In the reign of Empress Abe, Fujiwara no asomi Hirotari was suddenly taken ill, and, in order to cure the illness, he went to live at a mountain temple of Makihara, Uda district, Yamato province. He kept the eight precepts and quietly practiced calligraphy with a brush at the desk till the evening of the seventeenth of the second month in the second year of the Jingo keiun era. His young attendant, thinking he was asleep, shook him and tried to waken him, saying, “It is time to worship the Buddha since the sun has set.” Still he remained motionless. The attendant shook him harder, and he dropped his brush and fell flat on his back with his arms and legs folded, not breathing. Upon close inspection he was found to be dead. In awe and terror, the attendant ran home to inform his family and relatives of his death. At the news they prepared for a funeral, but they went to the temple three days later and found him restored to life and cured of the illness, waiting for them.

He answered their inquiries in this way: “There came men with moustaches growing straight up, clad in red robes and armor and equipped with swords and halberds. They called to me, saying, ‘The Office has suddenly summoned you,’ and, with a halberd at my back urged me to accompany them. They forced me to hurry all the way, with one in front and two in the rear escorting me.

“Ahead of us there was a deep river; the water being black as ink, did not run but stood still. A good-sized young branch was placed in the middle of the stream, but it was not long enough to reach both sides of the river. The messenger said to me, ‘Follow me into the stream and ford it by following in my footsteps.’ Thus, he guided me
across.

“There was a many-story pavilion in front of us that was shining brightly and gave off light. Curtains made of precious stone beads closed four sides of the building, so that I could not see the face of the person sitting inside. One messenger ran inside and addressed him, saying, ‘Here he is.’ A voice answered, ‘Let him in.’

“When I was led in, the curtain was moved, and the king asked me, ‘Do you know the woman standing behind you?’ Turning around, I saw my wife, who had died in childbirth. I replied, ‘This is none other than my wife.’ Then the king said to me, ‘I have summoned you because of this woman’s appeal. She has already suffered three of her six years of punishment, and she has three more years to go. She implored me to let her share the rest of her suffering with you since she died in childbirth.’

“I said, ‘I will copy, expound, and recite the Hoke-kyō and hold services in order to save her from suffering.’ Then my wife addressed the king, saying, ‘Please take his word and let him go back to the world at once.’ Agreeing with her, the king said to me, ‘Go back to the world immediately and practice good.’

“When I reached the gate of the palace, as he had directed me, I was curious to know who had summoned me, and, turning around, asked, ‘I would like to know who you are.’ Thereupon, he said, ‘I am King Yama, also called Bodhisattva Jizō in your country.’ Then he stroked my neck with his right hand, saying, ‘You will never meet disaster, since I have marked you with a charm. Lose no time in going home,’ One finger of his hand was about ten yards around.”

This is the report of Hirotari no asomi. For the sake of his deceased wife, he copied, expounded, and recited the Hoke-kyō, held services, and accumulated many posthumous merits in order redeem her from her suffering. This is an extraordinary event. (Pages 233-235)

On Mt. Yoshino there was a mountain temple called Amabe-no-mine. In the reign of Empress Abe, a fully qualified monk lived an ardent life of self-discipline there. When he became too exhausted and weak to move around, he had a desire to eat fish and said to his disciple, “I would like to have fish. Will you go and get some for me to eat?” According to the master’s wish, the disciple went to the seacoast of Kii province, bought eight fresh gray mullet, and returned with them in a small chest.

On the way he happened to meet three familiar patrons of the temple who asked him, “What are you carrying in the chest?” The acolyte answered, “This is the Hoke-kyō.” However, the water from the fish dripped out of the chest, and it smelled. The laymen realized that it was not the scripture. Soon they came to the neighborhood of the market of Uchi in Yamato province. They rested beside the acolyte and pressed him, saying, “What you are carrying is not the scripture. It is fish.” He replied, “It is not fish. It is nothing but the scripture.” Then they forced him to open the chest. Having found it impossible to refuse, he opened it and discovered that the eight fish had turned into eight scrolls of the Hoke-kyō. At the sight the laymen were stricken with awe and wonder and left him.

