佛祖歷代通載 11

English (machine translation) 11

Language: English

11.10 — 4 parts

11.1

Compiled by Nianchang of Huating, Abbot of Da Zhongxiangfu Chan Temple in Jiaxing Circuit.

The Tang (surname Li; ruled by the virtue of Earth; capitals at the two metropolises). Master Lei says: '(Shen, Tai, Gao, Ze, Zhong, Rui, Xuan, Su, Dai, De, Shun, Xian, Mu, Jing, Wen, Wu, Xuan, Yi, Xi, Zhao, Ai; Pu was lost. Tang rulers: twenty-two; 292 years).'

11.3

(Wuyin [618 CE]) Emperor Shengyao, Gaozu, Yuan, changed the reign title to Wude. (Courtesy name Shude, a native of Chengji in Longxi. His ancestor was a descendant of King Wuzhao, Li Gao; Li Xin, Grand Protector of Hongnong; Chong'er, Garrison Commander of Jinmen; Xi; Li Tianxi; Hu, one of the Eight Pillars of the Zhou dynasty. The Western Wei bestowed on him the surname Daye; he reached the official post of Grand Commander. Together with Li Bi and seven others, he rendered meritorious service in assisting the Zhou; they were all Pillar Generals of the State, called the Eight Pillars. When Hu died, the Zhou pursued his merits and enfeoffed him as Duke of Tang. The Duke begot Bing, who inherited the enfeoffment as Duke of Tang; he was the father of Gaozu. He served the Sui as Area Commander-in-Chief of Anzhou. He begot Gaozu in Chang'an, where purple vapors filled the courtyard and his body had three nipples. He was naturally lenient, kind, and generous. He again inherited the title of Duke of Tang. Emperor Gong of the Sui advanced his enfeoffment to King of Tang. When Taizong, Shimin, knew that the Sui must perish, he plotted to launch the great enterprise, and Gaozu followed him. In the seventh month of autumn, they raised righteous troops; in the eleventh month of winter, they conquered the capital. In the fifth month of summer the following year, Gong yielded the throne to Gaozu. He ascended the throne in Chang'an and changed the state title to Tang. He was on the throne for nine years and passed away at the age of seventy-one; he was buried at Xianling. He abdicated internally to Taizong. Taizong was a Son of Heaven with the mind of a Buddha. He founded the base, established the dynastic work, and cleared the regions in all directions. It was transmitted through twenty-two generations, for a total of 292 years. Since the beginning of creation, among those who possessed the realm, none was as magnificent as the Tang. The rise and fall of our teaching constantly kept pace with the imperial way. Consequently, as for the abundance of internal and external protector sages and worthies, and the completeness of codes and institutions, none exceeded this dynasty. Therefore, regarding the Tang, this may well be called a complete record; may the gentlemen of the moral teaching and those of our order who come after have something to investigate and verify here).

11.4

The system of the Seven Ancestral Temples: (Arranged straight from east to west, all facing south to the bright daylight. The founding ancestor is in the center, with three zhao [temples] on the left and three mu [temples] on the right; the sequence is thus).

11.5

(Second year [of Wude, 619 CE]) When the Emperor accepted the abdication of the Sui, the hundred officials bowed and danced in homage. The monks merely raised the mountain-call (shanshu) and stood with folded hands off to one side. Yuchi Jingde, the Duke of E, and Liu Wenjing, General of the Jinwu Guard, submitted a memorial stating: "The monks have not yet attained sagehood; all are commoners. How can they make slight bows to princes and dukes, while parents conversely bow to them? How can this be tolerated?" The Emperor ordered that the relative merits of Confucianism and Buddhism be determined and codified in the court statutes. Once the deliberations were completed, they memorialized their opinion to the throne: it was not fitting that [monks] bow to superiors.

11.6

(Jimao [second year of Wude, 619 CE]) The land tax system was established.

11.7

(Ji вступи Shen [seventh year of Wude, 624 CE]) In the second month, on the dingsi day, Gaozu performed the shidian sacrifice at the Imperial Academy and summoned renowned Confucians, monks, and Daoists to debate the doctrine. The Daoist Liu Jinxi asked the śramaṇa Huicheng: "Prince Siddhārtha practiced austerities for six years seeking to realize the mārgaphala. Thus it is the Dao that can give birth to the Buddha, and the Buddha is accomplished through the Dao. Therefore the scripture states: 'Seeking the unsurpassed Dao,' and also: 'Personally understanding the Great Dao and bringing forth the unsurpassed mind.' Verifying it with this, the Dao should precede the Buddha." Huicheng replied: "The relation of Cīnasthāna to Tianzhu is like that of the surrounding seas compared to the islands. Lord Lao was more than three hundred years after the Buddha. How could the Buddha of King Zhao's time have sought the Dao of King Jing's time?" Jinxi said: "The Supreme Great Dao was born before heaven and earth; surging amidst the cavernous spirit, blazing atop the Jade Purity—this is the teacher of the Buddha." Huicheng said: "According to the Seven Classics and the Nine Schools of thought, the classic texts for governing the state take the Zhouyi as their fundamental source: the five cyclical phases generate one another, and the two poles are thereupon divided. 'Marvelous in all things' is termed spirit; 'the alternation of yin and yang' is termed the Dao. How can it be said that there is a separate Great Dao born before heaven and earth? Since the Dao is without name, whence could it give birth to the Buddha? The Zhongyong states: 'Following one's nature is called the Dao.' Che Yin stated: 'In oneself it is virtue; extended to things it is the Dao.' How could there be one wearing a golden cap on the head, cloaked in a yellow robe, with white hair hanging at the temples, holding a jade tablet in hand, dwelling atop the Great Net Heaven, and uniquely claiming to be the Great Dao? How utterly absurd!" Jinxi had no reply. Thereafter, Lu Deming, Erudite of the National University, established doctrines according to each side and analyzed their essential points throughout. The Emperor was pleased and said: "The three of you are all formidable adversaries. Yet Deming covered them all with a single presentation; he can truly be called worthy." He then bestowed silk on each of them.

