In Kazuraki upper district, Yamato province there was once a devotee of the Hoke-kyō. He came from the Tajihi family, and, even before he was eight years old, he could recite the Hoke-kyō with the exception of one character which always escaped his memory and continued to escape it even when he was in his twenties.
Once he prayed to Kannon, confessing his offenses, and had a dream. A man said to him, “In your previous existence you were the child of Kusakabe no Saru in Wake district, Iyo province. At that time while reciting the scripture you burned one character with a lamp so that you could no longer read it. Now, go and see.”
When he awoke, he was filled with wonder, and he said to his parents, “I want to go to Iyo on urgent business.” They consented.
Setting forth on his quest, he reached Saru’s home at last and knocked at the door. A woman came and reported back to her mistress with a smile, saying, “There is a guest at the door who looks exactly like your deceased son.” On hearing this, the mistress went to the door to see the guest, finding him the very image of her deceased son. In wonder, the master asked the guest, “Who are you?” And the latter answered by announcing the name of his home district and province. In turn, the guest asked the same question, and he was given a detailed answer. It became evident to him that they were his parents in his former life. He knelt down to pay respect to them. Saru affectionately invited him into the house, and, staring at him as he sat in the seat of honor, said, “Aren’t you the spirit of my deceased son?” Their guest told them in detail about his dream and announced that the old couple were his parents. Saru, after some reminiscing, motioned to him, saying, “My late son, so and so, lived in this hall, read this scripture, and used this pitcher.” The son entered the hall, opened the scripture, and found that the character which he could never remember was missing, for it had been burned with a lamp. When the young man repented of his offense and repaired the text, he could recite it correctly. Parents and son were amazed and delighted, and the son never lost the parent-child relationship and his sense of filial piety.
The note says : How happy is this member of the Kusakabe family who, in pursuit of the path through Buddhist scriptures, recited the Hoke-kyō in two lives, present and past, and served two fathers to be renowned in posterity. It is an extraordinary phenomenon, and not commonplace. Indeed, we are sure it is due to the divine influence of the Hoke-kyō and the miraculous power of Kannon. In the same spirit, the Zen’aku inga-kyō says, “Look at present effects if you want to know past causes. Look at present deeds if you want to know future effects. (Page 129-130)
While many of Kyōkai’s stories didn’t meet my requirements for inclusion in my 32 Days of the Lotus Sūtra practice, I wanted to set aside some of the “morals” that Kyōkai added to his tales.
Swift is the penalty for evil deeds. How can we not believe in the law of karmic causality? Beasts in the present life might have been our parents in a past life. We pass through the six modes of existence and four manners of birth. Reflection shows us that we cannot be without mercy. (Page 133)
* * *
Truly we learn that retribution is close at hand in the present life. Why do we not behave ourselves prudently? The Nehan-gyō [Nirvāṇa Sūtra] is referring to this when it says: “All evil deeds originate in wicked minds.” The Daijōbu-ron says: “If you offer alms with compassion, the merit will be as great as earth; if you do so to all for your own sake, the reward will be as tiny as a mustard seed. It is better to save a person in danger than to make all kinds of offerings. (Page 143)
* * *
How miraculous! Just as the Nehan-gyō [Nirvāṇa Sūtra] says: “If a man does good deeds, his name will be noticed among heavenly beings; if he does evil deeds, his name will be recorded in hell.” (Page 187)
* * *
Indeed, we learn that an evil mind is a sharp sword which kills the bearer; an angry mind is an evil fiend which incurs calamities; greediness causes the suffering of a hungry fiend; avarice is an impenetrable bush to block the offering of compassion. When you see a mendicant, you should be merciful and happy and make spiritual and material offerings. Therefore, the Jōbu-ron gives this passage: “Those who are greedy value even mud more than gold and jewels, while those who are merciful offer gold and jade, caring less for them than grass and trees. At the sight of a mendicant they cannot bear to say they have no alms and wail in sorrow…” (Page 242)
* * *
Speaking of wealth, it is shared by five parties: first, government officials who might come and ask for it unreasonably; second, robbers who might come to steal it; third, water which might wash it away; fourth, fire which might destroy it suddenly; fifth, wicked children who might waste it unreasonably. Therefore, a bodhisattva is very happy to make offerings. (Page 269)
In the Lotus Sūtra, World Voice Perceiver, Kannon, is the subject of Chapter 25, The Universal Gate of World-Voice-Perceiver Bodhisattva. But he is not a central figure in Nichiren Buddhism. Nor is he included among the Lotus Sūtra bodhisattvas who appear on Nichiren’s Mandala Gohonzon. However, Kannon does feature prominently in the Nihon ryōiki. Here are two examples.
