Mahāyāna Sūtra Message Board.  
For June. 2007

Messages from the Mahāyāna
 Sūtras

These short extracts from the Mahāyāna scriptures (sūtras) indicate some of the ideas which stirred the imaginations of the peoples of India and further Asia, in the past.  The texts from which they come were the objects of arduous searches by scores of pilgrims.  Eventually, such matters and their full import claimed the attention of whole nations.  Details of the texts used here can be found on our List of Sources.

The following Message Board will be continued, with further extracts, stories and items of interest, on a regular monthly basis.

Sūtra Extract.

From the Lotus (Kern) chap.2:

One single stanza learned and kept in memory suffices; ...to lead all of them to Enlightenment …forsake all doubt and uncertainty.  You all shall become Buddhas, rejoice!

Stories from the Old Silk Road.

Introduction

          Most of these stories have been drawn from the tales contained in Buddhist sūtra texts.  Others come from collections of legends in Chinese and Indian popular literature, e.g. items 3 and 9 or from ancient commentaries on canonical material, e.g. items 2 and 5.  All of them travelled along the Old Silk Road which ran between China and north-west India and through central Asia during the first 500 years CE.  They travelled along the route either as written texts being carried into china from India by Buddhist monk teachers, or in the heads of Buddhist sūtra specialists who were en-route to china to avoid repeated invasions by the nomad hordes which ravaged their homeland.
          In the course of time these stories became the stock-in-trade of itinerant storytellers, who journeyed with the caravans in both directions.  They would entertain the travellers by re-telling tales of this kind around the camp fires in the desert wilderness or in the caravanserais.
          Of course, when the tales were told by the storytellers they would be shorn of their scriptural context (unless told by monks) and the details would be embellished and embroidered in time-honoured fashion.  Although the essential point of the story was rarely lost in the telling.
          Such is the case here.  All the stories in this collection were related in popular fashion to members of the London or Luton Zen Centre, and also to assemblies of the Buddhist Society’s summers schools during the period 1980 to 1990.  Such traditional story telling continued to be given, by request, when this writer visits the Luton Zen Centre, up to the present time.
          Apart from the traditional mix of a hero’s exploits and of wondrous events, these stories display an extraordinary degree of warmth and humour, e.g. in items 2, 3, 5 and 21.  It needs to be stressed that such humour is not part of the customary embellishment; it is an integral part of the original scriptural text.  Humour of this kind in scripture is rarely to be found in the major religions other than Buddhism.
          There is not particular sequence to this collection of stories, except for stories numbers 12 and 13.  They have been taken at random from the sources and strung together much as an ancient storyteller would.
          It is to be hoped that the reader will derive as much pleasure and gentle instruction from these stories as this writer did when finding them and re-telling them to others.

Eric Cheetham, June 2005 ©

1

The Prince who sought the Crest Jewel.

