淨土或問 1.26

1.26

Question: "A person creates evil throughout his entire life, but by practicing buddhānusmṛti on the brink of death, he is reborn carrying his karma and never regresses. The power of Amitābha's vows is truly inconceivable! If so, might I attend to worldly pursuits while alive, and only practice buddhānusmṛti when on the brink of death?"

Answer: "How painful! How painful! What foolish and erroneous words these are! Arsenic and poison-bird wine are poisons among poisons, but these words of yours are more poisonous than arsenic and poison-bird wine! They not only lead you astray, but also mislead everyone under heaven—monks and laypeople, good men and faithful women alike! The aforementioned ordinary beings who, though committing rebellious and evil deeds, practice buddhānusmṛti at the brink of death, only encounter a kalyāṇamitra and manage to practice buddhānusmṛti because they possessed wholesome roots and blessed karmic conditions from previous lives. Such fortunate occurrences do not happen to even one in a hundred million people. Do you suppose that everyone has such good fortune at the brink of death?

Do you not see that the Qunyi lun says: 'In the world there are ten kinds of people who cannot practice buddhānusmṛti at the brink of death: First, one may not encounter a good friend, so there is no one to urge mindful recitation; second, the pains of karma afflict the body, leaving no time to practice buddhānusmṛti; third, one may suffer paralysis and loss of speech, unable to pronounce the Buddha's name; fourth, one may become mad and lose one's mind, so that focused contemplation cannot be formed; fifth, one may encounter water or fire, lacking the leisure to be earnest; sixth, one may encounter jackals and wolves, having no good friend nearby; seventh, at the brink of death an evil friend destroys one's faith; eighth, excessive eating causes stupor leading to death; ninth, in military combat one is slain abruptly; tenth, one suddenly falls from a high cliff and loses one's life.'

These ten kinds of situations are commonly heard of and seen, occurring to all people alike, whether monks, laypeople, men, or women. They are brought about either by past karma or induced by present karma, suddenly appearing before you without any way to escape. You are not a holy person with supernormal powers, endowed with the knowledge of past lives so as to know whether you will have obstructing karma at the brink of death. Nor do you possess telepathy or the divine eye so as to know whether you will meet an easy death or a terrible death at the end. If you suddenly run into even one of the ten kinds of adverse conditions mentioned above, it is all over: your hands and feet will be rendered powerless. Even if you were surrounded by spiritual teachers and living buddhas, they could not rescue you. You will inevitably follow your karma and receive retribution, enduring torment and punishment in the three wretched realms and eight conditions of non-freedom. At that time, though you might wish to hear the Buddha's name, you will not hear it.

Even granting that you have no such adverse conditions and merely die of a normal illness, you still will not escape the wind-knives dismembering your body and the four elements falling apart. Like a live turtle having its shell wrenched off, or a crab dropped into boiling water, racked by intense pain, panic, and terror, you will not be able to practice buddhānusmṛti.

Even granting that you die without illness, yet worldly ties may not be severed, worldly thoughts not yet stilled, craving life and fearing death, with your chest in turmoil. If you are a householder, your family property may remain unsettled, funeral arrangements unmade, wife weeping and children wailing, beset by a hundred kinds of distress—you will not be able to practice buddhānusmṛti.

Even granting that before death you have only a minor ache or illness in your body, enduring pain and suffering, crying out and groaning, seeking medicines and doctors, praying and repenting, with stray thoughts flying in confusion—you will not be able to practice buddhānusmṛti.

Even granting that before falling ill you have simply grown old, with signs of decay appearing before you, decrepit and frail, sorrowful, sighing, and troubled, managing this decayed body this way and that—you will not be able to practice buddhānusmṛti.

Even granting that before growing old you are in your prime of youth, the very time suited for buddhānusmṛti, yet if your wild mind has not ceased, involved in worldly affairs, grasping here and clinging there, indulging in reckless thoughts and chaotic notions, your karmic consciousness vast and hazy—you will not be able to practice buddhānusmṛti.

