Devadatta’s Ambition

 

A series of tragic events occurred when the Buddha was 72 years old and in the 37^th year of his teaching mission. This was the year when his cousin Devadatta initiated a schism in the ranks of the Sangha, then instigated a palace coup in the city of Rajagriha, the capital of the kingdom of Magadha, and finally made four attempts to assassinate the Buddha. These events were a great test of the Buddha’s wisdom, compassion, patience, equanimity, and ability to skillfully lead the Sangha in the face of external and internal threats to its survival and integrity.

 

It should be noted that doubts have been cast on the veracity of the legend of Devadatta as told in the canonical literature and commentaries of the various schools of Buddhism. Reginald Ray, basing himself on the work of earlier scholars, sums up the various accounts in his book Buddhist Saints in India: A Study of Buddhist Values & Orientation (see pp. 162-173). According to Reginald Ray, it is possible that Devadatta was no relation nor even a contemporary of the Buddha, but may have been a strict proponent of the life of the forest renunciant who opposed the softer life of monastic Buddhism over a century after the Buddha’s passing. This Devadatta apparently created a Sangha that considered itself a separate and purer stream of Buddhism than the Sangha founded by Shakyamuni Buddha. Devadatta’s rival order still existed in India as late as the seventh century C.E. according to the testimony of the Chinese monk Hsuan-tsang (602-664). This would mean that the monks of the mainstream schools of Indian Buddhism such as the Theravada and Sarvastivada might have created the legend of Devadatta in order to vilify the founder of this rival Sangha. From here on, however, I will simply present my synthesis of the traditional accounts. 

 

Devadatta was a cousin of the Buddha. According to the Pali accounts he was the brother of Yashodhara. Sanksrit legends, however, claim that he was actually Ananda’s older brother and that he grew up in the palace with Siddhartha, the young bodhisattva. These stories portray Devadatta as jealous and cruel. In one story he shoots down a swan that falls to earth near Siddhartha. Siddhartha takes out the arrow and nurses it back to health, but Devadatta insists that the swan belongs to him because he shot it. The two boys then went to the king’s court where the counselors argued over the merits of each case. In the end, a wise man declared that the swan should belong to one who saved its life rather than the one who tried to take it away. In another incident, Devadatta killed a white elephant that was going to be presented to Siddhartha as a gift. He was also said to have competed for Yashodhara’s hand in marriage, but again lost to his cousin Siddhartha. Another legend claims that, after Siddhartha had renounced the home life in order to live as an ascetic, Devadatta tried to seduce Yashodhara, but was rebuffed.

 

Devadatta joined the Sangha along with Aniruddha, Bhaddiya, Ananda, Bhagu, Kimbila, and their barber Upali back when the Buddha had first returned to Kapilavastu. At that time he had been talked into leaving the home life and becoming a monk because the former king, Bhaddiya, and the other Shakyas wanted to make sure that Devadatta would not become the ruler by default when the other heirs to the throne had become monks. Soon after becoming a monk, Devadatta attained the five types of supernatural powers that can be developed through meditation. These five were: supernatural mastery of the body, the divine ear (clairaudience), mind reading, past life recall, and the divine eye (clairvoyance). For a long time, Devadatta was a respected member of the Sangha. Unfortunately, his jealousy and envy prevented him from attaining any genuine insight or liberation, and his supernatural powers only increased his arrogance.

 

 At some point, Devadatta used his supernatural powers to gain the patronage of Prince Ajatashatru, the son of King Bimbisara and Queen Vaidehi.

 

The occasion was this. Once when Devadatta was alone in retreat this thought arose in his mind: “Who is there whose confidence I can win over and thereby acquire much gain, honor and renown?” Then he thought: “There is Prince Ajatashatru. He is young with a glorious future. Suppose I win over his confidence? Much gain, honor, and renown will accrue to me if I do so.”

 

So, Devadatta packed his bed away, and he took his bowl and outer robe and set out for Rajagriha, where he at length arrived. There he discarded his own form and assumed the form of a youth with a girdle of snakes, and in that guise he appeared on Prince Ajatashatru’s lap. Then Prince Ajatashatru was fearful, anxious, suspicious and worried. Devadatta asked: “Are you afraid of me, prince?”

 

“Yes, I am afraid. Who are you?”

 

“I am Devadatta.”

 

“If you are Devadatta, Lord, then please show yourself in your own form.”

 

“Devadatta discarded the form of the youth and stood before Prince Ajatashatru, wearing his patched outer cloak, bowl and robes. Then Prince Ajatashatru felt prodigious confidence in Devadatta owing to his supernormal powers. After that he waited on him evening and morning with five hundred carriages and five hundred offerings of milk-rice as a gift of food. Devadatta became overwhelmed with gain, honor, and renown. Ambition obsessed his mind, and the wish arose in him: “I will rule the Sangha of monks.” Simultaneously with the thought his supernormal powers vanished. (Adapted from Life of the Buddha, p. 257)

 

This part of the story seems to be a dramatization of the reason why Buddhism views supernatural powers with disdain. The Buddha expressed his feelings about the use of supernatural powers in several discourses. Once, a householder named Kevaddha made the following suggestion to the Buddha:

 

“Lord, this Nalanda is rich, prosperous, populous, and full of people who have faith in the Lord. It would be well if the Lord were to cause some monk to perform superhuman feats and miracles. In this way Nalanda would come to have even more faith in the Lord.”

 

The Lord replied: “Kevaddha, this is not the way I teach Dharma to the monks, by saying: ‘Go, monks, and perform superhuman feats and miracles for the white-clothed laypeople!” (Adapted, Long Discourses of the Buddha, p. 175)

 

The Buddha points out that even if a monk were to resort to such things, skeptics would not only continue to disbelieve in the monks, but would then accuse them of trickery and fraud. The whole effort could very well backfire. The Buddha said, “And that is why, Kevaddha, seeing the danger of such miracles, I dislike, reject and despise them.” (Ibid, p. 176) He then pointed out that the true miracle is the miracle of instruction that leads to liberation. On another occasion a monk named Sunakkhatta threatened to leave the Sangha because the Buddha had not performed any miracles. The Buddha responded:

 

“What do you think, Sunnakkhatta? Whether miracles are performed or not – is it the purpose of my teaching Dharma to lead whoever practices it to the total destruction of suffering?” “It is, Lord.” “So, Sunakkhatta, whether miracles are performed or not, the purpose of my teaching Dharma is to lead whoever practices it to the total destruction of suffering. Then what purpose would the performance of miracles serve? Consider, you foolish man, how far the fault is yours.” (Ibid, p. 372)

 

Miracles and supernatural powers not only miss the point of Buddha Dharma, but are actually misleading and can even discredit the Buddha Dharma by associating it with the irrational and charlatanism. In the case of Devadatta, his ambition and arrogance only increased though his supernatural powers deserted him. And why did his powers desert him? Buddhism teaches that when one practices meditation and attains the states of concentration known as the dhyanas, one can then go on to develop the four roads to spiritual power: zeal, energy, purity of mind, and investigation. Devadatta, however, became complacent and hungry for worldly power, and this caused him to lose those very qualities that had enabled him to develop the powers that so impressed Prince Ajatashatru in the first place.

