大般涅槃經疏 12

English (machine translation) 12

Language: English

12.1

Composed by Master Guàndǐng of Zhāng'ān during the Sui

12.2

Re-edited by the Tiāntái Śramaṇa Zhànrán during the Tang

The intention of this chapter has four aspects. First, as for sequence: the preceding "Chapter on the Nature" clarified the principle underlying the letters, while this chapter clarifies the letters atop the principle, answering the previous question of how to understand the meaning of full letters and half letters. The earlier question concerned the meritorious virtues of the name, directly discussing this sūtra and exclusively explaining the supramundane supreme full letters; the present chapter broadly discusses all teachings, whether half or full, worldly or supramundane, supreme written letters and the like. Disclosing the esoteric: another interpretation explains impermanence as half and permanence as full. Xīnghuáng criticized this, saying: Like two slices of hawthorn and pear, this is a fullness of half a side. That other also explained: In the past, preaching impermanence was not called full; the present teaching completely expounds permanence and impermanence, and therefore it is called full. He again criticized: If one supplements impermanence with permanence, one slice of pear supplements half a slice of hawthorn to make one fruit; this is a supplemented fullness. Xīnghuáng explained: The essence of nirvāṇa and buddhadhātu is neither permanent nor impermanent, yet it is fully replete with permanence and impermanence, hence it is called full. We now clarify that his school's criticisms of the old interpretations make it either half-sided or supplemented fullness. In his own exposition that neither-permanent-nor-impermanent and permanence-and-impermanence constitute full, this is also joining four slices of hawthorn, pear, persimmon, and chestnut into one fruit. Now, relying on this chapter, we disclose that all letters are entirely full letters. The text states: "When the Tathāgata appears in the world, he is able to extinguish half letters; therefore, you should now leave half letters, follow full letters, and have no obstruction and no attachment toward all dharmas." Originally full was clarified in contrast to half; since there is no half, there is also no full—one should know that letters are non-letters. Taking non-letters as full letters, the text says: "Half letters are the root of all treatises, scriptures, records, and compositions. Furthermore, half letters are the root of the verbal expressions of afflictions." It also says: "Full letters are the root of wholesome dharmas. The root of all discourses on wholesome dharmas, heterodox treatises, incantations, and all written letters are entirely spoken by the Buddha, not by non-Buddhists." One should know that what the Buddha expounds is entirely the orthodox Dharma of the inner path; this takes the orthodox Dharma as full letters. It also says: "If one understands written letters, one can cause sentient beings' vocal karma to become pure. Buddhadhātu is not like this; it does not depend on written letters to afterward become pure—buddhadhātu is naturally pure." One should know that all letters are entirely buddhadhātu; buddhadhātu is neither letters nor non-letters, yet it is capable of being letters and capable of being non-letters, hence it is called full letters. Although there are three meanings, do not make three separate interpretations. Identical to letters is non-letters; non-letters are identical to letters; they are also identical to neither-letters-nor-non-letters, fully replete without lack, neither vertical nor horizontal—only then is it called full. It is like gold, silver, and various other treasures entering the furnace together and all becoming a single vessel, yet the various kinds are not lost; it is called various kinds and also called one; the one is identical to the various, and the various are identical to the one; furthermore it is neither one nor various, yet one and various. Disclosing every single letter to be entirely buddhadhātu—dharmatā and the dharmadhātu are also like this, encompassing all letters; one cannot find a single letter or all letters, yet it is replete with a single letter and all letters. How could it be partitioned into half a side and not be full letters? This is called disclosing the secret and expounding the full. From this its title is established, named the "Chapter on Written Letters."

