Twenty Answers to Twenty Doubts

"Good son, should anyone say that the Tathāgata truly, finally enters nirvāṇa, or that he does not finally enter nirvāṇa at all, this person simply fails to understand the Tathāgata's own intention, and so speaks in this way. Good son, in the fragrant mountain there dwelt fifty-three thousand seers, every one of whom had, in the age of the past buddha Kāśyapa, cultivated every kind of merit without yet attaining the true path, drawing close to the buddhas and receiving the true Dharma. Wishing to teach these very seers, the Tathāgata said to Ānanda: 'After three months have passed, I shall enter nirvāṇa.' The gods, hearing of this, passed the word on, until it reached, in turn, all the way to the fragrant mountain. These seers, hearing it, at once gave rise to a mind of regret, saying: 'How could we possibly have been born among humans, and yet never once drawn close to the Buddha? A buddha's own appearance in the world is exceedingly rare, like the udumbara flower — we ought now to go to where the World-Honored One is, and receive the true Dharma.' Good son, these fifty-three thousand seers then came to where I was, and I taught the Dharma for them exactly as was fitting: 'Great beings, form is impermanent — why is this? Because the very cause and condition of form is itself impermanent, and, arising from an impermanent cause, how could form possibly be permanent? And, all the way through, consciousness is exactly the same.' Upon hearing this teaching, these seers at once attained the fruit of arhatship. "Good son, at Kuśinagara there dwelt three hundred thousand wrestlers, belonging to no one, relying arrogantly and self-indulgently upon their own beauty, strength, life, and wealth, their minds wild and confused. Good son, wishing to tame these very wrestlers, I said to Maudgalyāyana: 'You ought to tame wrestlers such as these.' Maudgalyāyana, reverently following my own instruction, taught and transformed them in every kind of way across five years, and yet was unable to bring even a single one of these wrestlers to accept the Dharma and be tamed. It was for this very reason that I, for the sake of these wrestlers, said to Ānanda: 'After three months have passed, I shall enter nirvāṇa.' Good son, these wrestlers, hearing this, gathered together and set about leveling the road. Once three months had passed, I set out from the kingdom of Vaiśālī toward the city of Kuśinagara, and, along the way, saw these wrestlers from a distance, and at once transformed my own body into the likeness of a śramaṇa, and, going to where they were, said: 'Young men, what are you doing here?' The wrestlers, hearing this, all gave rise to resentment, saying: 'Śramaṇa, how dare you call us "young men"?' I then said: 'Here you are, three hundred thousand strong, and yet, exerting the whole of your own bodily strength, you are unable to move even this small, insignificant stone — how, then, could you not be called mere young men?' The wrestlers said: 'Should you call us young men on this account, know that you yourself must then be a truly great man indeed.' Good son, I, at that very moment, dug this very stone out using only two toes of my own foot. These wrestlers, seeing this, at once gave rise to a low estimation of their own selves, and said, further: 'Śramaṇa, are you also able to move this stone entirely off the road?' I said to these young men: 'For what cause and condition are you leveling this very road?' The wrestlers said: 'Śramaṇa, do you not know? The Tathāgata Śākyamuni shall pass along this very road to the sāla grove, to enter nirvāṇa there — it is for this very reason that we are leveling it.' I then praised them, saying: 'Excellent, excellent, young men! Since you have already given rise to a wholesome mind such as this, I shall now remove this stone for your sake.' I then lifted this great stone with my own hand and cast it up, as high as the Akaniṣṭha heaven. The wrestlers, seeing this stone suspended in the sky, all gave rise to terror, and sought at once to scatter in every direction. I said to them, further: 'Wrestlers, you ought not to give rise to any fear at all, nor should you each seek to flee.' The wrestlers said: 'Śramaṇa, should you be able to protect us, we shall remain here in peace.' I then, once more, caught this stone with my own hand, and placed it upon my own right palm. The wrestlers, seeing this, gave rise to joy, and said, further: 'Śramaṇa, is this stone permanent, or is it impermanent?' I then, at that very moment, blew upon it with my own breath, and the stone at once scattered and crumbled, exactly like fine dust. The wrestlers, seeing this, proclaimed: 'Śramaṇa, this stone is impermanent!' — and at once gave rise to a mind of shame, reproaching themselves, saying: 'How could we possibly have relied so arrogantly upon our own beauty, strength, life, and wealth, giving rise to such pride?' Knowing their own minds had changed, I then relinquished my own transformed body, returned to my own true form, and taught the Dharma for them — and these wrestlers, seeing this, every one of them gave rise to the bodhi-mind."

