There once was a man named Angulimal who wore a garland of human fingers around his neck. Early in his life he had taken a vow that he would kill one thousand people, and as he steadily fulfilled that promise, he would take one finger from each of his victims and add it to his necklace, to better remember how many he had killed already, and to remember how many he still had left to kill.

Now in the days of Buddha Gautama, Angulimal had finished collecting nine hundred and ninety-nine fingers … only one was missing from his collection; only one remained for the fulfillment of his oath. And that one remained missing because the road upon which he lived was closed, so even those who hadn’t heard of him could not travel his way.

And yet one day Buddha chose to walk his road anyway. The king had put guards on it to prevent people from traipsing to their death, and when the guards saw Buddha approaching, they stopped him and warned him: “This road may not be used, for this is the place where Angulimal lives. Even the king himself does not have the courage to walk here, for Angulimal is both incredibly powerful and incredibly mad.”

Upon hearing this, Buddha smiled and kept walking … The guards walked in front of him again & again, trying in vain to warn him of his impending demise, and yet when they saw Buddha’s determination to continue onward, they let him pass.

Not too long thereafter, Buddha did indeed encounter Angulimal. And Angulimal did indeed come out from his home and inform Buddha that he was going to kill him and take one of his fingers to wear around his neck, thereby finally fulfilling the promise he had made to himself so long ago.

And yet the Buddha did not respond to this news as the 999 before him had responded … There was no anger … There was no sadness … There was no fear.

I their place there was only a gentle smile — a bizarre mixture of acceptance of his fate and compassion for his deluded killer. Indeed, this exuding of such pure calm in the face of pain & death was so unsettling that Angulimal did not know at first how to proceed. Striking down those who rage or whine or cower is one thing, but striking down a man radiating peace & love was quite another.

And then, strangely enough, Angulimal began himself to be afraid … His hands began to tremble and his steps began to falter. And it was at that this moment that Buddha gazed upon him gently and spoke, saying “Here I am before you, fully ready to die by your hand, and yet why is that hand shaking? You are such a great warrior, Angulimal — even kings rightly fear you — and I am but a poor beggar. You can kill me now, and I will feel immensely satisfied that my death fulfills another’s deepest desire — even yours. My life has already been useful, and now my death will be useful as well.”

At these words Angulimal regained some of his resolve, and began to approach Buddha with his sword raised … when Buddha spoke once more. “But before you cut my head and take my finger, Angulimal, I have a small wish that you might grant before my death … I would like for you to please cut from that cherry tree a branch which is full of flowers. For I will never see such flowers again, and would like to see them closely. I would like very much to inhale their sweet fragrance and intimately witness their incredible beauty in this glorious morning sunlight.”

This request seemed more than reasonable, and he was after all about to kill his final victim, so Angulimal took his sword and cut down a branch full of flowers, just as Buddha had requested. And as he turned to give the branch to Buddha, the Buddha smiled and said, “Very good. You have fulfilled the first half of my final wish; the other half thereof is this: Please put the branch back on the tree.”

Angulimal was taken aback, and when he recovered his senses, he replied, “I was wondering from the very beginning whether or not you were crazy. Now I know that you must be so. For how can I put this branch back on the tree? I have already hacked it off. It is dying, and to its tree can never return.”

Buddha smiled and was silent for a few moments, allowing the weight of Angulimal’s words to sink into that moment, and then he said — very slowly & very softly, “What you cannot create, you shall not destroy. And if you cannot create life, then you have no right to give death.”

And that was that … At that very moment Angulimal’s sword fell to the ground and Angulimal himself dropped to his knees. He begged forgiveness for his arrogance & his cruelty and vowed to amend his ignorant ways. Over the years that followed, he did his quite well to at least partially atone for the 999 lives he had already taken … Far more importantly, he never killed again.

(inspired by unknown)

 

Filed under: Sanctifying Sentience by Scaughdt