From: Le Traité de la Grande Vertue de Sagesse de Nāgārjuna (Mahāprajñāpāramitā upadeśa), translated by E. Lamotte, Louvain 1944-1980.
A long, long time ago, a most amazing infant was born or more precisely, re-born into a royal Indian family.  This wonderful child startled everyone because, among other things, he could speak perfectly from birth!  His parents, the king and queen, were understandably delighted since they knew this talent to be one of the marks of a bodhisattva – a holy one, a future sage.
They listened with incredulous joy as their baby described his previous lives.  (They knew that his memory was also a bodhisattva mark.)  In his most recent one, he told them, it was his practice to give away absolutely everything he could – anything that came into his hands was immediately passed on to others who might need it.  And, oh, while he was on the subject, would his new parents kindly acquaint him with the full extent of the kingdom’s wealth.  Every bit of it would be needed since the young prince intended to continue his practice!
The king and queen were not in the least disJuneed.  So sincere was their joy in him that they put at his disposal great riches, and let him get on with his giving.  But the king’s subjects were not pleased; they could not understand why a prince would want to give away so much that should one day be his.  Was he unbalanced or twisted in some way?  Their puzzlement changed to mistrust and that changed to fear; when they saw him coming with his gifts of food or clothing or jewels, they soon took to hiding from him, or running away.
Well, how can a saint carry on his holy practice of giving if no one will accept his gifts?  The young bodhisattva came to know great frustration and finally, in great distress, went in tears to his mother, the only person left who would have anything to do with him, as all the others were scared to death.  “Why am I treated like this, mother?  I am not a demon!  How is it that I frighten people so much?  In all my previous existences I have always loved giving and I have surpassed everyone through my gifts!”
Ah, previous lives!  The mother noted this and wondered if the populace would think differently of him if they heard about his sincere goodness.  So she put it about that he was really giving out of the loving kindness of his heart, and that of course he wasn’t trying to do them harm.  And in time, the people abandoned their fear and stopped running away.
Indeed, as this happened when the prince was still a child, by the time he had grown up, he had given away everything that he had!  As fast as he got it, he gave it away.  So there came a day when he found that he had nothing left to give; he went to his father, the king, and asked for more.  But his father said, “You can’t go on like this, my boy – our treasury will soon be empty!  It’s all very well, this feeling that you must give to everyone, but the kingdom has to be maintained and you’re not earning anything, are you?”
When he dried his tears, the young man begged his father to help him find a way to keep on giving; he needed limitless wealth!  The perturbed king decided to call a meeting of his council and put the problem to them.
“My son”, said the king to his advisers, “is, I suppose, rather peculiar (but don’t let him hear that I said that) in that he feels that he has to give, give, give.
Trouble is that he needs massive wealth to do this and if he carries on as he’s been doing, we’ll all be paupers.  Have you any ideas at all about how to find more wealth for him?”
          After much racking of brains, one possibility was put forward: somewhere, someone thought, somewhere beyond the Great Sea, in the Naga Kingdom, there existed a fabulous jewel of immeasurable value.  This priceless gem was thought to be a Chintamani, or Crest Jewel, in the crown of the Naga King himself.  No one knew exactly where he was, or indeed whether he’d part with it if he were found, but only his Crest Jewel could offer the limitless wealth needed by their bodhisattva prince.
          When the prince heard about the Crest Jewel, he was elated.  To his parents’ horror, he declared himself ready to leave immediately, ready to embark upon the Great Sea and to journey into the unknown to find the Naga King.  They, however, pleaded with him not to risk his life; the Great Sea promised terrible danger, incalculable risks.  “We might never see you again”, they wailed.  “Please take everything we have left – every coin in the treasury is yours!  Just don’t go, stay here with us, please, please!”
          But no, he explained firmly, he couldn’t do that.  “Your treasury is very limited – my aspirations are unlimited.  I want to gratify everyone in such a way that they have no more needs.”  In the end, the anguished parents saw that no matter what they said, he would go, so they gave consent.
          The news got around that the young prince was preparing an expedition to hunt the Chintamani.  Scenting the chance to made a quick fortune, five hundred merchants and a large number of hangers-on, also decided to go, and a great boat was made ready.  It was moored in the traditional manner, with seven ropes, cutting one rope on each of the last seven days before sailing.
