Then Milinda the king, having thus been granted leave, fell at the feet of the teacher, and raising his clasped hands to his forehead, said: ‘Venerable Nāgasena, these leaders of other sects say thus: “If the Buddha accepts gifts he cannot have passed entirely away. He must be still in union with the world, having his being somewhere in it, in the world, a shareholder in the things of the world; and therefore any honour paid to him becomes empty and vain. On the other hand if he be entirely passed away (from life), unattached to the world, escaped from all existence, then honours would not be offered to him. For he who is entirely set free accepts no honour, and any act done to him who accepts it not becomes empty and vain.” This is a dilemma which has two horns. It is not a matter within the scope of those who have no mind, it is a question fit for the great. Tear asunder this net of heresy, put it on one side. To you has this puzzle been put. Give to the future sons of the Conqueror eyes wherewith to see the riddle to the confusion of their adversaries.’

‘The Blessed One, O king,’ replied the Elder, ‘is entirely set free. And the Blessed One accepts no gift. Even at the foot of the Tree of Wisdom he abandoned all accepting of gifts, how much more then now when he has passed entirely away by that kind of passing away which leaves no root over (for the formation of a new existence). For this, O king, has been said by Sāriputta, the commander of the faith:

“Though worshipped, these Unequalled Ones, alike
By gods and men, unlike them all they heed
Neither a gift nor worship. They accept
It not, neither refuse it. Through the ages
All Buddhas were so, so will ever be!”’

The king said: ‘Venerable Nāgasena, a father may speak in praise of his son, or a son of his father. But that is no ground for putting the adversaries to shame. It is only an expression of their own belief, Come now! Explain this matter to me fully to the establishing of your own doctrine, and to the unravelling of the net of the heretics.’

The Elder replied: ‘The Blessed One, O king, is entirely set free (from life). And the Blessed One accepts no gift. If gods or men put up a building to contain the jewel treasure of the relics of a Tathāgata who does not accept their gift, still by that homage paid to the attainment of the supreme good under the form of the jewel treasure of his wisdom do they themselves attain to one or other of the three glorious states. Suppose, O king, that though a great and glorious fire had been kindled, it should die out, would it then again accept any supply of dried grass or sticks?’

‘Even as it burned, Sir, it could not be said to accept fuel, how much less when it had died away, and ceased to burn, could it, an unconscious thing, accept it?’

‘And when that one mighty fire had ceased, and gone out, would the world be bereft of fire?’

‘Certainly not. Dry wood is the seat, the basis of fire, and any men who want fire can, by the exertion of their own strength and power, such as resides in individual men, once more, by twirling the firestick, produce fire, and with that fire do any work for which fire is required.’

‘Then that saying of the sectarians that “an act done to him who accepts it not is empty and vain” turns out to be false. As that great and glorious fire was set alight, even so, great king, was the Blessed One set alight in the glory of his Buddhahood over the ten thousand world systems. As it went out, so has he passed away into that kind of passing away in which no root remains. As the fire, when gone out, accepted no supply of fuel, just so, and for the good of the world, has his accepting of gifts ceased and determined. As men, when the fire is out, and has no further means of burning, then by their own strength and effort, such as resides in individual men, twirl the fire-stick and produce fire, and do any work for which fire is required—so do gods and men, though a Tathāgata has passed away and no longer accepts their gifts, yet put up a house for the jewel treasure of his relics, and doing homage to the attainment of supreme good under the form of the jewel treasure of his wisdom, they attain to one or other of the three glorious states. Therefore is it, great king, that acts done to the Tathāgata, notwithstanding his having passed away and not accepting them, are nevertheless of value and bear fruit.’

‘Now hear, too, another reason for the same thing. Suppose, O king, there were to arise a great and mighty wind, and that then it were to die away. Would that wind acquiesce in being produced again?’

‘A wind that has died away can have no thought or idea of being reproduced. And why? Because the element wind is an unconscious thing.’