11.8

(Third year [of Wude], Yiyou [625 CE; recte eighth year, 625 CE]) Yu Jian, Grand Astrologer, was ashamed to hold office through technical mantic arts and recommended Fu Yi to take his place. Under the Sui, Fu Yi had been a Daoist priest and was utterly frustrated in his ambitions. Having met with the dynastic change, he attained his ambitions at court. When he became director, there was a Daoist priest named Fu Renjun who was quite versed in calendrical science; Yi recommended him to become Assistant Astrologer, and they thereupon allied with each other. [Fu Yi] submitted a memorial requesting the abolition and dismissal of the Buddhist teachings in eleven articles. In summary, it stated: "The Buddha was in the Western Regions; his words were monstrous and the roads were distant. When the Han translated the barbarian scriptures, they gave free rein to his deceptive pretenses. Thus they cause people to be disloyal and unfilial, shaving their hair and merely bowing to sovereign and parents; wandering in idleness and eating without working, changing their attire to evade taxes and corvée. Expounding their monstrous books and recounting their heterodox teachings, they falsely set forth the three destinies and erroneously display the six realms. They intimidate foolish commoners and swindle the vulgar masses. Among the multitude of common people, those with discerning understanding are rare; without investigating the root source, they believe in his falsehoods. They still chase after past sins and fictitiously project future blessings, to the point that when people personally commit heinous crimes and fall foul of the law, incurring punishments, only then in prison do they bow to the Buddha and chant Sanskrit words with their mouths, forgetting weariness from dawn to dusk, looking to escape their sins. Moreover, life and death, longevity and premature death, are rooted in nature; punishment and virtue, majestic authority and blessing, pertain to the lord of men. Yet foolish monks deceptively claim that all derive from the Buddha, usurping the authority of the sovereign and seizing the principles of the transformation of the universe. Its harm to governance is truly lamentable! The Shujing states: 'It is only the sovereign who creates blessings; it is only the sovereign who creates majesty; it is only the sovereign who partakes of the royal delicacies. If ministers have the creation of blessings, the creation of majesty, and the royal delicacies, it will be harmful to their families and disastrous to their states.' From the Five Thearchs and the Three Kings, none had the Buddha Dharma; the sovereigns were enlightened, the ministers loyal, and the duration of their dynastic mandate was long. Only when Emperor Ming of the Han arrived was a barbarian shrine first established, ordering śramaṇas of the Western Regions to transmit their teachings themselves. Before the Western Jin, the people of the Central Plains were not permitted to shave their hair and undergo pravrajyā. When Fu Jian and Shi Le threw China into disorder, the bans were relaxed. Their governance was cruel and their dynasties brief; all were disasters brought about by the Buddhist teachings. Emperor Wu of Liang and Emperor Xuan of Qi should especially serve as warnings! In antiquity, a single woman, Baosi, bewitched King You and brought about the destruction of his state. How much more so now with a hundred thousand monks and nuns, carving and painting clay images to drain the empire! If Your Majesty were to make this multitude of a hundred thousand marry each other as husbands and wives, with ten years of reproduction and ten years of training and education, naturally there would be sufficient food and sufficient soldiers, and the four seas would be spared the calamity of encroachment. When the hundred clans know whence majesty and blessings originate, the custom of monstrous delusion will cease, and simple and pure transformation will return. Moreover, throughout past and present, loyal remonstrance has seldom avoided calamity. Recently, Zhangchou Zita of the Northern Qi offered his advice that monks and nuns waste and harm the state, and stupas and temples uselessly expend gold and silk. Monks and nuns pandered to the Chief Minister and relied upon imperial consorts and princesses, openly slandering and secretly defaming him; Zita ultimately died in the city marketplace. When Emperor Wu of the Zhou entered Qi, the first thing he did was bestow an enfeoffment upon his grave. Though I am not clever, I secretly aspire to follow his footsteps." The memorial was submitted, but received no reply.