12.5

In the text there are three [sections]: first, briefly indicating the root of letters; second, broadly explaining the meaning of letters; third, expressing understanding and narrating confirmation. The first passage first generally indicates that heterodox treatises and mantras are all spoken by the Buddha. There are two explanations. The first says: Their root is entirely within the Buddhadharma. The Three Jewels, the Four [Noble] Truths, and the four virtues of nirvāṇa are all the nominal teachings of the Buddhadharma. After the elder departed, non-Buddhists who plundered the herds of cows stole them and placed them into their own scriptures. The second says: These are the Buddha's expedient teachings, as the Scripture of the Practice of the Pure Dharma says, "Kāśyapa was Laozi, Ruotong was Yan Hui, and Guangjing was Confucius." If [understood] according to the former explanation, the Buddha claims them back; if according to the latter explanation, they were given as expedients. If one discloses that all letters are the Buddha's true Dharma, then it is neither claiming nor giving, and so forth. From "Kāśyapa said" downward is the second [section], broadly explaining the meaning of letters. There are two rounds of questions and answers. The first question is as in the text. From "The Buddha said" downward, the Tathāgata answers again, which has three parts: first, explaining the root of the text and principle; from "holding various treatises" downward, second, specifically explaining the root of letters; from "ordinary persons" downward, third, explaining that by learning the half-letters one comes to awaken to the full teaching. From "Kāśyapa said again" downward is the second round, raising the question to request an answer. The question is as in the text. From "Good sons, the fourteen sounds" downward, the Tathāgata answers, which has three parts: first, generally explaining the various letters; second, specifically explaining the half and the full; third, concluding with benefits and detriments, which also clarifies the meaning of "no letters". The first part also has four: 1. sounds following letters, which explains the sounds; 2. letters following sounds, which explains the letters; 3. the causes of sounds and letters; 4. the benefits of sounds and letters. In the first passage, "sounds following letters" refers to the fourteen sounds; from "these fourteen sounds" onward is this. Since antiquity there have been six explanations, broadly falling into two paths: the first four explain [them as] single [vowels], and the latter two explain [them as] compound [syllables]. 1. The Lineage Master says: Two letters were missing from the text, and the teacher could not understand them, so there were no two sounds and only twelve. 2. Zhaoti added the two characters "siddhaṃ". 3. Emperor Wu of Liang added the two characters "nirvāṇa", citing the sūtra: "That which is called 'letters' is named nirvāṇa." 4. Kāishàn says: Among the twelve letters, he takes only ten, removing the final aṃ and aḥ, considering them to be residual sounds. When the sūtra explains the vocalic sounds, it immediately says that among the fourteen sounds this is the ultimate meaning; he further takes the four sounds below—ṛ, ṝ, ḷ, ḹ—to make up the fourteen, inserting them into the middle, referring to a, ā, i, ī, u, ū, ṛ, ṝ, ḷ, ḹ, e, ai, and so forth. 5. Zhuāngyán gives a compound explanation: the previous twelve form six sounds, followed by five pairs of five. Further taking four letters from the later three pairs of three—ya, ra, va, śa—adding them to the previous five makes six, which added to the above makes twelve. Taking [the group] ṣa, sa, ha, la as one slow sound, and ṛ, ṝ, ḷ, ḹ as one fast sound, this makes fourteen. 6. Yěchéng says: The first two-by-two correspondences have six, the next five-by-five correspondences have five, and the subsequent three-by-three correspondences have three, combining to make fourteen sounds. Master Guān says: We refute the six ancient explanations in order. The first says that two letters were missing from the text: the non-Buddhist teacher did not understand, and conversely asked the prince, while the prince knew on his own. Now when expounding nirvāṇa, how could he fail to insert the two letters, still saying that the text was deficient? Refuting Zhaoti: Siddhaṃ is generally the collective name for the fourteen sounds in foreign countries; how can one take the general to supplement the specific? Refuting Emperor Wu of Liang: Nirvāṇa is also rendered as parinirvāṇa, which is six characters; it is also rendered as parinirvāṇa, which is four characters. Why take only two characters to supplement it? Refuting Kāishàn: He removes the two characters aṃ and aḥ and supplements them with the four characters ṛ, ṝ, ḷ, ḹ; if ṛ, ṝ, ḷ, ḹ are sounds, why are they not in the sequence of sounds but placed after the letters? Refuting Zhuāngyán: The sūtra text clearly says "fourteen sounds"; when did it say that letters supplement sounds? Sounds and letters are two different things; how can they be confounded? If Zhuāngyán fails, Yěchéng also collapses. Furthermore, Héxī holds that the first twelve are simply the twelve sounds, and taking the latter four characters combines them into two sounds; the ancient sūtra manuscripts had [the transliterations], which is four characters for two sounds, supplementing the previous to make fourteen. Furthermore, the Sanskrit texts speak of letters and do not speak of sounds; now there are twelve letters or sixteen letters, according to worldly usage. Another explanation says: The first twelve are sounds, and from ka, kha downward are letters. Another explanation says: The first twelve letters have three aspects: first, the letter; second, speech; third, the sound. Relying on these letters to serve as the beginning of discourse, only then does one reach the remaining letters; hence they are called the root of letters. Regarding the initial "half-letters": worldly dharmas are called half-letters, and the buddhadhātu is called full letters. Also, the ninefold canon is taken as half-letters, and the Mahāyāna as full letters. It is also said: The Sanskrit text has no words for "half" and "full"; it is merely that when a matter is not yet completed it is "half", and when completed it is "full". Xīnghuáng speaks of completing one half-side, without pulling or extending into a full [fruit], and so forth. Héxī says: The twelve letters are compared to rice, and the subsequent twenty-five letters are compared to soup. The subsequent nine letters encompass and uphold the phrases, like a gatekeeper or like a necklace. The subsequent nine letters are both letters and sounds. The two letters below ṛ and ṝ are not studied by young beginners. "Inhaling breath at the root of the tongue": this is the third [part], explaining that the origins of the various letters all have distinctions, so ka, kha, etc., are sounds from the root of the tongue; ta, tha, etc., are sounds on the tongue; ṭa, ṭha, etc., are sounds at the tip of the tongue; pa, pha, etc., are sounds between the lips; ca, cha, etc., are sounds between the teeth; therefore it says they are all distinguished by the tongue and teeth. From "Such meaning of letters" downward is the fourth [part], explaining the benefits of letters. It first presents the meaning of letters, and then clarifies that the buddhadhātu is not like this. From "Again, the half-letters" downward is the second [section], specifically explaining the half and the full, which has three parts: first, the Dharma; next, a parable; third, the application. From "What is called" downward is the third [section], further explaining the meaning of "no letters", which is also the benefits and detriments. The subsequent round of expressing understanding and narrating confirmation is as in the text.