 

Devadatta’s growing ambition did not go unnoticed. “A little bird told me,” is the idiomatic expression used by some people today. In the Buddha’s time, it was often a deva, or heavenly spirit, that would report things to the Buddha or his disciples. In this case, the deva was Kakudha, a former attendant of Maudgalyayana. The spirit informed Maudgalyayana about Devadatta’s ambition to rule the Sangha and the subsequent disappearance of his supernatural powers. Maudgalyayana then told the Buddha. The Buddha then questioned Maudgalyayana as to the reliability of this information. Maugalyayana vouched for Kakudha as a reliable source. The Buddha’s response was that Devadatta would only end up betraying himself. Then, apparently in reference to Devadatta and those monks who looked up to Devadatta as a teacher the Buddha spoke of those teachers who were not pure or otherwise competent in terms of morality, livelihood, the teaching of Dharma, exposition, and the knowledge and vision of emancipation from suffering but who nevertheless pretended to be and whose disciples would cover up for them. Unlike these, the Buddha asserted that he had no need to pretend and that his disciples therefore had no need to cover up any deficiencies on his part. The implication being that such would not be the situation with Devadatta.

 

Other monks, however, were not as perceptive as Maudgalyayana. Some were very impressed by Devadatta’s success and growing prestige. Others were perhaps jealous or even resentful of him. The Buddha made it clear to them that Devadatta was sowing the seeds of his own destruction, both in a spiritual and even in a worldly sense.

 

After the Blessed One had stayed at Kosambi as long as he chose, he set out to wander by stages to Rajagriha, where he arrived in due course. He went to live in the Bamboo Grove, the Squirrel’s Sanctuary. Then a number of monks went to him and told him: “Lord, Prince Ajatashatru goes to wait on Devadatta each morning with five hundred carriages and five hundred offerings of milk-rice as a gift of food.”

 

“Monks, do not begrudge Devadatta his gain, honor and renown. Just as, if one were to break a gall bladder under a fierce dog’s nose, the dog would get much fiercer, so too, as long as Prince Ajatashatru keeps waiting on Devadatta as he is doing, so long may wholesome states be expected to diminish and not increase in Devadatta. Just as a plantain bears its fruit for its own destruction and its own undoing, so too, Devadatta’s gain, honor and renown have arisen for his self-destruction and his own undoing.” (Adapted from Life of the Buddha, p. 258)

 

Denunciation of Devadatta

 

Devadatta basked in the prestige that he had gained through the patronage of Prince Ajatashatru. In time, he came to believe that he would be a worthy successor of Shakyamuni Buddha. On one occasion he boldly offered to lead the Sangha so that the Buddha could retire. This offer was refused in no uncertain terms:

 

The occasion was this. The Blessed One was seated teaching the Dharma and surrounded by a huge gathering, including the king. Then Devadatta got up from his seat, and arranging his upper robe on one shoulder, he raised his hands palms together towards the Blessed One: “Lord, the Blessed One is now old, aged, burdened with years, advanced in life and come to the last stage. Let the Blessed One now rest. Let him dwell in bliss in the present life. Let him hand over the Sangha of monks to me. I will govern the Sangha of monks.”

 

“Enough, Devadatta. Do not aspire to govern the Sangha of monks.”

 

A second time Devadatta made the same proposal and received the same answer. When he made the proposal for the third time, the Blessed One said, “I would not hand over the Sangha of monks even to Shariputra and Maudgalyayana. How should I do so to such a wastrel, a clot of spittle, as you?”

 

Then Devadatta thought: “Before the public, including the king, the Blessed One has disgraced me with the words ‘clot of spittle’ and praised Shariputra and Maudgalyayana.” He was angry and indignant. He paid homage to the Blessed One and departed, keeping him on his right. Now this was his first grudge against the Blessed One.” (Ibid, p. 258)

 

This strong condemnation and even insult coming from the Buddha is quite shocking. One can easily understand why Devadatta might bear a grudge after being publicly insulted in front of the Sangha and even King Bimbisara. Even if one takes the position that this incident is a story that arose after the death of the Buddha in order to vilify the schismatic Devadatta and his followers, it still seems to be so far out of character that one wonders how anyone could have attributed such words to the Buddha. And yet, there is a discourse in which the Buddha’s rivals used this and later condemnations of Devadatta against him. Prince Abhaya, another son of King Bimbisara though not an heir, was a follower of Nirgrantha Jnatiputra, the founder of the Jains. According to the Abhayarajakumara Sutta, Nirgrantha Jnatiputra made the following request to Prince Abhaya:

 

“Come Prince, go to the recluse Gautama and say: ‘Venerable sir, would the Tathagata utter speech that would be unwelcome and disagreeable to others?’ If the recluse Gautama, on being asked thus, answers: ‘The Tathagata, prince, would utter speech that would be unwelcome and disagreeable to others,’ then say to him: ‘Then, venerable sir, what is the difference between you and an ordinary person? For an ordinary person would utter speech that would be unwelcome and disagreeable to others.’ But if the recluse Gautama, on being asked thus, answers: ‘The Tathagata, prince, would not utter speech that would be unwelcome and disagreeable to others,’ then say to him: ‘Then, venerable sir, why have you declared of Devadatta: “Devadatta is destined for the states of deprivation, Devadatta is destined for hell, Devadatta will remain [in hell] for the eon, Devadatta is incorrigible”? Devadatta was angry and dissatisfied with that speech of yours.’ When the recluse Gautama is posed this two-horned question by you, he will not be able either to gulp it down or to throw it up. If an iron spike were stuck in a man’s throat, he would not be able either to gulp it down or to throw it up; so too prince, when the recluse Gautama is posed this two-horned question by you, he will not be able to gulp it down or to throw it up.” (Middle Length Discourses, pp. 498-499)

 

It is evident that Nirgrantha Jnatiputra is not being portrayed here as a compassionate or even dispassionate observer of events. Nor is his inquiry sincere. In order to attack and belittle the Buddha, he spitefully looked for a weak point to exploit. Again, this is perhaps not an accurate portrayal of the founder of the Jains, but is may be a depiction of the kind of rancorous debates that may have taken place between Buddhists and Jains. In any case, the Buddha easily overcomes both horns of the dilemma and in the course of doing so also provides an explanation for why he spoke so harshly in regard to Devadatta. Prince Abhaya visits the Buddha and asks:

 

“Venerable sir, would a Tathagata utter such speech as would be unwelcome and disagreeable to others?”

