The following is a summary of the Asibandhakaputta Sutta.
While staying near Nāḷandā, the Buddha was approached by Asibandhakaputta, a community chief. He asked the Buddha whether it was true that a ritual specialist could use prayers and supplications to ensure that a person would be guided to a heavenly rebirth after death, regardless of that person’s deeds and character.
He then asked the Buddha:
“What about the Blessed One, the perfected one, the fully awakened Buddha? Is he able to ensure that the whole world will be reborn in a good place, in a heavenly realm, when their body breaks up after death?”
This is an interesting sutta, especially when compared with some Buddhist sutras that appeared later, where the emphasis on mantras, rituals, vows, and the power of Buddhas appears quite different.
In the Asibandhakaputta Sutta, the Buddha does not simply declare that such prayers are ineffective. Instead, he uses logical arguments and analogies to challenge the claim that ritual supplication can override the consequences of a person’s actions.
First, the Buddha asked Asibandhakaputta:
“What do you think, chief? Take a person who kills living creatures, steals, and commits sexual misconduct. They use speech that’s false, backbiting, harsh, or nonsensical. And they’re covetous, malicious, and have wrong view. Suppose a large crowd were to come together to offer supplication and entreaty, circumambulating them with cupped palms and saying:
‘When this person’s body breaks up, after death, may they be reborn in a good place, a heavenly realm!’
What do you think, chief? Would that person be reborn in heaven because of their supplications?”
“No, sir.”
I find Asibandhakaputta’s answer interesting because he demonstrates an intuitive sense of moral justice as a chief: good actions should have good consequences, while harmful actions should have harmful consequences.
This is not unique to Buddhism. Many ancient religions contain some concept of judgment after death. Even when the details differ, the underlying idea is often similar: there should ultimately be some form of justice in which a person cannot simply escape the consequences of their actions.
Someone may escape punishment from human society. They may deceive the courts, avoid the consequences of their actions, or die before justice catches up with them. The idea of divine judgment can therefore be understood as an expression of humanity’s desire for ultimate justice.
A modern person may regard such beliefs as primitive or superstitious. But I think it is worth recognizing the moral intuition behind them. The belief that evil should not simply be rewarded, and that good should not ultimately be meaningless, reflects a deeply held human concern for justice.
In Buddhism, this concern is expressed through the principle of karma. There is no divine judge sitting in judgment over us, deciding who deserves heaven and who deserves hell. Instead, actions have consequences according to the nature of those actions and the conditions that support their results.
In that sense, karma preserves the moral principle that good leads toward good and harmful actions lead toward suffering, without requiring a divine authority to enforce it.
Why is this important for society?
Because a society in which people believe that their actions have consequences is more likely to encourage responsibility.
If harmful actions can simply be erased through a ritual, then there is a danger that morality itself becomes secondary to ritual.
As Master Huili once put it:
“If a god forgives all evil in life, then that religion is like a mafia gang.”
The point is provocative, but I understand what he meant.
If a religion teaches people that they can commit serious wrongs and then simply pay, pray, perform a ritual, or seek divine forgiveness without changing their behaviour, then the religious system may inadvertently undermine morality.
Of course, this does not mean that forgiveness itself is wrong. Compassion and forgiveness can be tremendously powerful. But forgiveness should ideally encourage transformation rather than become a mechanism for avoiding responsibility.
The Sinking Rock
The Buddha then uses an analogy to make his point.
Imagine taking a large rock and throwing it into a deep lake. A large crowd gathers around the lake, raises their hands in prayer, and asks:
“May this rock rise to the surface!”
Would the rock rise because of their prayers?
No.
The nature of the rock causes it to sink.
In the same way, if a person has spent their life killing, stealing, lying, engaging in sexual misconduct, cultivating hatred and holding wrong views, merely gathering people around them to pray for a heavenly rebirth does not magically overturn the consequences of those actions.
The Rising Ghee
The Buddha then gives the opposite analogy.
Suppose a jar of ghee or oil is thrown into a deep lake and breaks open. The ghee naturally rises to the surface.
