The Dragon King’s Decision
A short story exploring the twin births of Christianity and Mahayana Buddhism
Author’s Note: Below is a short story that I wrote over the course of the past year. It stems from my interest in the seemingly remarkable coincidence that both Christianity and Mahayana Buddhism were born within a few decades of one another at the start of the common era. The question this story asks is: what if it wasn’t a coincidence? While the origin of Christianity is historically well documented, the origin of Mahayana Buddhism is shrouded in various myths and legends. I was particularly drawn to the myth of Sagara, the dragon king who, according to the legend, the Buddha chose to safeguard the Mahayana teachings until the time was right for their dissemination. Building on this story felt like a perfect way to use fantasy to explore the potential philosophical, theological, and spiritual commonalities and differences between these two great religious traditions in a novel way. I am incredibly grateful to both my Christian and Buddhist friends for their feedback at various stages of this work’s development. It wouldn’t be what it is without you.
The Dragon King Sagara awoke in his royal palace, his silken sheets cool against his scales. Consciousness returned to him slowly, and with it the familiar weight of duty. Five centuries ago, Shakyamuni Buddha, the enlightened prince Siddhartha Gautama, had entrusted Sagara with a secret treasure before passing into final Nirvana. While the Buddha had traveled India publicly teaching profound truths about suffering and its cessation to all those who would listen, he had also prepared deeper, esoteric teachings concerning the true nature of reality and universal liberation. These hidden teachings, now known as the Mahayana Sutras, were the philosophical bedrock beneath his popular instruction.
But these profound sutras, the Buddha knew, required a readiness humanity did not yet possess. So, he entrusted their written collection to Sagara, the immortal ruler of the Naga realm. The Dragon King, a devout follower, accepted the sacred task, storing the sutras in a vault deep within his palace at the bottom of the ocean. And there they remained, hidden. The burden, however, was not merely safeguarding them, but knowing when to release them. The Buddha offered no explicit sign. He merely told Sagara that he would know when the time was right. But would it be a gradual human evolution? A sudden shift? Releasing them too early risked misunderstanding and greater suffering; too late denied countless beings the chance for deeper liberation. This uncertainty had troubled Sagara for centuries.
Like most days, a mountain of bureaucratic tasks awaited him: papers to sign, laws to consider, advisers to meet. The expanding, interconnected human realm made it ever harder for the Nagas to monitor worldly events. Sagara relied on his envoys, hidden among earth’s peoples, to report political and cultural shifts, always listening for anything that might hint at humanity’s readiness. He sighed, the sound a low rumble in his chest. Despite spiritual developments over the centuries, humans still seemed mired in conflict and ignorance. When would they be ready? He sometimes doubted why the Buddha chose him, a king consumed by administration, not a spiritual expert, for such a momentous task.
Adding to the usual duties, today he would finally meet the envoy from the far West, Swift-Wing. Fifty years ago, the envoy had spoken of a rising empire, a peninsula, a general crossing a river… details lost now, dismissed then as the predictable squabbles of distant barbarians. Sagara doubted humans were anywhere near ready. Perhaps, he mused, Swift-Wing would bring practical news of trade or technology. Pushing aside his deeper anxieties, the King rose, donned his shimmering royal robes, and prepared for the day ahead.
After a vegetarian breakfast of seaweed and coral, the Dragon King ascended his throne in the palace’s great hall. Vast windows revealed the silent dance of marine life against the palace walls. For hours, he met with court officials, their voices droning on about a dispute over water currents between Nagas and Dolphins. Sagara’s mind wandered. Adjudicating such matters was vital, but after centuries, the arguments bored him. He gazed at a passing school of fish, longing for the meeting with Swift-Wing. At least the envoy’s tales from the West might offer some novelty.
Finally, the regional business concluded. “Admit Swift-Wing,” Sagara commanded. The envoy entered. He was a sleek dragon with silver scales, broad wings, and a nimble build suited for globetrotting. Prostrating himself, Swift-Wing then stood and began his report. He spoke of the civil war’s end in the West, the consolidation of a vast empire around the Mediterranean Sea under an Emperor named Augustus. Relative stability had emerged from bloodshed. The Dragon King felt a flicker of relief, quickly tempered by cynicism about its endurance.