11.9

(Bingxu [ninth year of Wude, 626 CE]) In the ninth year, Fu Yi, Grand Astrologer, submitted memorials requesting the abolition of the Buddhist teachings seven times in total; his wording was vehement and intense. The Emperor, advanced in years, was gentle and indecisive, and was quite inclined to believe him. He submitted his memorials to the assembly of officials for mixed deliberation. The high ministers all said: "The Buddha Dharma has flourished through successive dynasties; it promotes goodness, checks evil, and invisibly aids the state. In principle, it should not be discarded." Only Zhang Daoyuan, Minister of the Imperial Stud, allied with Yi and praised his memorial as being reasonable. The Chief Minister Xiao Yu rebuked Yi at court, saying: "The Buddha is a sage! Fu Yi raises this argument: 'He who denies the sages possesses no law.' I request that he be placed under severe punishment!" Yi said: "Ritual is rooted in serving one's parents and culminates in serving one's sovereign; in this, the ritual of loyalty and filiality is manifested, and the way of minister and son is fulfilled. The Buddha scaled the city wall and underwent pravrajyā, fleeing and turning his back on his father; as a common fellow he defied the Son of Heaven, and as an heir to the lineage he rebelled against his parents. Xiao Yu did not emerge from a hollow mulberry tree, yet he conversely venerates a fatherless teaching! I have heard: 'He who denies filiality has no parents.' This refers to Xiao Yu!" Yu said: "Hell was established precisely for this man!" (The above is found in the Old History of the Tang).

