At that moment, by the force of her goodness, Sakka’s dwelling trembled and his throne grew hot. Investigating the cause, he quickly determined that the righteous princess was in grave danger. Swiftly, the king of the devas went to that spot, and stood in the air poised above the dānava with his thunderbolt-weapon Vajira in his hand. “This is a noble woman, her virtue as bright as a flame! If you do not release her, you rakkhassa (“demon”) I shall split your head into seven pieces!”
In fear for his life, the dānava released Sambulā at once. Sakka, thinking that he would try the same again, bound him with a divine fetter (devasaṅkhalika) and carried him far away, over three mountain ranges, before releasing him. He then admonished Sambulā against negligence and returned to his own abode. (Jāt 519)
In this story, Sakka appears very much like Indra, and the tale as a whole has an archaic feel. That the monster in the tale is identified as a dānava may be significant. In most Jātaka stories this type of role would be filled by a yakkha and it is uncommon to encounter dānavas. Late Pali sources identify them as a class of asuras, the descendants of Danu,592 which in turn followed the description in the pre-Buddhist Vedas.593 Also, here we have Sakka wielding his thunderbolt, the Vajirāvudha, which is one of the four great weapons. If Sakka were to throw it at the peak of Mt Sineru it would pierce through all one-hundred and sixty-eight yojana of rock to the root of the mountain far below the ocean (Sn-a 1:10). Despite the threat of splitting his head into seven pieces, Sakka does not in the end slay the dānava, he merely transports him far away where he cannot threaten the princess anymore; Indra would have just blasted the demon and been done with it. This story appears to be a reworking of an older, pre-Buddhist legend, with the deva-hero now exercising the Buddhist virtue of non-harming.
Another episode in which Sakka comes to the rescue of a royal lady in distress occurs in the Mahājanaka Jātaka:
There was civil war in Mithilā with two royal brothers vying for the throne. When the reigning king’s army was defeated, he himself killed and his capital city occupied, his pregnant wife fled the royal city disguised as a common market woman, with the royal jewels concealed in an old basket. No one recognized her and she made it safely out of a postern gate in the city wall. But there she sat by the road-side in utter distress. The queen had led a sheltered and pampered life, with no practical knowledge of the outside world. She had only heard of a fair city, Kālacampā, beyond the frontier of the kingdom and conceived an idea that she and her unborn child would be safe there. But she had no idea of where it was, or even which direction was north or south. So she sat beside the road calling out in a pitiful voice: “Is anyone going to Kālacampā?”
Now, it was no ordinary baby in the queen’s womb, but the Bodhisatta himself. Sakka’s dwelling trembled and he investigated the cause. “There has arisen a great being in that womb; it behooves me to go there!” He created a cart with a bed in the back and assuming the form of an old man he drove past the city-gate where the queen sat forlorn. Sakka cried out, “I am going to Kālacampā! Does anyone wish a ride?”
“Alas, father, I am heavy with child and could never climb into your cart. Perhaps you could find room for my basket and allow me to walk along behind?”
“What are you saying? I am a master cart-driver; there is no one like me. Have no fear, climb in!”
So saying, Sakka caused the earth behind the cart to rise up like a goat-skin bellows filled with air and the queen easily stepped into the cart and lay down on the soft bed. In a few hours, she peeked out of the covering of the cart and saw the watch-towers of a great city coming into view.
“What city would that be, father?”
“Kāḷacampā City, my dear.”
“But how could that be! It is more than sixty yojana from Mithilā!”
Sakka replied, “I know a short-cut.” (Jāt 539)
We see here a very common theme of Sakka appearing among humans in the guise of an old man, although it is not stated in this case, this is usually a brahmin. We also see the great deva’s use of supernormal power, and have a glimpse into his sense of humour. I have taken a small liberty in using a colloquialism for Sakka’s last reply; a literal translation would be “I know a straight road,” (ahaṃ ujumaggaṃ jānāmi) but it seems Sakka’s intention to have a little fun is clear. He uses the same phrase in another story (Dhp-a 1:1) when he leads a blind arahant to Savatthi in an impossibly short time.
Sakka’s encounters with holy men, seers or ascetics, is somewhat ambivalent.594 In very many of the Jātakas, when Sakka makes a cameo appearance it is to order Vissakamma, the architect of the devas, to create a pleasant hermitage for some person, usually the Bodhisatta, who is making a great renunciation and abandoning the world of affairs for a quiet life in the forest.595 Sometimes Sakka appears to an ascetic in order to teach him, as in Jātaka 372 where he admonishes one who was displaying excessive grief over the death of a pet deer.
