Lamp-Finger Cause and Condition Sutra (燈指因緣經)

Translated by Kumārajīva, Tripitaka Master of Kucha, Later Qin Dynasty.

If you plant even a small seed of goodness in a supreme field of merit, you will experience happiness among humans and gods, and eventually attain Nirvāṇa. Therefore, a wise person should diligently cultivate good deeds.

What is meant by "a field of merit"? It is the Buddha. The Buddha's body is radiant, like melted gold. He is adorned with merit and wisdom, and possesses perfect, all-seeing eyes that clearly perceive the abilities of all beings. He is a lamp for the darkness of the world, a compassionate guide for the ignorant. He embodies all virtues and is renowned everywhere. The Sage Śākyamuni is the refuge of all. Therefore, both humans and gods who sincerely cultivate merit will never fail to receive their due reward.

Once upon a time, the city of Rajagriha was encircled by five mountains, situated at the very heart of the five Magadha regions. Within this royal city, streets and lanes were neatly aligned, gardens and courtyards were vast and spacious, towers and terraces were magnificent and graceful, halls and chambers were exquisitely adorned with lofty eaves and bright, open spaces, all encircled by railings. There were beautiful groves and ponds, extremely delightful and lovable. The water was clear and pure, warm and cool in perfect harmony, flowing through channels and winding streams that intersected and exchanged with one another. The forest trees were dense and lush, with branches and leaves luxuriantly interwoven; flowers and fruits grew abundantly, their shade covering the sun and moon. When the wind blew through the flowering groves, it gave off a subtle and exquisite fragrance—a sweet, pervasive scent that filled the air on all sides, spreading throughout the entire city of Rajagriha. All those with superior wisdom who practiced the holy life regarded this place as exceptionally magnificent and unique; their hearts were filled with joy and delight, and they came from far away, gathering together within it.

At that time, King Ajatashatru, the ruler of this city, was renowned for his virtuous rule, which influenced people far and wide. He governed the kingdom with righteousness, and many practiced good deeds. The land was prosperous, the people were content, and peace and happiness prevailed.

In that city there lived a wealthy elder whose family was immensely rich, his treasuries overflowing like those of Vaisravana. However, he had no son. He prayed to the gods, seeking a child, and before long his wife became pregnant. After a full ten months, she gave birth to a baby boy.

This child had cultivated virtuous roots in past lives. On the day of his birth, one of his fingers emitted a bright light that illuminated ten li all around. Overjoyed, his parents gathered their relatives and fortune-tellers and held a grand feast to give the child a name. Because of the light from his finger, they called him “Lamp Finger.”

Everyone present marveled at his miraculous sign, saying they had never seen such a thing. At the gathering, a Brahmin named Bhadra, well-versed in the four Vedas—learned and knowledgeable about all things—saw the child’s extraordinary appearance. Smiling, he said, “This child must be an incarnation of Narayana, Shakra, the Sun God, or some great celestial being.”

Hearing this, the boy’s parents were even more delighted. They held a great almsgiving ceremony, giving charity and performing meritorious deeds for seven days and seven nights. News of this spread far and wide until even the king heard the praises of the couple’s blessed son.