11.10.1

(4) The Emperor again took Fu Yi's memorial, distributed it to the monks, and inquired: "What benefit does leaving household life bring to the state?" At that time, Dharma Master Falin, whose secular surname was Chen, was a native of Yingchuan. His grandfather had resided in Xiangyang due to official service, and Falin later dwelt at Qifa Monastery in Chang'an. He composed the *Treatise on Refuting the Heterodox* (Poxie lun) in two fascicles, quoting widely from charts, histories, and Daoist scriptures, in which he broadly elucidated that the Buddhist teachings reach the very source of all phenomena, whereas the words established by Confucius and Laozi were merely governance for within the realm, never revealing the distant path nor fully exhausting ultimate principle. All who leave household life preserve their resolve, clarify the Way, propagate good, generate merit, and instruct the deluded; their benefit to the state is by no means shallow. Dharma Master Minggai composed the *Decisive Refutations of Fu Yi's Defamations of the Buddha and the Saṅgha* in eight articles. Dharma Master Huicheng composed the *Treatise on Distinguishing the Correct* (Bianzheng lun) in ten parables and nine admonitions, refuting Daoist Li Zhongqing's errors in his *Ten Discrepancies and Nine Delusions*. Falin and the others submitted memorials to the throne and also addressed a letter to the Prince of Qin. Meanwhile, Li Shizheng, Gentleman of Ceremonies in the Chancellery, authored the *Treatise on Inner Virtue* (Neide lun) in three sections, setting forth the benefits of the Buddha's transforming influence, and presented it with his own preface, which read: "Now, the Driver of the Ten Powers steers the Dharma boat across the ocean of suffering; the three vehicles guide [beings] across, leveling the path out of the burning house. The breadth of its encouragement of goodness and advancement of virtue is beyond the reach of the Seven Classics; the depth of its restraint of evil and prevention of harm cannot be rivaled by the Nine Schools. Yet in exhausting the spirit and comprehending transformations, its words are so vast as to astonish; in eliminating delusions and severing defilements, its path is so pure and lofty as to be difficult to tread. Chinese and barbarian, officials and commoners, court and country, literary scholars and Confucians—each adhere to what they are comfortable with, and rare are those who savor this Way. Unless one examines with refinement to scrutinize the true and the false, and contemplates deeply to observe suffering and emptiness, one cannot establish a faith as firm as rock or dispel doubts that seem irresolvable. Long ago, Vimalakīrti and Mañjuśrī propagated the sublime Way and served it diligently; more recently, Vasubandhu and Nāgārjuna realized the true principle and rejoiced in it with devotion. The earnest scholarship of Kumārajīva and Dao'an investigated the profound tenets and grew ever more reverent; the devoted faith of Sengrui and Huiyuan became firmer still even until their heads turned white. It surpasses Shian's obsession with books; it exceeds Confucius's delight in the *Changes*. A thousand pieces of gold could not distract their eyes; the eight tones could not alter their hearing. The broader their learning, the deeper their joy; the deeper their reflection, the more steadfast their faith. They all sought to cease but could not; thus it is certain that [this teaching] is not false. Our Emperor was born receiving Heaven's mandate to vastly succour the realm. He covers [all] like the blue heavens and supports [all] equally like the thick earth, clearing away ominous mists, purifying the eight directions, rescuing [the people] from misery, and pacifying the millions. The Five Teachings are promulgated, the Nine Merits arranged; he synthesizes the splendid teachings of all antiquity and reforms the remaining evils of a hundred kings. Gathering all good, he venerates the Three Jewels as a ford and a bridge; weeding out all evil, he expels the tares among the fourfold assembly. He complies with the bequeathed entrustment [of the Buddha] and promotes the essential arts of flourishing and continuation. His merit and virtue are exalted; the boundless heavens offer no comparison. However, the gentry trace their traditions to diverse paths; each follows what he has studied, and conflicting arguments arise like swarming bees. Some say that under the Three Kings there was no Buddhism yet their years were long, while under the two Shi rulers there were monks yet their governance was cruel; that the decline of transformation stems from venerating the Buddha, and benefiting the state lies in abolishing the monks. This is merely asserting a partial view without setting forth the pervasive principle. A broad examination of rising rulers is fully sufficient to prove such claims baseless. Why so? The one who destroyed the