As Swift-Wing finished recounting political news, Sagara prepared to thank and dismiss him. But the envoy hesitated. “There is… perhaps one other matter, Your Majesty,” Swift-Wing said, uncertain of its significance. “Share it. I will judge,” the King replied, intrigued.
Swift-Wing then recounted events starting in a town called Bethlehem, on the empire’s outskirts. A human named Jesus of Nazareth had apparently been born miraculously to a virgin. Such births weren’t unheard of, Sagara knew; they often heralded great individuals. Still, he listened with some curiosity.
The envoy described Jesus’ life from about his thirtieth year: his ministry, travels, and growing following. Swift-Wing detailed teachings about loving one’s enemies, turning the other cheek, the possibility of universal deliverance, and a God of universal love. The Dragon King stiffened slightly. He had assumed the “eye for an eye” mentality would persist for centuries more, especially among Western barbarians. Yet here was a divinely born human teaching forgiveness and compassion, in a land untouched by Shakyamuni’s dharma.
“Continue,” Sagara urged.
Swift-Wing narrated the rest: Jesus’ betrayal, crucifixion, death, and resurrection. The man’s willing acceptance of unjust punishment resonated with the Jataka Tales of the Buddha’s past lives and their radical self-sacrifice like offering one’s body to a starving tiger. Yet, the purpose of Jesus’ sacrifice and the concept of resurrection puzzled Sagara. Surely, he would simply be reborn, perhaps in a Pure Land? Why go through so much apparently needless suffering?
As the envoy finished speaking of Jesus’ ascension, silence filled the hall, the words echoing in the vast space and in the Dragon King’s mind. What did it mean? Everything he knew from centuries of experience suggested humanity wasn’t ready. Yet, he couldn’t ignore this. Parts of Jesus’ life seemed familiar, others utterly alien. He needed counsel. “Thank you, Swift-Wing,” Sagara said. “Return tomorrow. Recount this before my council of elders.” The envoy bowed and departed, leaving the king alone with his heavy thoughts.
The Dragon King awoke the next morning from a troubled sleep, tangled in his silk sheets. He’d dreamt of being human in a dusty land, listening to Jesus speak an unintelligible foreign tongue, straining fruitlessly to understand. Shaking off the dream, he prepared for the council. While his own grasp of the Mahayana Sutras was basic, hindered by royal duties, some elders had, with his permission, had studied them. He hoped their wisdom could illuminate this unexpected news.
He arrived early at the council hall, watching the elder dragons assemble. His gaze lingered on Long-Tail and Sharp-Tooth, two of his more trusted council members who had been around even before his reign began. Muted speculation filled the air about the urgent summons. Finally, Bright-Eyes, one of the wisest Nagas, entered quietly and took a seat near the back. Unbeknownst to the others, he too had experienced a strange dream and suspected the topic at hand.
Once all were present, the Dragon King addressed them. “Esteemed elders, your guidance has served our kingdom well. Today, I seek it on a matter of great spiritual import.” He explained the Buddha’s trust, his long watch over the sutras, and the lack of clear signs for their release. “Yet, we must remain diligent. Yesterday, my envoy Swift-Wing brought news I believe warrants our discussion. As my own spiritual development is less than some of yours, I ask for your wisdom: could this news bear upon the release of the sutras?” A murmur went through the hall as Swift-Wing was called in.
The envoy thoroughly recounted the story of Jesus. When he finished, whispers and grumbles arose. Elders questioned Swift-Wing on details. Once satisfied, the envoy was dismissed, and the debate began.
Sharp-Tooth spoke first, his voice sharp indeed. “This Jesus appears a wise man, considering his barbaric origins. But how could someone untouched by the Buddha’s dharma herald anything truly profound? I fear, my King, that this is a waste of our time.” Nods of agreement followed.