 

“There is no one-sided answer to that, prince.”

 

“Then, venerable sir, the Nirgranthas have lost in this.”

 

“Why do you say this, prince: ‘Then, venerable sir, the Nirgranthas have lost in this’?”

 

Prince Abhaya then reported to the Blessed One his entire conversation with Nirgrantha Jnatiputra.

 

Now on that occasion a young tender infant was lying prone on Prince Abhaya’s lap. Then the Blessed One said to Prince Abhaya: “What do you think, prince? If, while you or your nurse were not attending to him, this child were to put a stick or pebble in his mouth, what would you do to him?”

 

“Venerable sir, I would take it out. If I could not take it out at once, I would take his head in my left hand, and crooking a finger of my right hand, I would take it out even if it meant drawing blood. Why is that? Because I have compassion for the child.”

 

“So too, prince, such speech as the Tathagata knows to be untrue, incorrect, and unbeneficial, and which is also unwelcome and disagreeable to others: such speech the Tathagata does not utter. Such speech as the Tathagata knows to be true and correct but unbeneficial, and which is also unwelcome and disagreeable to others: such speech the Tathagata does not utter. Such speech as the Tathagata knows to be true, correct, and beneficial, but which is unwelcome and disagreeable to others: the Tathagata knows the time to use such speech. Such speech as the Tathagata knows to be untrue, incorrect, and unbeneficial, but which is welcome and agreeable to others: such speech the Tathagata does not utter. Such speech as the Tathagata knows to be true and correct but unbeneficial, and which is welcome and agreeable to others: such speech the Tathagata does not utter. Such speech as the Tathagata knows to be true, correct, and beneficial, and which is welcome and agreeable to others: the Tathagata knows the time to use such speech. Why is that? Because the Tathagata has compassion for beings.” (Ibid, pp. 499-500)

 

In other words, the Buddha only speaks what is true, correct, and beneficial; and whether or not it is welcome and agreeable or unwelcome and disagreeable he will only speak such things in the right time and place motivated solely by compassion. In the case of Devadatta, he was certain based upon his knowledge of Devadatta’s character and activities and the law of cause and effect that Devadatta was heading for a fall. In some versions or translations of this event, the Buddha actually calls Devadatta a “lick-spittle” with the implication that Devadatta’s reliance on the patronage of Prince Ajatashatru is comparable to licking the spit of others. In other words, his reliance on Prince Ajatashatru seems good, but is actually a degrading dependence that is leading him further and further away from the true good of liberation. Furthermore, he had to make it clear to the Sangha and to King Bimbisara that Devadatta did not have his approval nor was he to be looked upon as qualified to lead the Sangha. In fact, once Devadatta left the assembly the Buddha made a further announcement:

 

The Blessed One addressed the monk: “Now, monks, let the Sangha carry out an act of pubic denunciation in Rajagriha against Devadatta thus: ‘Formerly Devadatta had one nature; now he has another. Whatever Devadatta may do by body or speech neither the Blessed One nor the Dharma nor the Sangha should be held as having a part in it: only Devadatta himself is to be held responsible for it.’”

 

Then the Blessed One addressed the venerable Shariputra: “Now Shariputra, you must denounce Devadatta in Rajagriha.”

 

“Lord, hitherto, I have spoken in Devadatta’s favor thus: ‘The son of Godhi is mighty and powerful.’ How can I denounce him in Rajagriha?”

 

“Were you not speaking the truth in praising Devadatta thus?”

 

“Yes, Lord.”

 

“Then likewise speaking truth you must denounce him in Rajagriha.”

 

“Even so, Lord,” the venerable Shariputra replied.

 

When the venerable Shariputra had been formally authorized by the Sangha, he went into Rajagriha accompanied by a number of monks and denounced Devadatta. Then people without faith and confidence, unwise and indiscreet, said: “These monks, sons of the Shakyans, are jealous of Devadatta’s gain, honor and renown.” But the faithful and confident, the wise and discreet, said: “This can be no ordinary matter for the Blessed One to have had Devadatta denounced in Rajagriha.” (Adapted from Life of the Buddha, p. 259)

 

Later events would prove this further denunciation in Rajagriha to be a wise move. Note that Devadatta was neither banished nor excommunicated, as he had not broken any of the precepts at this point. Nevertheless, the Buddha judged that it should be made clear from then on that Devadatta was acting on his own. In having this done, the Buddha made it clear to all that the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha should not be held accountable for anything Devadatta might do. This action was especially painful for Shariputra and perhaps some others who had formerly held Devadatta in esteem and did not want to denounce a fellow monk. It was also personally embarrassing as it made it seem as if those who had formerly praised him were being two-faced, and that perhaps they were themselves motivated by jealousy. Nevertheless, this was an occasion in which the painful truth needed to be stated plainly for the sake of everyone involved. As it turned out, there were those who interpreted the denunciation in a cynical manner, believing that it was a case of internal squabbling and jealousy within the Sangha. On the other hand, there were those who looked into the matter more deeply and realized that the denunciation was not something the Buddha had done lightly.

 

The Schism of Devadatta

 

Devadatta had not given up on his ambition to take over the Sangha. Now that he had been insulted and publicly denounced, he schemed to find a way to lure the monks away from the Buddha and create a rival Sangha. He proposed the following plan to his supporters:

 

“Come, friends, let us create a schism and a breach of concord in the monk Gautama’s Sangha” Kokalika said: “The monk Gautama is mighty and powerful, friend. How can we do that?”