However, more often Sakka is seen testing an ascetic’s virtue. Sometimes the motivation for this may be quite selfish: Sakka’s throne grows hot because of some holy man’s virtue and the king of the devas grows apprehensive that someone may be about to take his place. In these cases, Sakka can behave quite badly:
At one time there was a great ascetic (tāpaso) named Lomasakassapa, and by the force of his severe austerities (ghoratapo) he caused the dwelling place of Sakka to tremble. “By the force of his virtue, he will cause me to fall from my place! I will have a talk with the king of Bārāṇasi, and then we shall break his asceticism.”
So Sakka went to the city of Bārāṇasi and appeared in the king’s bed-chamber, filling the entire room with the glorious light of his form.
“Arise, o king!”
“But who are you?”
“I am Sakka.”
“Why do you come here?”
“King, do you wish to be the ruler of all Jambudīpa? Do you want to be like Sakka, free of birth and death? Do you wish these things, or do you not?”
“I do so wish!”
“Then you must bring the sage Lomakassapa here and have him perform a great sacrifice, slaughtering living animals, and then these things shall be yours.”
So the king sent a messenger to Lomakassapa, offering him as much land as he desired, but the wise hermit scorned the offer. Sakka again appeared before the king and told him that he should send his beautiful daughter the princess Candavatī to tempt him with an offer of marriage. When the hermit saw her all adorned and as lovely as an accharā, he lost all moral sense and agreed to perform the sacrifice. (Jāt 433)
As it happened, at the critical moment on hearing the pitiful cries of the animals led to slaughter, Lomakassapa came back to his senses and was unable to wield the knife. But the point to note here is the length to which Sakka was willing to go to lead the good man into a morally depraved act. The claim that Sakka is free from birth and death is of course false, and Sakka must have known it to be so, as he was motivated by the fear of his own death. He seems to have been shamelessly playing upon the superstitions of the king. Also, neither of these royal gentlemen, deva or human, hesitated in the idea of using Candavatī as bait.
Nor was this the only time Sakka resorted to such low tricks:
At one time a deer in the forest ate some grass where a hermit had urinated. Some of his semen was mixed up in it, and as a result the deer became pregnant and gave birth to a human child. Finding the baby, the old hermit adopted him and gave him the name Isisiṅga (“the fawn seer”). Isisiṅga grew up in the forest having only the old hermit for company, and became a great ascetic in his own right. So much so, that the dwelling place of Sakka was shaken and the king of the devas grew apprehensive that someone had arisen in the world who would take his place.
So Sakka caused the rains to stop falling on the lands of the King of Kāsi for three years. A terrible drought brought famine and hardship upon the land. When all seemed lost, Sakka appeared in a glorious radiant form in the bed-chamber
of the king. Sakka told him that the rains had stopped because of Isisiṅga. “In the Himavā, there is a great ascetic named Isisiṅga, and whenever it looks like it is going to rain, he glares up angrily at the sky and the rains stop.”
“What can we do?”
“If his virtue were to be broken, then he could not stop the rain.”
“But who could do that?”
“Your daughter, Niḷinikā.” (Jāt 526)
The subsequent encounter of Niḷinikā and Isisiṅga involves a bit of ribald comedy. Naliṇkā was dressed in the crude bark garment of an ascetic, and when she sat down the garment fell open. Because he had never seen a woman before and was quite ignorant even of the concept, Isisiṅga upon seeing her thus exposed asked what had become of her member. She replied that she had been wounded there by a bear. Asked if it was painful, she said it was itchy, (kaṇḍu—a word sometimes used metaphorically for lust) and that no magic charm or medicine could stop it itching, but she could teach him how to scratch it!596
Sometimes, when Sakka discovers that the ascetic is not striving to become a new Sakka, he is delighted and respectfully offers his aid:
The Bodhisatta was in that existence an ascetic living on an island and subsisting of the leaves of a single tree which fell upon the ground. Sakka’s throne grew hot beneath him and Sakka wondered, “Who would make me fall from my place?” Investigating the cause, he discovered it was the ascetic. “I will test him. He lives off nothing but a handful of wet leaves. If he seeks the state of a Sakka, he will give them to me, if he doesn’t he won’t”
So Sakka appeared before the Bodhisatta in the form of a brahmin beggar and the ascetic gave him all the leaves he had collected, joyful in having this opportunity to make merit. Sakka came again the next day, and the day after. The same thing happened each time. The ascetic was now quite weak from hunger.