Moments later, Long-Tail stood. “Perhaps my colleague speaks from bias, not insight. The sutras state clearly: Buddha Nature resides in all beings, dharma exposure in this life notwithstanding. That Jesus achieved such development without the teachings could be an auspicious sign. Many in our land study the dharma daily with little to show for it. In contrast, he arose among barbarians and became a sage.” Long-Tail sat, leaving the council to ponder.
Fire-Scale rose in agreement. “Well said, Long-Tail. I’m moved by Jesus’ teachings of love for all humans, akin to the Bodhisattva path we aspire to. Our vow is to ‘Liberate all beings without exception.’ His actions, his sacrifice, suggest a similar vow. Even here, embodying such compassion is rare. The law of karma is too often twisted to support reciprocal violence, even among us Nagas.”
Before Fire-Scale fully settled, Sharp-Tooth retorted forcefully. “True words, perhaps, Fire-Scale, but consider this: Shakyamuni Buddha’s mere presence brought enlightenment or rebirth in Pure Lands. Yet this Jesus? He amassed disciples, yes, but so do many human sages. Worse, one of his closest betrayed him for a few mere coins! Surely this is not the herald of humanity’s next spiritual epoch.”
Chatter erupted. Sharp-Tooth’s point seemed almost decisive. Long-Tail and Fire-Scale sat in thought. The Dragon King felt his initial hope waver. Then, slowly, the elder Bright-Eyes rose from the back. The hall fell silent.
“My fellow Nagas,” Bright-Eyes began, his voice calm but commanding, “we may be focusing on the incorrect aspect of Swift-Wing’s story. Jesus’ life exemplifies Bodhisattva ideals, true. He taught in a barbaric land and died for it, also true. But we’ve overlooked the most significant claim: that he was the incarnation of God in human form. I know the concept of God is foreign…”
Sharp-Tooth interjected rudely. “Foreign and illogical! The Mahayana Sutras teach ultimate emptiness! How can reality have a ‘God’ at its base? Such a being must also be conditioned and thus ultimately empty as well!”
Long-Tail tried to mediate. “Perhaps Bright-Eyes means Jesus was a great Bodhisattva’s reincarnation? Avalokiteshvara, perhaps, bringing gifts to the West? If so, that is significant.”
Fire-Scale added, “Indeed, Long-Tail. A reincarnation of Avalokiteshvara would be an auspicious sign.”
Sharp-Tooth scoffed. “Are we now to see Avalokiteshvara in every compassionate human? Is the attendant who makes my bed a Bodhisattva of domestic orderliness?” A few elders chuckled nervously. “Shakyamuni’s appearance was an undeniable cosmic event. Whatever sign you await, my King, should be equally apparent.” Doubt again clouded the Dragon King’s mind. As chatter resumed, Bright-Eyes patiently waited, then stood once more.
“Sharp-Tooth grasps emptiness well,” he resumed, “but perhaps not the full scope of the Mahayana. I wonder, brothers, about your acquaintance with the Flower Garland Sutra?”
A heavy silence fell. Even Sharp-Tooth admitted ignorance of this vast, intimidating text.
Bright-Eyes continued, “This beautiful sutra reveals reality’s true nature. Countless realms, deities, Buddhas, Bodhisattvas exist, yes. But it also speaks of a force sustaining all, being itself and emptiness itself: the Cosmic Buddha, Vairocana, from whom all phenomena emanate.”
He elaborated, “The sutras teach us that Vairocana is ‘the omnivalent wisdom-body… the unborn, unmanifest, unchanging reality at the core of all phenomena.’ This sounds to my ears strikingly like the Western concept of God. Shakyamuni himself was an emanation of Vairocana, arriving when conditions were ripe. And make no mistake, no-self is compatible with Vairocana, properly understood. Hearing of Jesus, I feel we witness something equally momentous. Not merely a Bodhisattva, not just a Buddha’s emanation, but potentially Vairocana himself, incarnated. What event could be more significant for our decision than this?”