One of them, however, was still suspicious, and, wanting to find out about the whole affair, followed him in secret. When the acolyte returned to the mountain temple, he reported to his master in detail what the laymen had done. Listening to him, the master felt wonder and joy in learning that heaven had protected him, and he ate the fish. Thereupon, the layman who had witnessed the whole series of events, prostrated himself on the ground and said to the dhyāna master, “Fish turn into the Hoke-kyō when a sage eats them. Because of our ignorant and wicked minds, we disturbed and accused him without knowing the law of causality. Will you please forgive our sin? From now on I acknowledge you as a great master and will serve you with reverence and offerings.” After that he became a great patron of the temple and made offerings to the master.

Indeed, we know that the master saved himself through his devotion to dharma. As to his food, even poison turns into honeydew; eating fish is no offense for him. For fish is turned into a scripture, and heaven in sympathy prepares a way for him. This is also a miraculous event. (Page 230-231)

This tale also apprears in Miraculous Tales of the Lotus Sutra from Ancient Japan

In the reign of Empress Abe who governed Ōyashima at Nara Palace, there was a monk, Dhyāna Master Eigō in the village of Kumano in Muro district, Kii province. He taught and guided the people by the sea. His contemporaries revered him as a bodhisattva, respecting his self-discipline. As he lived in a place south of the imperial capital, he was called the Bodhisattva of the South.

Once a dhyāna master came to the bodhisattva. He had with him a copy of the Hoke-kyō (written with very small characters in one scroll), a pewter pitcher, and a stool made of rope. He used to recite the Hoke-kyō constantly. After one year or so, he thought of leaving Dhyāna Master Eigō, and with a bow presented his stool as an offering, saying, “I am leaving you and going into the mountains to cross over to Ise province. Hearing this, the master gave him one bushel of ground dry glutinous rice and had two lay brothers accompany him to see him on his way. After having been escorted for a day, he gave them his Hoke-kyō, bowl, and ground dry rice, and sent them back, while he continued with only twenty yards of hemp rope and a pewter pitcher.

After two years had passed, the villagers of Kumano went up to a mountain by the upper stream of the Kumano to cut down trees to build a boat. They heard a voice reciting the Hoke-kyō, and it did not stop for days and months. Listening to the voice reciting the scripture, the boat builders felt faith and reverence arising, and, with their rationed food as an offering, they looked everywhere for the reciter. Although they could find no trace of him, the voice reciting the scripture went on as before.

After half a year, they returned to the mountain to draw out the boat. Again, they heard the voice continuously reciting the scripture. They reported this to Dhyāna Master Eigō, and, as he also wondered about it, he went to the mountain and heard it for himself. After a search he discovered a corpse hanging over a cliff, its feet tied with a hemp rope, that of a man who had jumped to his death. Beside the corpse there was a pewter pitcher. It was evident that the corpse was that of the monk who had left him. At the sight Eigō wailed in sorrow and went back.

After three more years, villagers came to him, saying, “The voice has never ceased to recite the scripture.” Eigō went back to collect the bones, and, when he looked at the skull, he found that the tongue was still alive and had not even begun to decay in the course of three years.

Indeed, we know that this event occurred because of the mysterious power of the Mahayana scripture, and the merits of the late monk who had recited it.

The note says: What a noble thing it was for the dhyāna master to reveal a miraculous sign of the Mahayana scripture in his flesh-and blood body by reciting the Hoke-kyō constantly! Though he flung himself from a cliff and was exposed to the elements, his tongue alone did not decay. Needless to say, he is sacred and not ordinary.