 

“Come, friends, we can go to the monk Gautama and demand five points of him: ‘Lord, the Blessed One has in many ways commended one of few wishes, who is contented, devoted to effacement, scrupulous and amiable, given to diminution (of attachment), and energetic. Now here are five points that conduce to those states. (1) Lord, it would be good if monks were forest dwellers for life and any who went to live in a village were censured; (2) if they were eaters of begged-for-almsfood for life and any who accepted an invitation were censured; (3) if they were refuse-rag wearers for life and any who wore a robe were censured; (4) if they were tree-root dwellers for life and any who dwelt in buildings were censured; (5) if they were not to eat fish or meat for life and any who did were censured.’ The monk Gautama will never grant them. So we can inform the people about these five points. It will be possible with these five points to create a schism and a breach of concord in the monk Gautama’s Sangha; for people admire self-denial.” (Ibid, p. 265)

 

This was pure hypocrisy on the part of Devadatta, for he had previously shown no inclination to asceticism but had in fact been living on the lavish offerings of Prince Ajatashatru. Devadatta and his followers would also have themselves invited as a group for meals in the homes of various householders. They would even inform their hosts beforehand of what they would like to eat. Having to host such large and particular groups of monks became quite a hardship for many families and they began to complain. When the Buddha heard about this he set forth the following rule:

 

“Now, monks, I shall allow monks to eat among families in groups of not more than three. This is for three reasons: for the restraint of wrong-minded persons and for the comfort of reasonable persons, in order that those of evil wishes may not form a faction and cause schism in the Sangha, and out of compassion for families. But eating in groups should be treated according to the procedure already laid down.” (Ibid, p. 265)

 

These stories show that Devadatta was no sincere ascetic, but he was certainly prepared to use asceticism as a pretext for winning adherents and admirers. So it was that Devadatta and his supporters went to the Buddha and proposed the adoption of his five points. Just as Devadatta had predicted, the Buddha refused.

 

“Enough, Devadatta. Let him who wishes be a forest dweller; let him who wishes dwell in a village. Let him who wishes be an eater of begged-for-almsfood; let him who wishes accept invitations. Let him who wishes be a refuse-rag wearer; let him who wishes wear a robe given by householders. Living at the root of a tree is allowed by me for eight months of the year, but not during the rains. I have allowed fish and meat that is pure in the three aspects – when it is not seen or heard or suspected to have been killed for one personally.” (Ibid, p. 266)

 

The Buddha responded here from the perspective of the Middle Way between self-indulgence and self-denial. The Buddha did allow for the ascetic practices known as the dhuta. The dhuta were various austerities that some monastics could voluntarily take up for a time or even as a permanent way of life in order to cultivate contentment, modesty, humility, simplicity and other virtues. According to the Path of Purification (Visuddhi Magga) of Buddhaghosa the dhuta that could be taken up are:

 

1. The practice of only wearing robes made of rags from discarded cloth.

2. The practice of keeping no more than the triple robe: the upper, lower, and outer robes.

3. The practice of eating only food begged for on alms rounds as opposed to accepting invitations to eat at a home.

4. The practice of begging door to door on alms rounds without discriminating between the homes of rich and poor.

5. The practice of eating only once a day.

6. The practice of eating only one bowl of food a day.

7. The practice of refusing any food offered later in the morning.

8. The practice of dwelling only in the forest instead of in the monasteries except during the rainy season.

9. The practice of dwelling only at the foot of a tree except during the rainy season.

10. The practice of dwelling only out in the open except during the rainy season.

11. The practice of dwelling in a charnel ground except during the rainy season.

12. The practice of accepting whatever bed in the monastery is assigned.

13. The practice of sitting instead of lying down when resting.

 

It can be seen from this list that not all of the dhuta could be followed at once, since some of them necessarily implied or excluded the others. Several of them could not be followed during the rainy season retreat. Some of them were not allowable to the nuns. The important thing to note is that in sub-tropical India, none of these ascetic practices would have been injurious or life threatening. The dhuta were a form of pure and simple living that were in line with the ideal of Indian asceticism but at the same time they followed the Buddha’s Middle Way between the extremes of indulgence and excessive mortification. Those who could follow them were admired, but none of them were mandatory practices nor did the Buddha teach that they were necessary for attaining liberation.

 

Devadatta was pleased that things were unfolding according to his plan. The impressionable young monks and those lay followers who admired stringent asceticism quickly rallied to his cause.

 

Devadatta was happy and elated then: “The Blessed One does not grant these five points.” He got up together with his adherents, and after paying homage to the Blessed One, he departed, keeping him to his right.

 

He went into Rajagriha and proceeded to inform people about the five points thus: “Friends, we have been to the monk Gautama and demanded these five points of him…” and he told them the five points concluding: “The Blessed One does not grant these five points. But we undertake to live by them.”

 

Then unwise people lacking faith said: “These monks, sons of the Shakyans, are scrupulous in effacement; but the monk Gautama lives in luxury, thinking of luxury.” But the wise and faithful were annoyed, and they murmured and protested: “How can Devadatta aim at creating a schism and a breach of concord in the Sangha?”

 

Monks heard them disapproving. Those monks who had few wants disapproved likewise, and they told the Blessed One. He asked Devadatta: “Devadatta, is it true, as it seems, that you are aiming at creating a schism and a breach of concord in the Sangha?”

 

“It is true, Lord.”

 

“Enough Devadatta. Do not try to create a schism and a breach of concord in the Sangha. He who breaks the Sangha’s concord reaps misery lasting the rest of the age; he ripens out in hell for the rest of the age. But he who reunites the Sangha already split reaps the highest reward of merit and enjoys heaven for the rest of the age. Enough, Devadatta, do not try to create a schism in the Sangha: a schism in the Sangha is a grave thing.” (Ibid, pp. 266-267)

 

In this case, the creation of a schism was not a matter of an honest disagreement over precepts or even doctrine. In fact, in this case, it was not even a matter of two factions with different ideas about how best to follow the Buddha’s practice and teaching. Rather, Devadatta was actively trying to turn people away from the Buddha’s teaching and practice on the grounds that his own teaching and practice were superior.  It was this type of schism, founded on presumption and hypocrisy, the Buddha was warning Devadatta against. The Buddha even declared that such an act would bring about a hellish state of existence, whereas healing such a schism could bring about a heavenly state of existence. Nothing, however, could dissuade Devadatta and he carried through on his plan and persuaded 500 monks to join him in establishing a rival Sangha under his direction at Mount Gayashirsha.

 

Devadatta had now passed a karmic point of no return by initiating a schism, one of the five grave offences. The five grave offenses consist of killing one’s father, killing one’s mother, killing an arhat, causing the Buddha to bleed, and causing a schism in the Sangha. According to Buddhism, anyone who commits one of the five grave offenses will be immediately reborn in the Avichi Hell (the Hell of Incessant Suffering) after death without any chance of reprieve. These crimes are not just acts of violence, but a rejection of the very basis of morality and liberation from suffering. Those who would commit such grave offences were considered to be one of the icchantika, people of incorrigible disbelief who are wholly unrestrained and given over to the three poisons of greed, anger, and ignorance. In some Mahayana teachings, this was considered to be a class of beings who were incapable of attaining enlightenment, perhaps even altogether devoid of buddha-nature.

