Barlaam and Josaphat: A Christian Tale of the Buddha (4 page)

While the king was persecuting Christians, his son was locked away in his palace. He spent his days more wisely than his father did, strengthening his heart with knowledge. All who saw him marveled at his learning. He cultivated his body and his soul, but he cared more for his soul than for his body. The king marveled at his son's beauty and wisdom, and he forbade his men to tell Josaphat anything about sadness or death. But human nature cannot be hidden, especially from a child so gifted with wisdom and discernment. Josaphat understood that his father did not want anyone to speak to him about the things of this life. He wondered about the reason for the interdiction and often asked himself, “Why has my father, the king, done this? He does not want anyone to teach me, and I do not know why.” The youth often sought to understand his father's decision to isolate him in his retreat, and he always concluded that his father would do nothing that was not for his good. Then he began to consider whether he should ask his father why he had him guarded so closely in his palace and why he lived with so few people. He resolved to do it, then he reconsidered. “My father would not have hidden it from me if he wanted me to know,” he thought. Instead, he chose one of his servants and opened his heart to him, asking why and to what end his father had isolated him in the palace. “Good friend,” said Josaphat, “if you wish to keep my friendship, tell me why I am locked in this prison.”

Josaphat's servant looked at him kindly and understood that his lord was full of knowledge and discernment, and he thought, “If I tell him a lie, he will no longer love me.” And so the servant answered Josaphat truthfully. He told him everything: that the Christians had been banished; that the astronomers foretold at his birth that he would embrace their belief; and that, according to the king's commandment, not a single Christian remained in the region. “Your father has isolated us here because he fears what could happen. He hides all the sadness of the world because he wants to keep you from faith, wisdom, and what is right, and to repel sorrow with joy.”
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When the young man heard his servant's response, the Holy Spirit lodged in his heart where he had not been known before.

Josaphat's father loved him above all things and came often to visit him. One day his son tested him. He revealed the sorrow that lay beneath his apparent happiness. “Good father and king, please explain this to me: a sadness has taken hold of me and torments my heart, and I don't know where it comes from.”

His father could see from Josaphat's pallor that he was in pain. “Good son,” he said, “what sadness has come over you? Tell me so I can relieve it and restore your happiness.”

“I wonder why you have imprisoned me here. Tell me, if you will, good father, why you did it and if I have displeased you in some way.”

“Sweet son, you have not displeased me. I chose this palace for you so that you might live a life full of joy and the greatest pleasures. I would not wish for all the world that the sight of some sadness should trouble your well-being.”

“Father,” Josaphat said, “it pains me that I cannot see what lies beyond these walls. Your heart is hard if you will not allow me to go outside and see what the world is like. I desire it so badly that my own heart is in pain. If you wish to make me happy, let me go outside and see the world.”

The king considered whether he should agree. By right and by reason, he wished to allow it so his son's sadness might be relieved. “Good son,” he said, “I will permit it.” Josaphat thanked the king gratefully.

The following morning King Avenir ordered that all the young men and women of the city should be assembled. He commanded them to put on such a display of happiness that no sadness would be seen anywhere, nor should any old or infirm people be visible. The king was foolish and at odds with himself since he tried to seem joyful in appearance though he was filled with anger. The king deluded himself. He wanted to combine joy with anger, but anger does not care for joy.

King Avenir had handsome horses brought for his son and the great train of people and guards that accompanied him. Josaphat was richly mounted, as is fitting for a king's son, and his father commanded that he be allowed to ride about the city as he wished. The young man went out and encountered pleasures of all kinds. He looked intently at everything he saw, for he was not used to seeing such a world or so much happiness. Then he saw two men in his path. The sight was not pleasant, for one of them was a leper and the other was blind. He understood then that happiness had deserted the world. He asked his companions, “Who are these two men?”

“These men are not worthy of your attention.”

“Tell me, I want to know what happened to them.”

“Sire, we cannot hide it from you. This is human suffering,” his companions answered truthfully. “When the matter from which the human body is made becomes corrupted, then bad blood is produced and causes illness.”

“Does this happen to all people?” Josaphat asked.

“No, only to some. But many people become infirm, and infirmity brings suffering.”

“Can we know who will suffer, or does everyone fear that suffering will come to him without warning?”