"Good son, at Kuśinagara there was a skilled craftsman named Cunda, who had, in ages past, at the buddha Kāśyapa's own feet, made a great vow: 'When the Tathāgata Śākyamuni enters nirvāṇa, may I be the very last to offer him food and drink.' It was for this very reason that, while in the kingdom of Vaiśālī, I instructed the monk Upamāna: 'Good son, after three months have passed, I shall enter nirvāṇa there, at Kuśinagara, among the twin sāla trees — go and inform Cunda, so that he may know of this.' Good son, in the city of Rājagṛha, there was a seer possessed of the five supernatural powers, named Subhadra, one hundred and twenty years of age, who forever proclaimed himself an omniscient being, filled with great arrogance, though he had, in ages past, planted every kind of wholesome root at the feet of countless buddhas — and it was likewise in order to tame this very man that I said to Ānanda: 'After three months have passed, I shall enter nirvāṇa. Subhadra, hearing this, shall come to where I am, giving rise to a mind of faith and reverence, and I shall teach every kind of Dharma for him — and this man, upon hearing it, shall attain the exhaustion of every outflow.' "Good son, King Bimbisāra of Rājagṛha had a crown prince named Ajātaśatru, who, on account of his own past karma, gave rise to a murderous, rebellious mind, wishing to kill his own father, yet finding no opportunity to do so. At that time, the evil man Devadatta, likewise on account of his own past karma, gave rise to an unwholesome mind toward me, wishing to harm me, and so cultivated the five supernatural powers, which he soon attained, and became closely intimate with Prince Ajātaśatru. For the prince's sake, he manifested every kind of supernatural feat — emerging where there was no door and entering by the door, emerging by the door and entering where there was no door, and, at times, manifesting the body of an elephant, a horse, an ox, a sheep, or a man or a woman. Prince Ajātaśatru, seeing this, gave rise to affection, delight, and a mind of reverent faith, and, on this account, prepared and offered him every kind of lavish gift, further saying: 'Great teacher, holy one, I now wish to see the coral-tree flower.' Devadatta then went to the Trāyastriṃśa heaven, and sought this flower from the gods there — yet, because his own merit was already exhausted, no one at all would give it to him. Failing to obtain the flower, he reflected: 'The coral tree has no self, and nothing belonging to a self — should I simply take it myself, what fault could there possibly be in that?' He then stepped forward to take it, and at once lost his own supernatural power, finding himself back in the city of Rājagṛha. Filled with shame, and unable to face Prince Ajātaśatru again, he further reflected: 'I ought now to go to where the Tathāgata is, and ask him for his own assembly of disciples — should the Buddha grant this, I shall then be free to instruct and command Śāriputra and the rest as I wish.' Devadatta then came to where I was, and said: 'I ask only that the Tathāgata entrust this very assembly to me — I shall teach and transform them in every kind of way, and bring them under my own control.' I said to this fool: 'Śāriputra and the others are wise and greatly intelligent, trusted and respected throughout the world — I would not entrust the assembly even to them, how much less, then, to a fool such as you, who feeds upon mere spittle?' Devadatta, at this, gave rise to an even greater evil mind toward me, saying: 'Gautama, though you now hold this assembly under your own control, your own power, too, shall not last long, and you shall soon see it wither away.' Having spoken these words, the great earth at once shook in six ways, and Devadatta at once fell prostrate to the ground, a great violent wind arising beside his own body, blowing dust and dirt over him, defiling him entirely. Devadatta, seeing this evil omen, said, further: 'Should this very body of mine, in this present life, certainly enter the Avīci hell, I must still avenge this very great enmity of mine.' Devadatta then rose and went to where Prince Ajātaśatru was. Ajātaśatru, seeing him, asked: 'Holy one, why does your countenance appear so haggard, so filled with sorrow?' Devadatta said: 'I am always like this — did you not know?' Ajātaśatru answered: 'I beg you, tell me the reason why.' Devadatta said: 'You and I are now the closest of friends — outsiders slander you unjustly, and, hearing of this, how could I not be troubled?' Prince Ajātaśatru said, further: 'How, exactly, do the people of this land slander and insult me?' Devadatta said: 'The people of this land call you Ajātaśatru, "the enemy before birth."' Ajātaśatru said, further: 'Why am I named "the enemy before birth"? Who gave me this name?' Devadatta said: 'Before you were born, every physiognomist in the land said that this child, once born, would kill his own father — and it is for this very reason that outsiders all call you "the enemy before birth." Those close to you, wishing to protect your own feelings, call you instead "Ajātaśatru, the well-seen one." Queen Vaidehī, upon hearing this prophecy, once you were born, threw you down from a high tower to the ground, breaking one of your own fingers — and it is for this very reason that people, further, call you "the one with the broken finger." I, hearing of this, was filled with sorrow and distress, and yet was unable to tell you of it.' Devadatta, through evil deeds of exactly this kind, incited him to kill his own father, saying: 'Should you kill your father, I, too, shall be able to kill the śramaṇa Gautama.' Prince Ajātaśatru then asked one of his own great ministers, named Varṣākāra: 'Why, minister, was I given the name "the enemy before birth"?' This minister then told him the whole story, exactly as Devadatta had told it, without any difference at all. Ajātaśatru, hearing this, at once, together with this minister, seized his own father, the king, imprisoned him outside the city, and guarded him with all four divisions of his own army. Queen Vaidehī, hearing of this, went at once to where the king was, but the guards there blocked her, refusing to let her enter. The queen, at this, gave rise to a mind of anger, and rebuked them harshly. The guards then reported to the prince: 'Great king, the queen wishes to see the king, her husband — are we to permit this or not?' Ajātaśatru, hearing this, gave rise, further, to anger and suspicion, and went at once to his own mother, seizing her by the hair and drawing his sword to strike her. At this, Jīvaka said to him: 'Great king, since the founding of this kingdom, however grave a crime may be, it has never extended to a woman — how much less, then, to one's own birth mother?' Prince Ajātaśatru, hearing these words, for Jīvaka's own sake, at once released her. He then cut off his own father's clothing, bedding, food and drink, and medicine — and, after seven days had passed, the king's own life came to an end. Prince Ajātaśatru, seeing that his own father had died, only then gave rise to a mind of regret — yet the minister Varṣākāra, further, spoke to him with every kind of evil, wrong teaching, saying: 'Great king, no karmic action at all bears any fault whatsoever — why, then, do you now give rise to a mind of regret?' Jīvaka said, further: 'Great king, you should know that a deed of exactly this kind carries a twofold crime: first, the killing of one's own father, the king; and second, the killing of a stream-enterer. A crime of this kind, none but the Buddha himself is able to remove.' King Ajātaśatru said: 'The Tathāgata is pure, without any defilement or turbidity at all — how could a sinner such as I possibly go to see him?' Good son, knowing of this very matter, I said to Ānanda: 'After three months have passed, I shall enter nirvāṇa.' Ajātaśatru, hearing this, came at once to where I was, and I taught the Dharma for him, and his own grave sin was thereby lightened, and he attained rootless faith. Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so said: 'The Tathāgata definitively teaches that he shall finally enter nirvāṇa.'"

