There was a small temple called the Jōhōji Temple to the south of the Hōshōji Temple. The administrative priest of the Jōhōji Temple had a sacerdotal appearance, but his mind and actions were as vulgar as those of a spoilt layman. He violated the precepts by committing sins, such as killing, stealing, promiscuous behavior, and drinking liquor, which were caused by ignorance, anger, and greediness. He spoke false words as he liked, engaged in vulgar entertainments, and wasted his time daily in playing backgammon and go. He used the temple belongings for personal purposes without regret, and was oblivious to the greed, desire, and delusions that degraded him. The way he indulged himself in evil deeds was like a sea absorbing streams and like a fire consuming faggot.

His ten colleagues once recommended that he visit the Kiyomizu Temple, and they accompanied him there. On their way home, they all visited the Rokuwara-mitsuji Temple, and happened to listen to the lecture on the Hokekyō. They returned rejoicing. This was the single good deed done by the administrator in all his life. He did nothing else good. Finally, he became old, his life was exhausted, and he passed away.

Due to his bad deeds, the administrator was naturally reborn as a great poisonous snake whose spirit possessed his widow, and which tearfully grieved over its suffering snake status saying, “Since I indulged myself in evil and since I did very little good, I have suffered the consequences of my bad karma, and am reborn to endure the greatest sufferings. My body is as hot as the burning fire which burns all the trees and grasses that touch my body. Countless poisonous insects live in my body, devour my flesh when hungry, and suck my fluids when thirsty. Thus, my torments and sufferings are indescribable. But on account of a single good deed done in my past, I am relieved from torture for a short while.

While still the administrator, I happened to listen to the lecture on the Hokekyō at the Rokuwara-mitsuji Temple. The merit of the sūtra had permeated me, and every day, at the Hour of the Sheep [one to three o’clock in the afternoon], a cool breeze blew from the direction of the Rokuwara-mitsuji Temple, and fanned my body, which was immediately relieved from the heat and insect bites. During this short time, my heart and body were filled with joy, but at the same time, I showed regret for my lack of merit by hitting my head with my tail while shedding bloody tears.

The merit from hearing one lecture has benefitted me over many years. How would it be if one practised the Buddhist Way all his life? Wouldn’t it be possible for one to take even a lotus seat some day? Now I wish you to copy the Hokekyō, and release me from my suffering.”

All those who listened to this, said, “We should abandon everything, and listen to the Hokekyō recitations.” The widow and her children felt pitiful, copied the sūtra, and offered services. Later they were notified that the administrator was finally delivered from his suffering. (Page 56-57)

During the reign of Empress Abe, Priest Kōon lived in the temple Amabenomine for a long time. By day and by night, he recited the Hokekyō diligently and fervently.

In old age, he became seriously ill. He was so exhausted that he had difficulty in rising and in reclining for any purpose. His disciple mourned to Kōon, “Master, you are so fatigued because of your grave illness. Unless you have some treatment, you won’t be able to recover and may die. Practicing the Way by maintaining one’s health is what Buddha has been preaching. You should buy fish and eat them as your medicine.”

Listening to the disciple’s recommendation, Kōon permitted his disciple to get some fish. The disciple sent a boy to the seaside of Kii Province for fish. The boy bought eight large nayoshi fish, put them in a box, and set out on his return, carrying the box on his back.

On the way, the boy met three laymen acquaintances who asked what he was carrying on his back. The boy, without thinking, said that it was the Hokekyō. Seeing the fluids from the fish oozing from the box, and smelling the fishy odor, the laymen stopped the boy in the street to correct the boy’s untrue words. In front of the passers-by, the laymen said to the boy, “You are carrying fish on your back. Why did you say that it was the Hokekyō?” The bystanders said that the box should be opened for inspection. The boy prayed mentally, “My master has maintained the Hokekyō for years. May the fish turn into the Hokekyō and save him from shame!” The people opened the box and behold! They saw eight rolls of the Hokekyō lying in the box. Viewing this, the people were awestruck and left the boy.

One of the laymen was still suspicious and followed the boy to the temple, and secretly told Kōon the details. On listening, Kōon thought this most extraordinary and did not eat the fish.