 

Reconciliation of the Schismatic Monks

 

The 500 monks who had left for Mount Gayashirsha to join Devadatta were all recently ordained. They had not yet had a chance to fully hear and reflect on the Buddha’s actual teachings for themselves so they took Devadatta’s derivative and self-serving teachings as the genuine article. They apparently were also lacking in discernment and self-confidence, qualities that would have enabled them to question what they were being told and to seek out alternative points of view in order to have a sold basis for comparison. The Buddha and his disciples were aware of this and out of compassion decided to do what they could to enable Devadatta’s followers to make a more informed choice.

 

Shariputra and Maudgalyayana went to the Blessed One. They told him: “Lord, Devadatta has created a schism in the Sangha and has set out for Gayashirsha with five hundred monks.”

 

“Do you not both feel pity for those new monks, Shariputra? Go, before they come to ruin.”

 

“Even so, Lord,” they replied. And they left for Gayashirsha. After they had gone, a monk stood not far from the Blessed One, weeping. The Blessed One asked him: “Why are you weeping, monk?”

 

“Lord, when the Blessed One’s chief disciples, Shariputra and Maudgalyayana, have gone to Devadatta, they will go over to his teaching too.”

 

“It is impossible, monk, it cannot happen, that Shariputra and Maudgalyayana should go over to Devadatta’s teaching. On the contrary, they will convert the monks who have gone over.”

 

Devadatta was sitting teaching the Dharma surrounded by a large assembly. He saw the venerable Shariputra and the venerable Maugalyayana coming in the distance. He told the monk: “See, monks, the Dharma is well proclaimed by me. Even the monk Gautama’s chief disciples, Shariputra and Maudgalyayana, come to me and come over to my teaching.”

 

When this was said, Kokalika warned Devadatta: “Friend Devadatta, do not trust them. They are in the grip of evil wishes.”

 

“Enough, friend; they are welcome since they have come over to my teaching.” (Ibid, p. 268)

 

The Buddha’s way of handling the schism is very instructive. He did not mount a public campaign against Devadatta or his followers or label them as evil or condemned to hell (though admittedly he did warn Devadatta of this before the schism took place), he did not appeal to King Bimbisara to have them forcefully suppressed, he did not request that the laity refuse alms to them, he did not send his followers over to harangue or physically harass Devadatta or his followers, he did not resort to any kind of physical or psychological violence or coercion the way many religious leaders even today feel justified in doing to those who disagree with them. Instead, he simply sent his two best teachers over to the rival group to dialogue with them in a friendly manner about the teachings. Furthermore, the Buddha was confident that those who had a thorough knowledge and personal realization of Buddha Dharma were immune to the wiles of Devadatta and people like him. There was no need to fear for them or to protect them from confusion or bad influences. Instead, the Buddha was confident in his disciples, confident that they were themselves good teachers who could have a good influence on others simply by being themselves and presenting the Dharma in a straightforward, calm, and confident manner.

 

Devadatta and Kokalika, on the other hand, demonstrate the qualities of arrogance on the one hand and a defensive paranoia on the other. Neither of them is concerned with the Dharma itself. Devadatta is convinced that he has won over even the Buddha’s chief disciples. He does not even question them as to their reason for coming but triumphantly assumes that they have come to support him. Kokalika is a little wiser, but he assumes that Shariputra and Maugalyayana have come to undermine their movement for the sake of sectarian rivalry. He cannot imagine that their real motivation is to share the Buddha Dharma with those who have not yet heard it clearly, and then to allow those who hear it to make up their own minds. Devadatta and Kokalika were not concerned with teaching the genuine Dharma so much as they were concerned with building up their own movement and jealously guarding their own following. Their concern was primarily with what will serve or threaten their own personal following. Their personal ambition blinded them to the true purpose of the Sangha. The Sangha was not intended to be a personality cult centered on the Buddha. The Sangha was meant to facilitate the sharing of the Dharma, so that each member could realize it for him or herself with the support and encouragement of their fellow practitioners.

 

Devadatta then offered the venerable Shariputra one half of his seat: “Come, friend Shariputra, sit here.” 

 

“Enough, friend,” the venerable Shariputra replied, and taking a seat, he sat down at one side. The venerable Maudgalyayana did likewise. Now when Devadatta had instructed, urged, roused and encouraged the monks with talk on the Dharma for much of the night, he said to the venerable Shariputra: “Friend Shariputra, the Sangha of monks is still free from fatigue and drowsiness. Perhaps a talk on the Dharma may occur to you. My back is paining me, so I will rest it.”

 

“Even so, friend,” the venerable Shariputra replied. Then Devadatta laid out his cloak of patches folded in four, and he lay down on his right side in the lion’s sleeping pose, one foot overlapping the other. But he was tired, and he dropped off to sleep for a while, forgetful and not fully aware. (Ibid, pp. 268-269)

 

By asking Shariputra to teach while he himself took a rest, Devadatta was imitating the Buddha who had done the same in his later years. Unlike the Buddha, Devadatta falls asleep “forgetful and not fully aware” whereas when the Buddha takes the lion’s sleeping pose it is said that he rested “mindful and fully aware.” This is Devadatta’s undoing. While he sleeps, Shariputra takes the opportunity to teach the Dharma as he has learned it from the Buddha.

 

Then the venerable Shariputra advised and admonished the monks with talk on the Dharma using the marvel of reading minds, and the venerable Maudgalyayana advised and admonished them with talk on the Dharma using the marvel of supernormal power, till the spotless, immaculate vision of the Dharma arose in them: All that is subject to arising is subject to cessation.

 

Thereupon the venerable Shariputra addressed the monks: “Monks, we are going back to the Blessed One. Whoever upholds the Blessed One’s Dharma let him come with us.” And so the venerable Shariputra and the venerable Maudgalyayana took the five hundred monks with them back to the Bamboo Grove. (Ibid, p. 269)

 

Unlike Devadatta, Shariputra and Maudgalyayana fully understood the Dharma and attained personal realization and liberation. Based on their personal experience they were able to convey that realization to the monks so that they were able to get a real sense of it as well. If one does not care to take literally the references to “mind reading” and “supernormal powers,” it might be imagined that Shariputra had an intuitive sense of the feelings, thoughts, and aspirations of the monks, while Maudgalyayana was able to appeal to their hearts and imaginations through appropriate metaphors and similes. 