Even granting that you are at leisure and free, aspiring to cultivate the practice, yet if you cannot see through worldly phenomena, cannot let go, cannot hold firm, and cannot cut them off at the root, then as soon as a slight situation arises, the master within is swayed by its inversions—you will not be able to practice buddhānusmṛti.

Look at this: in old age, illness, youth, or times of leisure, if there is the slightest thing hanging on your mind, already you cannot practice buddhānusmṛti—how much less can you wait until the brink of death? How much worse that you say you will 'attend to worldly pursuits for now'! You are truly a foolish person uttering foolish words; I dare say you have misused both body and mind.

Moreover, worldly pursuits are like dreams, like illusions, like shadows, like echoes. Which one of them has real efficacy? Which one can stand in for birth and death? Even if you broadly construct monasteries, vastly increase monastic property, seek after status and titles, and consort with high officials, you might think you are doing much good, yet you do not realize you are violating the Tathāgata's precepts against constructing monasteries without comprehending the root of the Path. Have you not heard it said: 'Conditioned merit has many faults and offenses. Before heaven is attained, hell is already completed. If birth and death are not understood, all becomes the root of suffering. When the light of one's eyes falls to the ground and one undergoes suffering, only then will one know that all one's lifelong deeds were merely adding a cangue upon a cangue, a lock upon a lock, adding firewood to the cauldron of boiling water, adding blades and spears to the sword-tree. Losing human form from beneath the monastic robe, it cannot be regained in ten thousand kalpas. Even an iron man, upon hearing this, must shed tears.' When the patriarchs urged people so earnestly, did they ever permit you to attend to worldly pursuits for now and only practice buddhānusmṛti at the brink of death?

Have you not also seen what Chan Master Sixin said? 'People in the world have treasures like mountains, wives and concubines filling their sights, and make merry day and night. Would they not wish to live long in this world? Yet how can they help it that the path ahead is limited, secretly pressing on, and when the writ of summons arrives, it allows no lingering? Old King Yama does not cater to human feelings; what face does the ghost king of impermanence have? Moreover, based on what everyone has seen with their own eyes and heard with their own ears, in the front streets and back alleys, among relatives, family, friends, and brothers, how many robust and young people have died? People of the world often say: "Wait until old age, and only then practice buddhānusmṛti." Let it be known to you: on the road to the Yellow Springs there are neither old nor young; how many can wait until they are old? Those who die young in their youth are many indeed! An ancient said: "Do not wait until old age to practice buddhānusmṛti; the solitary graves are mostly those of young people."'

He also said: 'Ever since youth, taking a wife, raising children, and managing the household, one has endured tens of thousands of hardships. Suddenly the three-inch breath is severed, and inevitably all ceases in a single morning. If one has filial sons and grandsons, they may provide meals for a few monks, read a scroll of sūtras, burn some paper money, prepare a bowl of soup and rice in the third month of spring and the ninth month of autumn, and weep a few times, still remembering their parents. But if they are unfilial sons, then the moment the parents die, before the bones are even cold, they squander the wealth, sell off the fields and gardens, and indulge in pleasure. Comparing it with this, what is the rush? Sons and grandsons have their own fortunes; do not serve as beasts of burden for sons and grandsons!'

He further quoted an ancient worthy: 'With a cold smile I view the rich old man: / His business pursuits are swift as an arrow. / In the granary, the grain breeds worms; / In the storehouse, strings of coins rot away. / By day he holds the scales to weigh; / By night he lights the lamp to calculate. / His bodily frame is like a puppet— / Do not let the strings snap!'

When Sixin urged people so earnestly, did he ever permit you to attend to worldly pursuits for now and only practice buddhānusmṛti at the brink of death? You should consider how long a human life in this world can last: like flint-sparks or a flash of lightning, it passes in the blink of an eye. Take advantage of this time before you are old and before you fall ill; shake awake your body and mind, cast aside worldly affairs. If you get a day's time, practice buddhānusmṛti for a day; if you get an hour's effort, cultivate pure karma for an hour. Let it be whether one dies well or badly at the brink of death—my provisions for the journey are prepared in advance, and my future path is completely secure. If you do not do this, later regrets will be impossible to catch up with. Reflect upon this! Reflect upon this!"