宗鏡錄 18.25.1

18.25.1

Answer: They do not together make up a single Buddha, nor does each separately become one. This principle is difficult to comprehend; let us try to cite an analogy to consider it. It is like Guoqing Monastery: it is the dharmadhātu. The monks residing in the monastery are the ancient Buddhas. A traveler from afar visiting temporarily is one who temporarily resonates with the Buddha. On a later day, out of admiration he shaves his head and is assigned to the monastery; Guoqing is then my monastery. The pine paths of the Five Peaks, the terraces, halls, chambers, and corridors—all are mine. Instantly I obtain their enjoyment, without diminishing what belongs to others; it becomes my home. It is not that each person separately constructs a monastery; nor is it like others dividing up a monastery. If it were divided, it would depart along with the person; but the ever-abiding dharmadhātu cannot be divided. This meaning comes from the Nirvāṇa Sūtra: for example, by the road there is a great tree; its shade is cool and refreshing, and anyone who comes receives it, with no one barring them and no one carrying it away. Since this has been sealed by the golden mouth [of the Buddha], it can be upheld and practiced. Furthermore, capacity and response are interrelated; when the conditions of resonance and response converge, one can see all boundless Buddha-activities. This is because the Buddha is the sovereign condition, with his vast compassionate vows and the power of his wholesome roots of benevolence; and sentient beings are the fruition of equal flow, responding through their utmost sincerity, seeing him when their faculties are mature. Yet in general, none of this goes beyond one's own mind. Like the manifestation of lions from the fingers, the drunken elephant bowing to the feet, the compassionate mother meeting her child, the blind thief gaining sight, the city turning into lapis lazuli, the rock being hoisted into empty space, the Śākya woman's sores healing, and Devadatta's illness being cured—all are the power of the wholesome roots of benevolence cultivated and perfumed through accumulated kalpas by our original teacher, causing all sentient beings to see them within their own minds. Such matters as those above can corroborate the present text. Therefore the Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra says: The Buddha said: "Good son, when Devadatta instructed King Ajātaśatru to harm the Tathāgata, at that time I entered the great city of Rājagṛha, begging for food in sequential order. King Ajātaśatru then released the wild, intoxicated elephant Dhanapāla, intending to harm me and my disciples. Thereupon, in order to subdue the elephant Dhanapāla, I entered the absorption of loving-kindness, extended my hand and displayed it to him, whereupon five lions emerged from my five fingers. When the elephant saw this, fear arose in its mind, and it immediately evacuated its bowels, threw its whole body to the ground, and paid homage at my feet. Good son, at that time, at the tips of the five fingers of my hand there were in reality no lions; it was merely through the power of having cultivated the wholesome roots of benevolence that I caused him to be subdued. "Furthermore, good son, when I was about to enter nirvāṇa and had just set out toward the city of Kuśinagara, there were five hundred wrestlers along the road leveling, sweeping, and sprinkling it. In the middle of the road was a boulder; the crowd wished to lift and remove it, but with all their strength they could not. At that time I felt pity and gave rise to a mind of loving-kindness. Those wrestlers immediately saw me lift this great boulder with my big toe, hurl it into the sky, catch it again with my hand, place it on my right palm, blow on it so that it shattered into powder, and then bring it together again as before, causing the wrestlers' pride to subside. I then briefly expounded various essentials of the Dharma for them, causing them all to give rise to the mind of anuttarasaṃyaksaṃbodhi. Good son, at that time the Tathāgata in truth did not lift this great boulder with his toe, hold it in the sky, place it back on his right palm, blow on it to shatter it into powder, and restore it as it originally was. Good son, you should know that it was the power of the wholesome roots of benevolence that caused the wrestlers to see such things. "Furthermore, good son, in South India there is a great city named Śūrpāraka. In this city there was an elder named Ruci, who was a leader of the multitude and had already planted wholesome roots before immeasurable Buddhas of the past. Good son, in that great city all the people had faith in and submitted to heterodox paths, serving the Nirgranthas. At that time, wishing to deliver that elder, I traveled on foot from the city of Rājagṛha to that city, a distance of sixty-five yojanas between them along the road, wishing to transform and deliver those people. When those Nirgranthas heard that I was about to arrive at the city of Śūrpāraka, they had this thought: 'If the recluse Gautama arrives here, these people will surely abandon us and provide for us no longer; we will be impoverished and distressed—how will we sustain ourselves?' The Nirgranthas then dispersed in various directions and told the people of that city: 'The recluse Gautama now wishes to come here. But that recluse abandoned his father and mother, rushing about east and west; wherever he goes, he causes the land to fail to yield grain, the people to suffer famine, many to die, and emaciation and disease to follow one after another without relief. Gautama is a vagrant who brings only evil rākṣasas and spirits as his retinue; fatherless, motherless, solitary and destitute people come to inquire of him and become his disciples. What he teaches speaks purely of emptiness; wherever he goes, there is never any peace or joy.' When those people heard this, they harbored fear, bowed their heads to the ground in homage at the feet of the Nirgranthas, and said: 'Great teachers, what plan should we devise now?' The Nirgranthas replied: 'The recluse Gautama by nature loves groves, forests, flowing springs, and clear waters; if there are any outside, they ought to be destroyed. You should go out of the city together, wherever such things exist, and cut them all down completely, leaving none behind. In flowing springs, wells, and ponds, deposit filth and feces. Firmly bolt the city gates, let each equip their weapons, guard the ramparts, and vigilantly maintain your defense. If he should come, do not let him advance. If he does not advance, you will be secure. We shall also perform various arts to cause that Gautama to retrace his path and depart.' Having heard these words, those people respectfully assented and carried them out: cutting down trees, polluting all waters, equipping weapons, and firmly defending themselves. Good son, when I arrived at that city at that time, I did not see any trees, groves, or forests; I saw only the people equipped with weapons, guarding themselves upon the walls. Having seen this, I immediately felt pity and directed a mind of loving-kindness toward them: all the trees grew back as they originally were, and grew even further, and the remaining trees were beyond count; the rivers, ponds, springs, and wells became filled with pure water, like blue lapis lazuli."