 

In having a “vision of the Dharma” the monks who heard the teaching of Shariputra and Maudgalyayana became stream-enterers. They were now truly on the path of the Dharma. There is no indication that the Dharma talk that Shariputra and Maudgalyayana gave had anything to do with which Sangha to be part of. They simply taught the Dharma to those willing to hear it, even those in a rival camp.  Afterwards, they simply informed the monks that they were returning to the Buddha’s Sangha and any who wished could join them. They did not argue, cajole, threaten, or harangue them. In the end, all five hundred returned with them because those five hundred were given the chance to judge for themselves which teaching and practice was genuine. As for Devadatta, his reaction to this turn of events was as follows:

 

Kokalika roused Devadatta: “Friend Devadatta, get up! The monks have been led away by Shariputra and Maudgalyayana! Did I not tell you not to trust them because they have evil wishes and are in the grip of evil wishes?” And then and there hot blood gushed from Devadatta’s mouth. (Ibid, p. 269)

 

Shariputra and Maudgalyayana reported back to the Buddha to discuss the situation with him. Shariputra suggested that the monks be re-ordained, but the Buddha told him that is unnecessary, the monks only needed to confess to a serious transgression. He then took the opportunity to illustrate in what ways Devadatta was bringing about his own downfall by trying to imitate the Buddha when he was not qualified to do so.

 

Then the Blessed One addressed the monks: “Once, monks, there were some elephants living near a big pond in a forest. They would go into the pond and pull up lotus stalks with their trunks; and when they had washed them quite clean, the would chew them up and swallow them free from mud. That was good for both their looks and their health, and they incurred no death or deadly suffering because of that. But some young calves, uninstructed by those elephants, went into the pond and pulled up lotus stalks with their trunks; but instead of washing them quite clean, they chewed them up and swallowed them along with mud. That was not good for either their looks or their health, and they incurred death and deadly suffering because of that. So too, monks, Devadatta will die miserably through imitating me.”

 

“Through aping me he will die wretchedly

Just like the calf that eats the mud as well

When copying the tusker eating lotus,

Watchful in the river, shaking off soil.

(Ibid, pp. 269-270)

 

The Buddha then instructed them regarding eight qualities that a monastic needs in order to be entrusted with the kind of teaching mission that the Buddha had entrusted Shariputra and Maudgalyayana with.

 

“Monks, a monk is fit to go on a mission when he has eight qualities. What are the eight? Here a monk is one who listens, who gets others to listen, who learns, who remembers, who recognizes, who gets others to recognize, who is skilled in the consistent and the inconsistent, and who does not make trouble. A monk is fit to go on a mission when he has these eight qualities. Now Shariputra has these eight qualities; consequently he is fit to go on a mission.”

 

He does not falter when he comes

Before a high assembly;

He does not lose his thread of speech,

Or cover up his message.

Unhesitatingly, he speaks out;

No questioning can ruffle him –

A monk such as this is fit

To go upon a mission.

(Ibid, p. 270)

 

By contrast, the Buddha speaks of first eight and then three evil things that had overcome Devadatta and warns the monks to overcome such things within themselves:

 

“Monks, Devadatta is overcome and his mind is obsessed by eight evil things, for which he will inevitably go to the states of privation, to hell, for the duration of the age. What are the eight? They are gain, lack of gain, fame, lack of fame, honor, lack of honor, evil wishes, and evil friends. Devadatta will go to the states of privation, to hell, for the duration of the age because he is overcome and his mind is obsessed by these eight things.

 

“Monks, it is good to constantly overcome each and all of these eight things as they arise. And with what benefit in view does a monk do so? While taints and fever of defilement might arise in him who did not constantly overcome each and all of these things as they arise, there are no taints and fever of defilement in him who constantly overcomes each and all of these things as they arise. Therefore, monks, train yourselves thus: ‘We shall constantly overcome each and all of these things as they arise.’

 

“Devadatta is overcome and his mind is obsessed by three evil things, for which he will inevitably go to the states of privation, to hell, for the duration of the age. What are the three? They are evil wishes, evil friends, and stopping halfway with the attainment of the mere earthly distinction of supernormal powers.” (Ibid, pp. 270-271)

 

 

Palace Coup

 

After the failure of his attempt to create a schism, Devadatta turned to Prince Ajatashatru in order to further his schemes:

 

Then Devadatta went to Prince Ajatashatru and said to him: “Formerly men were long-lived, now they are short-lived. Maybe you will die while still only a prince, so why do you not kill your father and become king? And I shall kill the Blessed One and become the Buddha.” (Ibid, p. 259)

 

In the account given in the Pali Canon, Prince Ajatashatru needs no more prompting than this. Other accounts portray the prince as, at first, horrified by the suggestion:

 

The prince replied, “The debt of gratitude that I owe to my father and mother is greater than the moon and the sun. I shall never be able to repay their long years of rearing me to adulthood. Why then do you provoke me to commit such a treacherous deed?” Devadatta, however, skillfully wove his words and seduced the prince’s mind; and in the end Ajatashatru agreed to do Devadatta’s bidding. (Buddha-Dharma, p. 550)

 

According to one account, Devadatta pointed to a broken finger that Prince Ajatashatru had since infancy and told the following story:

 

A long time ago, King Bimbisara was anxious to have an heir. Having heard from a soothsayer that a certain hermit living in the mountains would be reborn as his son three years later, the king immediately sent him a messenger asking him to terminate his own life, but the hermit refused to do so. The angry king ordered the messenger to kill him if he still refused to commit suicide. The hermit thus died determined to take revenge.

 

Soon Queen Vaidehi became pregnant. The king rejoiced, but was horrified to hear from the soothsayer that she would bear a boy who would do harm to the king. So he told the queen to give birth to the baby on the roof of the tower and let it drop to the ground. She did as told, but the baby miraculously survived with only damage to his little finger. (Three Pure Land Sutras, p. 7)

 

According to another account, Devadatta explained the true meaning of the name “Ajatashatru,” which is usually taken to mean “One Whose Has No Born Enemy” or could be taken to mean “Unborn Enemy.”