“No one knows whether he will suffer,” they replied truthfully. “No man of flesh can know if good or ill will come to him. But God knows all things and has prepared all that was, all that is, and all that will be.” The king's son did not speak further, but he sighed deeply and his thoughts were troubled, for he had never thought of such a thing.

Two weeks later Josaphat rode out again into the city with his companions, where they encountered a very old man. His skin was wrinkled, his back was bent, and his hair was white. He had a wretched look: he had only a few teeth, his lips were blue, his legs failed him, and his arms were weak. His chest was high and his belly low; his eyes were sunken and his nose sharp, for he had been born many years before. The king's son noticed him and looked at him with wonder.

“Who is this man?” Josaphat asked.

“By your leave, Sire, we will tell you,” his companions answered. “This man has lived for a long time. He is old and frail, and his hair is white because he is so aged. His limbs have become weak and he lives in misery.”

“What will be the end of this old man?” the king's son asked.

“The only thing that can happen now is for him to die, and he cannot escape it.”

“Does this happen to everyone?”

“Yes, by faith, old age comes to everyone, unless death comes first. All people grow old, unless death cuts their lives short.”

The young man thought about this and then asked, “Is there any way to avoid death or old age? And do you know if there is some force that can prevent death? It is regrettable that men must grow old and die.”

“My good lord, if we speak truthfully, we have to tell you that the young and old will all die. So it was for our ancestors, and it cannot be any other way. Death is the debt we owe to nature. No one can escape death—like it or not, we all must die.”

The wise young man's heart and happiness were troubled. “Now I do not know what to say,” he responded. “This life is most bitter, and this world harsh and evil. No one is safe within it. Death is cruel since it destroys a man by taking his life. Two things are to be feared: the first is that although a man is strong today, he may become infirm tomorrow. The other thing that causes fear is that no one can escape death.”

The king's son was sad and fearful. Death confused and frightened him, and he pondered it often. “Alas, after my death there will be nothing left of me,” he lamented. “I will die when death comes, and afterwards no one will remember me. My life is in danger, and death will cause it to be forgotten. If there is no world after this one, then this one is vain and full of suffering. This life is cruel if we die without the hope of living again. Since men must leave the world, if they can have no other life, then this one is poor and stingy. No man should think he is wealthy, because no man is so beautiful, young, rich, or valiant, or so wise and powerful, or governs such a strong city that he will not have to die. For this reason, wealth is like poverty and flesh is a base matter.” These were Josaphat's thoughts. It weighed upon him that the whole world would come to ruin, and he feared death greatly.

When his father came to him, Josaphat hid his suffering behind happiness. His heart was sorrowful, but his face was joyful, and he deceived the king because he did not wish for his father to see what saddened his heart. The thoughts that gnawed at Josaphat's heart constrained his body. He tossed and turned, he cried out, he lamented and sighed, and did not know what he should say. He could not sleep, and he kept asking himself how he could bear the sorrow of death. He thought about it constantly. His entire body suffered because he did not know how to escape death, but his heart bore the greatest grief. He was filled with sadness and despair, and he experienced little joy. He asked his confidant frequently if he knew of anyone who could counsel him. “Sire,” his servant replied, “I do not know anyone, for as I told you, the king banished all the Christians from his country long ago, and those who remained were taken and killed. I do not know how to advise you, for there is no one left to instruct you.”

The young man did not know what to do. As time went by, his understanding was more and more troubled, and the more he thought about death, the more troubled he became. But God, who sees and knows all things, provided what Josaphat so strongly desired. He sent good counsel to the youth who was so close to the right path.

The story tells us that at that time a most wise and holy monk named Barlaam lived in the wilderness. He was a learned priest and spent his days in harsh penitence. Barlaam learned of Josaphat's distress through a divine revelation. He changed his dress, putting on a merchant's attire, and left the wilderness. The Holy Spirit revealed that he would succeed in his mission, and he journeyed through the wilds without tiring. He came to the sea, crossed over it, and went to the city where the king's son lived. Upon his arrival, Barlaam inquired about the king's son and his servants, and people told him all about them. He learned that one of the servants loved his lord above all things, and Barlaam found this man and told him what he wanted.