Qin was Huhai; at that time there was no Buddha, yet the land collapsed. The one who promoted Buddhism was Emperor Ming of Han; in that age there were monks, yet the state was well-governed. Under the Northern Zhou, Buddhist temples were abolished, yet the reign of Tianyuan did not endure; under the Sui, the Buddha's teachings were promoted, and the decrees of the Kaihuang era were free of cruelty. Prosperity and decline depend on the dissemination of government; order and chaos lie with the officials. To cast the blame upon the Buddha and the monks is truly not an all-encompassing argument. Furthermore, the Buddha solely promotes good and does not foster evil among ministers and commoners; the precepts primarily prevent transgressions, so how could they impair the governance of house and state? If every person maintained goodness and every family upheld the precepts, how could punishments proliferate, and from where could calamities arise? Although a thoroughbred steed is swift, without riding it one cannot reach afar; though medicines are abundant, without ingesting them how can they cure illness? Xiang Yu's loss of his army was not due to Fan Zeng lacking calculation; the rise of the Shi clan's cruelty, was it due to the Buddha's lack of benevolence? It is only that by transgressing it they became violent and chaotic; none who obeyed it ever turned cruel and tyrannical. Viewed from this perspective, it is sufficiently clear. Furthermore, some refer to the Correctly Enlightened One as a demon spirit, compare the Pure Abodes to licentious shrines, and slander and revile Him in every possible way. The Holy Court encourages goodness, establishing monasteries to foster merit; yet deluded people stir up slander, perversely taking merit and virtue as faults. This is a profound mockery of the sovereign, not merely a disparagement of the Buddha. In secret, I clutch my chest and sigh deeply; this is why I was stirred with indignation and took up the brush. Unworthily reliant on imperial grace, I have previously been steeped in the Dharma rain. I have discussed and polished my perplexities, accumulating years in this endeavor. Faith arose with what I heard, and doubt was eliminated through understanding. Formerly I too rashly censured and disbelieved; now I have firm faith and do not disparage. Extrapolating from myself to gauge others, all who lightly disparage without reverence do so because their investigations have not been exhaustive. If they were made to explore the subtleties and search out the hidden, matching the achievements of Fotudeng and Kumārajīva, they would surely have deep faith and earnest reverence, their aspirations equaling those of famous monks. My learning has not probed the depths, and my discernment has not reached the sublime. Having heard a little in my youth, my delusions were slightly removed. Respectfully testing my mediocre abilities, I have written a treatise in three sections: 'Distinguishing Delusions,' the first, clarifies the access and hindrance of the heterodox and correct; 'Comprehending Destiny,' the second, distinguishes the interdependency of calamity and blessing; 'Emptiness and Existence,' the third, refutes the graspings of annihilationism and eternalism. I have verified it against diverse words and tested it against multiple virtues, above revealing the pure merit of the Holy Court, and below dissecting the empty errors of licentious cults. I merely have this intention, but truly lack the talent; my phrasing is rustic and my citations shallow. Though exhausting my humble efforts, how could I proclaim the sage's virtue? I hope that those who share this illness yet unhealed, upon hearing shallow parables, may attain profound awakening. Like plants by a hedge that might cure an illness of the internal organs, or a meal of coarse greens that might save one from starving in a ravine—yet if a golden elixir were before one's eyes or jade delicacies filled the table, looking back on such meager things, they would truly be deemed wretched. Section One of the *Treatise on Inner Virtue*: 'Distinguishing Delusions.' It briefly states: There was a scholar of discerning intellect who spoke to a loyal and upright gentleman, saying: 'I have heard that Śākya was born in Tianzhu, and the sūtras originated among the western Hu. His designations find no peer in the Duke of Zhou and Confucius; His merits and virtues are unmentioned in the Canons and Plans. He is indeed venerated by distant barbarians, but was not a teacher or scholar of the Central Realm. When Kāśyapa Mātaṅga entered the Han, and when Kang Senghui traveled to Wu, relics were manifested in the southern realm, and monasteries were erected in the Eastern Capital. Ever since then, people came to venerate the Buddha. Monks flourished in numbers exceeding the disciples of the Zhu and Si rivers; monasteries resembled the residences of princes and marquises.'"