Commotion erupted. Dragons paced, arguing loudly. Sharp-Tooth’s voice cut through the din. “Cosmic Buddhas? Incarnations? Nonsense! My king, you have heard my thoughts. I shall now take my leave!” With a gust of wind, he flew out, a few sympathizers following. Many others remained, visibly moved, contemplating Bright-Eyes’ words. The Dragon King, silent throughout, but with a turbulent mind, absorbed everything. At last, he stood. “Dear elders, thank you for your wisdom. I shall consider it carefully and inform you of my decision.” The remaining council members departed, leaving Sagara alone with the immense weight of responsibility.
The Dragon King remained in the vast, empty council hall, the silence amplifying the echoes of the heated debate. He settled into deep meditation, allowing the conflicting arguments to surface and fade like currents in the deep ocean. Sharp-Tooth’s cynical dismissal resonated with Sagara’s own long-held observations of human fallibility. Was Bright-Eyes merely projecting profound meaning onto the actions of a charismatic, if unusual, human sage? The risk of releasing the sutras prematurely, unleashing wisdom that could be twisted into new forms of suffering, felt immense, a danger he had guarded against for five hundred years.
Yet, the image of Jesus of Nazareth, as recounted by Swift-Wing, kept returning. Not just the miracles or the claims of divinity, but the core of his actions: the radical love for enemies, the plea for forgiveness even during his execution, the ultimate act of “turning the other cheek” by willingly embracing an unjust death. It wasn’t merely wisdom; it felt startlingly resonant with the Bodhisattva ideal described within the very sutras he guarded. It was the path of selfless compassion for the liberation of all beings, manifesting where Sagara had least expected it, in the heart of the “barbaric” West.
And crucially, Swift-Wing reported that this wasn’t just theory; Jesus’ followers were living it, facing persecution and death themselves without resorting to reciprocal violence. Wasn’t this a tangible sign of spiritual potential? A crack in the seemingly impenetrable wall of human ignorance? Even if Jesus wasn’t Vairocana incarnate, a truth Sagara knew he might never ascertain, perhaps his life and death served as a catalyst, awakening a dormant capacity for profound wisdom and compassion within humanity. He had planted seeds, unlikely seeds, in the rockiest of soil.
Sagara considered the Mahayana Sutras resting in his vault. They spoke of emptiness, yes, but also of the boundless compassion of the Bodhisattvas, of the inherent Buddha Nature within every single sentient being, waiting for the right conditions to blossom. Were these profound teachings not the very nourishment those fragile seeds needed? To keep them locked away now, when evidence of readiness, however surprising its form, had appeared, suddenly felt like a betrayal of the Buddha’s deeper intention. Perhaps the true skillful means wasn’t just guarding the treasure, but recognizing the unexpected moment to share it.
He had judged humanity based on its past, on its recurring cycles of violence and ignorance. But perhaps, just perhaps, this unexpected flowering of compassion signaled a potential for change, a readiness he had overlooked. The weight on his heart didn’t vanish, but it transformed. The heavy burden of indecision eased, replaced by the focused weight of purpose. He would have to trust the nascent goodness he now glimpsed. He would place his faith in humanity’s potential. The decision settled within him, calm and clear amidst the lingering unknowns. Yes. He would release the sutras.
Firm in his newfound resolve, the Dragon King returned to his private chambers. He fell into a deep, dreamless slumber, and awoke feeling profoundly refreshed, the very absence of dreams seeming like a subtle confirmation from the universe itself. Clarity settled upon him. He immediately summoned two of his most trusted attendants.
To the first, a swift courier Naga, he gave precise instructions: “Find the human sage known as Nagarjuna. Inform him the Dragon King requires his presence at the Cliffs of Awakening by midday.” To the second attendant, the vault’s ancient keeper, Sagara presented the heavy, intricately carved key. “Unlock the Great Treasure,” he commanded, his voice resonating with newfound authority. “Prepare the Mahayana Sutras for passage into the human realm.” The attendants, sensing the profound gravity of the moment, bowed low and hastened away without a word.
A few hours later, confirmation came that Nagarjuna awaited. The Dragon King himself retrieved from the vault the large, ornate gold-leaf chest containing the sacred scrolls. Holding it securely, Sagara ascended from the familiar twilight depths of his palace, rising through the shifting layers of the ocean, swimming past silent forests of kelp and curious schools of fish, until he broke through the surface into the bright, almost blinding air of the human world.