12.6

Chapter on the Parable of the Birds

12.7

Héxī says: The three chapters—〈Letters〉, 〈Birds〉, and 〈Moon〉—together clarify the true and the responsive. The half and full of letters are simply the bird parable's permanence and impermanence. Permanence and impermanence are simply the moon parable's concealment and manifestation; through letters one recognizes the principle, and penetrating permanence and impermanence one is capable of concealment and manifestation. Now we order them further: The Tathāgata constantly expounds the Dharma relying on the two truths and the three truths; therefore we know that letters are the Buddha's teaching. Through letters one penetrates the three truths, completely possessing the one teaching and all teachings. Wishing to reveal the complete and perfect sūtra, it is therefore titled the "Chapter on Letters". Next is the parable of the birds: relying on the teaching, one establishes practice; that is, the two practices flowing together, simultaneously contemplating one practice and all practices. The text below says: "There is further one practice, which is the Tathāgata's practice." Explaining the two birds traveling together after letters thus forms the sequence. It is also that relying on teaching gives rise to wisdom: wisdom looks toward the teaching, and the teaching becomes the object; through the object wisdom is aroused, and through wisdom practice is established. The teaching turns into the object, and wisdom turns into practice; hence it forms the sequence. This chapter answers: How does one practice together with the holy ones, like the sāra and kālindi birds? This again raises the birds to illustrate the practice as the answer to the question. The vehicle of the metaphor is the sāra and kālindi; the tenor of the metaphor is the two flowing and traveling together. Ancient interpretations differ. Some say sāra means "a pair" and kālin means "birds". However, sāra translates as "firm and solid"; how could it mean "a pair"? Some say sāra is one bird and lindika is one bird. These would then be two kinds, and cannot be a pair. Some say sāra is one pair and kālindi is one pair, citing the text below: "There are two kinds of birds: one is called mandarin duck, and the second is called lindika." These are then two kinds making two pairs. Some say sāra translates as mandarin duck: the question asks about sāra, and the answer replies with mandarin duck; the categories differ but the meaning is the same, so mandarin duck replaces sāra. Some say lindika has no translation, or that it translates as heavenly crane, citing the six-fascicle [version]: "geese, cranes, and śārikās". However, Chinese does not master Sanskrit sounds and only increases disputation. The intention in using the metaphor lies in taking the male and female flying and resting together without separating, in order to illustrate the immeasurable within the one and the one within the immeasurable—neither one nor immeasurable, yet one and immeasurable—which is called flowing together, and thus named traveling together. Question: Do ordinary persons travel together with ordinary persons? Do holy ones travel together with holy ones? Or do ordinary persons travel together with holy ones? Another explains: Contemplating the impermanence of saṃsāra, one does not recognize the permanence of nirvāṇa. Contemplating the permanence of nirvāṇa, one does not recognize the impermanence of saṃsāra. When the two understandings are not clear, it is like only recognizing gold without recognizing brass, or only recognizing brass without recognizing gold. If one thoroughly recognizes both things, this is the dual contemplation of suffering and bliss; self and non-self are also like this. The holy ones practice like this, and ordinary persons also do so; therefore it says "traveling together". This should not be so, as it contradicts the parable. The parable illustrates two birds roaming together. According to your explanation, one bird exhausts saṃsāra below, while one bird exhausts nirvāṇa high above; their rising and sinking are vastly contrary, and their roaming together is not made evident. Even if the two birds only roam together below and do not roam together above, or roam above and do not roam below, roaming together is not accomplished. Furthermore, one school cites the half and the full as pertaining to a single dharma, and roaming together as pertaining to two dharmas. If one takes the impermanence of saṃsāra and the permanence of the Buddha-fruit to together constitute the full, the two things are mutually distinct—like pears and apples having different substances—how could this be full? Roaming together means contemplating that within saṃsāra there are permanence and impermanence, and contemplating that within the Buddha-fruit there are also permanence and impermanence; taking the two permanences of saṃsāra and nirvāṇa as one pair of the full, and taking the two impermanences of saṃsāra and nirvāṇa as one pair of the half—this is the two dharmas arising together, and only then is it called roaming together. Now we clarify that the meaning is not like any of these. Two permanences arising together would be two males flying together; two impermanences arising together would be two females flying side by side. This contradicts the parable, and roaming together would not be accomplished. Now, when speaking of roaming together: saṃsāra possesses both permanence and impermanence, and nirvāṇa is also like this; flying together and resting together whether below or high above, phenomena are principle and principle is phenomena, the two truths are the middle and the middle is the two truths, neither two nor middle yet both two and middle—then the meaning of roaming together is accomplished, and the male and female are also accomplished. Once the meaning of the roaming together of phenomena and principle is accomplished, the roaming together of names and words, contemplative practice, and up to the ultimate are all accomplished, complete and lacking nothing both horizontally and vertically. Within this there is fully ordinary persons traveling together with ordinary persons, ordinary persons and holy ones traveling together, and neither ordinary persons nor holy ones traveling together; distinguished in terms of persons and dharmas, all are accomplished. For this reason, it is called the "Chapter on the Parable of the Birds".