11.10.2

"[Monasteries] have already been established upon high, dry ground and further endowed with fertile fields. Tall banner poles are raised aloft to gleam against the sun; [monasteries] emulate noble mansions, directly facing the thoroughfares. Princes, dukes, and great ministers assist them with gold and silk; wealthy agricultural and mercantile families donate fields and houses to them. Where does the blessed benefit of this lie? Why is there such excessive honor and reverence? It would be better to melt down the statues and cease their casting, so that coins and currency need not be wasted; to burn the sūtras and prohibit copying, so that brush and paper would not be made dear; to defrock the monks and return them to the household registers, thereby increasing the surplus revenue from millet; to demolish the stupas to supply what is lacking, thereby broadening the benevolent relief [for the poor]. Wishing to present myself at the palace to offer my humble loyalty, I submit this memorial to present this plan. I humbly submit that this can benefit the state and profit the people. What do you, sir, think of it?"
The loyal and upright gentleman said, "What an excessive statement this is! In the past, I was deeply devoted to the ranks of Confucian scholars and applied my mind to the garden of letters; my views were much the same as yours, purely because I was late in hearing the Dharma. Relying on a compass [to direct me], I dispelled my delusion, and fortunately I had not strayed far from the path. Whenever I reflect upon my faults and blame myself, I even forget to eat when facing a meal. If you examine things widely and deliberate deeply, you too will regret your confusion and know how to turn back.
I have heard that there is the Grand Astrologer, Gentleman Fu, whose delusions are even more severe than mine were in former days. Looking inward and reflecting on my past confusion, five out of ten [of my errors] were identical with his. Please allow me to refute Gentleman Fu's misguided statements in order to dispel your perverse attachment.
Fu says that the Buddha's teaching originally came from the Western Hu and should not be revered in the Central Kingdom. Formerly, I shared this delusion, but now I realize it is not so. Youyu came from the Western Rong, yet he assisted Duke Mu of Qin in establishing his hegemony; Jin Midi was born among the Northern Di, yet he attended Emperor Wu of Han and eliminated perils and harm. If this is true of ministers, it should also be so of teachers! Why must one accept only those of the same customs and reject those from foreign regions? A teacher is revered for the greatness of his Way, irrespective of here or there; a teaching is supreme for the loftiness of its goodness, regardless of near or far.
As for prizing benevolence as fine and regarding the elimination of desire as lofty, warning against the lingering misfortunes of accumulated evil and encouraging good deeds to seek fortune—this is shared by the hundred schools and cannot be altered by the Seven Classics. Yet [their views] are narrow and shallow, not having reached the profoundest depth; they are petty and not comprehensive or broad. In showing empathy for oneself and extending it to creatures, how do they compare with the Buddha's vastness? In observing what is not yet known and reaching the source, how do they compare with the Buddha's farsightedness? In encouraging good and chastising evil, how do they compare with the Buddha's breadth? In illuminating emptiness and analyzing existence, how do they compare with the Buddha's depth? Viewed from this perspective, his Way is wondrous indeed! How could the virtue of any sage surpass it? How could one despise his Way merely because he was born in a foreign land, or discard his treasure merely because it came from a distant region?
Swift steeds that surpass the herd are not produced only in the central provinces; treasures rare in any age are not necessarily the products of the various Hua lands. The Han sought renowned horses from the Western Regions; the Wei collected lustrous pearls from the South Seas; ivory and horns from rhinoceroses and elephants were offered as tribute, and feathers were plucked from kingfishers. If material things born in distant lands are still valued here as treasures, why should the Way alone be discarded merely because it came from a distant realm? If medicinal herbs come from the Rong and Yi, or incantations originate among the Hu and Yue, provided they can dispel evil and remove sickness, would one fail to use them simply because they came from afar?
Now, eradicating the three poisons to realize the unconditioned—how great is this dispelling of evil! Removing the eight sufferings to attain eternal bliss—how profound is this elimination of sickness! How could one be confined by the distinction between barbarian and Hua, or calculate near and distant relations? What is more, under the hundreds of millions of suns and moons and within the trichiliocosm, the 'center' lies in that realm, not in this region!
Fu reasons that because the sūtras are not mentioned in the Odes and the Documents, the sūtras are not worthy of esteem. In the past, I shared this delusion, but now I have again realized that it is not so. The secret subtleties of celestial phenomena and calendar science, the extraordinary wonders of geography and mountains and rivers, the diagnoses and signs of the channels and acupuncture points, the methods and arts of needles, herbs, talismans, and spells—these are not recorded in the Odes and the Documents, nor were they clearly spoken of by the Duke of Zhou and Confucius. Yet when tested against good and bad fortune, they are verified at times; when examined in practical application, they are often effective. Furthermore, the swarming, endless things unspoken by the Duke of Zhou and Confucius, and the boundless, limitless phenomena unrecorded in the Odes and the Documents—how could there be an end to them? Truly, writings do not exhaust words, and words do not exhaust meanings. How could one be confined to the limited teachings of the Six Classics while turning one's back on the all-pervading purport of the Triyāna?
Capacities and practices were not fully developed in high antiquity; the sages opened up undertakings in later generations. Thus, pillared buildings replaced dwelling in nests and trees, and writing replaced the system of knotted cords. Feasting on blood and swallowing feathers were used first, yet were not prized; the efficacy of cooking by fire and eating grain, though invented later, was by no means defective. Their priority of adoption or rejection is not a matter of the breadth or limitation of reason and instruction. How could one hold that the Odes and Documents should flourish because they were propagated early, while the sūtras should be discarded because they arrived late? There are men who in youth ate coarse greens and in adulthood dined on fine grain and meat; who in youth wore plain clothes and in old age obtained the robes of a marquis. How could one claim that because coarse greens were obtained first they surpass the flavor of fine grain and meat, or that the robes of a marquis obtained late are not as noble as plain cloth?
The myriad things undergo change, but the Three Jewels are eternally abiding. Quiescent and unmoving, they respond to conditions and thereupon penetrate everywhere. The transformation body manifests the traces of concealing and revealing; the Dharma body transcends the numbers of rise and decline. He was not born for the first time in the royal palace, nor did he pass away forever under the twin trees. How could one discuss birth and cessation on the basis of his responding to conditions, or reckon length and brevity on the basis of his coming and going?
Gentleman Fu praises Laozi and slanders Śākyamuni; he lauds Daoist books and condemns the Buddhist teachings. Formerly, I shared this delusion, but now I have again realized that it is not so. The substance of Buddhism and Daoism is one and not two. Both eliminate the burden of having desires, and both reveal the principle of the unconditioned. Laozi clarified it, yet not fully; the Buddhist scriptures express it to the utmost limit. If the Dao were truly the Buddha, they would be fundamentally identical and neither would be wrong. If the Buddha were truly not the Dao, one could also negate one without affirming the other. The principle is not a contradiction of opposites, but men harbor differences of inclination and opposition; they are like the monkeys showing joy and anger, or like Duke She with his affection and dread [of dragons]. As for the purport of the Daode[jing] from the archivist beneath the pillar, and the inner and outer chapters from the garden of lacquer trees, they are elegant and profound, difficult to surpass, pure and lofty, worthy of esteem. I have humbly read them and found no fault in them. How could I blindly disparage them simply because I believe in and uphold the Buddhist scriptures?
Furthermore, let us consider the principle of the endless causes of birth and death, and of imperishable karmic retribution: this was first clearly illuminated by the Buddha, whereas Huang-Lao never spoke of it."