Also, on Kane-no-take in Yoshino there was a dhyāna master who went from peak to peak reciting the scripture. Once he heard a voice reciting the Hoke-kyō and Kongō hannya-kyō ahead of him. He stopped to listen to it, and, in searching in the bushes, he found a skull. Though it had been exposed to the elements for a long time, its tongue had not decayed but retained its life. The dhyāna master enshrined it in a purified place, saying to the skull, “By the law of causation I met you,” and made a shelter above it with grass, living beside it to recite the scripture and hold services six times a day. As he recited the Hoke-kyō the skull joined him, and its tongue vibrated. This is also a miraculous event. (Page 223-224)

In the Tenpyō era there once lived a layman in Sagaraka district, Yamashiro province, whose name is unknown. At Koma-dera in the same district there was a monk named Eijō used to recite the Hoke-kyō all the time. It happened that the monk and the layman had been playing go for some time. Whenever the monk put down a stone, he said, “This is the Venerable Eijō’s hand of go.” The layman mocked and mimicked him, deliberately twisting his mouth and saying, “This is the Venerable Eijō’s hand of go.” He went on and on this way. Then, all of a sudden, the layman’s mouth was distorted. In fear, he left the temple holding his chin with his hands. He had hardly gone any distance before he fell on his back and died immediately. Witnesses said, “Though he did not persecute a monk, mocking and mimicking got him a twisted mouth and sudden death. What, then, must the penalty be if one vengefully persecutes a monk?” The Hoke-kyō* gives a passage to this effect: “A wise monk and a foolish monk cannot be discussed in the same breath. Similarly, a long-haired monk and a wise, unshaved layman cannot be treated alike and served with the same dishes. If one dares to do so, he will swallow an iron ball which is heated on red-hot copper and charcoal, and fall into hell.” (Page 185)

*These verses are not found in the Lotus Sūtra.

On the Immediate Retribution of Good and Evil Because of Giving No Alms and Freeing Living Beings1
In the reign of Emperor Shōmu, there lived a wealthy man in the village of Sakata, Kagawa district, Sanuki province. He and his wife had the same surname Aya no kimi. Next door to them lived an old widow and an old widower without any family. They were extremely poor, having no clothes to wear nor food to eat. They used to come to the Aya no kimi’s home to beg food at every meal. Once, out of curiosity, the husband got up secretly late at night, boiled rice, and fed his family, but even then they appeared. All the family wondered about them.

The mistress said to her husband, “This man and woman are too old to work. I should like to have them in our household just for mercy’s sake.” Then he said, “If you want to feed them, give them some of your portion. The most meritorious deed of all is to save others by sacrificing one’s own flesh. What I recommend to you will bring forth merit.”

According to the master’s suggestion, people in the household fed the old couple with part of their own portions. Among the household there was one servant who disliked the couple in spite of the master’s words, however. Gradually other servants learned to dislike them and did not give them food. The mistress, therefore, fed them secretly from her portion. The troublesome servant falsely represented the matter to the master, saying, “Hungry and exhausted, we cannot work well in the field and are neglectful, for the mistress feeds the old ones by decreasing our portions.” The mistress, however, kept them in food, even while the servant continued to slander her.

It happened that the ill-tempered servant went to sea to fish with a fisherman. He saw ten oysters on the fishing rope, and he said to the fisherman, “I would like to free these oysters.” But the fisherman would not agree. Whereupon his companion pleaded earnestly, trying to convey Buddhist teachings to the fisherman, and argued, “Pious people build temples, so why do you object so much to freeing the oysters?” Eventually the fisherman yielded and said, “I want two and a half bushels of rice in exchange for the ten oysters.” Having paid the fisherman, he invited a monk to give a blessing and had the oysters returned to the sea.

One day the benefactor of the oysters went to the mountain with a servant to collect firewood. He climbed a withered pine tree, fell from a branch, and died. His spirit, which possessed a diviner, said, “Don’t cremate me, but leave my corpse for seven days.” In accord with this message, his corpse was carried from the mountain and placed outside, waiting for the appointed day.