          As the last day approached, however, the prince realised that when the seventh rope was cut he would be afloat on the Great Sea without any idea about where to go.  So he called out to the crowd thronging the quay-side, “Does anybody know where to go?”  Can anybody tell us where the Jewel is to be found?”  An old blind man spoke up.  He had crossed the Great Sea seven times and knew the way but he could not go again.  “If I go again,” he said, “I will not return; I know that.  And anyway I am blind, so I couldn’t show you the route, could I?”
          But the prince was very determined.  He told the old man that this quest was not for private gain but to share the Great Jewel with everyone in the kingdom; it was to satisfy their every need for ever.  They talked about the Way, the religious Path; and finally, the young man persuaded him that they had to work together.  They were an obvious partnership; the old pilot knows where the Jewel is, but can’t get to it; the young bodhisattva can get to it – but he doesn’t know where it is!  “You are a wise man,” said the prince; “How can my aspiration be accomplished without your help?  You can’t refuse me!”
          Moved by this sincere fervour, the old man agreed.  “Right,” he said, “I will go with you – but I will surely die.  You must promise me that you will gather my remains and set them down on an island in the middle of the Great Sea; the Island of the Golden Sand.”  So it was agreed, and the seventh rope was cut.
          No sooner were they on the Sea when trouble started – fierce winds and towering waves, relentless rain, wild storms.  But their first landfall was a beautiful little island which even at a distance glittered as if made of jewels.  When they landed, they found the island was covered with precious stones.  The merchants poured over the side, bags open, ready to gather up all they could, but the old man and the bodhisattva stood aside from the frenzy.
          “Hey there,” the merchants called our, “get busy! It’s all here, what you’ve come for, just lying about.  Why don’t you pick it up?”
          “Because this is not what I’ve come for,” the young prince replied.  “I’m seeking the Chintamani.  These jewels are of no consequence; their value is limited.  I need unlimited wealth and only the Chintamani can give me that.  But you go ahead and gather what you want – but not too much or the boat will sink!” The merchants scoffed.  “We’re not worried.  You can get us home safely no matter what we bring – just make the right prayers!”  And they went on eagerly sifting and picking.
          The blind man turned to the prince.  “These people will do us no good,” he said.  “We must devise a way to leave them.  We’ll take a small boat and head off on our own, just the two of us, and let them have the big ship.  But,” he added, “Our way will be very hard. I know what we’re heading into – real trouble and hardship.  And at the end of the boat journey, I am going to die.  You’re going to have to bury me before you can go any further.”
          And it all happened just as he said it would.  The journey in their little boat was full of hazards.  A terrible storm arose and they could barely stay afloat.  Finally, they were washed up against a steep cliff.  Abandoning ship, they struggled up the cliff face, clinging on to roots and branches, the giant waves of the Great Sea crashing at the rocks far below.  With the last of their strength, they reached the top and crawled to safety; then as he knew would happen, the old man died.
          The prince buried his good friend and guide as he had promised, there on the Island of the Golden Sand.  It was now his task to go on by himself, following the instructions given him by the old man.  So, for the next seven days he swam through deep water; for the next seven he walked through water up to his neck; for the next seven through water up to his hips; for the next seven through water up to his knees; and then for seven on mud.
          There he found spread before him a great field of blue lotuses.  The fragile, beautiful blooms were so tightly packed together that the prince said to himself, “How can I cross these lovely flowers without crushing them?  Yet I must cross them.  Ah, yes – the concentration on space!”  Through this previously-acquired skilled practice he then lightened his body and walked for seven days across the blossoms without bruising so much as a single petal.
          Then however, at the edge of the lotus field, he found himself blocked by a vast mass of poisonous snakes, undulating and hissing.  “Formidable creatures,” he thought.  “I must enter upon the concentration on goodwill.”  This he did until the snakes ceased their hissing; their hostility subsiding, they raised up their heads all together, to offer a
steady surface for him to walk upon.  And so he walked safely across the sea of serpents for yet another seven days.
          And there he saw his next challenge – a flashing, gleaming township, lights glinting from every side, a whole city made of jewels, seven different kinds of jewels, guarded all around by seven ditches brimming with poisonous snakes; it was the Naga Kingdom.
