宗鏡錄 46.3.4

46.3.4

If with an attached mind one clings to these four gates, then wrong views arise. Seeing differences among the four gates, when cultivating the cause one largely gives rise to disputes. It is like a person who stays long at a city gate, discriminating among the tiles and timber, judging their quality and coarseness, asserting that the south is right and the north wrong, or that the east is skillful and the west clumsy, causing delay for himself and refusing to advance. This is not the fault of the gate. The attached person is also like this: discriminating names and characteristics, knowing kleśas extensively, taking much to be the factors of awakening, seeking fame and gathering followers, hawking himself to gain advancement, beating his own big drum, erecting the banner of conceit, boasting to others, and mutually giving rise to disputes. Grabbing heads and pulling hair, the eighty-eight proclivities of aversion and attachment surge immensely. All this is due to an attached mind giving rise to wrong views toward the gates of the true Dharma; the kleśas aroused are no different from those of external non-Buddhists. But regarding the doctrines held, they are as distant as heaven and earth. The Vaipulya sūtras say: "Constantly asking about the bridge is reproved by the wise." People are also like this: for the sake of studying the path they cultivate these four gates, yet spend more than thirty years distinguishing a single gate without clarifying it; just as effort is applied, one is already old. Lacking the three kinds of flavor, one lives in vain and dies in vain, wasting a lifetime. What benefit is there, like that person asking about the bridge? This is because an attached mind clings to non-attached dharmas and gives rise to wrong views. Next, the four gates of the shared teaching are in substance the true Dharma, closely leading to the conjured city; the former were crooked while these are straight. Although the skillful and clumsy differ, there is no difference in the place to which they lead. It is like the celestial gate being straight and magnificent while the other gates are crooked and mean: by not staying in either gate, one can enter through both. If one counts the tiles and timber, both become delayed and obstructed. If one does not linger in the Dharma gates, whether in cause or in fruit, there is neither dispute nor attachment. This is called the non-attached mind not clinging to non-attached dharmas, so that wrong views do not arise. Furthermore, if with an attached mind one clings to this straight gate, wrong views also arise; or for the sake of fame, followers, supremacy, or profit, one discriminates the characteristics of the gates, so that the fetters of aversion, craving, and conceit arise because of it. It is like putting poison into good medicine: how could one not die? Because the poison of viewing and attachment enters the true Dharma, suffering and its origin increase; this is not the Tathāgata's fault. External non-Buddhists of sharp faculties enter the true characteristics by means of false characteristics, transforming attachment into non-attachment and becoming disciples of the Buddha. Those within the Buddhist teaching of dull faculties enter false characteristics by means of true characteristics, turning non-attachment into attachment and becoming disciples of falsehood. How lamentable! The four gates of the distinct and perfect teachings, whether skillful or clumsy, sharp or dull, all lead to ultimate nirvāṇa: because the cause is not clung to, the fruit has no disputes. If one fixes upon a gate and raises views, kleśas will arise, just as with Ulūka and the others. When viewed from this perspective, it is like a clear-sighted person standing by the Jing and Wei rivers: how could he be confused by names and fail to distinguish the clear from the turbid? The Fuxing ji explains: As for the two fetters of gold and iron, the Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa says: "It is like being in prison, bound by shackles; even though pardoned, one is bound again with gold fetters. A person bound by craving is like being in prison; even though renouncing household life, he becomes attached to the monastic precepts, which is like being bound by gold fetters." Here this metaphor is borrowed for attachments arising within and without: the iron fetters in prison are like external doctrines; the gold fetters received after pardon are like internal doctrines. Although gold and iron differ, the meaning of being bound is equal; although the Buddha-Dharma is superior, being bound by views is no different. As for the two uncarved stones of jade and rat: a "pu" is an uncarved jade stone. The state of Zheng valued uncarved jade stones; if anyone obtained one, they gave him a generous reward. A man of Zhou heard of this and plotted for this generous reward. According to the customs of the people of Zhou, a dead rat was called an "uncarved jade stone" (pu). Thereupon he brought it to Zheng, and the people of Zheng laughed at him. Having realized his mistake, the man answered the people of Zheng: "The phoenix of the people of Chu was in fact a mountain pheasant. Because the King of Chu valued phoenixes, there was someone who did not recognize a phoenix. On the road was a man carrying a mountain pheasant; the person asked him, 'What bird is this?' The carrier, knowing he did not recognize it, joked, 'A phoenix.' The person took it to be real and asked the carrier, 'Is it for sale?' The carrier replied, 'It is for sale.' He asked, 'How much money?' The carrier replied, 'Ten thousand cash.' He bought it at that price, intending to present it to the king. Having obtained it, it immediately died. The King of Chu heard of this, felt ashamed, and summoned him to inquire; the king also believed it was real and rewarded him with one hundred thousand cash." Thus we know that the substances of Zhou and Zheng are eternally distinct as pure and defiled: non-attachment is like Zheng, and generating views is like Zhou. The names are the same but the substances differ: this is what it means. Possessing the names of the four gates from the Tripiṭaka up to the perfect teaching, the meaning is like uncarved jade; yet giving rise to views and craving is like a dead rat. As for the two milks of cow and donkey, the treatise also says: "Elsewhere there may be good words, but they also derive from the Buddhist sūtras. If they are not the Buddha-Dharma, upon first hearing they are good, but after a long time they are not marvelous. For example, with donkey milk, though its color is the same, churning it produces only dung." Therefore, the words of the Buddha-Dharma and external non-Buddhists both contain statements of non-killing and compassion; yet when one investigates their reality thoroughly, they all turn out to be false. Now this is also the case here: although external doctrines have words such as existence and nonexistence, when examined they have no reality and are entirely false. Although the sixteen gates of the Mahāyāna and Hīnayāna of the Buddha-Dharma speak of existence and nonexistence, they merely break the clinging mind and naturally return to the correct track; therefore it is said that there are accomplishment and non-accomplishment. Holding views toward the external is like donkey milk; holding views toward the Tripiṭaka and so forth is like cow milk. Although the name "milk" is the same, their substances are eternally distinct; although the names of the views are equal, what they grasp differs. Even if external teachings eliminate attachment, there is no principle to be accomplished; when the Tripiṭaka and so forth are freed from attachment, they naturally enter the correct track. Furthermore, the Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa says: "The Buddha's teaching is like cow milk: cultivating it to attain liberation is like churning it to obtain curds, fresh butter, clarified butter, and so on. The teaching of external non-Buddhists is like that donkey milk, which originally is not something that yields curd. The teaching of external non-Buddhists lacks the flavor of liberation; thus churning donkey milk produces only feces and urine. Relying on the practice of external teachings brings only bitter fruits and yields no accomplishment or benefit." As for the two fruits of kāla and tinduka, the Mahāparinirvāṇasūtra says: "Good son, it is like a kāla forest where there are many trees, and only one tinduka tree. The two fruits resemble each other. When these fruits ripened, a woman gathered them all. The tinduka fruit was only one part, while the kālaka fruit was ten parts; the woman did not recognize them."