subtle and secret speech possessed by the noble ones, which contains no man or woman, and, indeed, no garden at all — this is called neither seeing nor knowing. There is, further, knowing without seeing: knowing what is given in charity, knowing the place where an offering is made, knowing the recipient, and knowing the causal fruit of the act — this is what is meant by knowing. What is meant by not seeing here? Not seeing the gift itself, the place of offering, the recipient, or the resulting fruit at all — this is what is meant by not seeing. The bodhisattva-mahāsattva's knowing is of these eight kinds — and this is itself what is known through the Tathāgata's own five eyes."