"Good son, there are certain beings who give rise to the view of annihilation, saying: 'Once every being's body has perished, there remains no one at all to receive the fruit of good or evil karma.' For the sake of such people, I said: 'The fruit of good and evil karma truly does have someone to receive it.' How is this known to be so? Good son, in an age long past, at Kuśinagara, there was a king named Sudarśana, who spent eighty-four thousand years as a young boy, eighty-four thousand years as crown prince, and, again, eighty-four thousand years upon ascending the throne. Sitting alone in solitude, he reflected: 'Beings are of scant merit, their lifespans brief, forever pursued by four enemies without ever recognizing it themselves, and so remain heedless still. For this very reason I ought to leave the household life and cultivate the path, cutting off these four enemies: birth, old age, sickness, and death.' He then ordered his own officials to build a hall of seven jewels outside the city. Once it was built, he announced to his ministers, his officials, the consorts and queens of his own palace, and his sons and kinsmen: 'You should all know that I wish to leave the household life — will you grant me leave to do so?' His ministers and kinsmen, at this, all said: 'Excellent, great king! Now is exactly the time.' King Sudarśana then, taking a single attendant with him, dwelt alone in this hall, and, across a further eighty-four thousand years, cultivated a mind of loving-kindness. On account of this very loving-kindness, across the following eighty-four thousand ages he became, in succession, a wheel-turning sage-king; across thirty ages he became Śakra, lord of the gods; and across countless ages he became various minor kings. Good son, could this King Sudarśana of that time possibly have been someone else? Do not view it so — it was I myself. Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata definitively teaches that there is a self, and that there is something belonging to a self.'"