The first is a straightforward illustration of the power of faith in Kannon:
On Suffering War Damage and Gaining an Immediate Reward for Faith in an Image of Bodhisattva Kannon
Ochi no atae, ancestor of the governor of Ochi district in Iyo province was sent to Paekche in the Japanese expeditionary force and taken prisoner by Chinese soldiers and brought to T’ang China.
In China, he and some other Japanese, eight in all, came to live on an island. They acquired an image of Bodhisattva Kannon, worshiping it together with great devotion. They worked together cutting down a pine tree to make a boat, enshrined the Kannon image in the boat, and, meditating on the image, made their individual vows. Fortunately, the boat drifted straight to Tsukushi with the help of the west wind.
At this news the court summoned them for an investigation. When the emperor heard them, he was so moved that he granted them a wish. Ochi no atae said, “I would like to serve you by establishing an estate, and it was granted. Thereupon he established the estate and built a temple in which to consecrate the Kannon image. After that, his descendants followed his example in worshiping the Kannon.
This is nothing but the work of Kannon, and the total maturation of faith. It is said that even a wooden image of Ting-Ian’s mother appeared to be alive, and the woman in a picture loved by a monk responded with sympathy. How, then, can it be possible for the Bodhisattva not to respond? (Page 128)
If anyone, guilty or not, calls the name of World-Voice-Perceiver Bodhisattva when he is bound up in manacles, fetters, pillories or chains, those things [in which he is bound up] will break asunder, and he will be saved.
The Buddha gives this description of World-Voice-Perceiver Bodhisattva (Kannon, Kanzeon, Kuan Yin, Avalokitesvara) to Endless-Intent Bodhisattva in Chapter Twenty-Five of the Lotus Sūtra. The bonds of ignorance and delusion in which we find ourselves are not the result of our personal inadequacy, and neither do they come entirely from the circumstances of the world around us. But these bonds are real, and in our struggles to escape we often just make them worse. When we remember World-Voice Perceiver, the embodiment of compassion, and call on her for help, then we awaken compassion within ourselves and others in the world, and break the bonds of delusion for everyone.
But I don’t know what to make of this next story of personal gratification gained by calling the name of Kannon. If it were published separately I’d speculate that it was meant as an ironic tale of greed.
On Attaining a Great Fortune Immediately Owing to Devotion to Kannon and Praying for a Share of Benefits
In the reign of ex-Emperor Shōhō-ōjin-shōmu residing at Nara Palace Miteshiro no Azumabito went to Mt. Yoshino to practice Buddhist teachings and seek his fortune. Three years passed during which he worshiped Kannon, reciting the name, and saying, “Homage to Kannon. Please give me ten thousand kan of copper coins, ten thousand koku of white rice and many beautiful girls.”
At that time, Awata no asomi of the Junior Third Rank had a daughter who was both unmarried and a virgin. She suddenly fell ill in her home in Hirose. Her suffering was so great that there seemed no prospect of a cure. Her father sent messengers in all directions to call Buddhist monks and lay brothers. Azumabito was called and begged to save her by chanting formulas. The power of the formulas cured the illness, and she fell in love with him, eventually giving herself to him. Her family seized him and kept him confined in a room. Out of her affection, she cried and would not leave the place of his confinement. After a conference, her family decided to free Azumabito and let him marry her and inherit the fortune. He was given the Fifth Rank owing to the report to the Throne.
After several years, when she was dying, she called her sister, and said, “I am dying now. I have but one wish; will you listen?” Her sister said, “I will do as you like.” Whereupon Azumabito’s wife said, “I can never forget my gratitude to Azumabito. I would like to make your daughter his wife and let her be in charge of the household.” Faithful to her wish, the sister gave her daughter to Azumabito and put her in charge of the fortune.