12.8

The text has two parts: first the general, and next the specific. The general also has two parts: first the concise, and later the debate. In the concise part, first comes the simile, and later its application. In the initial simile, two birds are brought forward to illustrate the permanent and the impermanent, yet in the application text, it applies them by means of suffering and non-self, which is merely an abbreviation. I privately suggest: it also shows that their meaning is identical; therefore they are presented alternately; in a complete exposition there should be six. Next, in the debate, first is the question, and later the answer. In the answer, first is the Dharma, and later the simile. In the initial statement of the Dharma, where it speaks of "different phenomena are suffering and are pleasure": of old it was said that saṃsāra differs from nirvāṇa, and nirvāṇa differs from saṃsāra, hence it speaks of suffering and pleasure. Master Guān says: Previously it mostly refuted inverted views, discussing the permanent and the impermanent from a vertical perspective; in this chapter it illuminates the permanent and the impermanent simultaneously, stating merely that within saṃsāra there are different phenomena and thus it speaks of suffering, and there are different phenomena and thus it speaks of pleasure, and the same applies up to self and non-self. The later simile of the five grains being each different establishes the former sense of difference. Below, where the specific simile states that flowers and leaves are impermanent while the fruit is permanent, this is not the permanent of permanent abiding. It means that because flowers and leaves are indefinite they are impermanent, while because the fruit is already determined it is permanent, borrowing this to illustrate that through the impermanent the permanent is accomplished. From "Such seeds as these" onward, it specifically explains joint practice, which again has three parts: first, clarifying impermanence in terms of saṃsāra; second, clarifying non-self in terms of nirvāṇa; third, clarifying suffering and pleasure jointly in terms of both saṃsāra and nirvāṇa. However, the first two are horizontal, while the latter one is vertical; in principle all should be fully discussed, but the text exhibits them alternately. The first text also has two parts: first, directly clarifying the two practices; next, concluding the section. In directly clarifying them, it presents five similes. The first simile also has two parts: first the simile, and next its application. The simile also has three parts: first, the simile; second, the debate; third, the reception of understanding. First, the sprouting illustrates impermanence within saṃsāra; the ripening illustrates permanence within saṃsāra. Next, the debate has two parts: first the question, and next the answer. In the answer, it clarifies that the permanence of saṃsāra differs from the permanence of the Tathāgata. Third, from "Kāśyapa" below is the reception of understanding, which also has two parts: first the reception of understanding, and next the confirmation, etc., which are all evident (and so forth). From "Good son, though cultivating all" below is the second, the application of the simile. Before hearing this sūtra, they all spoke of impermanence; having heard this sūtra, they all speak of permanence. How could saṃsāra not possess both the permanent and the impermanent? As for "the various concentrations of the sūtras," *sūtra* is translated as "matching scripture" and is also the repository of concentration, hence it says "various concentrations." The subsequent four similes all have applications. The next simile mentions *jīnpǔ* (unrefined gold): unpolished jade is called *pú*, and unrefined gold is also called *pǔ*; these have the difference between the wood-radical and the jade-radical. Unrefined gold is also called *kuàng* (ore); "ore" is a different name for gold (and so forth). Zhāotí calls it by the sound *pǔ*, while Master Guān calls it by the sound *kuàng*; however, the character *pǔ* has two readings (and so forth). From "Therefore I say" below is the second, concluding the section. Properly it should clarify the permanent and the impermanent, yet it concludes by speaking of non-self, desiring to show that the same applies to it by analogy.

12.9

From "Kāśyapa said to the Buddha" below is the second, clarifying the two practices of non-self and self in terms of nirvāṇa: having no sorrow or grief is having self, and having sorrow and grief is non-self. The text has two parts: first the question, and later the answer. The question has two parts: the direct question, and the concluding question. At first glance, one might consider this a baseless question. However, the Buddha taught that nirvāṇa also has impermanence; impermanence is the conditioned, and the conditioned is sorrow and grief. Now, asking about sorrow and grief is asking whether or not nirvāṇa has impermanence. The Buddha's answer has four parts: first, resolving the question; second, praising the principle; third, resolving the question again; fourth, praising the principle again. The first text has two parts: first the simile, and later its application. Within the simile there are three parts: first, directly creating a simile; next, creating a further simile for the simile; third, applying the simile back to the simile. First, speaking of the Heaven of Non-conception is the simile. Next, further bringing forward the tree spirit as a simile to clarify the non-conception simile is creating a simile for the simile. From "The Buddha-Dharma is also like this" below is applying the simile to the simile. Second, from "Furthermore, good son, the Heaven of Non-conception" below, praises the profound principle, first with a simile and next with its application. The Tathāgata truly has no sorrow or grief, but merely speaks of existence within non-existence. Sentient beings have suffering and have not yet escaped distress; they see the Buddha as having suffering, and since he has suffering he has sorrow and grief. The Buddha has severed the causes of suffering and experiences supreme bliss, having furthermore no sorrow or grief: having sorrow is non-self, and having no sorrow is having self. If in response to beings one says the Tathāgata has sorrow, in actual principle he has none. Now, since the question shows he has compassion, he should also have suffering. In the Tathāgata's mind-ground, he does not harbor thoughts of sentient beings, so he should be free of suffering. If one asks: "The Tathāgata truly has neither sorrow nor joy; why do you say that the Tathāgata truly has joy?" now one may also ask in return: "The Buddha has neither sorrow nor joy; why do you determinately say the Tathāgata has no sorrow?" I say that the Tathāgata truly has neither joy nor sorrow, but in terms of meaning one speaks of sorrow and grief; these are indeterminate words. Third, from "Just as in the sky" below, re-explains the question through two similes: first bringing forward the simile of dwelling in a house, and next bringing forward the simile of the illusionist; both first present the simile and next its application. In the first simile there are two parts: previously, creating a simile for the Dharma. From "The mind is also like this" below is creating a simile for the simile. Later, it further brings forward the lifespan in the Heaven of Non-conception, which is also creating a simile for the simile. From "The Tathāgata's sorrow and grief" below is directly applying the simile. From "Like an illusionist" below is the next simile, applying the two similes. From "The Tathāgata has sorrow as well as no sorrow" below re-praises the principle, again having four parts: first, Dharma; second, simile; third, application; fourth, conclusion. This is the exposition in terms of Dharma. From "Just as an inferior person" below is the second, exposition through simile. If one relies on the Abhidharma, there are three kinds of measuring: first, measuring by persons; second, measuring by faculties; third, measuring by bhūmi (stages). An inferior fruition not knowing a superior fruition, while a superior fruition can know an inferior one, is measuring by persons. Dull faculties not knowing intermediate or sharp, while intermediate and sharp can know dull, is measuring by faculties. The first dhyāna not knowing higher dhyānas, while higher dhyānas can know lower dhyānas, is measuring by stages. The *Tattvasiddhi-śāstra* is not like this; it holds that there is mutual knowing, explaining that even a monkey can see the Buddha's mind, so how could dull faculties be incapable of knowing sharp ones? Here too, because there is partial knowing, one may also say they know; because they cannot know fully, one also says they do not know. The third, application of the simile, and the fourth, the conclusion, can be explored.