When the king heard this, he ordered the man to bring the child to him. The elder followed the king's command, took the baby in his arms, and went to the palace gate. But the king was hosting a banquet with musicians and entertainers, so no one announced them, and they could not go in. The child's finger emitted a light that shone into the palace hall, brilliantly illuminating the king's body, the palace buildings, and everything else, making it all appear golden. The light filled the entire palace like vast, still waters. The king, astonished, asked: "Where does this light come from, suddenly shining into my palace? Could it be that the World-Honored One has come to my gate to teach beings? Or perhaps the venerable gods, Indra, or the Sun God have descended?" He sent someone to look outside. The messenger saw the child and returned to report: "The child you called for earlier is now at the gate. He is in his nurse's arms, and from his finger comes this radiant light, which is the source of the brightness." The king ordered: "Bring the child in at once." When the king saw him, he was deeply amazed by the child. He took the child's hand and examined his features. After careful observation, he said: "The six heretical teachers claim there is no cause and effect. They truly lie and deceive. If there were no cause and effect, why would this child, from birth, have such extraordinary appearance and such a brilliant shining finger? From this, I know that these heretics lead beings astray into ruin. I am now certain that this child was not created by the Self-Arisen One or any spirit, but came into being naturally. His good fortune must be the result of past karma. This shows that the Buddha's words are true and not false. The Buddha teaches that all kinds of karma and conditions adorn the world. Yet beings see the results of karma with their own eyes and still fail to cultivate merit—how strange is that!" The king continued: "But I am still not entirely sure. Perhaps this light on his finger comes from the sun. To truly test it, we must wait until midnight." At dusk, he had the child placed on an elephant, leading the way, while the king and his ministers entered the garden. The light from the child's finger illuminated even the deepest darkness, making it bright. They could see the birds, animals, flowers, and fruits in the garden just as clearly as in daytime. Seeing this, the king sighed deeply and said: "How wonderful and true are the Buddha's words! From this day forward, I have great faith in the law of cause and effect. I deeply despise the foolishness and ignorance of the six heretical teachers. Therefore, my reverence for the Buddha has doubled."

At that time, Jivaka said to the king, "The Buddha teaches in the sutras that if people do not see the results of their actions, they remain stingy and greedy. But once they see consequences clearly, stinginess and greed cease forever. Now we have witnessed the blessings that Lampfinger has received. Even if someone were destitute, they should still exhaust their means to perform good deeds. How much more so when one is wealthy and prosperous—how could they not create merit?" As he spoke these words, dawn broke. The king then allowed Lampfinger to return home, showering him with precious gifts and great joy.

As Indra's Finger gradually grew up, his wealthy father arranged a marriage for him, choosing a bride from a distinguished family of equal status. Since the elder was wealthy, their household was rich in propriety and ritual, harmonious and dignified, and their assets grew even more. But all prosperity must decline, all union must part. Both of Indra's parents died, just as the sun's radiance fades when it reaches its setting place, just as the moon's light disappears when the sun rises, just as fire turns to ash and its blazing flame is eternally extinguished. Strong health and beauty are destroyed by sickness; youth is invaded by old age; the life we love is seized by death. After his parents died, his circumstances gradually declined. Having grown up in comfort and ease, Indra Finger had never learned to manage household affairs. He kept company with bad friends, indulging his desires and wasting money on wine and women without restraint. With no one to care for the granaries and storehouses, like the waning moon they gradually diminished. According to the kingdom's custom, once a year a grand festival was held at Mount Panzhou. At that time, Indra Finger dressed in lavish attire, his retinue and musicians all splendidly arrayed like a king's, and went to the gathering. When the great crowd saw him, they all admired him. Then everyone drank together, enjoying themselves heartily; drums and bells competed in their sounds, stringed instruments sang throughout; they danced in the arena and played in the fields; the sounds of their revelry shook the mountains and rolled through the valleys. Meanwhile, a gang of bandits, knowing Indra Finger was at the festival, watched for when his house was empty, went there and plundered all his money and valuables, taking everything. Returning at dusk, Indra Finger saw his home looted by thieves, nothing left but wood, stone, bricks, and tiles. At this sight he fainted and fell to the ground. Attendants splashed water on him before he regained consciousness. Weeping and crying out in sorrow he thought: "My father, through extensive efforts and hardship, accumulated these warehouses of wealth. He bore me, his child, hoping I would carry on his legacy. But now I have failed to continue my father's enterprise, been idle and lazy, and allowed myself to be cheated. Father's remaining fortune is suddenly lost; the storehouses are empty, livestock scattered. Gazing at this residence, I am left alone. The ornaments on my body and my clothes and carriage will have to be traded for food to tide me over. Once those are gone, what will I do then?"