Azumabito was richly blessed in this life because of the mysterious power he gained from his devotional practices and the great virtue of Kannon. How can anyone not believe that? (Page 146-147)
The moral from Kyōkai’s tale “On the Stolen Bronze Buddha Which Gave an Extraordinary Sign and Identified a Thief” states in full:
We learn indeed that the Buddha performed a miracle in order to stop evil and that the Buddha’s spirit responds to utmost devotion! In the twelfth volume of the Nehan-gyō [Nirvāṇa Sūtra] there is a passage which runs like this: “I have a high regard for the Mahayana teachings. I killed a Brahman who spoke ill of a Mahayana scripture. Consequently I will not fall into hell hereafter.” Another passage in the thirty-third volume of the same scripture speaks to the same effect: “Those of the ichisendai shall perish forever. If you kill even an ant, you will be accused of the sin of killing; you will not, however, be accused of the sin of killing if you kill the ichisendai.” (Because the ichisendai slanders the Three Treasures, fails to preach for all beings, and lacks a sense of gratitude, killing him is not a sin.) (Page 191)
Nichiren appears sympathetic to Kyōkai’s view that some people are simply beyond salvation. Nichiren used this same quote from the Nirvāṇa Sūtra in explaining why killing slanderers of the Lotus Sūtra was no great sin. See this discussion from my 100 Days of Study.
On the other hand, Kyōkai’s tale “On the Mutual Revenge for Killing by Being Reborn as a Fox and a Dog” offers this moral:
Virūḍhaka killed ninety-nine million and nine hundred thousand men of the Śākyas to revenge the past. If vengeance is used to requite vengeance, then vengeance will never end, but will go on rolling like the wheel of a cart. Forbearance is the virtue of the man who restrains himself by taking his enemy as a teacher and not seeking revenge. Accordingly, enmity is nothing but the teacher of forbearance. This is what the scripture means when it says: “Without respect for the virtue of forbearance one would kill even one’s own mother. ” (Page 226)
Putting this idea to work we read “On a Monk Who Was Saved fom Drowning in the Sea by Reciting a Mahayana Scripture”
In the capital of Nara there was a fully qualified monk whose name is unknown. He used to recite a Mahayana scripture and lived as a layman, supporting his family by lending money. His only daughter married and lived separately with her husband. In the reign of Empress Abe, her husband was appointed an official in Mutsu province. Therefore, he borrowed twenty kan of money from his father-in-law to outfit himself and went off to his new post. After many years, he repaid only the principal but not the interest, which had become as much as the principal in the course of time. Meanwhile the father-in-law asked for repayment. The son developed a secret hatred of him and looked for a chance to kill him. The father-in-law, however, did not know this and urged him, as usual, to repay the debt.
One day the son said to his father-in-law, “I would like to take you to Mutsu province.” The latter agreed and got on board a ship for Mutsu. Plotting with the sailors, the son tied his father-in-law up and threw him into the sea. When he went home, he said to his wife, “As your father wanted to see you, I took him on the ship for the voyage. Before long we ran into a storm at sea, and the ships sank. Your father, being beyond any means of rescue, was drowned. He drifted on the sea before he sank under the water, while I barely saved myself.” The wife, greatly dejected by this news, wailed and said, “How unhappy I am to lose my father! Did my idea of inviting him cause me to lose my treasure? It would be easier to find a jewel on the bottom of the sea than to see him and collect his bones. What a pity.”
Meanwhile, the monk sank into the water, reciting a Mahayana scripture with utmost devotion, and found that the water left a hollow space allowing him to crouch safely on the bottom. After two days and nights another ship bound for Mutsu province sailed by. The sailors noticed the tip of a rope drifting on the sea, and, seizing it, pulled up the monk on the other end. He looked as well as ever. The sailors, therefore, wondered greatly and asked him, “Who are you?” He answered, “I am so and so. I met robbers and was thrown into the sea with my limbs bound with a rope.” Then they asked him again, “Venerable Master, by what magic could you survive without being drowned in the water?” He said, “I am always reciting a Mahayana scripture. No doubt its mysterious power has saved me.” Thus he never revealed his son-in-law’s name. He asked then, “Will you take me to a port in Mutsu?” Accordingly, they took him there.
As for the son-in-law in Mutsu province, he held a service for the drowned father, making an offering to the Three Treasures. The father, who had been wandering and begging there, happened to attend the service with a group of self-ordained monks and received an offering of food while his face was covered. When the son-in-law held out offerings for the monks, the drowned father put his hands out to receive them. The startled son-in-law shrank back in horror, his eyes shifting restlessly and his face flushing. He hid himself, stricken with terror. The smiling father-in-law showed no anger but only forbearance, never revealing the evil deed. Owing to the hollow space in the water, he did not drown; nor was he eaten by a poisonous fish but remained safe in the sea. Indeed we know that this was caused by the miraculous power of a Mahayana scripture and the protection of various Buddhas.
