C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
The Widows Mite
By Vishnu Sharma (Pilpay) (c. 1000 B.C.?)
“A
Now at Savatthi the Brotherhood, with the Buddha at their head, used to be entertained now by a single family, now by three or four families together. Or a body of people or a whole street would club together, or sometimes the whole city entertained them. But on the occasion now in question it was a street that was showing the hospitality. And the inhabitants had arranged to provide rice gruel, followed by cakes.
Now in that street there lived a very poor man, a hired laborer, who could not see how he could give the gruel, but resolved to give cakes. And he scraped out the red powder from empty husks, and kneaded it with water into a round cake. This cake he wrapped in a leaf of swallow-wort and baked it in the embers. When it was done, he made up his mind that none but the Buddha should have it, and accordingly took his stand immediately by the Master. No sooner had the word been given to offer cakes, than he stepped forward quicker than any one else and put his cake in the Master’s alms-bowl. And the Master declined all other cakes offered him, and ate the poor man’s cake. Forthwith the whole city talked of nothing but how the All-Enlightened One had not disdained to eat the poor man’s bran-cake. And from porters to nobles and King, all classes flocked to the spot, saluted the Master, and crowded round the poor man, offering him food, or two to five hundred pieces of money, if he would make over to them the merit of his act.
Thinking he had better ask the Master first, he went to him and stated his case. “Take what they offer,” said the Master, “and impute your righteousness to all living creatures.” So the man set to work to collect the offerings. Some gave twice as much as others, some four times as much, others eight times as much, and so on, till nine crores of gold were contributed.
Returning thanks for the hospitality, the Master went back to the monastery, and after instructing the brethren and imparting his blessed teaching to them, retired to his perfumed chamber.
In the evening the King sent for the poor man, and created him Lord Treasurer.
Assembling in the Hall of Truth, the brethren spoke together of how the Master, not disdaining the poor man’s bran-cake, had eaten it as though it were ambrosia; and how the poor man had been enriched and made Lord Treasurer, to his great good fortune. And when the Master entered the Hall and heard what they were talking of, he said, “Brethren, this is not the first time that I have not disdained to eat that poor man’s cake of bran. I did the same when I was a Tree-sprite, and then too was the means of his being made Lord Treasurer.” So saying, he told this story of the past.
Then the man turned again, and seeing the Future Buddha, offered up his sacrifice. The Future Buddha fed on the savor and said, “Why do you worship me?”—“I am a poor man, my lord, and I worship you to be eased of my poverty.”—“Have no more care for that. You have sacrificed to one who is grateful and mindful of kindly deeds. Round this tree, neck to neck, are buried pots of treasure. Go tell the King, and take the treasure away in wagons to the King’s court-yard. There pile it in a heap, and the King shall be so well pleased that he will make you Lord Treasurer.” So saying, the Future Buddha vanished from sight. The man did as he was bidden, and the King made him Lord Treasurer. Thus did the poor man by aid of the Future Buddha come to great fortune; and when he died, he passed away to fare according to his deserts.