11.10.3

I do not know why the Daoist scriptures of today resemble Buddhist scriptures, discussing the three realms of existence to encourage punishment and stepping beyond the tracks of the Nine Streams. If they spoke of it having seen it with their own eyes, then they are identical to the Buddha and equal to his illumination; if they heard it with their ears and imitated it, then they took the Buddha as their master and followed his words. If their illumination is identical, then being the same, it ought not to be censured; if one took him as master, then the master must not be reviled. To praise the Dao while censuring the Buddha—how great an absurdity that is! Fu [Yi] says: 'The Buddha is the vapor of malevolent specters, and monasteries are shrines for illicit demons.' This shows how deeply unreflective he is. Specters produce only calamity; how could they propagate the transformation of the ten virtuous deeds? Demons necessarily rely on heterodoxy; would they ever promote the path of the eightfold noble truths? Specters still fear dogs, and demons also dread cats; how could they subdue the lofty pride of Śakra Devendra or crush the supernatural powers of the heavenly Māra? Moreover, consider men such as Fotudeng and Kumārajīva, or peers like Dao'an and Huiyuan—of lofty virtue and high renown, neither drunken nor deranged: how could they be permitted to abandon attachments, renounce worldly honors, and seek the heterodox ways of mountain goblins, or afflict their bodies with rigorous asceticism to serve the malign spirits of water demons? Furthermore, from the Later Han down to our Great Tang, generation after generation has proscribed heterodox talk, and everywhere illicit worship has been terminated. How could the court allow the expenditure of wealth and the release of scholar-officials and subjects to build halls and stūpas for goblins, or enter the followings of demonic spirits? In addition, there were chancellors, officials, models of human propriety, and ornaments of the state like Wang Dao and Yu Liang, or peers like Dai Kui and Xu Xun, who set their minds in the realm of gods and men and elevated their steps beyond the mist and clouds. All received the teachings and took refuge; all set their minds to venerate and believe. How could they deign to bow themselves in veneration of specters and demons? It was truly because they beheld the sublime and recognized the truth that it was so. Moreover, the ancestor of this Mr. Fu, [Fu] Yi, courtesy name Wuzhong, was a man of lofty talent and profound erudition, acclaimed throughout his generation as an all-embracing scholar. He discerned the auspicious dream of Emperor Xianzong [Ming of Han] and corroborated the subtle inspiration of the golden man. In the eastern transmission of Śākya's teaching, Yi played a meritorious part. In my humble estimation, the talent and discernment of Director Fu cannot rival Wuzhong. Why, then, does he revile the Buddha and defame the Dharma, doing the opposite of his ancestor? Kan Ze, Prefect of the Masters of Writing under Wu, replied to Sun Quan, the Lord of Wu: 'When the two schools of Confucius and Laozi are compared with the Buddha's Dharma, the difference in superiority and inferiority is vast. Why is this? Confucius and Laozi established their teachings by taking Heaven as their model to institute regulations; they dared not disobey Heaven. When the Buddhas preach the Dharma, Heaven reveres and practices it, daring not disobey the Buddha. Speaking from this perspective, they are truly beyond comparison.' In my humble view, Master Kan's discourse grasped one corner of this superiority and inferiority. Can the gentlemen of the realm fail to reflect upon his words? Great beings and eminent monks have observed the inner principles deeply; enlightened sovereigns and worthy ministers have planned for the state with loyalty. Why, then, have successive dynasties treasured it as a great moral guide? It is because they knew that in exhausting principle and fully realizing one's nature, no path can surpass it. Fu's contemplation is not deeper than that of famed monks, nor is his thought more refined than that of past sages. Solely following his own whims, he turns his back on the Dharma; lightly cutting off merit, he brings about misfortune. How disloyal is his planning for the state! How short-sighted is his concern for his own person! The Great Awakened One plumbed the spiritual depths and understood transformation, deeply observing faults and suffering, taking precautions in advance. Considering that one's lifespan is easily exhausted, he lamented that the five blessings are hard to preserve for long. Life flows like a river and passes like lightning; karma endures as long as heaven and earth. The three evil destinies are fraught with hardship and gloom; the four currents are boundless and vast. One relies on the boat of the Dharma to cross safely; one depends on the wings of faith to soar high. One ought to turn misfortune into fortune; why lack reflection and act madly? Fu says: 'During the Zhao and Liang periods, there were monks who rebelled; all the more so now, when the empire has two hundred thousand monks and nuns.' These, again, are unthinking words. If past rebellions among monks justify abolishing the assemblies of the Dharma today, could ancient treacherous ministers justify abandoning the renowned scholars of today? Could a neighbor's rebellious son justify banishing one's own dutiful child? Could rebellious people in the past justify not nurturing the common folk today? The assembly of renunciants throughout the entire world is not gathered in a single town, but is scattered like stars across the nine regions. They are governed by prefectures and counties, and bounded by passes and rivers. They hold no authority to muster troops, and they are constrained by statutes and codes. Even if there are three or five dangerous villains, or one or two icchantikas, since there is no opportunity for them to flock together in mobs, why worry about an ant-like throng? Furthermore, when śramaṇas enter the Path, do they harbor the schemes of outlaws? When women leave the household, would they seek to bear arms? Why lump together the tally of monks and nuns, equating them with bands of owls and mirror-beasts, inventing falsehoods to confound the truth, obscuring good and exalting evil? A gentleman has three things he reveres—ought he to act like this? When scholars in blue collars commit crimes, it is not the fault of Father Ni [Confucius]; when those in black robes do wrong, how could it be the blame of Śākya the World-Honoured One? Monks violating dynastic statutes and nuns offending secular penalties are like reading the codes while committing burglary, or reading the rites while behaving haughtily. It is merely that individuals are endowed with stubborn and corrupt natures and fail to reform toward the good; it is not that the scriptures open up the sources of rebellion and cause them to be tainted by evil. People are not all virtuous, but the Dharma is truly good. Why, out of anger at evil, turn against the good, or blame individuals and abandon the Dharma? It is like discussing Boyi and Liuxia Hui with one's mouth while acting like Jie and Robber Zhi with one's body, or hearing of Jie and Robber Zhi with one's ears and discarding the Book of Odes and Book of Rites with one's mouth. Thus, people may bear capital guilt, but the Dharma has no fault for which it should be discarded. One should merely proscribe wrongdoing to propagate the Dharma; one must not degrade the Path because of people. In my humble view, while having deep faith in the sublime Dharma, I do not blindly align with śramaṇas. As for weeding out tares and darnel to cultivate fine sprouts, and purging treachery and peril to purify the Great Teaching, this is truly my profound wish; this is truly my profound wish. Fu says: 'Monks and horned owls are all the evil seed of greed and rebellion.' These, again, are unthinking words. One who renounces the secular world to cultivate the Path is called a man of the Path. Studying the Path means abandoning greed and rebellion. If one were to say they are greedy for the path of bodhi and rebel against the stream of saṃsāra, Master Xi's words fell short of this meaning. Observe the vinaya conduct of the śramaṇa: they practice what ordinary men cannot practice, and refrain from what ordinary men cannot refrain from. This is fully recorded in the Buddhist scriptures and can be investigated. They do not harm even wriggling creatures; how much less would they commit the deeds of owls and mirror-beasts? They renounce even the rites of marriage and do not engage in them; how much less would they harbor the minds of beasts? Why take superior beings who have renounced desires and pair them with base creatures that gather dust? Why take worthy talents possessed of the Path and compare them with ignorant animal species? Why revile the benevolent assembly of great compassion and liken them to ominous and evil birds? To call men of the Path a rebellious seed and compare pure conduct to the mind of beasts—how severe is this injury to goodness! How abrupt is this inversion of right and wrong! Formerly, I too would often cite the Classic of Filial Piety's injunction against harming one's body to deride the śramaṇa's practice of shaving hair and beard, calling it a violation of the way of the former kings.