          Three great Naga Protectors also guarded the gates.  They saw the prince approaching from a great distance, but even from afar they knew him for what he was, a bodhisattva.  They knew this not only because they recognised the special physical marks borne by such a person, unique features that  result from lifetimes of high spiritual attainment, but also because only a bodhisattva could have surmounted the obstacles on the path to the Naga Kingdom.  So they subdued the snakes and allowed him to enter the palace of the Naga King.
          There, the king and queen were still in mourning, although their beloved son had died long before.  As the bodhisattva prince approached the queen cried out in joy: “My child!  I know you are my child!  Where have you been reborn?  Tell me!”  And the prince recognised them as his previous parents.
          He told them that he had been reborn as the crown prince of a great kingdom in India, but one which had both rich and poor.  The poor people there, he told them, were unable to overcome the torments of cold and hunger, of sickness and disease, and his compassion for them required that he seek great wealth to give away.  He had therefore, come to the Naga Kingdom, braving fantastic dangers on the way, seeking a fabulous jewel, the Chintamani, said to be of unlimited value.  Was it not here, in the place of his father?
          “Ah, yes”, said the queen, “it is here.  But it is in the crown upon your father’s head!  I know he will give you all you want from his treasury, any amount of wealth, enormous riches, to take back to your present parents - But the Chintamani? -The very crest of his crown?  - I don’t think he’ll part with that.”
          “But mother, my loving mother, it is not for ordinary riches from a treasury that I have overcome these fearsome obstacles.  It has been for one purpose only – to find the Crest Jewel, the Chintamani, the only source of endless wealth.  That is all I want and all I want to take.”
“Well,” said the worried woman, “Have a word with him yourself.  You never know.”
And so he did, and in the end his father gave him the Crest Jewel; he gave it for many reasons – joy in his son’s return, admiration for his son’s bravery and respect for his son’s path.  But he gave it only after trying to persuade him to stay in the Naga Kingdom.  “What do you want to go back for?” he said, “You’ll have to risk all kinds of dangers to get
There, and after all, we’re your primary parents!  We should have first call on you!”  There’s no need for you to go all the way back again!”
But the bodhisattva persisted.  “Father, this is what I came for.  I came only to get the Jewel and bring it back for all those poor people in India.  You don’t know how it is there, Father, living here in this wonderful place.  The people where I now live are wretched and suffering.  I wouldn’t have come here at all if the Jewel weren’t needed.  There is no point in my having braved all those dangers unless I bring it back and use it for their benefit!”
The Naga King knew his son was right.  But as he removed the Crest Jewel from his crown and gave it to his son, he imposed one condition.  “Here you are. Here is the Jewel.  But you must promise me the next time you are reborn it will be with your mother and me.”  The son respectfully gave his promise to return.
The bodhisattva took the jewel and fastened it within the lining of his garments.  He then turned back in the direction from which he had come and now, knowing the way perfectly, he flew there in less than the time needed for a strong man to bend his arm!
          His human parents, the king and queen of India, were jubilant at his return.  “Where is it?  Where is it?” they demanded in excitement.  “Did you get it?”  The prince replied, “It’s right here, safely in the lining of my clothing.”  “In the lining?” they cried, “How small it must be! How did it get such a big reputation?”
          The bodhisattva then asked his parents to see that the town was thoroughly cleaned, inside and out; to burn perfumes and suspend banners and to decree that the fast must be kept and the moral rules observed.  On the next day, after all this was done, he set up a high mast in the centre of the town square and from it suspended the Crest Jewel.
          It’ flashing brilliance, its great rays could be seen by everyone in the vast crowds flooding the town to see what their prince had brought back from his journey.  When they were all gathered in the square, now bathed in the radiance from the Jewel, the bodhisattva made this aspiration:  “If I am to reach Buddhahood and deliver all beings, June this gem obey my wishes and cause all precious objects to appear.  June it gratify to the very last, the needs of all men!”
          Immediately the words were spoken, the clear, beautifully blue sky darkened.  A great cloud began to gather; it grew and grew until it burst, raining down upon the people all kinds of precious things.  It rained down food, clothing, bedding, cushions, medicines…every last thing they needed.  And until the end of that bodhisattva’s life, that rain never stopped”

Copyright © Eric Cheetham 2005     

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