"And I, on another occasion, taught for the sake of various beings, saying: 'The self is simply nature itself — that is to say, internal and external causes and conditions, the twelve links, beings, the five aggregates, the realm of mind, the world, merit, karmic action, Īśvara, and the age itself — all of these are called the self.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata definitively teaches that there is a self.'"

"Good son, on yet another occasion, a certain monk came to where I was, and said: 'World-Honored One, what is meant by "self"? Who, exactly, is this self? For what reason is there a self at all?' I then said, for this monk's sake: 'Monk, there is no self, and nothing belonging to a self. The eye itself is originally without existence, now come to exist, and, having come to exist, returns again to non-existence. At the moment of its arising, it comes from nowhere at all; and, at the moment of its ceasing, it goes nowhere at all — though there is indeed the fruit of karma, there is no one at all who acts, and no one at all who either relinquishes or takes up the aggregates. As you have asked — what, then, is this "self"? The self is simply expectation itself. Who, then, is this self? It is simply karma itself. For what reason is there a self? It is simply craving itself. Monk, it is exactly like two hands clapping together, from which a sound emerges — I, too, am exactly like this: it is on account of the three causes and conditions of being, karma, and craving together that the name "self" is given. Monk, for every single being, form is not the self, the self does not exist within form, and form does not exist within the self — and, all the way through, consciousness is exactly the same. Monk, the various non-Buddhist schools, though they speak of a self, never once depart from the aggregates in doing so — and, should any of them claim that a self exists separately, apart from the aggregates, there is no such thing at all. Every being's own activity is exactly like a magical illusion, or a shimmering mirage in the summer heat. Monk, the five aggregates are, every one of them, impermanent, without bliss, without self, and without purity.' Good son, at that very time, countless monks, contemplating these very five aggregates as without self and without anything belonging to a self, attained the fruit of arhatship. Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata definitively teaches that there is no self at all.'"

"Good son, in the sūtras I have also said: 'Through the coming together of three factors, this very body is received: first, the father; second, the mother; and third, the intermediate being — it is through the coming together of these three that this body is received.' And, on another occasion, I said: 'A non-returner may enter parinirvāṇa in this very present life, or may enter parinirvāṇa while still in the intermediate state.' And, on yet another occasion, I said: 'The faculties of the intermediate-state body are complete and lucid, entirely on account of past karma, like clarified ghee itself.' Good son, I have, at times, said: 'The intermediate state received by a thoroughly evil being is like coarse, rough wool-felt found in the world; the intermediate state received by a purely good being is like the fine white cloth produced in Vārāṇasī.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that there is an intermediate state.'"

"Good son, I also said, for the sake of those beings guilty of the five heinous crimes: 'One who has committed the five heinous crimes, upon relinquishing this body, falls directly into the Avīci hell.' And I further said: 'The monk Dharmaruci, upon relinquishing his own body, fell directly into the Avīci hell, with no resting-place at all in between.' And I further said, for the sake of the Vātsīputrīya brahmin: 'Brahmin, if there is an intermediate state, then there are six states of existence.' And I further said: 'Formless-realm beings have no intermediate state at all.' Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Buddha definitively teaches that there is no intermediate state at all.'"