On the seventh day he awoke and said to his family: “With five monks in front, and five lay brothers in the rear, I was going along a wide flat road as straight as a ruler. On both sides holy banners were raised, and a golden palace was in front. I asked them, ‘What palace is this?’ The lay brothers looked at each other, saying in whispers, ‘This is the palace where your wife will be born. This palace was built as a reward for her merit of supporting the old ones. Do you know who we are?’ I answered ‘No.’ Then, they revealed the fact, saying, ‘You should know that the five monks and the five lay brothers are the ten oysters you paid for and set free.’

On either side of the palace gate stood a man with a horn on his forehead. They held up their swords ready to cut off my head, but the monks and lay brothers entreated them not to do so. Fragrant delicious food was served to both gatekeepers and all enjoyed the feast. During my seven days’ stay inside I was so hungry and thirsty that my mouth was in flames. Then I was told, ‘This is the penalty for your sin of disliking the old ones and not feeding them.’ The monks and lay brothers escorted me back, and suddenly I awoke and found myself here.”

After that the man gave alms as generously as the water moistens the land. The reward of saving living beings helps you, while the penalty of giving no alms returns to you in the form of hunger and thirst. We cannot help believing in the karmic retribution of good and evil. (Page 182-183)

Takahashi no muraji Azumabito was a very wealthy man in the village of Hamishiro, Yamada district, Iga province. He copied the Hoke-kyō for his mother, making a vow, saying, “I want to invite a monk related to my vow by karma to hold a service for her salvation.” When he finished preparing a place for the service on the following day, he called a servant and said, “The first monk you happen to meet I will make the officiating monk. Don’t overlook any monk who seems to be able to perform esoteric rites and bring him to me.”

The servant went first, in accord with his master’s request, to the village of Mitani in the same district. There he found a mendicant lying in the road, drunk, with a bag for a begging bowl at his elbow. His name is not known. He was sleeping so soundly that some mischievous person had shaved his head and hung a rope around him like a surplice without waking him. Seeing him, the servant woke him with a greeting and asked him to visit his master.

On his arrival, the master greeted him with respect and faith and kept him inside the house for a day and a night, during which time he made a clerical robe in haste and offered it to the mendicant. The mendicant asked, “Why have you treated me like this?” and the host replied, “I would like to ask you to expound the Hoke-kyō.” Then the mendicant said, “I have no learning. I have simply stayed alive by reciting the Hannya dharani and begging food.” The host, however, repeated his entreaty. The mendicant thought to himself that the best way for him was a secret escape. Knowing that the mendicant intended to run away, the host had him watched.

That night, the mendicant had a dream. A red cow came to him, saying, “I am the mother of the master of this household. Among his cattle there is a red cow, whose calf is none other than I. Once in my former life, I stole property from my son, and now I am atoning for it in the form of a cow. I have confided this to you with respect and sincerity since you are going to preach on the Mahayana scripture for me tomorrow. If you feel any doubt about my story, please prepare a seat at the back of the hall where you will preach tomorrow. You will find me seated there.”

Awaking from this startling dream, the mendicant was very curious. The next morning he went up to the lecturer’s seat, saying: “I am ignorant of Buddhist teachings. I came to take this seat in compliance with my host’s entreaty. But I have one thing to tell you, which is a revelation that came to me in a dream.” Then he told about the dream in detail. Whereupon the host stood up, prepared a seat, and called the cow, which took the seat and lay down. In sorrowful tears he said, “Indeed this is my mother! I had no idea! Now I will forgive her.” The cow heard his words and sighed. When the service ended, the cow died suddenly. All the congregation cried so bitterly that there were echoes of weeping in the hall and in the garden. Nothing has ever been so miraculous as this. The son continued to accumulate merits for his mother.

We know that this miraculous event took place as a consequence of the son’s extreme faith born of his feeling for his mother, and the mendicant’s merits accumulated from reciting the divine dharani. (Page 180-181)

Okisome no omi Taime was the daughter of a nun named Hōni, the presiding officer3 of the nunnery of Tomi in the capital of Nara. She was so devoted in her pursuit of the path of Buddha that she preserved her chastity. She used to collect herbs every day and serve them to the Most Venerable Gyōgi.