At that time, the guiding light also vanished. His wife grew disgusted and abandoned him, his servants fled, and his relatives cut ties. Even those closest and most affectionate toward him turned into enemies; seeing his poverty, they feared he would beg from them and responded with anger. If even his wife abandoned him, what could be expected of others? Know that poverty is comparable to hell—a life of poverty is no different from death. One who once knew wealth and pleasure, suddenly falling into hardship, loses all support and has nowhere to turn. The heart burns with anxiety, misery consumes it; beauty fades, a haggard look grows ever more visible. The body weakens, hunger and thirst wither it; eyes sink deep into sockets, bones jut out at every joint, thin skin wrapped around them, veins and tendons exposed. Hair disheveled, hands and feet thin and rough, skin pallid and cracked all over. Without clothes, he picks coarse rags from trash heaps, stitching them together barely enough to cover his private parts. His limbs exposed, he lies in filth piles with no mat or cushion. Former relatives and friends see him but do not recognize him. Begging in alleys like a hungry crow, he comes to a friend's door seeking food, but the gatekeeper blocks him. When he sneaks in, he is pushed out and humiliated. When the homeowner appears, ready to beat him, he bends low, bows repeatedly, and apologizes. The homeowner scorns him without a glance. Even if allowed inside, he is treated with contempt—no one speaks to him or offers a seat. They give him scraps, fling the bowl, and do not let him eat his fill.

At that time, in that country, people held banquets for things like marriages, childbirth, and head-shaving ceremonies. The poor man would go to these gatherings hoping to beg for leftover food. Yet, because he was despised, no one invited him to sit; instead, they chased him away and made him run errands. Even when he asked for more things, all he got were a few scraps. He had to share a bowl with the servants. Then he began to think to himself: "How strange! How strange! Why have I fallen into such poverty, misery, and loneliness?" He privately reflected: "Today, my mind is in a fog, my consciousness is lost. I don't know if this is still my original body, or if I have taken on a new form. My suffering is so bitter, it has no equal in this world. It's like a forest without flowers, so bees stay far away; like grass covered in frost, its leaves curl and wither; like a dried-up pond, where wild geese no longer visit; like a burned forest, where deer won't roam; like a harvested field, with no one left to glean. Today I am poor. If I talk about my past wealth, they'll just say I'm making it up—who would believe me? There are so many people in this world, but none understand me. Because of my poverty, there is nowhere I can turn. It's like a wilderness set on fire—nobody likes to be there. Like a dead tree that gives no shade—there's no one to rely on. Like a crop struck by hail and frost, abandoned and uncollected. Like a room with a venomous snake—everyone stays far away. Like food mixed with poison—no one would taste it. Like a deserted graveyard—no one wants to approach. Like a filthy toilet, stinking and foul. Like an executioner—people hate and despise him. Like a common thief—people are suspicious of him. That's how I am now. Wherever I go, my every action invites criticism. Whatever I say, my words become faults. Even if I speak kind words, others think they're wrong. If I do good deeds, people say they're lowly. If I act clever and quick, they say I'm frivolous and impatient. If I move slowly, they say I'm heavy and dull. If I praise others, they say I'm flattering. If I don't praise them, they slander me, saying, 'This poor man never has a good word to say.' If I try to teach, they say I'm a hypocrite, pretending to be wise. If I speak a lot, people say I'm talkative. If I stay silent, people say I'm hiding something. If I speak directly, they say I'm rough. If I try to please others, they say I'm being smarmy. If I draw close, they say I'm trying to fool them. If I keep my distance, they say I'm arrogant. If I agree with what someone says, they say I'm just faking agreement. If I don't agree, they say I'm stubborn. If I humble myself to seek favor, they scold me as lowly. If I don't humble myself, they say, 'This poor man still thinks he's something.' If I relax a little, they call me foolish and unrestrained. If I hold myself back, they say I'm just pretending to be upright. If I act cheerful, they say I'm restless, like a madman. If I act worried, they say I'm hiding malice and have no joy. If I clarify something someone didn't finish explaining, they say I'm just showing off, pretending to be smart, too shameless for words. If I stay quiet, they say I'm stubborn and ignorant of reason. If I joke a little, they say I don't believe in karma. If I ask for something, they say I'm shamelessly greedy. If I don't ask for anything, they say, 'He doesn't ask now, but will expect a big handout later.' If I quote the scriptures, they say I'm faking intelligence. If I speak plainly, they say I'm stupid. If I openly discuss facts, they say I'm forcing my opinions. If I speak honestly in private, they say I'm being a talebearer. If I wear new clothes, they say I'm just borrowing them to look good. If I wear shabby clothes, they say I'm weak and pathetic. If I eat a lot, they call me a starving glutton. If I eat little, they say I'm still faking hunger while my stomach is full. If I expound on the teachings, they say I'm just showing off my knowledge and pointing out their ignorance. If I don't expound on the teachings, they say, 'This fool knows nothing—he could only take care of cows.' If I talk about my past, they say I'm bragging. If I keep quiet, they say I have no background. For the poor, every gesture, every word, every look, every move—all are faults. But for the rich, even when they break all rules, they seem to have no fault at all. Every action they take is considered just right.