The note says: How good he was to be tolerant and not to accuse his son-in-law of his evil deed! Indeed he was the very model of fortitude. This is what the Jōagon-gyō [The Collection of Long Scriptures] means when it says: “To requite vengeance with vengeance is like trying to put out a fire with hay, but to requite vengeance with mercy is like putting out a fire with water.” (Page 225-226)
Kyōkai reveals his view of man in a section of his autobiographical material (111.38). Although man is driven by desire, he also possesses potential for enlightenment. Kyōkai believed that some people totally lacked such potential, for in interpreting his first dream, he says: “ ‘He does not have any ways to support them’ means that those who lack potential are not oriented for enlightenment” (111.38). In the note to a story on a wicked robber who broke a Buddhist statue, he quotes from the Nehan-gyō [Nirvāṇa Sūtra], and adds his comment:
“Those of the ichisendai shall perish forever. If you kill even an ant, you will be accused of the sin of killing; you will not, however, be accused of the sin of killing if you kill the ichisendai.” (Because the ichisendai slanders the Three Treasures, fails to preach to all beings, and lacks a sense of gratitude, killing him is not a sin.) [11.22].
Ichisendai is a transliteration of a Sanskrit term icchantika, which is translated as “culmination of desires” “one lacking faith,” “one lacking good stock.” It designates a man who is driven continuously by his desires and lacks any potential for enlightenment, who commits sins and never repents.
Ichisendai was a controversial concept in both Chinese and Japanese Buddhism, for it conflicts with the idea of universal Buddha-nature expounded in the same Nehan-gyō. Since the goal of Buddhists is enlightenment, the doctrine of Buddha-nature or Tathāgatagarbha is fundamental. The Hoke-kyō and Nehan-gyō, which influenced Kyōkai more than any other scriptures, are known for the doctrine that Buddha-nature exists in all sentient beings, while both denounce those who slander Mahayana teachings. However, Kyōkai never stressed the central message of the Nehan-gyō, that all sentient beings have Buddha-nature; instead, he repeatedly warned against those who committed offenses against the Three Treasures, such as persecutors of monks, usurpers of temple properties, and slanderers of dharma. Kyōkai explicitly says that a man who commits such acts is inferior to an ant. He also says:
Without compassion man is just like a crow. The Nehan-gyō says: “Though there is a distinction in respectability between man and animal, they share the fact that they cherish life and take death seriously.” [11.101
Man shares a common destiny of mortality with other living beings, and knowledge of mortality makes him cherish both his own life and that of others. However, he differs from them in that he is able to attain enlightenment. Buddhists often say that it is difficult to obtain birth as a human being and hear dharma. This statement can be understood only in the context of the Buddhist cosmology which presupposes an infinite expanse of time and various modes of existence. If a man fails to make good use of this rare opportunity with gratitude, he is no better than an animal. (Page 61-62)
Doctrine of universal salvation
In the Japanese religious tradition, no clear-cut distinction can be made between sacred and secular. What is closest to “sacred” is (sei, shō, or hijiri), but its antonym is “ordinary,” as understood by Kyōkai. “Sacred” means “supreme, preeminent, extraordinary.” No discontinuity exists. This is the basis for the doctrine of universal salvation. Each person has the potential to be a bodhisattva, although there are differences in the degrees of achievement, which is by no means predestined. The ideal image of man is not a scholarly and virtuous monk, but one who lives an ordinary life yet reveals an extraordinary quality through such a life. In other words, he is in society and at the same time rises above society. (Page 79)
Buddhism served to internalize ancient Japanese rituals such as purification rites and ancestor rites. Traditional rituals and symbols persisted because of their significance for human life, although they were given new meanings. Dharma was interpreted by Kyōkai as the universal law in the sense of tao. He included the way of kami, yin-yang tao, and all other ways in dharma itself, for dharma is universal and comprehensive, and there is common ground for them in the idea of cosmic interrelation of all existences. The cosmos can be renewed and restructured according to traditional patterns and rhythms of life, which Buddhism incorporated in its cosmology. (Page 49)
King Yama: The Administrator of Karmic Law
Judgment after death is postulated in many religious traditions. For the Hindu-Buddhist tradition it has the following significance: Yama could never exist apart from karmic retribution, and the sentence given by him is not of his own making. He is not a judge in the common legal sense but simply an administrator of the law of causation. (Page 56)
Hell and Buddhahood in this world
