Category Archives: BuddhismInPractice

Promises, BuddhismInPractice, Blog, Books

Tales of the Lotus Sutra

buddhism-in-practice-bookcover
This is the unabridged edition published in 1995, not the abridged edition published in 2007

In 1995, Princeton University Press published an anthology devoted to Buddhism in Practice as part of the university’s Princeton Readings in Religions. Donald S. Lopez Jr. edited the volume. Included in the anthology is Daniel B. Stevenson’s “Tales of the Lotus Sutra.”

Stevenson’s article offers translations of several stories from the Tang-dynasty tales of devotion to the Lotus Sutra known as Hongzan fahua zhuan, or Accounts in Dissemination and Praise of the Lotus.

The Hongzan fahua zhuan belongs to a genre of Chinese Buddhist writing known as the “record of miraculous response,” or “miracle tale,” for short. The Buddhist miracle tale originated during the early medieval period, taking as its model two related narrative forms of indigenous origin that enjoyed widespread popularity at that time: the Chinese “tale of the strange or extraordinary” and the tradition of the exemplary biography inspired by the Chinese dynastic histories. The Buddhist miracle tale probably stands closest in spirit to the exemplary biography. Like the latter, the miracle tale was (and continues to be) circulated primarily for reasons of spiritual edification. Behind the marvels that it recounts there lurks an ever-present injunction to faith and piety. …

Of the miracle tales as a whole, we know that some were gathered locally from oral tradition. We know that they were selected, reworked, and disseminated by literate lay and monastic figures, some of whom were quite eminent. We also know that many of these same tales were told time and again, sometimes at formal ritual gatherings before audiences containing persons of every ilk—mendicants and laypersons, educated and uneducated. On this basis the miracle tale can be understood as “popular” in the sense of anonymous and generic—a body of literature that reflects religious motifs which are universal to Buddhist monastic and lay life rather than the province of one particular sector or stratum.

The Hongzan fahua zhuan organizes its contents according to eight categories of cultic activity: drawings and likenesses produced on the basis of the Lotus, translation of the Lotus, exegesis, cultivation of meditative discernment (based on the Lotus), casting away the body (in offering to the Lotus), recitation of the scripture (from memory), cyclic reading of the sūtra, and copying the sūtra by hand. Individual entries are, in turn, arranged in chronological sequence according to dynastic period.

Four of the topical sections of the Hongzan fahua zhuan—exegesis or preaching of the Lotus, recitation from memory, reading, and copying the Lotus—find an immediate counterpart in the famous “five practices” of receiving and keeping, reading, reciting, copying, and explicating the Lotus Sūtra described in the “Preachers of Dharma” chapter of the sūtra and articulated by exegetes such as the Tiantai master Zhiyi. Section 5 of the Hongzan fahua zhuan, on “casting away the body,” contains biographies of devotees who ritually burned themselves alive in imitation of the bodhisattva Medicine King’s self-immolation in offering to the dharma in chapter 23 of the Lotus. Various subsidiary themes of cultic and ritual activity that recur throughout the tales of the Hongzan fahua zhuan can likewise be traced to these chapters. One topic that is conspicuously absent from the Hongzan fahua zhuan is the cult of Guanyin.

Buddhism in Practice, p427-428

The Hongzan fahua zhuan is a precursor of the miraculous stories told in Japan. See Miraculous Stories from the Japanese Buddhist Tradition and Miraculous Tales of the Lotus Sutra from Ancient Japan.

Starting tomorrow, I will publish one of these stories on the first Monday of each month as part of my 2025 collection of promises contained in the Lotus Sutra.

BuddhismInPractice, Promises

The Buddhist Monk Jingjian

Note: This is another in the monthly excerpts from “Tales of the Lotus Sutra.”

The Buddhist monk Jingjian. Details of his background are unknown, but he left home as a young boy and for the most part lived on mounts Chonggao and Longmen. He recited the Lotus Sūtra in its entirety as many as thirteen thousand times. Internally he applied himself zealously to the contemplation of the wondrous [truth], thereby becoming quite skilled in the essentials of dhyāna. However, due to having recited [the sūtra] for such an extended period of time, his physical strength was exhausted [to the point on distress].

After [he had suffered from this illness] for more than twenty years, one day children began to gather and chatter raucously on the north side of his hut. This caused him to feel even more stressed and dispirited. Jian could not figure out where they came from. At that time a white-haired codger appeared, dressed in a short coat and skirt of crude white silk. Every day he would come and inquire [of Jian’s health], asking: “How are the dhyāna master’s four elements doing today?” To which Jian would usually reply, “I am feeling progressively more run down. Moreover, I have no idea where all these children are coming from; but daily their disturbance grows worse. I don’t think I can bear it much longer.”

The old man instructed, “Master, you should go and sit near the spot where they play. Wait for them to take off their clothes and enter the river to bathe. Then take one of the boy’s garments and come back [to your hermitage]. When he comes to reclaim it, don’t give it back to him. If he curses you, be sure not to respond. I, your disciple, will come to speak with him.”