‘Or even, O king, would the word “wind” be still applicable to that wind, when it had so died away?’

‘Certainly not, Sir. But fans and punkahs are means for the production of wind. Any men who are oppressed by heat, or tormented by fever, can by means of fans and punkahs, and by the exertion of their own strength and power, such as resides in individual men, produce a breeze, and by that wind allay their heat, or assuage their fever.’

‘Then that saying of the sectarians that “an act done to him who accepts it not is empty and vain” turns out to be false. As the great and mighty wind which blew, even so, great king, has the Blessed One blown over the ten thousand world systems with the wind of his love, so cool, so sweet, so calm, so delicate. As it first blew, and then died away, so has the Blessed One, who once blew with the wind so cool, so sweet, so calm, so delicate, of his love, now passed away with that kind of passing away in which no root remains. As those men were oppressed by heat and tormented with fever, even so are gods and men tormented and oppressed with threefold fire and heat. As fans and punkahs are means of producing wind, so the relics and the jewel treasure of the wisdom of a Tathāgata are means of producing the threefold attainment. And as men oppressed by heat and tormented by fever can by fans and punkahs produce a breeze, and thus allay the heat and assuage the fever, so can gods and men by offering reverence to the relics, and the jewel treasure of the wisdom of a Tathāgata, though he has died away and accepts it not, cause goodness to arise within them, and by that goodness can assuage and can allay the fever and the torment of the threefold fire. Therefore is it, great king, that acts done to the Tathāgata, notwithstanding his having passed away and not accepting them, are nevertheless of value and bear fruit.’

‘Now hear another reason. for the same thing. Suppose, O king, a man were to make a drum sound, and then that sound were to die away. Would that sound acquiesce in being produced again?’

‘Certainly not, Sir. The sound has vanished. It can have no thought or idea of being reproduced. The sound of a drum when it has once been produced and died away, is altogether cut off. But, Sir, a drum is a means of producing sound. And any man, as need arises, can by the effort of power residing in himself, beat on that drum, and so produce a sound.’

‘Just so, great king, has the Blessed One—except the teacher and the instruction he has left in his doctrine and discipline, and the jewel treasure of his relics whose value is derived from his righteousness, and contemplation, and wisdom, and emancipation, and insight given by the knowledge of emancipation—just so has he passed away by that kind of passing away in which no root remains. But the possibility of receiving the three attainments is not cut off because the Blessed One has passed away. Beings oppressed by the sorrow of becoming can, when they desire the attainments, still receive them by means of the jewel treasure of his relics and of his doctrine and discipline and teaching. Therefore is it, great king, that all acts done to the Tathāgata, notwithstanding his having passed away and not accepting them, are nevertheless of value and bear fruit. And this future possibility, great king, has been foreseen by the Blessed One, and spoken of, and declared, and made known, when he said: “It may be, Ānanda, that in some of you the thought may arise:

‘The word of the Master is ended. We have no Teacher more!’ But it is not thus, Ānanda, that you should regard it. The Truth which I have preached to you, the Rules which I have laid down for the Order, let them, when I am gone, be the Teacher to you.” So that because the Tathāgata has passed away and consents not thereto, that therefore any act done to him is empty and vain—this saying of the enemy is proved false. It is untrue, unjust, not according to fact, wrong, and perverse. It is the cause of sorrow, has sorrow as its fruit, and leads down the road to perdition!’

‘Now hear another reason for the same thing. Does the broad earth acquiesce, O king, in all kinds of seeds being planted all over it?’

‘Certainly not, Sir.’

‘Then how is it those seeds, planted without the earth’s consent, do yet stand fast and firmly rooted, and expand into trees with great trunks and sap and branches, and bearing fruits and flowers?’

‘Though the earth, Sir, gives no consent, yet it acts as a site for those seeds, as a means of their development. Planted on that site they grow, by its means, into such great trees with branches, flowers, and fruit.’