12.10

From "Furthermore, good son" below is the third, clarifying suffering and pleasure jointly in terms of both saṃsāra and nirvāṇa, which is a vertical discussion. The text has two parts: first the explanation, and later the debate. Within the first explanation there are three parts, namely the simile, the application, and the conclusion. This is the exposition through simile. The two birds illustrate the Dharmakāya; the fledglings illustrate sentient beings; the rising waters in midsummer illustrate the arising of inverted views. Choosing high ground means: for the sickness of impermanence, the medicine of permanence is needed, with permanence as the high ground; for the sickness of permanence, impermanence serves as the medicine, with impermanence as the high ground—this is neither permanent nor impermanent, fully possessing both permanence and impermanence to leave all inverted views behind. Feeding and nurturing illustrates enabling them to understand the principle of permanence and impermanence. Afterward roaming at ease according to their nature illustrates that after the Tathāgata has finished delivering them, he then roams among the blossoms of awakening. From "When the Tathāgata appears in the world" below is the second, the application of the simile. From "These are called different phenomena" below is the third, establishing the conclusion.

12.11

From "Kāśyapa said to the Buddha" below is the second, the debate. In three rounds of questions and answers, the six practices are fully examined. The first round also has two parts: first the question, and next the answer. The question is evident. Here it also combines permanence and impermanence, self and non-self, and so forth. From "The Buddha said" below is the second, the Tathāgata's answer, which also has four parts: first, presenting two verses as the answer; next, prose explanation. In the first part there are also two: the first verse clarifies the two fruitions of saṃsāra and nirvāṇa; the next verse clarifies the two causes of saṃsāra and nirvāṇa. The first half of the first verse clarifies the fruition of nirvāṇa, and the second half clarifies the fruition of saṃsāra. The next verse is also like this, as is evident. The subsequent prose from "If one is heedless" below fully explains the above two verses, as in the text. Third, from "Just as a person on the ground" below, clarifies that the inferior does not know the superior to illuminate suffering, also first with a simile and later its application. In the first simile, clarifying that bird tracks are not seen is intended to show that a bird flying in the air leaves no ground-walking tracks. There are indeed feathers and breath where it flies, which also leave these traces, but they are not what people on the ground can see. The application is as in the text. Fourth, from "Vigorous and courageous progress" below, clarifies that the superior can know the inferior to illuminate pleasure. It also has two parts: first, presenting two verses, which is directly the explanation. Here the first verse clarifies the person, and the second verse clarifies the Dharma. Next is a brief prose section explaining both verses. From "Kāśyapa said to the Buddha" below is the second round, first the question and next the answer. Within the question there are two parts: first, negating the Buddha's teaching; next, posing a challenge. The point of the challenge is: since there is neither sorrow nor joy, why speak again of ascending the terrace of wisdom? The Buddha answered: because ordinary beings have sorrow, one says the Tathāgata has no sorrow, which is precisely the meaning of an antidote. Furthermore, because he mindfully cares for sentient beings, one says he has sorrow, as the *Vimalakīrti-nirdeśa* says: "Because sentient beings are sick, the bodhisattva is also sick." The third round also has first a question and then an answer, which can all be explored.