Jian set out to do as the old man instructed. He went and waited for the children to take off their clothes and enter the pool to bathe. Then he snatched up one of the boy’s garments and returned promptly to his hut. When the child came after him looking for his robe, Jian recalled the old man’s cautions and refused to hand it over. The child bad-mouthed and slandered the dhyāna master in the most vile way, even extending his remarks to his ancestors. But the master showed no response. Soon the old man arrived and said to the lad, “[I command you to] enter the master’s chest.” At first the boy was unwilling to do as he was told. But the old man pressed him repeatedly, until he proceeded to enter Jian’s chest and vanish within his belly. The old man asked the master, “How do your four elements feel now?” To which Jian replied, “My vital energy (qi) is far better than ever before.” The old man thereupon took his leave [and disappeared].

From that day forward Jian felt physically robust and at ease, and his practice of dhyāna and recitation doubled in intensity. Those who understand this sort of thing say that surely this was the work of the bodhisattva Samantabhadra (“Universal Worthy”). The bodhisattva had the [local] mountain spirit compel the seminal essences of different medicinal herbs to transform into the child and become absorbed into [Jian’s] body, thereby curing Jian of his illness. Jingjian was the master who instructed dhyāna master Mo in the arts of dhyāna.

We do not know where and how he ended his days.

Buddhism in Practice, p438-439
Promises, BuddhismInPractice

The ‘Cloudy and Obscure’ Tale of a Past Life

Note: This is another in the monthly excerpts from “Tales of the Lotus Sutra.”

There was a certain monk–his name has been forgotten–who lived in a monastery in the eastern section of Qin commandery. [In residence at the monastery] was a young novice who could recite the Lotus Sūtra with extraordinary fluency, except for the fact that whenever he reached the two words, “cloudy and obscure” (ai-dai), in the “Medicinal Herbs” chapter, he would forget them no sooner than he was taught them. This must have happened well over a thousand times. Finally his master scolded him bitterly, saying, “You are able to learn to recite the entire sutra perfectly [from memory]. How is it that you can’t muster the concentration to memorize these two words?!”

That night the master dreamt of a Buddhist monk, who told him: “You should not blame this novice. In his previous life he lived in a village on the east side of this monastery, where he had the form of a laywoman. Basically she devoted herself to reciting the single scripture of the Lotus Sūtra. But at that time, silverfish had eaten away the two characters “cloudy and obscure” in the “Medicinal Herbs” chapter of the household copy of the Lotus. Thus the two characters were originally missing from the sūtra. [As a result], when in this present life the novice monk tries to learn the words anew, he cannot do it. The surname [of the family] is such and such, and this copy of the sūtra may still be found there. If you don’t believe my tale, you can go and verify it for yourself.”

The very next day the master went to the village and sought out the household. After introducing himself he said to the head of the family, “Do you have a special place for making offerings?” The man replied, “We do.” “What scriptures do you keep there?” he asked. To which the man replied, “We have a single copy of the Lotus Sūtra.” The master sent him to fetch it so that he might have a look. Sure enough, the two characters were missing from the “Medicinal Herbs” chapter. [The head of the house] went on to relate, “This is the scripture that the deceased spouse of our elder son kept devotedly while she was alive. Since she passed away it has been seventeen years now.”

As it turned out, the dates corresponded perfectly with the month and year of the novice’s gestation. No one knows where and when he died.

Buddhism in Practice, p437-438

For comparison, see Priest Ezō of the Daigoji Temple

Promises, BuddhismInPractice, Blog

Two Tongues in the Ashes

When I was selecting examples of Miraculous Tales from The Dainihonkoku Hokekyō of Priest Chingen, I deliberately excluded the tales of self-immolation. After reading Thich Nhat Hanh’s Peaceful Action, Open Heart and his recollection of Thich Quang Duc, the first monk to immolate himself in the 1960s to protest Vietnam’s anti-Buddhist laws, I changed my attitude about such stories. I’ve decided to include one example of pious self-immolation from Daniel B. Stevenson’s “Tales of the Lotus Sutra.”

In Jingzhou there lived two bhikṣunīs who were sisters. Their names have been forgotten, but they both recited the Lotus Sūtra, held a deep loathing for the physical body, and together conceived the desire to give up their lives [in offering to the dharma]. [To this end,] they set restrictions on clothing and diet and prescribed for themselves a regimen of painful austerities. They ingested various perfumed oils and gradually reduced their intake of coarse rice, until they gave up grains altogether and took only fragrant honey. [Even then,] their energy and spiritual determination remained as vigorous and fresh as ever. They announced [widely] to the monks and laity [around them] that at an appointed time in the future they would immolate themselves.

On the evening of the eighth day of the second month during the third year of the Zhenguan era [629], they set up two high seats in the middle of one of the large boulevards of Jingzhou. Then they wrapped their bodies from head to foot in waxed cloth, leaving only their faces exposed. The crowds gathered like a mountain; their songs of praise filled the air like clouds. The two women together began to chant the Lotus Sūtra. When they reached the “Medicine King” (Bhaiṣajyarāja) chapter, the older sister first ignited the head of the younger sister, and the younger in turn lit the head of the older sister. Simultaneously the two blazed up, like two torches in the clear night. As the flames crept down over their eyes, the sound of their voices became even more distinct. But, as it gradually arrived at their noses and mouths, they grew quiet [and their voices were heard no more]. [They remained seated upright] until dawn, linked together on their two seats. Then, all at once, the fire gave out. [As the smoke and flame cleared,] there amidst their charred and desiccated bones lay two tongues, both perfectly intact. The crowd gasped in awe. [A short time later] a tall stūpa was constructed for them.

Buddhism in Practice, p434