[W]hy did the Buddha not teach the single vehicle until now? This crucial question was faced not only by the compilers of the Lotus, but by early Mahāyāna teachers more broadly. If, as they maintained, the Buddha had indeed intended others to follow the bodhisattva path as he had done, then why had he not said so? Why had he instead taught the path of the two vehicles, of śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas, leading to nirvāṇa? To explain this, the Lotus Sūtra returns to the scene of the Buddha’s enlightenment. It was here that the Buddha understood the nature of reality in its entirety. To offer a new vision of reality, and a new path to its realization, Buddhist authors retell the story of the Buddha’s enlightenment. This retelling has occurred over the centuries of the history of Buddhism, and it occurs in the Lotus Sūtra.

According to a well-known account, after the Buddha achieved enlightenment under the Bodhi Tree, he remained in its vicinity for forty-nine days, relishing the experience and subsisting only on its power; he consumed no food during that time. He reflected that what he had realized was too profound for others to understand and that he should perhaps pass into final nirvāṇa without teaching. At this point, the god Brahmā descended from his heaven to implore the Buddha to teach, arguing that there were some “with little dust in their eyes” who would understand.

The Lotus Sūtra presents this scene, but with typical Mahāyāna excess; Brahmā is accompanied by other gods and hundreds of thousands of attendants, who entreat the Buddha to teach. And in the Lotus Sūtra, the Buddha’s initial reluctance to teach is recast in terms specific to the Lotus itself: If he teaches the single buddha vehicle, many will reject it, causing them to be reborn as animals, hungry ghosts, or in the hells. He therefore should not teach but instead should enter nirvāṇa, that is, he should die, immediately. But then it occurs to him that he should teach something that many can accept; he should teach three vehicles, using skillful means, as the buddhas of the past had done. And, indeed, the buddhas of the ten directions immediately appear in order to endorse his decision.

In the standard version of the story, the Buddha surveys the world to determine who might have little dust in their eyes. He decides that his two old meditation teachers should be the first recipients of his teaching but then realizes that they have recently died. The next most deserving are the five ascetics with whom he had practiced various forms of self-mortification for six years, before they abandoned him for deciding that extreme asceticism is not the path of enlightenment. He discerned that they were living in a deer park near Vārāṇasī and set out to find them. When the Buddha arrived, he gave his first sermon, where he laid out the middle way, the four noble truths, and the eightfold path.

In the Lotus Sūtra, the Buddha tells this story in brief. But he says that when he encountered the five ascetics, he realized that what he wanted to explain to them could not be put into words; and so, employing skillful means, he used words like nirvāṇa, arhat, dharma, and saṃgha — words that for others represent the foundation of the Buddha’s teaching. The Buddha goes on to explain to Śāriputra that now he is happy and fearless. He has set aside skillful means and teaches only the path to buddhahood. He predicts that, having heard this, the twelve hundred arhats in the audience and all the bodhisattvas will become buddhas.

Here we see the author or authors of the Lotus Sūtra displaying their remarkable rhetorical and doctrinal dexterity. They take the famous story of the Buddha’s reluctance to teach and give it an entirely new meaning. In the original story, fearing that he will be misunderstood, the Buddha hesitates to teach at all. In the retelling, it is not that the Buddha is reluctant to teach at all after his enlightenment; he is reluctant to teach the unalloyed truth of the buddha vehicle. He is quite willing to teach something less than that truth, adapted to the limited capacities, the clouded eyes, of his audience. It is only in the Lotus Sūtra that the Buddha finally conveys the full content of his enlightenment. This retelling has important implications for the narrative of the tradition. In mainstream Buddhism, the first sermon to the group of five ascetics is a momentous event in cosmic history, as the Buddha for the first time turns the wheel of the dharma. In the Lotus Sūtra, that momentous event is reduced to a mere accommodation for those whose understanding is immature. Only in the Lotus Sūtra is the Buddha’s true teaching revealed for the first time.

[T]he Buddha, having finally agreed to preach, tells Śāriputra that it is very rare that a buddha teaches the true dharma (saddharma) that he is about to teach, as rare as the udumbara flower (a flower said to bloom once every three thousand years). It is noteworthy that the Buddha says that he is going to teach the “true dharma.” This is the term that Mañjuśrī had used to describe what Candrasūryapradipa had taught so long ago. And this, of course, is the term that appears in the full Sanskrit title – a title rarely used in English – of the Lotus Sūtra: “White Lotus of the True Dharma.”

The teaching of the Buddha is of course called the dharma. The term saddharma means “true dharma” or “right dharma” and is widely used in Buddhist literature. Because dharma is a generic term for a doctrine or teaching, especially a religious doctrine, in ancient India, saddharma was sometimes used to distinguish the teaching of the Buddha from that of non-Buddhist teachers. Here, however, it means a doctrine that is more true, more correct, more real, than the doctrines that the Buddha has previously taught. The Buddha clearly implies that he is about to teach something new, although we know from the first chapter that it had also been taught by the buddhas of the distant past. It seems then, that this is the first time that Śākyamuni is going to teach the true dharma. In the Indian versions of the Buddha’s life story, Prince Siddhārtha leaves the palace at age twenty-nine and then practices asceticism for six years, finally achieving enlightenment at the age of thirty-five. In Chapter Fifteen of the Lotus Sūtra, Maitreya says that more than forty years have passed since the Buddha achieved enlightenment. Thus, he is more than seventy-five years old when he preaches the Lotus. His teaching of the “true dharma” occurs late in his life.