12.12

Chapter on the Simile of the Moon

12.13

The previous parable of the birds [flying] together treats [matters] horizontally, as occurring at the same time; the present parable of the moon's waning and waxing treats [them] vertically, in terms of sequence. Horizontally first and vertically next naturally forms a sequence. Furthermore, [flying] together represents one's own practice, while waning and waxing represent adapting to circumstances in transforming others as well as one's own practice, which again constitutes a sequence. Héxī states: "All three chapters share the single intention of the true and responsive [bodies]." This is merely one approach. Since there are three sets of questions and answers, how could their intent be singular? There can naturally be two questions and one answer, one question and two answers, or one question and one answer. Héxī says: "It is merely a single phrase; the remaining two phrases can be understood by examining the text." Now I say: since the questions differ, the answers are also not identical. The previous question concerned proceeding together, and it was answered with the parable of the birds; now, three questions are formulated in relation to the three luminaries, and they are answered with the parable of the moon. Yet in that questioning, it is not only about the moon; it fully asks about the three luminaries. The moon is taken for its waning and waxing; the sun is used for its length [of day]; the stars are used for auspiciousness and misfortune. Although there are slight differences, they all alike illustrate concealment and manifestation. Since the moon is answered first, the chapter is titled after it. Personally, I hold that the moon subsumes the sun and stars, and so the moon titles the chapter. Moreover, while the names differ, the meaning is identical; therefore, using the moon's meaning is convenient. Emperor Wu of Liang commanded the scholars to compose [treatises on] the theories of heaven and earth, of which there were three: first, Xuānyè; second, Zhōubì; third, Língxiàn. Xuānyè has long been defunct and not transmitted; the scholars could not deduce its principles. Zhōubì refers to the Duke of Zhou questioning Yin Qi on the theories of heaven and earth, saying: "Heaven is like a round parasol, lower at the edges and higher in the center," which is the theory of covering heaven (gàitiān). The sun and moon travel horizontally, which accords with the Buddha's teachings. Língxiàn is precisely the theory of the celestial sphere (hùntiān). Zhang Heng made a diagram of the celestial sphere, saying: "The sun is like the yolk of an egg, and heaven is like the egg white. The sun rises from the east and gradually sets in the west, then passes underground into the earth and rises again in the east, revolving around heaven and earth; thus it is said that the sun rises from Fúsāng and enters Mèngfàn." [In this view,] the sun and moon travel vertically. The Dīrghāgama and the Lóutàn [jīng] state: "The retributive fruition of the deva-princes of the sun and moon is identical to that of the Four Heavenly Kings; their lifespan is five hundred years." An old [commentary] says: "Two hundred and fifty." The sun's form is fifty yojanas in length and breadth; the moon's form is forty-nine yojanas. The smallest of stars is not less than three yojanas, being a square of one hundred and twenty li. The sun's citadel is formed of two jewels: two parts essence of fire and two parts essence of gold. The moon is formed of two jewels: two parts essence of vaiḍūrya and two parts essence of white silver. The stars are formed of only one jewel, namely crystal. They revolve around Mount Sumeru, illuminating the four continents. The fifth scroll of the Lóutàn states: "At the beginning of the kalpa, there were not yet the three luminaries. Through the power of sentient beings' merit, chaotic winds were induced to blow upon the two jewels, the essence of fire and yellow gold, creating the sun. The city walls where the deva-prince of the sun dwells are sevenfold: two thousand li east to west, the same north to south and high to low, with a circumference of eight thousand. Furthermore, chaotic winds blew upon the two jewels, vaiḍūrya and white silver, creating the dwelling of the deva-prince of the moon: its city is sevenfold, one thousand nine hundred and sixty li east to west, the same north to south and high to low, with a circumference of seven thousand eight hundred and forty li. Furthermore, chaotic winds blew upon crystal, creating the dwellings of the deva-princes of the stars; all are upheld by great winds, revolving to the right like floating clouds. The large ones have a circumference of seven hundred and twenty li, the medium ones four hundred and eighty li, and the small ones one hundred and twenty li. The moon wanes due to three causes: first, it moves diagonally; second, attendants whose forms and clothing are the color of vaiḍūrya stand before the moon; third, it wanes because the sun shines upon it with sixty rays of light. It waxes due to three causes: first, it waxes because the moon moves straight; second, on the fifteenth day it occupies the main hall and the attendants do not stand before it, so it waxes; third, the sixty rays of light emitted by the sun shine upon it, but the moon does not receive any of them, and for this reason it waxes to fullness." This chapter directly answers, "Why are you like the sun, moon, Venus, and Jupiter?" Since it fully answers concerning the three luminaries yet takes the parable of the moon as its title, it is as distinguished above. First, the moon is in the middle, and the chapter is titled after the middle one. Moreover, the moon has waning and waxing, which illustrates concealment and manifestation clearly, and the passages on the moon parable are numerous; following what is clear and what is numerous, it is used to title the chapter. Ancients said: "The ten lines and six characters at the end of the chapter concerning 'when the sun rises, all the morning dew is dispelled' belong to the 'Bodhisattva Chapter', and the redactor of the sūtra erred." Zhāotí said: "It is not an error; it is simply a passage praising the power and function of the sūtra." Xīnghuáng [said]: "It is indeterminate: it may belong to the preceding chapter, or to the subsequent chapter." Master Guān said: "It belongs to the preceding [chapter]." Now I divide [the chapter] into two: first, answering the questions; second, the concluding praise. At the beginning of the sūtra, it is divided into three sections corresponding to the three luminaries, used to answer the three questions. Regarding the moon, there are six [points]: first, rising and setting; second, waning and waxing; third, large and small; fourth, good and bad; fifth, long and short; sixth, delight and aversion. In the first, on rising and setting, there is first the parable and next the application, as in the text. From "Good sons, just as this full moon" downward, it next explains waning and waxing, which also has first the parable and next the application. The Dīrghāgama states: "From the sixteenth day onward, the dark-clad attendants attend upon it, with one or two ascending on the first day, and by the thirtieth day all the ministers have ascended together; therefore it gradually wanes. From the first day of the [waxing] month, the ministers gradually descend, and by the fifteenth day all the ministers have descended; therefore it gradually waxes." A second [theory] says: "The deva-prince of the sun emits sixty kinds of light, which eclipse the moon, causing it to wane. When the deva-prince of the moon occupies the main hall, his light directly confronts the sun deva, and for this reason it is radiant and full." A third [theory] says: "From the first day of the month, the white-silver face emerges, and by the fifteenth day the silver face is fully displayed and the vaiḍūrya is fully concealed; from the sixteenth day, the vaiḍūrya face emerges, and by the thirtieth day the vaiḍūrya is fully displayed and the white silver is fully concealed." That it circles Mount Sumeru is because it is blown by five winds and naturally revolves: first, the holding wind; second, the staying wind; third, the moving wind; fourth, the turning wind; fifth, the blowing wind. The worldly saying that there is an eclipse every six months is explained in secular books: "It is precisely because their movements intersect; completing a cycle in six months, yin and yang control each other, and so this eclipse occurs." The sūtra states: "It is caused by asuras." Third, "Furthermore, for example, just as the full moon" clarifies large and small, with first the parable and next the application. In the first parable, the phrase "the mouth of a cauldron (fù)": west of the pass, they call a cauldron (fǔ) a fù, while east of the pass, they call a fù a fǔ. Fourth, "Furthermore, just as Rāhu" onward clarifies good and bad, and also clarifies the establishing of precepts. The text has three [parts]: first, prohibition; second, light and heavy; third, the Tathāgata's disciplinary instructions; all have parables and applications. Fifth, "Furthermore, just as when people see the moon" onward clarifies long and short, and also has a parable and application. In the parable, the devas' seeing an eclipse for a mere moment is based on the Four Heavenly Kings seeing this moon together; the bodily radiance of [the devas of] Trāyastriṃśa has no need for the sun and moon. Sixth, "Furthermore, just as the bright moon" downward clarifies delight and aversion, with first the parable and next the application. The text says: "If sentient beings have greed, anger, and delusion, they cannot be called those who take delight in seeing it. Is it that sentient beings do not delight in seeing the moon? Or is it that the moon is not delighted to be seen?" The explanation offers two senses. One says: simply because of the three poisons, sentient beings do not delight in seeing the moon. The second says: the moon is called "not delighted to be seen" [in the sense that] thieves themselves describe that moon as not delightful to see. "Furthermore, for example, just as when the sun rises" onward is the second, raising the sun, which also has first the parable and next the application. That the three seasons differ is because the Buddha's Dharma has no autumn, and so three seasons are spoken of. A second [view] says: the Buddha's Dharma does have autumn, for the sūtra says "autumn plowing is supreme," and also says "passing beyond summer is called autumn, when autumn rains pour continuously." The Suvarṇaprabhāsa says: "Three times three originally subsume and complete the four seasons; the Vinaya clarifies three seasons to distinguish the dwelling of thieves." Now, speaking of three seasons is not to distinguish the dwelling of thieves, but because spring and autumn are identical and not divided into two. The application of the parable has two parts: first, applying it to the Tathāgata's lifespan; second, applying it to the scriptural teachings, which can be looked up. "Just as the multitude of stars" is the third, raising the parable of the stars; the text has three parts: first, raising the multitude of stars; second, raising darkness; third, raising comets; all have first the parable and then the application. The first two can be seen. In the third parable, the term "dark fortnight (kṛṣṇapakṣa)": the Upāsaka-śīla Sūtra states, "From the sixteenth day to the thirtieth day is called the dark fortnight." The six-fascicle [version] calls it the "branch-dipper star (zhīdǒu xīng)"; Emperor Wu of Liang translated it as the "star of evil portents"; it is pronounced either like suì or like shù, and its shape is like a broom. Worldly people sometimes call it diāo or má, considering it an omen that dispels the old and establishes the new, which is just like a pratyekabuddha appearing in a world without a buddha.