"Good son, in the sūtras I have also taught that there is retrogression. Why is this? Because of the countless idle, lazy monks who fail to cultivate the path, I have taught five kinds of retrogression: first, delighting in many affairs; second, delighting in worldly talk; third, delighting in sleep; fourth, delighting in staying close to householders; and fifth, delighting in excessive travel — it is on account of these very causes that a monk retrogresses. The causes of retrogression, further, are of two kinds: internal and external. Though an arhat has departed from internal causes, he has not departed from external causes — and, on account of external causes and conditions, affliction still arises, and, affliction having arisen, retrogression then follows. There was, further, a monk named Gotika, who retrogressed six separate times; each time, filled with shame, he advanced once more in his own cultivation, and, on the seventh occasion, attained his goal — yet, having attained it, fearing he might lose it once more, he took his own life with a blade. I have, further, at times spoken of timely liberation, and, at other times, of six kinds of arhat. My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata definitively teaches that there is retrogression.'"

"Good son, in the sūtras I have also said: it is exactly like charred coal, which never again becomes wood; or exactly like a broken vase, which can no longer serve as a vase — affliction, too, is exactly like this: once an arhat has severed it, it never arises again. I have also said that the causes giving rise to affliction in beings are, in all, of three kinds: first, affliction not yet severed; second, conditions not yet cut off; and third, unwise reflection — and an arhat lacks two of these causes, having severed affliction and being free of unwise reflection. Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata definitively teaches that there is no retrogression at all.'"

"Good son, in the sūtras I have taught that the Tathāgata's own body is, in all, of two kinds: first, the response-body; and second, the Dharma-body. By 'response-body' is meant simply the body of skillful means, manifested in response to conditions — a body of this kind may indeed be spoken of as subject to birth, old age, sickness, and death, as long or short, black or white, as this or that, as a learner or one beyond learning. My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata definitively teaches that the Buddha's own body is a conditioned dharma.' The Dharma-body, however, is simply permanence, bliss, self, and purity itself, forever departed from all birth, old age, sickness, and death, neither white nor black, neither long nor short, neither this nor that, neither a learner nor one beyond learning — whether a buddha appears in the world or does not appear in the world, it abides forever, unmoving, without any change at all. Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata definitively teaches that the Buddha's own body is an unconditioned dharma.'"

"Good son, in the sūtras I have taught: 'What is meant by the twelve links? From ignorance arise formations; from formations arises consciousness; from consciousness arises name-and-form; from name-and-form arise the six sense-bases; from the six sense-bases arises contact; from contact arises feeling; from feeling arises craving; from craving arises grasping; from grasping arises becoming; from becoming arises birth; and from birth there is old age, death, sorrow, and suffering.' Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that the twelve links are definitively a conditioned dharma.'"

"And I, on another occasion, instructed a certain monk by way of simile, saying: 'The twelve links, whether or not a buddha appears in the world, have a nature and mark that abide forever.' Good son, there are twelve links that do not arise from conditions, and there are twelve links that do arise from conditions; there is what is not among the twelve links yet arises from conditions; and there is what is neither among the twelve links nor arises from conditions. That which is among the twelve links yet does not arise from conditions refers to the twelve factors as they exist in the future. That which arises from conditions yet is not among the twelve links refers to the five aggregates possessed by an arhat. That which arises from conditions and is also among the twelve links refers to the five aggregates possessed by an ordinary being. That which is neither among the twelve links nor arises from conditions refers to space and nirvāṇa. Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that the twelve links are definitively an unconditioned dharma.'"

"Good son, in the sūtras I have taught: 'When any being, having done good or evil karma, relinquishes this body, the four great elements at once scatter and disintegrate — one of purely good karma has a mind that at once rises upward, while one of purely evil karma has a mind that at once sinks downward.' Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that the mind is definitively permanent.' Good son, I, on another occasion, said, for King Bimbisāra's sake: 'Great king, you should know that form is impermanent. Why is this? Because it arises from an impermanent cause. If this very form arises from an impermanent cause, how could the wise possibly say that it is permanent? Were form permanent, it ought never to disintegrate and perish, giving rise to every kind of suffering and affliction — yet we now see this very form scatter, perish, and break apart, and so we should know that form is impermanent, and, all the way through, consciousness is exactly the same.' Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that the mind is definitively subject to annihilation.'"

"Good son, in the sūtras I have taught: 'My own disciples, though receiving incense, flowers, gold, silver, and precious things, wives, children, servants, and the eight impure objects, have still attained the true path, and, having attained the true path, need not relinquish these things either.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so declared: 'The Tathāgata teaches that receiving the five desires does not obstruct the noble path.' And I, on another occasion, further said: 'That a householder should attain the true path — there is no such thing at all.' Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that receiving the five desires definitively obstructs the true path.'"