When Buddhism was transmitted to China, the Mahāyāna concept of all things as empty of fixed, independent existence and therefore mutually interpenetrating and nondual seemed to echo indigenous Chinese notions of a holistic cosmos in which all things are interrelated. This stance proved congenial to early Chinese Buddhist thinkers. But how exactly was the ultimate principle (Ch. li, J. ri) — whether conceptualized as emptiness, mind, or suchness — related to the concrete phenomena or actualities (shi, ji) of our experience? Some teachers conceived of principle in terms of an originally pure and undifferentiated “one mind” that, refracted through deluded perception, gives rise to the phenomenal world, with its distinctions of self and other, true and false, subject and object, good and evil, and so forth. To use a famous metaphor, the mind is originally like still water that accurately mirrors all things. When stirred by the wind of ignorance, waves appear, and the water begins to reflect things in a distorted way, producing the notion of self and other as substantially real entities and thus giving rise to attachment, suffering, and continued rebirth in saṃsāra. Liberation lies in discerning that the differentiated phenomena of the world are in their essence no different from the one mind and thus originally pure. From this perspective, the purpose of Buddhist practice is to dispel delusion and return the mind to its original clarity. This idea developed especially within the Huayan (J. Kegon) and Chan (Zen) traditions.

This model explains principle and phenomena as nondual, but it does not value them equally. The one mind is original, pure, and true, while concrete phenomena are ultimately unreal, arising only as the one mind is filtered through human ignorance. From that perspective, the ordinary elements of daily experience remain at a second-tier level as the epiphenomena of a defiled consciousness. Zhiyi termed this perspective the “realm of the conceivable” — understandable, but not yet adequately expressing the true state of affairs. He himself expressed a different, more subtle view. … [H]e states: “Were the mind to give rise to all phenomena, that would be a vertical [relationship]. Were all phenomena to be simultaneously contained within the mind, that would be a horizontal [relationship]. Neither horizontal nor vertical will do. It is simply that the mind is all phenomena and all phenomena are the mind. … [This relationship] is subtle and profound in the extreme; it can neither be grasped conceptually nor expressed in words. Therefore, it is called the realm of the inconceivable.”

In Zhiyi’s understanding, phenomena do not arise from a pure mind or abstract prior principle. “Principle” means that the material and the mental, subject and object, good and evil, delusion and enlightenment are always nondual and mutually inclusive; this is the “real aspect of all dharmas” that only buddhas can completely know, referred to in the “Skillful Means” chapter (24). This perspective revalorizes the world, not as a realm of delusion, but as the very locus of enlightenment. The aim of practice, then, is not to recover a primal purity, but to manifest the buddha wisdom even amid ignorance and delusion.

According to Zhiyi’s parsing, Chapters Two through Nine of the Lotus Sūtra comprise the main exposition of the “trace teaching,” or shakumon, the first fourteen chapters of the Lotus Sūtra. These chapters assert that followers of the two “Hinayāna” vehicles can achieve buddhahood. For the sūtra’s compilers, this message subsumed the entire Buddhist mainstream within its own teaching of the one buddha vehicle and extended the promise of buddhahood to a category of persons — śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas — who had been excluded from that possibility in other Mahāyāna sūtras. In Nichiren’s day, however, the idea of the one vehicle, that buddhahood is in principle open to all, represented the mainstream interpretive position, and his own reading therefore has a somewhat different emphasis. For Nichiren, the sūtra’s assertion that even persons of the two vehicles can become buddhas pointed to the mutual possession of the ten realms and the three thousand realms in a single thought-moment, without which any talk of buddhahood for anyone, even those following the bodhisattva path, can be no more than an abstraction. The revelation of this universal ground, he said, especially in the “Skillful Means” chapter, constitutes the heart of the shakumon portion of the Lotus. Nonetheless, he regarded Chapter Two through Chapter Nine, the main exposition section, as having been preached primarily for the benefit of persons during the Buddha’s lifetime. The remaining chapters, Chapter Ten through Chapter Fourteen, which constituted the remainder of the trace teaching, he saw as explicitly directed toward those who embrace the Lotus after the Buddha’s passing, and therefore, as having great relevance for himself and his followers.

In Buddhism, one could perhaps say that, in a certain sense, all scripture is commentary. That is, all Buddhist traditions hold that the Buddha’s enlightenment was complete, that he attained complete knowledge of the state of liberation and the path to it during his meditation on that full-moon night. Thus, everything that he spoke thereafter was in a sense an articulation of that experience, adapted for the audience he was addressing. This is one reason why the events immediately following the Buddha’s enlightenment, the period of forty-nine days in which he savored the experience of his enlightenment without speaking, is the focus of so much interest in the tradition. Should he teach? If so, whom should he teach? And what should he teach them? These questions appear in the earliest renditions of the story of the Buddha’s awakening, and they reappear, with important refinements, in the second chapter of the Lotus Sūtra.

Unlike Saichō, … Nichiren did not ground his own argument that all can attain buddhahood in claims for universal suchness, a term that occurs only rarely in his writings but, rather, in the mutual inclusion of the ten realms. This doctrine also renders irrelevant Hossō and Kegon claims that the Lotus Sūtra should be ranked below the Explanation of the Intention or Flower Garland sūtras because the parable of the wealthy man and his impoverished son, on which the Tendai hierarchy of Buddhist teachings is based, was spoken by śrāvakas. Nichiren wrote, “The four śrāvakas expressed their understanding, saying, ‘The most magnificent jewels have been obtained without being sought or awaited.’ They represent the śrāvaka realm within ourselves.” Central to Nichiren’s understanding was the idea that, because the ten realms are mutually inclusive, if beings of one realm can attain buddhahood, so can those of any other. In his reading, the initial chapters of the Lotus Sūtra open buddhahood not merely to previously exduded śrāvakas, but to all beings.