The joyful layman threw his body on the ground and paid homage to Kōon saying, “Oh how noble, how noble! The real fish turned into the rolls of the sūtra due to the power of the sūtra and your virtue, Holy Man Kōon! On the contrary, being ignorant and disbelieving the truth of cause and effect, I have annoyed your boy with suspicions. My sin is very grave. Please, Great Master, forgive me. I will have faith in you now and hereafter.” The layman became a patron of Kōon and venerated him thereafter.

One should know that if one cures one’s illness and takes care of oneself for the sake of the Law, poison will become medicine just as the fish became the sūtra. This story appears in the Ryōiki. (Page 39-40)

Among the disciples of Jōchō, the head priest of Kōryūji Temple, was a priest whose name is unknown. His mind was that of a secular man even though his appearance was that of a priest. Holding a bow and arrows in his hand and hiding a dagger in his bosom, he shot birds and animals and ate fish whenever he saw them. He was certainly not qualified to hold the priestly beads in his hand, nor to wear a priestly robe over his shoulders. He was truly a shameful priest who violated the precepts.

However, he venerated the chapter of Juryō of the Hokekyō and recited it without missing a single day. Later he followed the advice of Genshin, the head priest of the Hōshōji Temple, and stayed where they kept the vehicles by the temple gate.

Finally, he contracted a serious illness and was certain to die. Having observed his bad deeds during his life and his grave illness in his last moments, the head priest felt pity toward this shameful priest and decided to grant him the precepts.

As soon as the bad priest received the precepts, he rose from his bed, felt easy in his sickness, and gained the correct faith. He washed his hands and mouth, joined his palms, and recited the chapter of Juryō single-mindedly.

As he recited the last two verses of the chapter saying that one could enter the path to enlightenment and instantly become a Buddha, he completed the chapter and passed away with a serene mind. (Page 98)

After leaving his parents’ home, Myōren lived in the Hōryūji Temple. He read the Hokekyō and liked to recite it. He wished to learn the complete text. He memorized the passages from the first to the seventh roll and could recite them at will without missing a single word. However, he could not learn the eighth roll, no matter how many years he spent. He read the roll many times but became more forgetful as the years passed.

Lamenting, Myōren thought, “If I were a fool, I would not have learned the first seven rolls. And if I were smart, I should be able to learn the eighth roll. Why could I memorize the first seven rolls in a year while I cannot memorize the eighth roll even after spending several years? I should pray to the Buddhas and gods to discover the reason.”

Myōren confined himself in an Inari Shrine and prayed to the god for one hundred days, but he obtained no response. Myōren visited the Hatsusedera Temple and Mt. Mitake and went on a summer retreat at each place in vain. He continued his prayers at Mount Kumano for another hundred days, and the god of Mount Kumano appeared in a dream saying, “Your request is beyond my ability. You should ask for the help of the god of Sumiyoshi Shrine.”

Following the instruction of the god of Mt. Kumano, Myōren went to the Sumiyoshi Shrine and spent a hundred days in prayer. Finally, the Sumiyoshi god said that Myōren should go to Mount Daisen of Hahaki.

So Myōren visited Mt. Daisen and went on a summer retreat there. Finally, the Bodhisattva Daichimyō responded to Myōren in a dream, “I will tell you the reason. Believe me without a single doubt. Once in your former life, a man from Mimasaka visited this mountain leading a cow with a load of rice on its back. The man left the cow in the priests quarter while he visited the main hall. A Hokekyō reciter in the priests’ quarter began to recite the sūtra at night. The cow listened to all the seven rolls until daybreak. The cow developed a pious mind while listening to the recitation but had to accompany its master home in the morning without hearing the eighth roll.

You were the cow. Since you had listened to the recitation of the Hokekyō, you left the state of an animal, and were reborn as a human being in this life. You came to learn the Law and the seven rolls of the sūtra. Since you had not heard the eighth roll, you were unable to learn it in this life. Now refrain from the evils caused by your mouth, body, and will, and recite the Hokekyō. You will be able to enter the Tosotsu Heaven in the future.”

Waking from his dream, Myōren clearly understood the karmic cause and sincerely prayed with his palms joined, saying, “Having listened to the Hokekyō recitation, the ignorant cow could leave its animal state, was reborn as a human being, and is able to recite the sūtra. How could one fail to accumulate virtue if one practices the Way as a human being? Buddhas will certainly know about it. I hope that I will see various Buddhas in my successive lives, listen to the Hokekyō for generation after generation, always engage in the devout practices of the bodhisattvas, and finally attain the supreme Buddhahood.” Thus vowing Myōren paid his respects to the god and left the mountain.