 

The manner of Ajatashatru’s birth was this. When King Bimbisara was already past his middle years, his consort Vaidehi found herself with child. She was addicted with a strange malady that made her thirst for blood from the king’s shoulders, though she did not act on her desire at first. But each day she became increasingly emaciated. The king asked her why this was occurring, and upon learning the cause he squeezed blood from his shoulder and had her drink it. A seer prophesied, “The child that is born will regard his father the king as his enemy.” Because of this dark prophecy, she attempted to abort the fetus a number of times. But the king succeeded in restraining her, and finally she gave birth to a son. Because the sage predicted that even before the child’s birth that the child would become his father’s enemy, he was named Ajatashatru, which meant Unborn Enemy. Devadatta recounted this in detail and succeeded in leading Ajatashatru astray. (Buddha-Dharma, pp. 550-551)

 

These fantastic stories aside, it is more likely that the actual reason Prince Ajatashatru agreed to depose King Bimbisara was because he wished to further his own ambition to make Magadha the greatest of the Indian republics by conquering his neighbors, but his father was content to maintain the fragile peace that existed at that time. Among the rival princes in the royal families of the Indian republics filial piety was not nearly as important as gaining the throne and furthering one’s political ambitions. In any case, Ajatashatru decided to act on Devadatta’s promptings and attempt to kill his father and take the throne:

 

Prince Ajatashatru thought: “The Lord Devadatta is mighty and powerful; he should know.” He fastened a dagger on his thigh, and then in broad day, fearful, anxious, suspicious and worried, he tried to slip into the inner palace. The king’s officers at the entry to the inner palace saw him as he did so, and they arrested him. On searching him, they found the dagger fastened to his thigh. They asked him: “What is it you want to do, prince?”

 

“I want to kill my father.”

 

“Who prompted you to do this?”

 

“The Lord Devadatta.”

 

Some officers were of the opinion that the prince should be killed and Devadatta and all of the monks, too. Others were of the opinion that the monks should not be killed since they had done no wrong, but that the prince and Devadatta should be killed. Still others were of the opinion that neither the prince nor Devadatta nor the monks should be killed, but that the king should be informed and his orders carried out.

 

Then the officers brought Prince Ajatashatru before Seniya Bimbisara, King of Magadha, and they told him what had happened.

 

“What was the officers’ opinion?”

 

They told him.

 

“What have the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha to do with it? Has not Devadatta been denounced in Rajagriha by the Blessed One?”

 

Then he stopped the pay of those officers whose opinion had been that Prince Ajatashatru and Devadatta and the monks should be killed. And he degraded those officers whose opinion had been that the monks, having done no wrong, should not be killed, but that the prince and Devadatta should be killed. And he promoted those officers whose opinion had been that neither the prince nor Devadatta nor the monks should be killed, but that the king should be informed and his orders carried out. Then King Bimbisara asked: “Why do you want to kill me, prince?”

 

“I want the kingdom, sire.”

 

“If you want the kingdom, prince, the kingdom is yours.”

 

He therewith handed the kingdom over to him. (Life of the Buddha, pp. 259-260)

 

This accounting of events seems highly unlikely. The prince’s unforced and straightforward admission of his intent to assassinate his own father to seize the kingdom seems odd, and King Bimbisara’s final decision to just turn over the kingdom to his murderous son seems even more unbelievable. The one thing that doesn’t seem strange is that it would be pointed out that the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha were clear of any involvement in Devadatta’s actions because of his prior public denunciation by the Sangha in Rajagriha. In any case, King Bimbisara was not allowed to retire in peace. Soon after his abdication, Ajatashatru, now king, must have feared that Bimbisara might try to call upon his supporters to regain the throne. Perhaps prompted once again by Devadatta he imprisoned Bimbisara and ordered that he be denied food. Queen Vaidehi, however, found a way to keep him alive, and according to the Sutra of Meditation on the Buddha of Infinite Life the Buddha’s disciples were also able to visit him.

 

The king’s consort, Vaidehi bathed and purified her body. She mixed honey with the flour of roasted barley and smeared it on her body. When she entered the room in which the great king had been imprisoned, she noticed that his face was haggard and his flesh had wasted away. He had become emaciated in a most pitiful way. His consort shed tears and said, “Truly, as expounded by the World Honored One, prosperity is an ephemeral thing; the fruits of our evil deed assault us now.” The great king said, “I have been denied food, and the long starvation is excruciatingly painful, as if several hundred insects were churning away in my stomach. Most of my blood and flesh have wasted away, and I am about to die.” The king nearly lost his consciousness and he sobbed. When his consort offered him the mixture of honey and flour of roasted barley that she had smeared on hr body, the king devoured it.

 

After he finished, with tears in his eyes, he turned toward the place where the Buddha dwelt and prostrating himself said, “As the World-Honored One has proclaimed, the glories of this world are ephemeral and are difficult to preserve; they are like dreams and phantoms.” He then turned toward his consort and said, “When I sat on the throne, the country was vast, clothing and food were plentiful, and there was not one thing that was lacking. Now confined in this jail, I am about to die of starvation. My son has been misled by an evil teacher and he turns his back on the teaching of the World-Honored One. I do not fear death; I only regret not being able to receive the Buddha’s teaching and not being able to discuss the path with such disciples as Shariputra, Maudgalyayana, Maha-Kashyapa and others. Truly, as the World-Honored One teaches, the love of human beings is as flighty as a flock of birds that nest overnight on treetops and then go their separate ways to receive their karmically fixed fortune or misfortune.

 

“The honored Maudgalyayana has destroyed the defilements of the mind and attained supernatural powers, and yet he was struck once by a brahmin who had grown envious of him. It is all the more fitting, then, that I, with my mind filled with defilements, should suffer such grief as this. Misfortune chases after people as closely as a shadow hunting for its body, or like an echo answering its voice. It is hard to meet the Buddha, and it is hard to hear his teaching. Again, it is hard to spread compassion and to govern sentient beings according to the teaching. I shall now end my life and travel to some faraway place. Among those who believe in the teaching of the World-Honored One, there are none who fail to serve it. You, too, my consort, must with reverence guard the teaching; you, too, must put up a barricade against the misfortunes that are sure to come.” The consort listened to the king’s exhortation and burst into tears.

 

The king put his palms together and reverentially turned toward Vulture Peak and bowed to the Buddha. He then said, “Honored Maudgalyayana, my good friend, with compassion please show me the way that must be taken by a layman.”

 

Then Maudgalyayana sped towards the king like a falcon on the wing, and every day he expounded the path of the layman. Moreover, the World-Honored One dispatched Purna and had him expound the Dharma for the king’s sake. In this way, the king, for a period of twenty-one days, at the mixture of roasted barley flour and honey and was able to hear the Dharma. His countenance, therefore, was serene and his complexion was flushed with joy. (Buddha-Dharma, pp. 551-552)

 

Devadatta’s First Attempt to Kill the Buddha

 

Now that his patron Ajatashatru was king, Devadatta approached him to begin the second part of their plan, the assassination of the Buddha so that Devadatta could become the new leader of the Sangha. Once he had been allotted a group of soldiers, Devadatta appointed one of them to go to where the Buddha was staying and kill him. Devadatta, however, was not about to take any chances that anyone would trace back this plot to him, so he set two men on the path the first man would be returning on to kill him. Then he set four men to kill the other two, and then eight men to kill those four, and finally sixteen men to kill the eight. He saw these people as nothing more than tools to be discarded once their mission was accomplished. As the saying goes, “dead men tell no tales.” Devadatta, however, had not taken into account the power of the Buddha’s dignity and compassion.