“Friend,” he said, “heed what I say. You are close to the king's son. I am a merchant from another land and I have come here to sell goods, but trade is dangerous. I have a precious stone I wish to offer your lord, to win his love. I have never seen a better stone. I wish to give the precious gem to your lord—only you and I will know about it. I have spoken about it to no one, but I describe it to you with confidence because I see that you are a wise man and of good faith. This stone has great power: it makes the blind see, the mute speak, and the deaf hear. It cures children, it frees prisoners from their dungeons, and it makes the foolish wise and the poor rich. It is most precious and dear: there is no more valuable gem in the world.”

“Here is what I think,” Josaphat's man responded. “You appear to be a wise man, and I see that you are reasonable and intelligent. But it is hard to believe your words, and hard to trust them, for I have seen precious stones of all kinds—emeralds, pearls, and other extraordinary gems—and I have never seen or heard of one that possessed the virtues you describe. Show it to me, then, for I would not wish to be judged a liar in the king's court. If I describe the virtues of this stone and my words are not true, my tongue will be cut out, and I will never be allowed in my lord's presence again.”

“Wait,” said Barlaam, “that is not all. A man who forgets what he should say is most foolish, and I forgot something I must tell you. The noble stone cannot be shown to any man who has not lived a chaste life or who has witnessed any evil, because he would be killed by it. But your lord can see it, for he is wise and has kept his eyes clear and pure, and he is chaste. You may tell him about the stone with confidence, and your lord will be most happy because of it.”

“For God's sake, do not show me the stone, for my vision is not pure and I have sullied my body, more on the inside than the outside. I do not believe that you are a liar. I will speak to my lord and return quickly.” The servant went to the king's son and told him what Barlaam had described. When Josaphat heard it, the Holy Spirit caused him to rejoice. He forgot his sorrow and had Barlaam brought before him.

The wise man came quickly and greeted the king's son kindly. An attentive man could see by his greeting that he was a good man. Josaphat thanked him for coming and offered Barlaam his hospitality. The prince invited the visitor to sit before him and then asked his servant to leave.

“Where is the precious stone whose virtues and powers my man told me so much about?” Josaphat asked Barlaam. “Good friend, is it true? Show it to me, if you please!”

Barlaam responded carefully. “You will see the truth about everything you have heard. I spoke truthfully to your servant, I promise you, but you cannot see the stone until I know that you are worthy to receive it. One of my lords recounts a parable that fits this situation, and I want to tell it to you.

“A sower went out to sow, and he dropped his seed along the road. The birds then ate it. The sower prepared other seed and sowed it, but it fell on stone, and when the seeds sent out roots, they lacked water and soil. The plants dried up because of the hot sun, and they could not grow because they needed soil for their roots. The sower sowed other seed among thorns, and these grains were lost as well—the thorns overwhelmed them and they yielded nothing. He sowed other seed in good earth. Then his harvest increased one hundredfold.

“If I can find in you soil that will bear good fruit, I will sow God and his seed in your heart. I want you to know who the sower represents and what the seed is, and if your heart is ready to learn, I will teach you important lessons. But if your understanding is rocky and full of thorns, I cannot show you my precious stone nor prove its efficacy. It would be perilous for you if you do not know how to receive it. If a man spreads pearls before swine, he will regret it, for he expects too much. You have lived a good life, and I do not doubt that you will be able to see the precious stone and that you will receive such good counsel from the purity of its light that the fruit in you will be increased a hundred times. I left my land for your sake, and I have come from afar to teach you the things you need to know.”

Josaphat said, “Dear friend, I have long sought for a wise man to enlighten me. An idea troubles and disturbs me. It burns me inside and out, and my body suffers from it, yet I hide the turmoil in my heart behind a happy face. I could find no one who could relieve me of the burden my heart carries, and this is why I am so afflicted. If I could find a wise man, I would willingly hear any counsel he could offer, for I have long wished for good seed to be sown in me. It will not be burned, nor suffer from stones or thorns. I will water its roots with the rain of my heart. I am most bitter, Master, when I do not find any man who can draw water from the well of my heart. If you know things that will relieve my unhappiness, do not conceal them from me. When I heard you say that you came from far away to help me, my fear was lifted and you gave me hope, for I believe that you can relieve my pain, good master.”