Soaring high amongst the clouds, he scanned the rugged coastline below. There, just as directed, stood a solitary figure, still as the ancient cliffs themselves, gazing out over the vast expanse of the sea. Small against the immensity of nature, yet radiating an undeniable presence was Nagarjuna. Sagara descended, landing softly on the cliff edge a respectful distance away.
Face to face, the sage showed no trace of fear at the sudden appearance of the immortal Naga King. Instead, Nagarjuna’s eyes held a deep, calm wisdom, and he simply inclined his head in gentle reverence. A silent moment of mutual appraisal passed between them as the ancient guardian of the deep and the mortal vessel of profound insight gazed upon one another. Sagara returned the bow, recognizing instantly the unmistakable signs of a life wholly dedicated to the dharma.
“Great Sage,” Sagara began, his voice rumbling like distant thunder, yet gentle, “many sources, both Naga and human, call you the wisest man alive. Is this assessment true?”
Nagarjuna’s reply was serene and utterly devoid of ego. “Sovereign Dragon, wisdom is as elusive as the wind. I am neither wise nor unwise. But if my existence can be of service to you, or to the dharma you clearly protect, please grant me that honor.” This profound humility, echoing the very essence of the teachings Nagarjuna had yet to even see, filled the Dragon King with unwavering confidence. He was the one.
Sagara carefully placed the heavy chest on the ground between them and opened the lid, revealing stacks of ancient palm-leaf manuscripts, tied with silken cords and radiating a subtle, palpable energy. “Neither wise nor unwise Nagarjuna,” the King declared, his voice resonating with the weight of history, “these are the sacred hidden teachings of the Shakyamuni Buddha, the Mahayana Sutras, kept secret with me at the bottom of the ocean for five hundred years. No human has even conceived of their existence until this very moment.”
He gestured towards the open chest. “I now give them to you. Take them. Share them with all humans in this realm, and indeed, with all beings capable of understanding throughout all the realms. Use your renowned intellect and compassionate heart to help others grasp their meaning and practice according to their profound truths. This, Great Sage, is the way in which you may serve.”
Nagarjuna knelt, bowing deeply, his forehead nearly touching the earth in a gesture of profound acceptance and responsibility. “With my life, Sovereign King,” he vowed, his voice quiet but firm, “I shall dedicate myself utterly to this sacred task.”
Satisfied that the treasure was now in the worthiest possible hands, the Dragon King gave a final nod. Without further ceremony, he launched himself back into the sky, the wind from his powerful wings momentarily stirring the air around the kneeling sage. He made a final glance back at the lone figure below, now the custodian of world-altering wisdom, before plunging back beneath the waves, returning to his own realm. He left Nagarjuna alone on the sun-drenched shore, the future of the dharma resting beside him in an open chest.
Nagarjuna was true to his word. He dedicated the rest of his life to spreading and explaining the wisdom contained within the Mahayana Sutras. Despite all odds, the teachings survived wars, catastrophes, and persecutions. They eventually moved through the north into China, the east into Korea and Japan, and beyond. Indeed, in the decades, centuries, and millennia since the time of Nagarjuna, the teachings flowered and spread throughout the eastern world, providing liberation to a great many beings. At the same time, on the other side of the world, despite persecution and sanction, the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth spread as well. They did so slowly at first, but in time they too became like a fire that spread over the land as kingdoms and empires were founded in their name.
Humanity expanded and technologies connected people and ideas across vast distances. Supernatural beings like the Nagas gradually retreated to the background. Yet, the Dragon King still watched from a distance. Two millennia after that fateful council meeting, he found himself flying over foggy cliffs and ancient forests on the other side of the earth. Below, diverse peoples cohabitated peacefully. He saw followers of both Buddha and Christ living side-by-side, earnestly sharing their truths. Doubts about his decision had surfaced many times over the long centuries. But looking down upon humanity now, witnessing the flourishing seeds of compassion sown from both East and West, Sagara knew, with a deep and quiet certainty, that he had made the right decision.