It is difficult to listen to The Lotus;
It is difficult to make comments, copy, and recite it;
It is difficult to meet those who venerate it.
Those who see, hear, praise or slander it Will equally become Buddhas.
(Page 99-100)

Priest Jin’yū, commonly called Shōdaitoku of Koshi, had many names which need not be mentioned here. He was of the Koshi District of Echigo Province. He recited the Hokekyō and was devoted to his incomparably strict ascetic practices. Demon deities obeyed his orders, the lord of the region revered him from afar, and all those in the vicinity paid homage to him.

Now there was a mountain called Mount Kukami in the province, and wishing to do some good deed, a pious patron built a jeweled pagoda there. When he was about to offer a service of dedication for the pagoda, the thunder rolled and lightning struck and shattered the building. The sad patron grieved and lamented tearfully. He reconstructed the pagoda, but when he tried to offer the dedicatory service for it, just as before, the thunder rolled down with lightning and broke it into rubble. His pagoda was destroyed in this way three times. The patron grieved over his unaccomplished vow; he desired once more to reconstruct the pagoda and wished it to be safe from the thunder’s destruction.

Priest Jin’yū told the devout man, “Don’t lament any longer. With the power of the Hokekyō, I will protect the pagoda from destruction so that you may fulfill your vow.”

Priest Jin’yū stayed at the foot of the newly built pagoda and recited the sūtra. Suddenly the thunder began to roll through the clouds, a light rain fell, and lightning flashed. The devotee once more grieved for he was afraid that this was the sign that the thunder was trying to destroy the pagoda. Priest Jin’yū made a vow and continuously recited the sūtra in a loud voice.

At that moment, a boy fell from the sky. He seemed to be about fifteen or sixteen years old; he had unkempt hair and a furious look. He was bound in five places, including his body, knees, and head, and he cried loudly and tearfully.

Bowing and prostrating himself before Jin’yū, the boy said, “Have mercy and forgive me. I will never destroy the pagoda hereafter.”

When Jin’yū asked him why he had destroyed the pagoda, the boy replied, “The Earth Deity of this mountain is a close friend of mine. The deity told me, ‘A pagoda has been built on top of me and I have lost my place. Destroy the pagoda!’ So I have destroyed the pagoda each time for the deity. However, the mysterious power of the sūtra has subjugated everything, and the Earth Deity has moved elsewhere. I am also frightened and awestruck by such power as this.”

The patron now realized that his vow had been fulfilled and that the priest’s words were true. Priest Jin’yū said to the boy, the incarnation of the Thunder, “Since you follow the Law of the Buddha and do nothing contrary to it and are also developing a good mind without destroying the pagoda, you will be truly benefited by your virtue.

“Now when I look at the temple here, I see that it has no water. The priests have to go down to the valley and climb up here to fetch water. You, Thunder, must cause a spring to appear at this temple for the sake of the resident priests. If you don’t create the spring, I will bind you and won’t release you for months and even years. Also, you must not make any rolling noise within forty ri in the four directions about this temple.”

The prostrated Thunder respectfully received the priest’s orders and said, “I will produce the water as you said. Moreover, how could I dare make any rolling noise or even appear within forty ri about this mountain!”

The Thunder then poured a few drops of water from a container onto his palms. As soon as he had made a hole in the top of a rock with his fingers, the Thunder made a quick movement, and leaped up into the sky and disappeared. Clear and abundant water suddenly gushed from the hole in the rock. It was cold in summer to reduce the heat and warm in winter to prevent freezing.

The jeweled pagoda remained undamaged for several hundred years. Although the thunder rolled in all other places, it was never heard within forty ri in the four directions around Mount Kukami.

Truly the power of the Law is unusual and mysterious. Many priests gathered there and lived in the temple; they propagated the Law and benefited others. Owing to the power of the Hokekyō, Priest Jin’yū displayed marvelous virtue to the people and attained enlightenment. He expired during the era of Jingokeiun. (Page 101-102)

In the reign of Emperor Shōmu, a good man whose name is unknown lived in the Sagaraka District of Yamashiro Province. To repay the four kinds of obligations, he copied the Hokekyō. He also paid one hundred kan of money for purple and white sandalwood, hired a craftsman, and had him make a wooden casket to store the roll of the sūtra which he had copied.