In the Nihon ryōiki … there is an interpretation of the other world that transcends time and space. One such instance is the story about a wicked man who used to eat birds’ eggs. One day a messenger from Yama came to lead him into hell. Villagers saw the man running around in the field as if he were crazy until eventually he died from burns. Kyōkai’s note says: “Now we are sure of the existence of hell in this world. We should believe in the law of karmic retribution” (11.10). The passage gives a popular understanding of hell as a mode of existence. Although Kyōkai quotes from the Zen’aku inga-kyō [Sutra on the Effects of Good and Evil] “The one who roasts and boils chickens in this life will fall into the Hell of the River of Ashes after death,” he insists on the idea of “hell here and now.” Hell exists in this world in this life and not in the other world after death. This interpretation is parallel to the popular understanding that Buddhahood was attainable in the life of this world. Accordingly, the world view of the Nihon ryōiki is said to be “this-world centered,” and stands in sharp contrast to that of a later period when men longed for rebirth in the pure land because of their conviction that they were living in the degenerate age of dharma. (Page 60)
The interdependent nature of existence
In the Buddhist world view not only human beings but all living beings are destined to die and to suffer as a result of their desires. Each being forms a psychic entity intricately connected with all other beings. As shown by Kyōkai, the doctrines of karma and samsara are understood in the following way: “Beasts in the present life might have been our parents in a past life” (1.2 1). Therefore, every act, whether good or bad, will leave its effect on the community of all beings as well as on the actor. For this reason many Buddhist treatises have the same ending as the three prefaces in the Nihon ryōiki.
“The deep significance of the three karmas as taught by Buddha, I have thus completed elucidating in accord with the Dharma and logic:
By dint of this merit I pray to deliver all sentient beings And to make them soon attain perfect enlightenment.”
This passage expresses the author’s sincere wish to offer his merit for the deliverance of his fellow beings. “Merit” (Skt. puṇya) is the motive force toward enlightenment, but the realization of interdependent relationships among all existences is a positive restraint against the accumulation of merit for oneself alone. (Page 60-61)
Kyōkai used as his sources not only the oral tradition of his time but also written traditions both Japanese and foreign. According to Uematsu, nearly 90 percent of the stories had been handed down by monks or local people before they reached Kyōkai. He was by no means a creative writer, but rather an editor and commentator on the tradition he worked so faithfully to document. Although isolated legends had existed for several centuries, Japanese legendary literature was not born until a special set of conditions came into existence. It is clear that the corpus of Buddhist legends that had originated in India, developed in China, and been transmitted to Japan greatly stimulated and influenced the development of indigenous Japanese legends. (page 42)
Nihon ryōiki value
It is evident that later works surpass the Nihon ryōiki in literary refinement, historicity, and depth of introspection. However, the merit of the Nihon ryōiki lies in its simple affirmation of faith and its diversity of interests and views. Though no one would deny the influence of Chinese tradition, the Nihon ryōiki is, nonetheless, Japanese in the sense that it was not only accepted by the people at the time of its compilation but also helped to shape the later Japanese tradition. (Page 44)
The official ordination system was aimed not only at controlling the number of monks but also at setting minimum standards for their doctrinal education. When Buddhism was first introduced, it was organized largely as a system of religious rites for the benefit of influential families. Many persons were ordained so that their masters might obtain merit and recover from illness. By the early eighth century, however, a minimal standard of learning was required for ordination. A decree issued in 734 states that no one was to be ordained without first memorizing a chapter of the Hoke-kyō [Lotus Sūtra] or the Saishōō-kyō [Golden Light of the Most Victorious Kings Sūtra] learning to perform Buddhist rites, and living under monastic discipline for at least three years. According to the record of the recommendations for ordination during the period from 732 to 745, the number of years spent under discipline ranged from four to fifteen, and the age of those who had undergone discipline, from thirteen to forty-eight. After that period the names of scriptures memorized and the number of years of discipline were not recorded, but evidence of participation in the construction of a temple, particularly Tōdai-ji, or the fact of being related to an official or a monk was noted. There was a tendency toward lowering the age and qualifications of monks as their numbers increased. (Page 22-23)
The purpose of religion
Both suffering and happiness were understood as a communal experience to be shared within the family, village, province, and state. Such a tendency, which emphasizes group participation and identity is a recurrent theme in the Japanese tradition. On the level of popular practice, there was little differentiation in the roles of Buddha, bodhisattva, and kami in helping people to lead happier lives. In spite of the fact that their symbolic forms differed, they referred to faith and happiness here and now. (Page 29)
The goal of stories on karmic causation
According to the Kao-seng chuan (Biographies of Eminent Monks), Hui-yüan introduced an innovation into the routine of the Buddhist ceremonial meeting by opening it with stories on karmic causation.