One day she went to the mountain to collect herbs and saw a large snake swallowing a big frog. She entreated the snake, “Please set the frog free for my sake.” But the snake would not. She entreated again, saying, “I will become your wife if you do me the favor of letting the frog go.” On hearing that, the large snake raised its head high to see her face and disgorged the frog. Whereupon she said to the snake, “Come to me in seven days.”

On the appointed day, she hid herself in the house with all the openings closed. The snake came as expected and knocked on the wall with its tail. The next morning, terrified, she went to her master, who lived at the mountain temple of Ikoma. He said to her, “You cannot break your promise. Only be strict in observing the precepts.” Therefore, she reaffirmed her faith in the Three Treasures and her acceptance of the five precepts, and returned home.

On the way she met a strange old man with a big crab. She said, “Who are you, old man? Will you please set the crab free for me?”

He answered, “I am Edoi no Nimaro from Uhara district, Settsu province. At the age of seventy-eight I had neither sons to depend upon nor the means of making a living. In Naniwa I happened to find this crab. I cannot give it to you, for I have promised it to someone.” She took off her robe, begging him to sell her the crab in exchange for her robe, but he would not listen. She then took off her skirt to add to its price, and he finally agreed to her offer. Thereupon, she brought the crab back home and invited the Most Venerable Gyōgi to hold a service for it, setting it free with a prayer. Impressed with her deed, the master exclaimed, “How noble! How good !”

That evening the snake came back again, climbed to the roof, and dropped into the house by pulling off part of the thatched roof. The terrified girl heard something jumping and flapping around in her bed, and the next morning she found a big crab and a large snake that had been chopped into pieces. Then she realized that the crab she had liberated had come to her rescue out of gratitude. This was also due to the virtue gained by keeping the precepts. Although she wanted to unravel the mystery and tried to identify the old man, she could not find him. It was evident he was an incarnation of Buddha. This is a miraculous event. (Page 171-173)

In the reign of Emperor Shōmu, there was a man who made a vow in Sagaraka district, Yamashiro province. His name is unknown. He copied the Hoke-kyō in order to repay the four kinds of blessing and sent his messengers to the four quarters in search of sandalwood to make a container for the scrolls of the scripture. Eventually he bought it in the capital of Nara for one hundred kan and asked a craftsman to measure and make a container. When he tried to put the scrolls in it, he found he could not do so because the chest was too short. He was terribly disappointed, for he did not see how he could acquire such materials again. Therefore, he made a vow, held a service as directed in the scripture, invited monks to confess offenses for three weeks, and wailing, he pleaded, “Please let me find such wood again.”

After two weeks he tried to put the scrolls in the chest and found that it had stretched a little of its own accord though it was still a little shorter than the scrolls. The man tried harder to discipline himself and to repent, and, at the end of the third week, he could put the scrolls in the chest. Wondering whether the scrolls had become shorter or the chest larger, he compared them with the original and found they were the same length. Indeed, we know that this was a test of the vower’s supreme faith and a sign of the miraculous power of the Mahayana scripture. There can be no doubt about it. (Page 166-167)

In Yamashiro province there was once a self-ordained novice whose name is unknown. He used to play go all the time. One day when he was playing go* with a layman, a mendicant came to recite the Hoke-kyō and beg for alms. The novice laughed at him, mimicking his accent with a twisted mouth. The layman was greatly shocked at this and exclaimed, “How awful!” at each turn in the game. The layman won the game every time, and the novice lost. Meanwhile the novice’s mouth became twisted, and no medicine could cure it. The gist of this story is stated in the Hoke-kyō as follows: “Those who laugh at and slight this scripture will lose many teeth and get a twisted mouth, a flattened nose, crippled limbs and squint eyes.” It is better to be possessed by evil spirits and talk in a daze than to abuse the devotees of the Hoke-kyō. Remember that evil comes from one’s mouth. (Page 130-131)

*The Sōni-ryō (Article 9) prohibits monks and nuns from performing music or games of chance, but they are allowed to play the koto (a string instrument) and the game of go.