Poor people are like walking corpses—they inspire fear, like an incurable disease, like a treacherous desert wasteland with neither water nor grass, like someone drowning in a raging river, like a person choking with their throat squeezed shut, like a film over the eyes making one unable to see, like thick filth that cannot be washed away. They are like living with an enemy—even when sharing food and clothing, the hatred never leaves—like jumping into a well in summer heat and being cut off from air, like sinking into deep mud from which there is no escape. Like a flash flood that sweeps down a mountain, uprooting and snapping trees, poverty too brings countless hardships.

Poverty can destroy youth, beauty, strength, reputation, family lineage, wisdom, moral discipline, generosity, a sense of shame, benevolence, integrity, faith, courage, and willpower—it ruins them all. It also breeds hunger, cold, resentment, impatience, narrow-mindedness, worry, misery, bitterness, blame, and guilt. All these sufferings arise from poverty. Just as a hidden treasury may contain all sorts of things, so too does the "hidden treasury" of poverty harbor countless kinds of physical and mental torment.

The wealthy, by contrast, possess majesty and virtue, dignified bearing, an expansive and generous mind, and flourish in courtesy and righteousness. Wealth gives birth to wisdom and courage, builds up the family estate, fosters harmony and deference among relatives, and spreads one's good name far and wide.

Lampfinger thought: "I am now poor and wretched, a fate unequaled in the world. I want to end my life, but cannot bring myself to die. What path should I take to survive?" He then considered: "What the world despises most is carrying corpses. Though this task is vile, it brings no future suffering through karmic retribution. If I took up other work, I might end up killing or committing other evils. For this reason, I choose to do it." At that time, someone heard his words and hired him to carry a corpse. Lampfinger took the payment and, following his instructions, carried the dead body to the cemetery, intending to throw it away. But suddenly, the corpse tightly embraced Lampfinger, like a child clinging to its parents, holding on firmly and refusing to let go. No matter how hard he struggled, he could not break free. The corpse stuck to his back like strong glue, impossible to remove. He pushed and pulled, but could not separate it, and he became deeply terrified. He thought: "Today, carrying this corpse, where can I go to live?" He then went to the village of the Chandalas and said: "Whoever can remove this corpse from my back will be richly rewarded." All the Chandalas joined forces to pull it off, but it still would not leave. Others who saw him shouted at Lampfinger: "You madman, why are you carrying a corpse into the village?" They beat and threw stones at him. His body was injured, and he suffered both pain and fear. Someone took pity on him and led him toward the city. When they reached the city gate, the gatekeeper blocked and beat him, not allowing him to enter, saying: "What fool is this, carrying a corpse and trying to enter the city?" Seeing himself battered by sticks, his body covered in wounds, he felt deep remorse and burst into loud weeping, saying: "It was only for food that I undertook this vile task. And now, suddenly, I encounter this great torment! Because of my poverty, I chose this occupation blindly, hoping to earn enough to survive. How could I meet such cruelty in return? I would rather die in some other way than live carrying this corpse!" He cried and spoke thus. Then the gatekeeper, deeply moved by compassion, let him return home.