"Good son, in the sūtras I have taught: 'One who is departed from affliction yet has not yet attained liberation is exactly like one in the desire realm cultivating the supreme worldly dharma.' Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that the supreme dharma belongs solely to the desire realm.' And I, further, said: 'The stages of heat, summit, patience, and the supreme worldly dharma occur from the first dhyāna up through the fourth dhyāna.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that dharmas of this kind belong to the form realm.' And I, further, said: 'Various non-Buddhist ascetics, having already severed the afflictions of the fourth dhyāna, cultivate the stages of heat, summit, patience, and the supreme worldly dharma, contemplate the four noble truths, and attain the fruit of non-returning.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that the supreme dharma belongs to the formless realm.'"

"Good son, in the sūtras I have taught: 'Among four kinds of giving, three kinds are pure: first, where the donor believes in cause, believes in fruit, and believes in giving, while the recipient does not believe in cause, fruit, or giving; second, where the recipient believes in cause, fruit, and giving, while the donor does not believe in cause, fruit, or giving; third, where both donor and recipient believe; and fourth, where neither donor nor recipient believes. Of these four kinds of giving, the first three are pure.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that giving is a matter of intention alone.' Good son, I, on another occasion, further said: 'One who gives, in the act of giving, gives by way of five factors — what are these five? First, giving beauty; second, giving strength; third, giving ease; fourth, giving life; and fifth, giving eloquence — and, on account of these very causes and conditions, the donor, in turn, receives the fruit of these very five factors.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Buddha teaches that giving is simply the five aggregates.'"

"Good son, I, on another occasion, proclaimed: 'Nirvāṇa is simply departure itself — affliction forever exhausted, extinguished without remainder, exactly like a lamp going out, with no further dharma arising at all: nirvāṇa is exactly like this. As for what is called space, it is simply the absence of anything at all — just as, in the world, wherever nothing at all exists, it is called space. And non-analytical cessation, too, is simply the absence of anything at all. Were any of these truly existent, they would necessarily have causes and conditions; and, having causes and conditions, they would necessarily have an end and a cessation — but, precisely because they do not exist, there is no end or cessation to speak of at all.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Buddha teaches that there are no three unconditioned dharmas at all.'"

"Good son, I, on another occasion, said, for Maudgalyāyana's sake: 'Maudgalyāyana, nirvāṇa itself is the very passage of the teaching, the very footprint, the ultimate place, the place of fearlessness, the great teacher, the great fruit, the ultimate wisdom, the great, unobstructed samādhi of forbearance, the great Dharma-realm, the flavor of ambrosia, and the exceedingly difficult to behold. Maudgalyāyana, were there truly no nirvāṇa at all, how could it be that anyone who slanders it falls into hell?' Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that nirvāṇa exists.' And, on another occasion, I said, further, for Maudgalyāyana's sake: 'Maudgalyāyana, the eye is not solid, and, extending to the whole body, everything is likewise not solid — and, precisely because it is not solid, it is called space. The place where food descends and turns, where it is digested, and every kind of sound, are all likewise called space.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata definitively teaches that space is an unconditioned dharma that truly exists.' And, on another occasion, I said, further, for Maudgalyāyana's sake: 'Maudgalyāyana, a person who has not yet attained the fruit of stream-entry, while still abiding in the stage of patience, severs countless retributions of the three evil destinies — and you should know that this is not extinguished through the causal power of wisdom.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata definitively teaches that there is a cessation not brought about by the causal power of wisdom.'"

"Good son, I, on another occasion, said, for the monk Vappa's sake: 'Vappa, when a monk has contemplated form, whether past, future, or present, whether near or far, whether coarse or fine, all such form is neither the self nor anything belonging to the self. A monk who has contemplated in this way is able to sever craving for form.' Vappa then asked, further: 'What is meant by "form" and "name"?' I said: 'The four great elements are called form; the four aggregates are called name.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata definitively teaches that form is simply the four great elements.' Good son, I have also said: 'It is exactly like a mirror, from which an image appears — form, too, is exactly like this, produced from the four great elements, that is to say, coarseness and fineness, roughness and smoothness, blue, yellow, red, and white, long and short, square and round, oblique-angled, light and heavy, cold and hot, hunger and thirst, smoke, cloud, dust, and mist — all of these are called derived form, exactly like an echo or a reflection.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that wherever the four great elements exist, derived form exists, or else that there may be the four great elements without any derived form at all.'"