“Whenever there was a ceremonial meeting, he himself would ascend the high seat and personally take the lead in preaching, first elucidating the work of causation in the past, present, and future, and then discussing the significance of the particular occasions. Later generations continued this practice until it became a standard for all times.”
This is the beginning of ch’ang-tao the practice of preaching, and the stories used as illustrations treated the theme of the law of karmic retribution. Tradition says that Kumārajīva (344-413) wrote a work called “Treatises on the Past, Present, and Future” (inextant) and also emphasized the law of karmic retribution. Chinese Buddhist writers are fond of asserting that a result follows a deed in the same way that a shadow follows a form or an echo follows a sound. (Page 31)
Kyōkai’s primary concern
Kyōkai used the word genpō (hsien-pao), which in T’ang-lin’s preface refers to consequences that are manifested in this life, as the main theme for the collection of Japanese Buddhist legends. This may reflect his emphasis on present existence, even though he did not exclude stories dealing with the effects of past deeds upon a future life. He was uninterested in subtle arguments concerning the meaning of karma and samsara, or the question of whether there is something about man which is immortal. Rather, he compiled the Nihon ryōiki as an aid for monks in their preaching, should they wish to follow the fashion initiated by Hui-yüan in China, and as a guide for lay Buddhists. Kyōkai’s primary concern seems to have been in the salvation of his fellow beings and himself, which he hoped would be accomplished as a result of the merit accumulated in the compiling of the collection. He understood karmic retribution as a universal principle and stated that its operation was also discernible in the Chinese classics and in the pre-Buddhist age in Japan. (page 32-33)
Hoke-kyō and Faith
In contrast to the understanding of the law of causation as the law of nature, the Hoke-kyō gives another interpretation which may have influenced Kyōkai. The Hoke-kyō is the scripture most frequently quoted in the Nihon ryōiki, and it has been extremely popular throughout the history of Japanese Buddhism. Although the Hoke-kyō makes many references to karma (Chaps. i, ii, vii, x, xii, xv, xvi, xix, xxv), the main emphasis is on overcoming karma and obtaining salvation, rather than on the doctrine of karma itself. The recitation of the Hoke-kyō or even the invocation of its title, when done with faith, constitutes an act of merit which will overcome all other karma. Further, it says that dhārāṇi and mantra (Chap. xxvi), a remembrance of Kannon, or the calling of Kannon’s name (Chap. xxv) also transcend time and space, making possible the immediate attainment of Buddhahood. This message of the Hoke-kyō may be considered as a warning against a mechanical, static, or deterministic understanding of karma. Faith is the basis for salvation here and now, which is the work of the dharma body Buddha, both transcendent and immanent. (Page 33-34)
Love
Wisdom and compassion are means for fulfilling the bodhisattva’s vow. Wisdom is cultivated by looking at reality, by seeing things as they are. No discontinuity exists between the great mercy of Buddha and human love. What distinguishes them is the degree to which right knowledge sustains love. Ordinary men are conscious only of physical, carnal love as in the case of the mother with the crying child. But a sage’s love is based on right knowledge with which he may see events on a macrocosmic scale. Human love is never rejected, but it must be elevated and expanded on the basis of the right understanding of existence. (Page 80)
While I was at church, Richard and his girlfriend, Alexis, celebrated Mother’s Day with their mothers (Richard with Alexis’ mom and Alexis with Richard’s mom) at the McKinley Park Rose Garden.
I’m sitting in the waiting area for Gate A5 at the Seattle-Tacoma Airport waiting for the next leg of my trip from Sacramento. I’ve got another two hours to kill before boarding red-eye flight to Detroit. I have a “Honey-Do” harvest awaiting me in Churchville, NY.
