念佛三昧寶王論 3.23

3.23

I replied: "Now, when discussing making offerings to the ocean of the dharmadhātu, purifying the three karmas throughout the myriad practices is in every case called an offering; how much more so when wandering thoughts contemplate the true realm—how could that not be an offering? The Nayamukha says: 'Contemplate all dharmas: whether permanent or impermanent, neither can be apprehended.' Widely making offerings to all tathāgatas—is this not clear? Furthermore, while the Tathāgata was in the world, solemn offerings expressing sincerity were all described as clouds of flowers and oceans of incense pervading realms as numerous as fine dust motes, yet were still regretted as too few. That the Great Beings entered contemplation and employed visualization—taking Mount Sumeru as the lamp wick, the great ocean as the oil dish, and, still not having fully unfolded their deep veneration, burning their golden bodies to offer to the stūpa of Pure Brightness, the flames of the golden body illuminating the ten directions—Sarvasattvapriyadarśana Bodhisattva is an example of this. Yet people today merely defer to their own minds, or point from afar to flowering trees, violating the etiquette of making offerings—how deep is their arrogance! You asked: 'When the Buddha was in the world and after his passing, which presentation brings greater merit?' Let me try to clarify it. Consider Ding Lan, who carved wood in his hall, serving it with warmth and care as if his parents were present; his name shines in the historical records, and down to this day people call him a truly filial son. When the Tathāgata was in the world, radiating like a golden mountain with magnificent marks blazing, who that beheld him would not give rise to the intention toward the Way? To present flowers and extend devotion—was that not easy? But once the Hero of the World concealed his traces and the moon sank behind layered mountains, people no longer behold his true countenance, only transmitting the palm leaves. Before his sculpted and painted images, to give rise to the unsurpassable intention and to be able to present a single flower—such resolve and such a mind are truly worthy of praise! Having such devotion as this—is it not difficult? The Nirvāṇa [Sūtra] says: 'Even presenting a single flower brings rebirth in the Akṣobhya realm.' Thus, a single incense, a single flower, a single lamp, a single tune of music, and food and drink—for those who with all their heart delight in presenting them to the buddhas of the three times, these are the wondrous cause of the Pure Land and the very beginning of attaining sageliness; how could one make light of this matter and not abide by it? If one abandons this practice and listens to groundless talk—offering mind-flowers, lighting mind-lamps, burning mind-incense, and bowing to a mind-buddha—seeking right awakening in this way, how is it any different from displaying a monkey's clever tricks, or holding on to the longing for a plum grove? When told to wear mind-clothes and eat mind-food, such people endlessly refuse; yet when it comes to the six perfections and myriad practices, why do they banish them into a mind of emptiness-view? The fault of speech that points merely to mind and emptiness is like this; one cannot fail to be cautious! In the True Word school (mantranaya), the yoga contemplative practices are also based on the phenomenal gate to manifest outward forms, not solely deferring to mind, always solemnly presenting incense and flowers throughout the six periods without omission."