The man examined the casket which was too short for the roll. Lamenting, the man wished to have another casket made, but could not obtain more of the valuable wood. Distressed, although strong in his faith, the man invited many priests and had them recite the Hokekyō for thirty-seven days, paying for more valuable wood for a new casket.

Twenty-seven days had passed and the man tried to place the roll in the casket. Although the roll did not quite fit well, the casket appeared to be somewhat larger. Thinking this extraordinary, yet rejoicing, the man encouraged the priests to continue their prayers.

On the thirty-seventh day, the man tried to place the roll in the casket. This time it fitted into the casket perfectly. Seeing this, the people were marveling greatly. Wondering if the roll had become shorter or the casket had become larger, they compared the roll with the original copy of the sūtra. Both the new and the old rolls were of the same length.

However when they tried to put both copies together in the casket, they could easily insert the new one, but not the old one. Again the people were impressed and knew that this marvelous happening was in response to the miraculous power of the Mahāyāna scriptures and to the man’s deep faith. The story appears in the Ryōiki. (Page 124-125)

A priest of the Ryūkaiji Temple of the Heguri District of Yamato Province was devoted to the Hokekyō and had recited it for years. His daily activities included reciting the sūtra, learning the meaning of the words, and lecturing on a chapter of the sūtra.

A dragon heard the priest’s recitation and was impressed with the noble lectures on the sūtra. He transformed himself into a man, came to the temple garden, and listened to the daily recitation for three years. Recognizing the dragon’s true faith, the priest developed a sincere friendship with the dragon. Soon their association became widely known among the public.

There was a drought in the country at that time. The plants of the five cereals were dying from lack of rain. The lamenting people appealed to the emperor. The emperor summoned the priest of the Ryūkaiji and said, “I hear that when you recite and lecture on the Hokekyō, a dragon comes and listens. Tell the dragon to cause rain. If you fail, you will be expelled from this country of Japan.”

With the imperial command, the lamenting priest returned to his place and explained his predicament to the dragon. The dragon said, “Thanks to listening to your recitation of the Hokekyō, I no longer suffer from my bad karma and now enjoy the benefits. I would like to repay your favor at the cost of my life. However, this drought has nothing to do with me but is caused by the Bonten Ō, the Great Deva King, who wishes to end evil in this country, and has caused the rains to cease. If I go and open the Gates of Rain, I will be killed immediately. Yet I would like to cause rain for three days and sacrifice my life to serve the Law.

I beg you to bury my corpse and to build a temple on the site of my death. Temples should be built at each of four places where I will appear and should be regarded as sacred to the Buddha. As the dragon finished, he parted from the priest who immediately reported all this to the emperor.

When the promised day arrived, the sky suddenly became cloudy, the thunder rolled and a torrential rain continuously fell for three days and nights. The land became fully irrigated and the revived plants became abundant. The pleased emperor invited the priest and had him offer lectures on the Hokekyō.

As agreed with the dragon, a temple named Ryūkaiji, Dragon Sea Temples was built. More temples, including the Dragon Gate Temple, Ryūmonji, Dragon Heaven Temple, Ryütenji, and Dragon King Temple, Ryūōji, were constructed. The priest spent the remainder of his life lecturing on the Law. Many other extraordinary things which happened during his life are not recorded. (Page 89-90)

Holy Man Shōkū of Mount Shosha was from Nishinokyō of the Heian capital, and his secular clan was called Tachibana. He was born with his right hand clenched. His parents forced his fist open and found a needle in his hand. Three days later, the baby Shōkū was missed. He was found sitting comfortably in the bushes of the front garden, smiling and playing with flowers.

From youth until old age, he always had a kind smile, spoke soft and gentle words, avoided coarse and erroneous language, relied on the Teachings of the One Vehicle, and only wished to attain Buddhahood.

For difficult ascetic practices, he lived in a hut in a deep mountain where not a single bird was heard. He spent days without meals and months without fire. The marvelous power of the Hokekyō and of his priestly robe protected his physical self which was as transient as the overnight dews.