12.14

"Furthermore, good sons, for example, just as when the sun rises" downward is the second part, concluding with praise for the preceding parables. The text has three [sections]: first, praise; second, exhortation to faith; third, conclusion. The praise also has two parts: first, praising the eradication of evil; next, praising the profound meaning. From "By this meaning" downward is the exhortation to faith, which also has two parts: first, exhorting faith; next, exhorting study. The concluding praise is as in the text. Here, these three textual passages are used to conclude the parables of the three luminaries, praising the teaching, the principle, and the practice: concluding the sun parable praises the permanently abiding teaching; concluding the moon parable praises the permanently abiding principle; concluding the star parable praises the permanently abiding practice.

12.15

Bodhisattva Chapter

12.16

Regarding the sequence of this chapter: above there were thirteen or fifteen questions, which inquired about the Buddha's affairs, and the Buddha has finished answering them. From this chapter onward, there are nineteen questions asking about the bodhisattva's affairs, all of which the Buddha answers. Various masters sometimes say: this chapter answers from the twelfth to the seventeenth questions. Now I explain that it answers twelve questions; the various questions cannot all be given in the title, so it takes its name from the first, hence saying "Bodhisattva". In explaining the meaning of "bodhisattva", there are briefly four levels: First, the Tripiṭaka bodhisattva. From seeing Śākyamuni Buddha and making the threefold offering, this is called the initial resolve; cultivating the marks for three asaṃkhyeyas and one hundred kalpas is called the intermediate mind; sitting beneath the Bodhi tree is called the final mind. Second, the shared bodhisattva. From initially giving nominal faith to all dharmas being illusory transformations, not yet moistened by the water of principle, this is called the stage of dry wisdom; when the water of principle moistens the spirit and subdues and cuts off [delusions of] view and thought, this is called the intermediate mind; sporting in supernatural powers, purifying buddha-lands, with remaining residual habits, slight smoke, and thin obscurations, this is called the final mind. Third, the distinct bodhisattva. From the ten faiths through the thirty minds is the initial mind; the ten stages are the intermediate mind; equal enlightenment is the final mind. These three kinds of bodhisattvas do not exhaust the encompassment of dharmas: looking back, they do not encompass all sentient beings; looking forward, they do not encompass persons with the capacity for buddhahood. Fourth, the complete bodhisattva. First, this refers to the bodhisattva of principle-nature; the bodhisattva of verbal identity, of contemplative practice, of resemblance, of partial realization, and of ultimate realization: beginning with principle-nature extending across all sentient beings, and culminating in wonderful enlightenment, all are called bodhisattvas. Therefore, when Kāśyapa asks, "Why is one who has not yet aroused the resolve called a bodhisattva?", we know he is not asking about the former three kinds of bodhisattvas, but specifically about the complete one. Within the complete bodhisattva, he does not ask about the five stages, but specifically about principle-nature. Thus, deriving its name from what was asked, the chapter is titled precisely after the bodhisattva of principle-nature. In the Tathāgata's answer, he directly answers concerning principle-nature, which is called a bodhisattva before arousing the resolve. And with this principle-nature as the cause, and the light of the nirvāṇa teaching as the condition, progressing from slander to faith, one turns into [a bodhisattva of] verbal identity; verbal identity is precisely the bodhisattva who has aroused the resolve. Principle-nature is precisely one who has not yet aroused the resolve; the meaning of the questions and answers is manifest in the text, so how could offering other explanations accord with the sūtra's central purport? From this it takes its title, hence being called the "Bodhisattva Chapter". However, Héxī explained that this chapter answers four questions, which share a single intent, meaning that one who has not yet aroused the resolve arouses the resolve through the sūtra and attains sight of the buddhadhātu; because one sees the buddhadhātu, one dwells in the assembly without fear; up to, because one sees the buddhadhātu, like a physician curing illness, one is not defiled by illness. Now I clarify that the complete meaning of the sūtra is unobstructed and penetrates everywhere; how could it merely answer four questions and no more? Even up to seeing the nature, being able to be a ferryman, being able to slough off old skin, like the wish-fulfilling tree of the devas, etc.—the power of the buddhadhātu is omnipotent; its entire essence is fully pervasive, lacking only in its minor details.