Yesterday I was working at the Sacramento Nichiren Buddhist Church replacing a corrugated metal roof that covers a flat portion of the “chicken shed” where the teriyaki chicken will be cooked at the church bazaar June 8-9. The 30-year roof had rusted through at several points.
Rev. Igarashi was helping me as I nailed down the metal roof sections.
At one point the topic of discussion turned to Mother’s Day, and Rev. Igarashi said it wasn’t celebrated in Japan.
I digress at this point to mention that I chatted at church today, Mother’s Day, with a young woman born and raised in Hiroshima who now lives in Sacramento, and she said she always celebrates Mother’s Day, buying flowers.
So, whatever the case in Japan, Mother’s Day wasn’t something Rev. Igarashi adopted. And after reading the Nihon ryōiki, I’m happy to believe that in a traditional household Mother’s Day isn’t restricted to a single day.
All of which provides me an opportunity to reprint a Nihon ryōiki story:
On an Evil Man Who was Negligent in Filial Piety to His Mother and Gained an Immediate Penalty of Violent Death
In Sou upper district, Yamato province there once lived a wicked man whose identity is lost except for his nickname, Miyasu. In the reign of the emperor residing at the Palace of Naniwa, he became a student of the Confucian classics, but he attained merely book knowledge and did not support his mother.
His mother had borrowed rice from him and could not return it. Miyasu angrily pressed his mother for payment. His friends, who could no longer endure the sight of the mother seated on the ground while the son sat on a mat, asked him, “Good man, why are you not respectful? Some people build pagodas, make Buddha images, copy scriptures, and invite monks to a retreat for their parents’ sake. You are rich and fortunate enough to lend much rice. Why do you neglect your dear mother and contradict what you have studied?” Miyasu ignored them, saying, “That’s none of your business.” Whereupon they paid the debt on her behalf and hurried away.
His mother, for her part, bared her breasts and, in tears, said to her son, “When I reared you, I never rested day or night. I have seen people repaying their parents for their affection, but, when I thought I could rely on my son, I incurred only disgrace. I was wrong in relying upon you. Since you have pressed me for repayment of the rice, I will now demand repayment of my milk. The mother-child tie is from this day broken. Heaven and earth will take cognizance of this. How sad, how pitiful! ”
Without a word Miyasu stood up, went into the back room, and, returning with the bonds, burnt them all in the yard. Then he went into the mountains where he wandered about not knowing what to do, ran wildly this way and that with disheveled hair and a bleeding body, and could not stay in his home. Three days later a fire broke out suddenly, and all of his houses and storehouses in and out of the premises burned. Eventually Miyasu turned his family into the streets, and he himself died of hunger and cold without any shelter.
Now we cannot help believing that a penalty will be imposed, not in the distant future, but in this life. Accordingly, a scripture says, “The unfilial are destined to hell; the filial, to the pure land.” This is what Nyorai preaches, the true teaching of Mahayana tradition. (Page 135-136)
This is the first collection of Buddhist legends in Japan, and these stories form the repertoire of miraculous events and moral examples that later Buddhist priests used for preaching to the people. As Kyokai describes his own intentions, “By editing these stories of miraculous events I want to pull the people forward by the ears, offer my hand to lead them to good, and show them how to cleanse their feet of evil” (p.222).
Nakamura’s book is actually two works in one: first an introduction to the Nihon ryōiki, and then an annotated translation. The introduction analyzes the life of the author and the influence of earlier writings, and provides a valuable synthesis of the world view reflected in the work.
The annotated translation renders the more than one hundred stories into English narrative, with copious notes. Difficult terms are identified in the text with the original Chinese characters, while historical matters and Buddhist technical terms are explained in the footnotes.
The translator and editor of this edition, Kyoko Motomochi Nakamura, offers this concept of “miracles” at the conclusion of his preface:
If miracles are narrowly defined as the intervention of the divine which is designed to suspend or change the law of nature, then wondrous occurrences in the Buddhist tradition are not miracles, but the work of karma (1.26). As a consequence of past karma, man becomes a sage, holy man, bodhisattva, or buddha, and attains self-mastery. To the popular imagination, however, wonders held such appeal that they served as signs to invite men through the gate along the path toward enlightenment. (Page 91)
The Nihon ryōiki is a collection of stories gathered by a monk named Kyōkai. The Nihon ryōiki, according to Nakamura, was compiled either in 782-805 or 810-824. Theories differ, but one important aspect is that at the time when this book was compiled Japanese Buddhism was in a transition away from nonsectarian “Buddhist institutes for the study of several different doctrines” toward a growing sectarian consciousness “in response to the challenge of the new Buddhist teachings introduced by Saichō (767-822) and Kūkai (744-835)” (Page 4).
