While the term “buddha-nature” is never used in the Dharma Flower Sutra, this is a good example of the use of the basic idea behind the concept that would be developed after the Dharma Flower Sutra was compiled. One way we can understand the term is as a kind of “power” that makes it possible for any one of us to be a bodhisattva for someone else, a strength that makes it possible for us to share in doing the Buddha’s work of awakening all the living, a strength that makes it possible for us to go far beyond our normal expectations.

Buddha-nature, the potential to become a buddha, is not something we have to earn; it is something that all of us have received naturally, something that cannot be destroyed or taken away from us. It is, as the parable in Chapter 4 teaches, our inheritance; it is ours by virtue of our very existence. This is why we are taught in [Chapter 8, The Assurance of Future Buddhahood of the Five Hundred Disciples] that our treasure is very close.

Our buddha-nature is, in one sense, part of the basis of our very existence. Nothing could be closer. On the other hand, unless we learn to make use of this ability and put it into practice in our daily lives, the goal of realizing it, of becoming a buddha, remains very distant. In light of these two views, gaining the treasure is a matter of more fully understanding and realizing something that was always within us. While our treasure is very close, that full realization and appropriation of it always remains very distant.

The Buddha, the text says, gives to living beings “buddha-wisdom, tathagata-wisdom, natural wisdom.” This phrase has sometimes been taken to refer to three different kinds of wisdom, but I think the three terms are intended to be equivalent, three different ways of saying “buddha-wisdom.” The fact that Tathagata, often translated as “Thus Come One,” is simply another of the ten epithets of the Buddha, would indicate that there is no difference between buddha-wisdom and tathagata-wisdom, and the logic of the phrase would suggest that if there is no difference between these two, there is no difference among the three; they are just three ways of talking about the same thing.

If this is correct, it means that buddha-wisdom, or at least the buddha-wisdom given to human beings, is a kind of natural wisdom. Natural wisdom is a kind of inherent wisdom, a wisdom that is not given from outside but arises naturally. Thus, we are being told here that in teaching Buddha Dharma we can rely on our own inherent wisdom. This is, of course, entirely consistent with the idea that we all have a buddha-nature, a capacity to be a buddha for others.

Such wisdom should not be understood, as terms such as “inherent” might suggest, as something independent of others. In the first place, it is not something we ourselves individually create. It is a gift to us, something we have all received. Second, just as having buddha-nature does not mean that we are already fully buddhas, having natural wisdom does not mean that our wisdom cannot or should not be developed and enhanced by knowledge. What it does mean is that we have a natural capacity to do this, a capacity to become better informed, more knowledgeable, wiser in dealing with others.

Our buddha-wisdom is like the inheritance of the poor son in the parable in Chapter 4 of the Dharma Flower Sutra and discussed in Chapter 7. Our inheritance is ours – it cannot be taken away from us. But it can be severely restricted in use, or it can be expanded greatly through experience and education.

One of the basic lessons of the Lotus Sutra is that one can find in every situation that there is something to be learned. Sometimes an unpleasant situation or task can be understood as being a present given to us by the Buddha, an opportunity for learning and growth, just as the son in this story received from his father the present of shoveling dung. We can learn from just about any situation, even from very unpleasant ones, if we approach it with a right attitude.

In many stories in the Dharma Flower Sutra we find that characters who represent the Buddha have problems leading their children. In the early parable of the burning house, for example, the children in the burning house initially refuse to pay any attention to their father. Similarly, the children of the physician in Chapter 16 … also refuse to obey their father’s exhortation to take the good medicine he has prepared for them. The poor son in Chapter 4 is a runaway. In addition, we also often find sympathy being expressed for Shakyamuni Buddha because he is responsible for this world of suffering.

Collectively, both of these elements, disobedient children and sympathy from others, and many other things as well, point to the similarity of the Buddha to ordinary human beings. Some might think of the Buddha as being extremely distant and different from ourselves – along the lines of how the famous Christian theologian Karl Barth describes God: “totally other.” But in the Dharma Flower Sutra it is the opposite: the Buddha is very close to us, concerned about us, affected by us – thus similar to us. That is why the Buddha’s work, so to speak, is difficult. It is only because he cares about this world that his job is difficult.

We will often have the most difficulty leading those who are closest to us, our own children, or parents, or wives, or husbands. Often this can be a sign that things are as they can be. If life is difficult for the Buddha because he is close to the world, we should expect to have difficulties with those who are closest to us. Those difficulties should be taken as a sign that we should strive to improve our relationships with those closest to us, even though we can expect this to be difficult at times.

In many of the parables in the Dharma Flower Sutra, it is a father figure who represents the Buddha. It is possible that the use of such stories influenced the teachings of the Dharma Flower Sutra, leading it, probably more than any other Buddhist text, to emphasize the father-like nature of the Buddha, personalizing him as it were. Over and over, the Lotus Sutra uses personal language to speak of an ultimately important reality. Far from being “absolute,” or even “omniscient,” as the Buddhist tradition has sometimes claimed, the Buddha of the Dharma Flower Sutra is someone who is very concerned for his children. This means, in effect, that the happiness of the Buddha, the fulfillment of the Buddha’s purpose, depends – again – on us.

One of the ten great disciples of Shakyamuni Buddha, Shariputra was usually regarded as first in wisdom, sometimes regarded as first among the disciples, and sometimes even mistaken by Jains as the leader of the Buddhist movement. Shariputra was a brahman, a member of the highest caste in India, who left a wealthy family to follow one of the six great non-Buddhist teachers. This teacher taught skepticism about knowledge of things we cannot see – such things as other worlds, causation, and so forth.

It is said that Shariputra and Maudgalyayana (called “Maha Maudgalyayana,” Great Maudgalyayana, in his only appearance in the Lotus Sutra) were close friends before they became monks. One day when they were in a crowd of people watching dancing girls and enjoying a festival, Shariputra suddenly realized that all of those people now having so much fun, and he himself, would soon be dead. He resolved to seek liberation from a condition in which the conclusion to everything is death. After listening to several other teachers, he decided, with Maudgalyayana, to become a disciple of the skeptic Sanjaya. Later, after meeting a monk who told him only that the Buddha’s main teaching was that all things are produced through causation, together with Maudgalyayana and all of the other disciples of Sanjaya, he joined the Buddha’s following. This was about a year after Shakyamuni’s awakening.

Legend also has it that when he was about to die, Shariputra requested permission from the Buddha to do so before the Buddha himself, as he would not be able to stand the grief of witnessing the Buddha’s death. With the Buddha’s permission he returned to his home with one disciple. Saying “I have been with all of you for forty years. If I have offended anyone, please forgive me,” he lay down on his bed, and quietly passed away.