12.17

Now, the answers to the twelve questions are divided into two: first, one's own practice; second, benefiting others. First, within one's own practice, there are also two: first, answering the generation of good; second, answering the extinction of evil. First, in answering the generation of good, it first cites analogies to praise the sūtra, collaterally answering the earlier question; next, it directly corresponds to the question. In first praising the sūtra and collaterally answering, the text has two parts: first, the collateral answer; second, the analysis and resolution. [Master] Xīnghuáng said: By the power of the Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra, it causes those who have not yet generated the aspiration to generate it, and also compels them to generate the aspiration like [the dream of] a rākṣasa in a dream; such is its meaning. If so, then it is internal cause and external condition that cause them to attain the generation of aspiration; only when the aspiration is generated are they called bodhisattvas, and it is not that they attain the name of bodhisattva without having generated the aspiration. He also countered in defence: Having previously heard the sūtra, they forgot this meaning in the interim; now, receiving the subtle entry of its sound and light into their bodies, they are only then able to generate the aspiration; before generating the aspiration, they were already bodhisattvas. We do not accept this explanation now. Why? Before forgetting in the interim, they had already once generated the aspiration; if they had never generated it, how could it be called forgetting in the interim? If they had already generated it, they are already those who generated the aspiration; how could those who have not generated it be called bodhisattvas? Regarding the "light of nirvāṇa", there are two explanations. One says: The Buddha emits physical light that enters their pores; the Buddha is himself nirvāṇa, hence it is called the light of nirvāṇa. The second says: The teaching of nirvāṇa interprets the principle clearly, which is analogised to light; icchantikas have no goodness, so the light does not enter their minds, while [those guilty of] the four grave offences and the five heinous deeds have scanty roots of goodness, hence it speaks of the pores. Light is an analogy for the teaching, and pores are an analogy for faith. "Sūtras" refers to the sūtra-piṭaka; thus it cites the tripiṭaka to reveal inferiority, and makes manifest the Mahāparinirvāṇa [Sūtra] as superior. Furthermore, the present sūtra is timely for its audience, surpassing other sūtras. In the second part, the analysis and resolution, there is first the question, then the answer. Within the question, it first grasps the purport of the praise, next reverently expresses doubt, and finally raises objections. First, in grasping the purport: it first grasps the praise of generating good, which is prior to this chapter; next, it grasps the praise of extinguishing evil, which is at the end of the previous chapter. Next, reverently expressing doubt is as in the text. Finally, in raising objections, there are three: first, the objection regarding the equality of upholding and violating [precepts]; second, the objection regarding the inequality of rewarding good and punishing evil; third, the objection regarding difficulty and ease. First, from "Why is this?" onward is the objection regarding the equality of upholding and violating [precepts]: If the light entering the pores enables all to generate the aspiration, what difference would there be between upholding precepts and violating precepts, or cultivating good and doing evil (and so forth)? Next, "Why did the Tathāgata explain the meaning of the four reliances?" is the objection regarding inequality: The appearance of the four reliances in the world is precisely intended for reward and punishment; if one generates the aspiration because of the light, what need is there for reward and punishment? Third, from "As the Buddha said" onward is the objection regarding difficulty and ease: Above it was said that after three Gaṅgā [eons in] the Hiraṇyavatī River one still did not understand the meaning—this is the difficulty. Now it says that passing through the ear can eliminate defilements—this is the ease. Since they do not understand the meaning, how could they eliminate delusions? By this, he objects with difficulty and ease. Now we explain: Kāśyapa raises objections based on the separate [teaching] against the perfect [teaching]. Explaining the meaning in terms of the separate, the fall and ascent of upholding and violating [precepts], as well as reward and punishment, are naturally different; how could they be equal? Discussing it in terms of the perfect, all are identically the buddhadhātu; why should they not be equal? In terms of the separate, only by accumulating good does one understand; in terms of the perfect, understanding is identical with principle. Therefore the Buddha answered that it is a great matter and great virtue, which is precisely the purport of the perfect [teaching]. Second, from "The Buddha said" onward is the answer, which also has two parts: first, the direct answer; second, the explanatory answer. Within the first, the direct answer, there are two: first, clarifying rejection and acceptance; second, the direct answer proper. Within the first, there are two: first, excluding the icchantika; second, clarifying that all the rest are able to generate the aspiration. However, generating the aspiration is not merely following expediency; it is indeed a great blessing and a great matter. Second, regarding the explanatory answer: The great blessing and great matter is indeed the secret treasury, the tathāgata's buddhadhātu; this does not exclude the icchantika, for how could the icchantika not be the secret treasury and buddhadhātu? Desiring to explain bodhisattvas of names-and-words and so forth, it therefore excludes the icchantika and generally includes the rest. Desiring to explain the bodhisattva of principle-nature, it therefore speaks of the secret treasury, the nature of the Tathāgata. If one lacked the single school's doctrine of the perfect and the separate, how could one interpret the sūtra (and so forth)?

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大般涅槃經疏 — Classical Chinese