"Good son, in ages past, Prince Bodhi once said: 'Should a monk, though upholding the precepts, give rise to an evil thought, one should know that, at that very moment, he loses the monastic precepts.' I then said: 'Prince Bodhi, the precepts are of seven kinds, arising from body and speech, and possess an unmanifest form. On account of this very unmanifest form, though the mind may dwell in an evil or morally neutral state, one is not said to have lost the precepts, but is still said to be upholding them. For what reason is this called "unmanifest form"? Because it is not the cause of any other form, nor does it produce the cause and fruit of any other form.' Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Buddha teaches that there is unmanifest form.' Good son, in another sūtra I have said: 'The precepts are simply the restraining and checking of evil dharmas — one who does not commit evil is said to be upholding the precepts.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata definitively proclaims that there is no unmanifest form at all.'"

"Good son, in the sūtras I have taught: 'For the noble one, form and, all the way through, consciousness itself are all produced from the very cause and condition of ignorance. Every ordinary being is exactly the same: from ignorance craving arises, and one should know that this very craving is itself ignorance; from craving grasping arises, and one should know that this very grasping is itself ignorance-and-craving; from grasping becoming arises, and this very becoming is itself ignorance, craving, and grasping; from becoming feeling arises, and one should know that this very feeling is itself formations-and-becoming; and, from the very cause and condition of feeling, name-and-form, ignorance, craving-and-grasping, becoming-and-formations, feeling, contact, consciousness, and the six sense-bases all arise — and so feeling itself is simply the twelve factors.' Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that there are no distinct mental factors at all.' Good son, in the sūtras I have taught: 'From these four — the eye, form, light, and unwholesome desire — eye-consciousness then arises. By "unwholesome desire" is meant simply ignorance itself; and, at the moment desire's own nature seeks something, it is called craving. From craving arises grasping through causes and conditions, and grasping is called karmic action. From karmic action, by causes and conditions, arises consciousness; consciousness conditions name-and-form; name-and-form conditions the six sense-bases; the six sense-bases condition contact; and contact conditions perception, feeling, craving, faith, diligence, concentration, and wisdom — dharmas of this kind arise on account of contact, and yet are not themselves identical to contact.' Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that distinct mental factors do exist.' Good son, I have, at times, said that there is but a single state of existence; and, at other times, said that there are two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, or nine, up to twenty-five. My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that there are five states of existence,' or else: 'that there are six.'"

"Good son, I, on another occasion, while dwelling at the Nyagrodha grove in Kapilavastu, was approached by Mahānāma, who said: 'What is meant by an "upāsaka"?' I then taught him, saying: 'Should any good son or good daughter, complete in every faculty, receive the three refuges, such a one is then called an upāsaka.' Mahānāma said, further: 'World-Honored One, what is meant by a "one-portion upāsaka"?' I said: 'Mahānāma, should one receive the three refuges together with a single precept, this is called a one-portion upāsaka.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that the upāsaka precepts may be received without receiving them in full.' Good son, I, on another occasion, while dwelling by the banks of the Ganges, was approached by Kātyāyana, who said: 'World-Honored One, when I teach beings to undertake the fasting observance, whether for a single day, a single night, a single hour, or a single moment of thought — does such a person accomplish the fasting observance or not?' I said: 'Monk, such a person attains something wholesome, but is not said to have accomplished the fasting observance.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that the eight-precept fasting observance is attained only through receiving it in full.'"

"Good son, in the sūtras I have taught: 'Should a monk violate any of the four gravest precepts, he is no longer called a monk, but is called a broken monk, a monk who has lost himself, one no longer able to give rise to the wholesome sprout of the seed. It is exactly like a scorched seed, which never bears fruit; or exactly like a tāla tree, which, once its crown is cut off and destroyed, never again bears fruit — a monk who has violated the gravest precepts is exactly the same.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that monks who have violated the gravest precepts have thereby lost the monastic precepts entirely.' Good son, in the sūtras I have taught, for Cunda's sake: 'There are four kinds of monk: first, one who has ultimately arrived at the path; second, one who merely points out the path; third, one who receives the path; and fourth, one who pollutes the path — one who violates the four gravest precepts is simply this fourth kind, one who pollutes the path.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that monks who have violated the four gravest precepts have not thereby lost the precepts at all.'"