 

Then the one man took his sword and shield and fixed his bow and quiver, and he went to where the Blessed One was. But as he drew near, he grew frightened, till he stood still, his body quite rigid. The Blessed One saw him thus and said to him: “Come friend, do not be afraid.” Then that man laid aside his sword and shield and put down his bow and quiver. He went up to the Blessed One and prostrated himself at his feet, saying: “Lord, I have transgressed, I have done wrong like a fool confused and blundering, since I came here with evil intent, with intent to do murder. Lord, may the Blessed One forgive my transgression as such for restraint in the future.”

 

“Surely, friend, you have transgressed, you have done wrong like a fool confused and blundering, since you came here with evil intent, with intent to do murder. But since you see your transgression as such and so act in accordance with the Dharma, we forgive it; for it is growth in the Noble One’s Discipline when a man sees a transgression as such and so acts in accordance with the Dharma and enters upon restraint for the future.” (Life of the Buddha, pp. 260-261)

 

In this instance, the unnamed assassin was overcome by the great spiritual dignity of his mark, and could not go through with Devadatta’s instruction. In being invited to approach the Buddha he made a confession, which the Buddha accepted. Here the Buddha affirmed that, as we might say, “confession is good for the soul.” Specifically, the Buddha affirmed that to recognize when one is in error and to rectify that error and resolve to act differently in the future is to be in accord with the Dharma. Even those who have not formally taken any of the precepts can do this, it is a universal human act to be able to recognize one’s faults and change one’s ways. Beyond simply forgiving him and sending him on his way, the Buddha then took the opportunity to teach the Dharma, using the same “progressive instruction” that he had begun using in the early years of his ministry with householders who were hearing the Dharma for the first time:

 

Then the Blessed One gave the man progressive instruction, that is to say, talk on giving, on virtue, on the heavens; he explained the dangers, the vanity and the defilement in sensual pleasures and the blessings in renunciation. When he saw that his mind was ready, receptive, free from hindrance, eager and trustful, he expounded to him the teaching peculiar to the Buddhas: suffering, its origin, its cessation, and the path to its cessation. Just as a clean cloth with all marks removed would take the dye evenly, eventually the spotless, immaculate vision of the Dharma arose in him: All that is subject to arising is subject to cessation. Then he saw and reached and found and penetrated the Dharma; he left uncertainty behind him, his doubts vanished, he gained perfect confidence and became independent of others in the Teacher’s Dispensation.

 

He said, “Magnificent, Lord, magnificent, Lord! The Dharma has been made clear in many ways by the Blessed One, as though he were righting the overthrown, revealing the hidden, showing the way to one who is lost, holding up a lamp in the dark for those with eyes to see visible forms. I go to the Blessed One for refuge and to the Dharma and to the Sangha of monks. Beginning from today, Lord, let the Blessed One receive me as his follower who has gone to him for refuge as long as breath lasts.”

 

The Blessed One told him: “Friend do not go back by that path; go by this path.” And he dismissed him by the other path. (Compiled and adapted from Life of the Buddha, p. 49 and p. 261)

 

The Buddha’s patience and magnanimity was such that he not only forgave his would-be killer but also taught him the Dharma as though he had actually sought the Buddha out for that purpose. The Buddha taught him the basis of sound spiritual health in terms of generosity, virtue, and aspiration for a heavenly way of life that could lead to a heavenly rebirth. He then taught him the value of being detached and to cut off longing for the impermanent things of this world. The teaching culminated in the teaching of the four noble truths whereupon the would-be assassin became established in the state of stream-enterer, thereby escaping the lower paths of rebirth in the hells, or as a hungry ghost or animal. The Buddha then literally sends him down a different path, thereby saving the man’s life from those who were lying in wait to kill the killer.

 

After awhile, the ambushers began to wonder when their victim would be coming along. Curious, they went up the path until they also encountered the Buddha. They had not themselves been told to harm the Buddha and so they paid homage and sat down. They also received the Buddha’s instruction, and as the man before them, became stream-enterers, took refuge in the Three Treasures of Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha, and were finally sent on their way down a different path. The same thing happened to the other groups that Devadatta had set up along the path.

 

In the traditional story, the now converted assassin reports back to Devadatta and tells him that he could not go through with killing the Buddha, as he is too mighty and powerful.

 

Devadatta’s Second Attempt to Kill the Buddha

 

After the failure of his assassins, Devadatta resolved to kill the Buddha himself. The following story recounts his attempt to do so.

 

At that time the Blessed One was walking up and down in the shade of Vulture Peak. Then Devadatta climbed Vulture Peak, and he hurled down a huge stone, thinking: “I shall take the monk Gautama’s life with this.”

 

Two spurs of the rock came together and caught the stone: but a splinter from it drew the blood on the Blessed One’s foot. Then he looked up and said to Devadatta: “Misguided man, you have made much demerit; for with evil intent, with intent to do murder, you have drawn the blood of a Perfect One.”

 

Then the Blessed One addressed the monks thus: “Monks, this is the first deed with immediate effect on rebirth that Devadatta has stored up, in that with evil intent to do murder, he has drawn the blood of a Perfect One.” (Ibid, pp. 261-262)

 

By injuring the Buddha, Devadatta had committed another one of the five grave offences, further confirming his status as an icchantika. The injury was no mere cut. It was severe enough that it left the Buddha bedridden for a time. On that occasion, Mara, the devil king of the sixth heaven, took the opportunity to visit the Buddha once again:

 

Now at that time, when the Blessed One’s foot had been hurt by the splinter, he suffered severe bodily feelings that were painful, sharp, racking, harsh, disagreeable and unpleasant. Mindful and fully aware, he bore them without vexation, and spreading out his cloak of patches folded in four, he lay down on his right side in the lion’s sleeping pose with one foot overlapping the other, mindful and fully aware.

 

Then Mare the Evil One came to him and addressed him in stanzas:

 

“What, are you stupefied, that you lie down?

Or else entranced by some poetic flight?

Are there not many aims you still must serve?

Why do you dream away intent on sleep

Alone in your secluded dwelling?”

 

“I am not stupefied that I lie down,

Nor yet entranced by some poetic flight.

My aim is reached, and sorrow left behind.

I sleep out of compassion for all beings

Alone in my secluded dwelling place.”

 

Then Mara understood: “The Blessed One knows me, the Sublime One knows me.