He then returned to his empty room. Earlier, the beggars and poor people who had been living with him saw the corpse on his back from afar and all ran away. When he reached home, the corpse fell to the ground on its own. At that moment, Lampfinger was even more terrified, fainted, and collapsed to the ground. It took a long while before he regained consciousness. Then he noticed that the corpse's fingers were made entirely of gold. Though still afraid, seeing this fine gold, he approached to inspect it. He tried cutting it with a knife—it was indeed real gold. Once he had the gold, his heart filled with joy. He then cut off the head, neck, arms, and legs, but as soon as he cut them, they grew back. In an instant, the pile of golden heads, arms, and limbs grew taller than a person. It was like a king who had lost his kingdom but regained his throne; like a blind person who suddenly received sight and could see clearly; like someone who had long desired another's wife and finally got to be with her; like a meditation practitioner who suddenly attained enlightenment. Lampfinger's joy was just like that. His treasury and jewels were now twice as abundant as before, and his prestige, virtue, and fame surpassed even his former days. His relatives, friends, wife, children, and servants all returned to him. Lampfinger sighed and said, "How amazing! Wealth has such great power that it makes people in this world flock to you instantly. How amazing! Poverty has such great power that it makes even close ones abandon me swiftly. In my days of poverty, those I had been familiar with cut off all ties, and not a single person spoke to me. But now, everyone eagerly serves me with folded hands and utmost respect. Even if one were born as glorious as Shakra, as mighty as Rama, as wise as a divine teacher—without money, they would be worth nothing. The rich are called good people regardless of their intelligence or ignorance. Even someone with no real knowledge is deemed wise, and gains a reputation for strength and virtue. Even a person who is ugly, old, and decrepit will find young women gladly coming to his side."

King Ajatashatru, upon hearing that he had regained his wealth, immediately sent someone to collect the treasure. But what they took back were all dead bodies; when they were thrown back into the house, they turned into pure gold. Seeing that the king desired this treasure, Jyotiṣa presented him with his own golden head, hands, and feet. After the king had received them, he took them back to his palace. Later, Jyotiṣa reflected on this and expressed his thoughts in verse.

He then gave precious treasures to the people, left home to seek the Way in the Buddha's teachings, and through diligent practice attained Arhatship. Although he achieved the fruit of the path, this corpse-treasure always followed him.

The Buddha told the monks: "Listen with full attention, for I will explain the past causes of this. In a former life, the monk Lamp Finger was born into a wealthy family in the city of Varanasi. As a child, he went out riding in a carriage to play. Returning late one evening, he found the gate already closed. He shouted for someone to open it, but no one answered. After a long time, his mother came and opened the gate for him. Angrily, he scolded her, saying: 'Has the whole family carried away a dead body? Have thieves come to rob us? Why did no one open the gate for me?' Because of this evil karma, he died and fell into hell. After the hellish retribution ended, he was reborn as a human, but suffered poverty.

Now I will also tell you about the causes of the Light Finger and the Treasure Corpse. In the distant past, ninety-one eons ago, there was a Buddha named Vipashyin. After his parinirvana, the Dharma continued in the world. At that time, Lamp Finger was a wealthy elder in a great family. He went to a temple to pay respect and prostrate. There, he saw a clay statue with one broken finger. He immediately repaired the finger, covering it with gold leaf. After completing the restoration, he made a vow: 'With the merit of offering incense, flowers, music, and repairing this statue, may I be born among gods or humans, always honored and wealthy. If ever I lose something, may I instantly find it again. May I be able to leave home and attain awakening through the Dharma.' Because of repairing the Buddha's finger, he gained the finger's light and the Treasure Corpse. But because of his harsh words, after emerging from hell, he received the result of poverty."