"Good son, in the sūtras I have taught, addressing the monks: 'One vehicle, one path, one practice, one condition — this one vehicle, all the way through to this one condition, is able to bring about great stillness for beings, forever severing every bond, every sorrow and suffering, suffering itself, and the cause of suffering, and bringing every being to but a single state of existence.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that stream-enterers, all the way through to arhats, all attain the buddha path.' Good son, in the sūtras I have taught: 'A stream-enterer, passing back and forth between the human and heavenly realms seven times, then enters parinirvāṇa. A once-returner, receiving a single further birth among humans and gods, then enters parinirvāṇa. A non-returner is, in all, of five kinds, ranging from one who enters parinirvāṇa in the intermediate state, all the way through to one who enters parinirvāṇa by rising to the highest heaven. An arhat is, in all, of two kinds: one in the present life, and one in a future life — in the present life, too, he severs afflictions and the five aggregates, and in a future life, too, he severs afflictions and the five aggregates.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Tathāgata teaches that stream-enterers, all the way through to arhats, do not attain the buddha path.'"

"Good son, in this very sūtra I have taught: 'Buddha-nature possesses, in full, six qualities: first, permanence; second, reality; third, truth; fourth, goodness; fifth, purity; and sixth, visibility.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Buddha teaches that beings' own buddha-nature exists apart from beings themselves.' Good son, I have also said: 'Beings' own buddha-nature is exactly like space — space is neither past, nor future, nor present, neither internal nor external, and is not included among form, sound, smell, taste, or touch; buddha-nature, too, is exactly the same.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Buddha teaches that beings' own buddha-nature exists apart from beings themselves.' Good son, I have also further said: 'Beings' own buddha-nature is exactly like the hidden treasure within a poor woman's house, or the diamond jewel upon a wrestler's own forehead, or a wheel-turning sage-king's own spring of ambrosia.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Buddha teaches that beings' own buddha-nature exists apart from beings themselves.' Good son, I have also further said: 'One who has violated the four gravest precepts, an icchantika, one who slanders the Vaipulya sūtras, one who has committed the five heinous crimes — all of these still possess buddha-nature. Beings such as these possess no wholesome dharma at all, and yet buddha-nature is itself wholesome.' My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Buddha teaches that beings' own buddha-nature exists apart from beings themselves.'"

"Good son, I have also further said: 'Beings themselves are simply buddha-nature — why is this? Because, apart from beings, supreme, perfect awakening cannot be attained. It is for this very reason that I taught King Prasenajit the simile of the elephant: just as the blind men, describing the elephant, do not grasp the elephant as it truly is, and yet are not apart from the elephant either — so too, when beings describe form, and, all the way through, consciousness itself, as buddha-nature, it is exactly the same: though this is not truly buddha-nature, it is not entirely apart from buddha-nature either. Just as I taught the king the simile of the lute, buddha-nature, too, is exactly like this.' Good son, my own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and spoke of it in every kind of different way — exactly like the blind men each asking about milk, buddha-nature, too, is exactly like this. On account of this very matter, some say that one who has violated the four gravest precepts, slandered the Vaipulya sūtras, committed the five heinous crimes, or is an icchantika, entirely possesses buddha-nature, while others say that he does not."

"Good son, in sūtras throughout, I have taught: 'When a single person appears in the world, many people benefit thereby — yet that a single land should have two wheel-turning sage-kings, or that a single world-system should have two buddhas appear within it, there is no such thing at all. That a single four-continent world should have eight sets of four heavenly kings, or two Paranirmita-vaśavartin heavens, there is likewise no such thing at all.' And yet I have also spoken of a single such reach extending from Jambudvīpa and the Avīci hell, all the way up to the Akaniṣṭha heaven. My own disciples, hearing this teaching, failed to understand my own intention, and so proclaimed: 'The Buddha teaches that there are no buddhas of the ten directions at all.' Yet I have also, in the various Mahāyāna sūtras, taught that there are buddhas of the ten directions."