Even if a crowd gathers and prays:
“May this ghee sink to the bottom!”
it will not sink merely because of their prayers.
In the same way, a person who has cultivated wholesome conduct and right view naturally creates the conditions for favourable results.
The point is not that karma operates like a simplistic mechanical machine. Rather, the Buddha is challenging the idea that ritual words alone can override the moral consequences of one’s actions.
Convinced by the Buddha’s teaching on personal moral responsibility, Asibandhakaputta took refuge in the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Saṅgha and became a lay follower.
This concludes the sutta.
But What About the Later Sutras?
Here is where things become interesting.
If we turn our attention to Buddhist sutras that appeared later, particularly within Mahāyāna traditions, we encounter teachings that place much greater emphasis on mantras, rituals, vows, the compassionate power of Buddhas and bodhisattvas, and the recitation of the Buddha’s or Bodhisattva’s names.
Some texts appear to go much further, presenting practices through which beings burdened by terrible karma may be liberated, purified, or reborn in a Pure Land.
At first glance, this seems to create a significant tension with the message of the Asibandhakaputta Sutta.
If a person can simply recite a mantra, perform a ritual, or invoke the name of a Buddha and thereby obtain a favourable rebirth, what happens to karma?
Does this mean that bad karma can simply be cancelled?
I think this question deserves to be taken seriously rather than dismissed.
I witnessed something that made this issue particularly vivid to me.
This happened in a Buddhist temple where pest control had been engaged to deal with an infestation. After the pests had been killed, members of the temple recited mantras and performed a ritual intended to liberate the dead insects and rats and help them obtain rebirth in Amitābha’s Pure Land.
There is something strangely convenient about this. Instead of viewing the extermination as bad karma, it somehow becomes like a good deed to help the pest gain a better rebirth.
The hygiene problem is solved. The pests are killed. And afterwards, a religious ritual is performed to ensure that they receive a favourable rebirth.
One could simply say, “They were only insects and pests.”
But this raises a more uncomfortable question:
What happens when the same logic is applied to human beings?
It may seem impossible, but history provides examples of Buddhist societies in which soldiers were encouraged to believe that participation in warfare could coexist with favourable rebirth, including rebirth in a Pure Land.
This brings us back to the moral question raised by the Buddha.
Do we really want to believe that evil can go unpunished simply because someone recites a few verses, chants a mantra, or performs a ritual?
Or do we want to uphold the principle that our actions matter?
So Are the Later Sutras Fake?
I would not be so quick to judge.
There are several ways these teachings can be understood, and simply dismissing them as “fake” would miss something important.
Perhaps the ritual is not meant to function as a magical eraser of karma.
Perhaps the intention, repentance, aspiration, compassion, and transformation associated with the ritual are themselves part of the karmic process.
More importantly, there is another human dimension that should not be ignored.
Imagine a person who has committed terrible acts and is completely overwhelmed by guilt. If a religious teaching tells that person:
“You are beyond redemption.”
what happens next?
They may simply give up.
But if the teaching tells them:
“You have done wrong, but transformation is still possible. Turn around. Repent. Cultivate wholesome actions. Take refuge. Begin again.”
that teaching may give them the strength to become a better person. (Just like emperor Asoka)
And if that transformation prevents them from harming others in the future, then the teaching has produced a very real benefit—not only for the individual, but also for society.
That too is compassion.
Perhaps this is one way we can understand the apparent tension between the Asibandhakaputta Sutta and later Buddhist traditions.
The early teaching gives us a powerful reminder:
We cannot outsource moral responsibility to ritual.
But later Buddhist traditions remind us of something else:
A person who has done wrong is not necessarily beyond transformation.
These two principles do not have to be enemies.
Justice tells us that our actions matter.
Compassion tells us that we can change.
And perhaps the challenge for Buddhism is to hold both together without allowing either one to destroy the other.
May all be well and happy.
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I am just an ordinary guy in Singapore with a passion for Buddhism and I hope to share this passion with the community out there, across the world.