Kyōkai’s Preface of Volume One offers this view of Good and Evil:
Good and evil deeds cause karmic retribution as a figure causes its shadow, and suffering and pleasure follow such deeds as an echo follows a sound in the valley. Those who witness such experiences marvel at them and forget they are real happenings in the world. The penitent withdraws to hide himself, for he burns with shame at once. Were the fact of karmic retribution not known, how could we rectify wickedness and establish righteousness? And how would it be possible to make men mend their wicked minds and practice the path of virtue without demonstrating the law of karmic causation? (Page 101)
And later in discussing his own limitations:
I am not gifted with either wisdom or lucidity. Learning acquired in a narrow well loses its way when out in the open. My work resembles that of a poor craftsman working on the carving of a master. I am afraid that I will cut my hand and suffer from the injury long afterward. My work is comparable to a rough pebble beside the K’un-lun Mountains. Its source in the oral tradition is so indistinct that I am afraid of omitting much. Only the desire to do good has moved me to try, in spite of the fear that this might turn out to be a presumptuous work by an incompetent author. I hope that learned men in future generations will not laugh at my efforts, and I pray that those who happen upon this collection of miraculous stories will put aside evil, live in righteousness, and, without causing evil, practice good. (Page 101-102)
From the Kyōkai’s Preface to Volume III, the three periods of Śākyamuni’s teachings:
The Inner Scriptures show how good and evil deeds are repaid, while the Outer Writings show how good and bad fortunes bring merit and demerit. If we study all the discourses Śākyamuni made during his lifetime, we learn that there are three periods: first, the period of the true dharma (shōbō), which lasts five hundred years; second, the period of the counterfeit dharma (zōbō), lasting a thousand years; and third, the period of the degenerate dharma (mappō), which continues for ten thousand years. By the fourth year of the hare, the sixth year of the Enryaku era [787], seventeen hundred and twenty-two years have passed since Buddha entered nirvana. Accordingly, we live in the age of the degenerate dharma following the first two periods. Now in Japan, by the sixth year of the Enryaku era, two hundred and thirty-six years have elapsed since the arrival of the Buddha, Dharma, and Samgha [538 or 553]. Flowers bloom without voice, and cocks cry without tears. In the present world those who practice good are as few as flowers on rocky hills, but those who do evil are as plentiful as weeds in the soil. Without knowing the law of karmic retribution, one offends as easily as a blind man loses his way. A tiger is known by its tail. Those devoted to fame, profit, and killing doubt the immediate repayment of good and evil which occurs as quickly as a mirror reflects. One who is possessed of an evil spirit is like one who holds a poisonous snake; the poison is always there ready to appear.
The great power of karmic retribution reaches us as quickly as sound echoes in a valley. If we call, the echo never fails to answer, and this is the way karmic retribution works in this life. How can we fail to be more careful? It is useless to repent after spending a lifetime in vain. Who can enjoy immortality since you are given a limited life? How can you depend on your transient life as being eternal? We are already in the age of the degenerate dharma. How can we live without doing good? My heart aches for all beings. How can we be saved from calamity in the age of the degenerate dharma? If we offer monks only a handful of food, the merit of our good deed will save us from the calamity of hunger. If we keep a precept of nonkilling for a day, we will be saved from the calamity of sword and battle. (Page 221-222)
He follows with an example of how karma works:
Once there was a full-fledged monk who lived on a mountain and practiced meditation. At every meal he shared his food with a crow which came to him every day. After a vegetarian meal, he chewed a toothpick, cleaned his mouth, washed his hands and played with a stone. The crow was behind the hedge when he threw the stone. He hit the crow without knowing that it was there. The crow died on the spot, its head crushed into pieces, and was reborn as a boar. The boar lived in the same mountain as the monk. It happened to go to the place above his hut, rooting about among the rocks for food, where upon one of the rocks rolled down and killed the monk. Although the boar had no intention of killing him, the rock rolled down by itself. A sin committed by an action which is neither good nor bad will in turn generate the same kind of action. In the case of intentional murder, how is it possible to escape the penalty? A deluded mind produces the seed and fruit of evil; an enlightened mind produces the seed of good to attain Buddhahood. (Page 222)