Sakka then appeared before him in a glorious form, radiant as the rising sun. “Tell me, ascetic, why do you sit here on this island in the blazing sun, living on leaves? Do you aspire for the state of Sakka or of Mahābrahma? Do you strive for human or celestial success?”
The Bodhisatta answered, “I want none of those things. I seek only omniscience (sabbaññuta—implying Buddhahood). A new birth, followed by the breaking up of the body, all that is confusion and suffering, O Sakka Vāsāva!”
Delighted with the ascetic’s words, Sakka granted him a series of boons. The holy seer asked not for wealth or power, but to be freed from all desire, to not be associated with fools, to know only wise men and to have opportunities to give. Finally, for his last boon he asks the king of the devas:
“O Sakka, Lord of All Beings, grant me the boon that you will not come to see me ever again!”
“But many men, and women too, follow religious duties with the fond wish of seeing me!”
“Such is your divine appearance, wonderful, delightful to all the senses (sabbakāmasamiddhinaṃ), that seeing you I may become intoxicated and this is why I fear the sight.” (Jāt 480)
Of the many stories where Sakka tests the resolution of some righteous being, perhaps the best known and loved is the one found in the Sasapaṇḍita Jātaka:
At that time, the Bodhisatta had come to birth as a hare living in the forest. This hare was very wise, and together with three friends, a monkey, a jackal and an otter, he made a vow that on the uposatha day they would never refuse to give some of their food if asked for by a beggar.
On the uposatha, the other three animals had some food they had found that would be suitable to give, but the poor hare had nothing but grass, which cannot be eaten by humans. Thinking on this, the hare made a resolution that if asked for food by any beggar, he would give the flesh of his body.
Upon the little hare making this resolution, Sakka’s throne grew hot. Investigating the reason, he decided to test the hare. Assuming the form of a brahmin beggar, he appeared on earth and begged food from each of the animals in turn. When he approached the hare, the little animal experienced great joy of mind and said:
“Brahmin, it is good that you have approached me seeking food. Today I shall make a gift never before given. And you shall not break the precept against taking life. Go now and gather firewood, make a fire and call for me when there is a blazing mass of hot coals. Then I shall come and throw myself into the fire. Then when my flesh is well-cooked, you may eat and do the duties of an ascetic (samaṇadhamma).”
Sakka caused a fire to spring up with his magic power (ānubhāvena) and called for the hare. The little hare rose from his bed of grass. Thinking, “If there are any insects in my fur, they shall be destroyed,” he shook his whole body three times to cast them off. Then, with a heart full of joy he leapt into the flames like a royal swan alighting in a lotus pond. But the fire failed to heat even the pores of his skin; it was as if he had landed in a pile of snow.
“Brahmin! This fire of yours is quite cool! What is the meaning of this?”
“I am no Brahmin, wise hare, I am Sakka come here to test you.”
Then the hare uttered a lion’s roar: “If not only you, but all the inhabitants of the world-system came to test me, they would never find me unwilling to give!”
Sakka announced, “Wise hare! Your virtue shall be remembered for an entire kappa!” Sakka then extracted some of the essence of a mountain and used it to mark the face of the moon with the image of a hare, so that the generosity of the Bodhisatta would be remembered for the rest of the age. (Jāt 316)
Another animal tested by Sakka was a wolf who, being unable to find food decided to make a virtue out of necessity and thought he may as well make an uposatha fast. The wolf did not do as well as the hare. When Sakka appeared in the form of a goat, the wolf immediately forgot his vow and began to chase him (Jāt 300). In another story, Sakka tested the virtue of a courtesan:
In those days, the Kuru people were renowned as the most virtuous in Jambudīpa, making it a point of honour never to break the precepts even in trivial matters. Sakka decided to test the virtue of a courtesan (vaṇṇadāsī) in the Kuru city. Appearing in the guise of a youth, he gave her a thousand pieces of money and said he would be coming for her shortly, and then returned to Tāvatiṃsa. For three years she refused to accept even so much as a chew of betel from any other man, for the sake of not breaking her contract.