Sometimes he dreamed of having a tray of delicacies. Even after he awoke, his stomach felt full and his mouth held a delicious taste. At another time he dreamed of beautiful white rice appearing from the sūtra. He also dreamed that someone brought him something. After awakening, Shōkū actually found various foods besides him. The rice cakes, which he dreamed had appeared from the sūtra, tasted as delicious as if they were Heavenly Sweet Dews. He surpassed others with his stately appearance and well-rounded and supple body.

On a severely cold night, Shōkū’s unclothed body became as cold as ice, but as he recited the sūtra and withstood the coldness, a thick quilted robe descended of its own accord from the ceiling of the hut and covered his body. Someone concealing his identity came and asked questions. Might it be a bodhisattva or a Buddha? Others came in their forms and appearances to run errands for Shōkū. Were they Heavenly Boys or Dragon Deities? Such extraordinary incidents frequently happened to Shōkū.

After having completed his self-cultivation, Shōkū descended from the recesses of the mountain to cultivate the people. He had lived to practice the Way on Mount Shosha and at other places where many people including the priests and the laymen, the high and the humble, gathered like clouds. Their name cards left with Shōkū were piled high and their offerings to him were as abundant as the sea water. Some who had seen Shōkū felt as if they had met a Buddha. Others who had heard him thought they had listened to a sermon as of a Buddha. Those who received a grain of Shōkū’s rice felt as if they had obtained part of a relic of the Buddha and those who had gotten a piece of Shōkū’s robe cherished it as if they had gotten a robe of the Buddha.

Emperor Hanayama visited Shōkū a few times, had Shōkū’s picture made with Ajari Engen, and had Shōkū’s manners recorded, both in his practices at night and in the early morning. As they began to draw his picture, the earth and mountain trembled. Shōkū explained to the shocked emperor and the frightened people, “Do not fear. The earth quaked because this picture of a humble priest, me, is going to be finished. Soon the earth will tremble again.”

When the picture was completed, the mountains and earth were greatly shaken again, and the emperor descended from his seat to pay homage to Shōkū.

Towards the end of his life, Shōkū learned the time of his death. He entered a room to meditate, recited the Hokekyō with serene composure, and finally passed away. (Page 71-72)

There was an iron mine in Aita of Mimasaka Province. In the reign of Empress Abe, the provincial governor drafted ten men and had them enter the iron mine to dig out ore.

Suddenly, the entrance to the mine began to collapse. Surprised and terrified, the miners rushed towards the exit. Nine of them barely managed to escape. The last miner was late and the entrance was blocked.

The governor and people, high and low, grieved for the last miner. His lamenting wife and children made copies of Buddhist scriptures and completed the mourning service of forty-nine days.

However, the man in the pit survived for several days and thought, “In previous years I have made a vow to copy the Hokekyō and I have had this misfortune before I have fulfilled my vow. If I am saved, I will surely fulfill my vow.”

While praying, the man noticed that the entrance to the pit had opened a finger’s breadth and that a ray of sunlight had entered. Through the opening, a tiny priest entered the shaft, and offered the man food on a tray. He said, “Since your wife and children observed the service of forty-nine days and offered me food, I have come here to Serve you the food. You will wait here for a while and then I will save you.”

As the priest finished speaking, he went out through the opening. After a while a hole opened above the man’s head, and he could see the sky. The opening was as wide as three feet and as high as fifty feet.

At that time, about thirty men from the vicinity came to the mountain to collect vines, and passed near the hole. The man at the bottom of the hole saw the shadows of these men and asked for help. These men in the mountain heard faint sounds as of a mosquito humming. Thinking this strange, the men lowered a vine with a stone attached into the pit. The man at the bottom in the mine grasped and pulled the vine. Now they knew that someone was at the bottom. They made a basket with vines and lowered it with a vine rope. The man at the bottom got into the basket and the men above all gathered by the opening of the hole and pulled up the basket. They escorted the man to his home.

On seeing the man alive, the joy of his people was unbounded. The governor, too, was surprised, and questioned the man. The man reported his story in detail. Being immensely affected and impressed, the governor called for devotees in his country to prepare paper, to cooperate in copying the Hokekyō, and to hold a dedication service.

One sure to die was miraculously saved. This was due solely to the great power of the Hokekyō. Those involved were all ecstatic with joy and admiration. They became pious, copied, and recited the Hokekyō. This story appears in the Nihon ryōiki. (Page 127)