“I have tested you,” Barlaam said, “and I believe that you are not distracted by outside appearances but see clearly into your heart.

“There was once an exalted king who dressed in beautifully made robes,” Barlaam recounted to Josaphat. “He rode about richly adorned with royal ornaments, accompanied by many companions, and filled with great happiness. He saw two poor men in his path. They were thin, barefoot, and dressed in rags. The king saw them and dismounted. He greeted them happily, and he bowed before them and kissed them when he rose. The noblemen who accompanied him—knights, counts, and princes—scorned the king for it, and they spoke among themselves about how the king had abased himself when he knelt before the poor men. They did not dare reproach the king directly, but they scorned him for humbling himself and thought it a great dishonor. One of the king's brothers spoke to him and told him that he had acted most dishonorably, for his honor was sullied when he set it aside to bow to such poor men. The king tried to explain his actions, but his brother did not understand.
“The king had instituted the practice of sounding a trumpet at the house of any man condemned to death—the horn was the signal he would die. The king sent for his herald and gave him the horn that announced deaths. ‘Trumpeter, go to my brother's door and sound his death,' said the king. ‘When he hears the sound of the horn, he will know that he must die.'

“The herald did not delay. He went to the house, stopped before the door, put the horn to his lips, and sounded it. The king's brother was dismayed when he heard his death announced. He spent the whole night in worried agitation. He was frightened and did not know what to do. He feared the king would put him to death and he did not know why, for he had committed no crime. He was terrified.

“The next day at sunrise, the king's brother rose, made himself ready with his wife and children, and went to the court. He was worried and filled with sorrow, for he feared death. The king saw that he was present and commanded him to come forward. ‘Brother,' he said, ‘listen to me. Do you weep because of death? You would be right to do so, for death is greatly to be feared. Are you frightened of death because you heard my horn? Do you fear me so much that you have come to put your life at my mercy because of the man I sent to sound your death? But yesterday when I saw the heralds of my Lord and revered them, you scorned me for it! Now you see that you were wrong (for no one should scorn a man if he cannot show reason for it). I was right to bow before the men I encountered yesterday, for they were messengers of the King who created all things, including you and me. We should fear him, for we are his creatures. By this experience you should learn not to reproach a man or judge him wrong if you cannot show why. Those who used you to reproach me are even worse. I will show you how they erred.'

“The king had four caskets of the same size. Two were covered in gold from his treasury, and the story tells us that he had them filled with rotting filth. The other two were filled with the finest gold, but he had them covered in mud and dirt, and put old rags on top of them. He sent for the noblemen who blamed him for kneeling before the paupers, and they came quickly. Then he asked them whether they knew which caskets were the best and most valuable. The men judged by what they saw and chose the caskets covered in gold. ‘It is obvious that these are the best,' they said. ‘The other two are so filthy that they should be taken away and burned, for they do not belong in a king's court.'

“‘You have judged well according to what you see,' the king responded. ‘But you see with your bodily eyes, and the eyes of your heart are blind. Similarly, a man may be judged to be poor and lowly when indeed he has more wealth than can be found in all of Rome.' To show them their mistake, the king had the golden caskets opened. ‘Now you can see that what is beautiful and noble on the outside is rotten on the inside,' he said. ‘Likewise, the man dressed in rich clothes and adorned with gold is full of filth inside. His body is covered in fine things, but his soul lies in great sin.'

“The king had the other two caskets opened to show them their mistake. ‘My lords,' he said, ‘look inside. You disdained these two caskets because they were wretched outside, but there was great wealth inside them. Look at this treasure—these caskets are full of gold. They are like people who do not care about this world and its vanities. Poor outside and rich inside, they are not afraid to be beggars, and they abandon the body to save the soul from danger. You who accuse me, consider this and judge whether I should honor and bow to the men of my Lord, the Son of God, and my Creator.'

“Friend,” Barlaam continued, “the king whose story I tell you led his lords to faith with his wisdom and admonitions and through this good demonstration. You have done likewise. I have told this story for you, because when I came before you, you honored me, in your mercy, not for any value you saw in me, but because you understood that it was right. You have some understanding of what is good, and so you are not lost.”