‘Then, great king, the sectaries are destroyed, defeated, proved wrong by their own words when they say that “an act done to him who accepts it not is empty and vain.” As the broad earth, O king, is the Tathāgata, the Arahat, the Buddha supreme. Like it he accepts nothing. Like the seeds which through it attain to such developments are the gods and men who, through the jewel treasures of the relics and the wisdom of the Tathāgata—though he have passed away and consent not to it—being firmly rooted by the roots of merit, become like unto trees casting a goodly shade by means of the trunk of contemplation, the sap of true doctrine, and the branches of righteousness, and bearing the flowers of emancipation, and the fruits of Samaṇaship. Therefore is it, great king, that acts done to the Tathāgata, notwithstanding his having passed away and not accepting them, are still of value and bear fruit.’

‘Now hear another and further reason for the same thing. Do camels, buffaloes, asses, goats, oxen, or men acquiesce in the birth of worms inside them?’

‘Certainly not, Sir.’

‘Then how is it then, that without their consent worms are so born, and spread by rapid reproduction of sons and grandsons?’

‘By the power of evil Karma, Sir.’

‘Just so, great king, is it by the power of the relics and the wisdom of the Tathāgata, who has passed away and acquiesces in nothing, that an act done to him is of value and bears fruit.’

‘Now hear another and further reason for the same thing. Do men consent, O king, that the ninety-eight diseases should be produced in their bodies?’

‘Certainly not, Sir.’

‘Then how is it the diseases come?’

‘By evil deeds done in former births.’

‘But, great king, if evil deeds done in a former birth have to be suffered here and now, then both good and evil done here or done before has weight and bears fruit. Therefore is it that acts done to the Tathāgata, notwithstanding his having passed away and not consenting, are nevertheless of value and bear fruit.’

‘Now hear another and further reason for the same thing. Did you ever hear, O king, of the ogre named Nandaka, who, having laid hands upon the Elder Sāriputta, was swallowed up by the earth?’

‘Yes, Sir, that is matter of common talk among men.’

‘Well, did Sāriputta acquiesce in that?’

‘Though the world of gods and men, Sir, were to be destroyed, though the sun and moon were to fall upon the earth, though Sineru the king of mountains were to be dissolved, yet would not Sāriputta the Elder have consented to any pain being inflicted on a fellow creature. And why not? Because every condition of heart which could cause him to be angry or offended has been in him destroyed and rooted out. And as all cause thereof had thus been removed, Sir, therefore could not Sāriputta be angered even with those who sought to deprive him of his life.’

‘But if Sāriputta, O king, did not consent to it, how was it that Nandaka was so swallowed up?’

‘By the power of his evil deeds.’

‘Then if so, great king, an act done to him who consents not is still of power and bears fruit. And if this is so of an evil deed, how much more of a good one? Therefore is it, O king, that acts done to the Tathāgata, notwithstanding his having passed away and not accepting them, are nevertheless of value and bear fruit.’

‘Now how many, O king, are those men who, in this life, have been swallowed up by the earth? Have you heard anything on that point?’

‘Yes, Sir, I have heard how many there are.’

‘Then tell me.’

‘Kiñca the Brahmin woman, and Suppabuddha the Sākyan, and Devadatta the Elder, and Nandaka the ogre, and Nanda the Brahman—these are the five people who were swallowed up by the earth.’

‘And whom, O king, had they wronged?’

‘The Blessed One and his disciples.’

‘Then did the Blessed One or his disciples consent to their being so swallowed up?’

‘Certainly not, Sir.’

‘Therefore is it, O king, that an act done to the Tathāgata, notwithstanding his having passed away and not consenting thereto, is nevertheless of value and bears fruit.’

‘Well has this deep question been explained by you, venerable Nāgasena, and made clear. You have made the secret thing plain, you have loosed the knot, you have made in the jungle an open space, the adversaries are overthrown, the wrong opinion has been proved false, the sectaries have been covered with darkness when they met you, O best of all the leaders of schools!’

Here ends the question as to not consenting to honours paid.