At last she was reduced to an extreme of poverty and went before the Chief Magistrate to plead her case, “I do not know even if the youth is alive or dead.” The magistrate released her from her contract. After that, Sakka appeared before her again and offered her another thousand. She drew back her hand and said, “I cannot take this. You are the man who has already paid me.” Sakka then revealed himself as the king of the devas and praising her virtue, filled her house with a great quantity of the seven precious things. He admonished her to remain vigilant and returned to Tāvatiṃsa. (Jāt 276)
In these, and many similar stories, Sakka acts like a trickster figure. On some occasions he is actually rebuked by the victims of his testing. In order to test the famous wise man Osadha, Sakka assumed human form and stole a chariot. Sakka and the rightful owner were brought before the sage, to see if he could solve the case. Osadha knew right away that it was Sakka, because of his unblinking eyes. He told the king of the devas never to do the like again (Jāt 542, eng. 546). On another occasion Sakka, fearful of losing his throne, tried to stop a merchant from his generous giving by making all his wealth disappear. At the end of the story, the merchant reproaches Sakka for doing a base thing. He who had attained his high station by generosity, was now trying to stop others (Jāt 340). Likewise Sakka was rebuked by Suppabuddha the leper when he tested him:
“You are a poor, wretched fellow. I will give you great wealth if you declare: “There is no Buddha, no Dhamma, no Saṅgha. Enough of Buddha, Dhamma, Saṅgha for me!”
“Who are you?”
“I am Sakka.”
“You are a great fool (andhabāla). You are without shame (ahirika). I am alre
ady a wealthy man; I have the riches of virtue, self-respect and fear of wrong-doing (sīla, hiri, ottappa). I have learning, generosity and wisdom (suta, cāgo, paññā) . My life is neither wretched nor worthless” (Dhp-a 5:7)
When Suppabuddha is eventually reborn as a deva in Tāvatiṃsa some of the other devas snobbishly complain how someone who had been so low class in the human realm could now be so glorious, but Sakka came to his defence and praised him as a good Dhamma follower (SN-a 11:14).
At other times we see Sakka performing small acts of kindness. He used a magic water-pot to revive a dying kinnara in answer to to heart-felt plea of his mate (Jāt 485). One time, full of joy at winning a battle over the asuras, Sakka looked around to see if there were any being whose wish he could fulfill. He saw a crane standing on a hill-top and saw its thought; the crane found the hill delightful and only wished it could stay there all day without having to go and get food and water. Sakka caused a nearby stream to flood all the way up to the hill-top so the crane could catch fish and drink without moving from its place (Jāt 380). One of Sakka’s most spectacular interventions was when he helped the musician Guttila win a music contest. The old musician had been challenged by his upstart pupil and fled to the woods in shame. This is when Sakka appeared before him:
“Fear not, I am Sakka. I shall be your support. When you play against your opponent, break one string of your vīṇā597 and your music shall be just as good as before. Your opponent will not be able to match that. Carry on breaking the strings of your vīṇā until you are playing just with the body, and the beautiful sound of your playing will fill all of Bārāṇasī for the space of twelve yojana.
“Furthermore, take these three dice. Every time you cast one into the air, three hundred accharas will descend from Tāvatiṃsa and dance in the arena to sound of your music.” (Jāt 243)
There are definite limitations to Sakka’s power. He is not always able to foresee the results of his actions. In a few stories, a newly born Sakka returned to earth to assist the relatives he has left behind. In one such incident, Sakka had been one of a band of four brothers, all ascetics. He gave a magical item to each of the remaining three; an axe that could chop wood all by itself, a double-sided drum that when beaten on one side frightened away the owner’s enemies, and on the other caused them to become his firm friends. The last brother got a magical bowl that always filled itself with curds. Alas, these wonderful items did the brothers little good. A rogue swindled the first brother out of his ax and used it to kill all of them and gain possession of the magical items (Jāt 186). In another story, Sakka predicts the outcome of a battle, but the king on the side supposed to lose heard tell of it and changed his plans, winning the day (Jāt 301). (This story is also of interest because it features a single combat between the guardian devas of the two nations in the form of a white and a black bull). Some specific limitations to Sakka’s powers are mentioned; he is unable to free a body from disease, or to purify a person’s morality (Jāt 440). In one of his numerous tests of human virtue, Sakka asked a king to give him his eyes. Later, he restored the man’s sight but the text makes it clear that it was not by his own power, but by the power of the king’s own meritorious kamma (Jāt 499). It is clear from all these episodes that Sakka, although in the exalted position of devānamindo, “lord of the gods,” is far from being omnipotent or omniscient and is even capable of serious moral lapses. In the last analysis, Sakka is just one more wanderer in sāṃsara. The Buddha declared specifically of Sakka that he was not free of passion, anger or delusion (rāga, dosa, moha) nor of birth, old-age, death and suffering (AN 3: 37).
The Buddhist Cosmos Page 45