11.10.4

[... that the Buddhist robes and shaved head] lose the righteousness of loyalty and filial piety. Now, however, I have realized that this is not so. As for serving one's sovereign and parents: if one exhausts one's integrity, even giving up one's life is called humaneness; while compromising loyalty and filial piety to cling shamefully to survival merely preserves the skin, which is unrighteous. The treatises praise facing danger and sacrificing one's life; the rites guard against evading duty in times of peril. How can one sweeping statement condemn injuring [the body] and indiscriminately fuss over hair and skin? Slicing flesh from the thigh or presenting one's liver involves severe injury, yet shaving the beard and hair is but a slight loss. One who establishes loyalty has no regard for his life, and critics find no fault; why, then, should one who seeks the Way and does not cherish his hair alone be considered wrong? Tang pitied the common people and even offered his body to be burned to pray for rain; Mozi promoted universal love and was willing to rub himself smooth from heel to crown. How much more so when one deeply seeks mutual benefit for sovereign and father above: how would the loss of beard and hair be worth a second thought? The teachings of the sages have different paths that converge on the same goal; the Way of the gentleman may contravene the standard norm yet accord with righteousness—Taibo was such a man! He gave up tending to his parents at home and feigned gathering herbs never to return; he cast off the dress of the Central Plains and cut his hair for adornment. Nothing could have contravened the standard norm or violated the rites more than this. Yet Zhongni praised him, saying: 'Taibo may indeed be called of utmost virtue!' What was the reason for this? Although his actions turned his back on sovereign and parents, his heart was loyal to his house and state. Though his appearance was altered among the Baiyue, he spread his virtue and fulfilled the three renunciations. Therefore, Taibo cast off the system of robes and caps without diminishing his utmost virtue; so how could a śramaṇa relinquishing the attire of the gentry harm the wondrous Way? Although they change their clothing and alter their appearance, contravening the ordinary customs of ministers and sons, they entrust their hearts to the Way in faithful devotion and wish abundant blessings for sovereign and parents. They mortify their bodies and minds, cultivating the manifold good deeds of pravrajyā; by dedicating these to their sovereign and father, they prolong profound blessings through successive kalpas. Is this not abundant loyalty and filial piety? To rashly call śramaṇas disloyal is truly incredible! Fu further claimed that the barbarians of the Western Regions were born from mud and therefore serve clay and brick [images]. These too are thoughtless words! When venerating spiritual images and depicting revered forms, the materials used are many, not just clay and brick: some are carved and some are cast, using iron, wood, gold, and bronze; they are also painted and embroidered, using pigments and silk. Would he claim again that the men and women of the Western Regions were born entirely from such things? Moreover, ancestral shrines in China take wooden tablets as the primary object—would he say that the gentlemen who established the rites were all reared from wood? Parents cannot be forgotten, so ancestral shrines are built for them; the Buddha cannot be forgotten, so his images are erected to manifest boundless devotion and express the reverence of 'as if present.' In venerating the sage and esteeming virtue, what fault is there? Those who regard good as an offense naturally consider evil a merit! Fu also claimed that when sovereigns had no Buddha, the country was well governed and their reigns were long, but when there was a Buddha, governance was tyrannical and reigns were brief. These are likewise thoughtless words! Would one then say that Sākyamuni established his teachings to propagate licentiousness and tyranny, and that the bodhisattvas laid down words exclusively to promote the deeds of Jie and Zhou? To speak truth, it is entirely otherwise! The House of Yin lost the great treasure [of the state] because disaster arose from Daji's words; the House of Zhou lost the feudal lords because calamity stemmed from Baosi's smile. The falls of the Three Dynasties all derived from such matters. Would the teachings of the triyāna ever esteem these? The Buddha's Way is loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity; it equalizes all things and views enemies and kin alike, bestowing peace and joy and rescuing from peril and suffering. That by which the ancients won over their people, the Buddha has already propagated; that which caused the people to flee from their rulers, the scriptures have strictly prohibited. The virtues of Fuxi, Xuanyuan, Shun, and Yu are all encompassed within the six pāramitās; the faults of Yi, Zhuo, Gui, and Xin are all prevented by the ten non-virtuous actions. If Jie had formerly followed the teaching of few desires and Zhou had complied with the Way of great compassion, Yi Yin and Lü Shang would have had no use for their stratagems, and Tang and Wu would not have carried out their plans! Mingtiao could have been spared the disaster of losing the realm, and Muye could have calmed the chaos of soldiers turning their halberds around; the Lord of Xia would have heeded the songs of the bend of the Luo, and the Viscount of Chu would have avoided the calamity at Ganxi. Thus, the transformation wrought by the Buddha's teachings is of no small benefit: it extends fortune and prosperity without end and checks peril and destruction before they manifest. When Fu claims that having it is harmful and lacking it is beneficial, what kind of words are these? What kind of words are these? What enmity does he bear the Buddha to slander him so, and what debt has the Buddha failed to pay him that he hates him like an enemy? Fu further claimed that before the Buddhist Dharma existed, all people were pure and harmonious, and the world knew no usurpations or rebellions. These too are thoughtless words! Was the rebellion against virtue by the Nine Li not in an era without the Buddha? Was the disobedience of the Sanmiao after the Dharma already existed? In the twilight of the Xia and Yin dynasties, where was purity and harmony? In the Spring and Autumn period, was there really no usurpation or rebellion? When robbers, bandits, traitors, and subversives arose, the post of judge was appointed under Gaoyao; when the Xianyun flared up fiercely, the toil of launching campaigns fell to Jifu. Yet Fu claims that Buddhism gives rise to usurpation and rebellion! Even the theft of the Dharma is prohibited by the Buddha; how could he encourage the turmoil of usurpation and rebellion? A single contentious word is also guarded against by the Buddha; how could he ruin the way of purity and harmony? The Buddha's teaching urges ministers to be loyal, sons to be filial, states to be well ordered, and families to be harmonious. It promotes goodness by showing the joys of heaven, and disciplines wrong by revealing the torments of hell. He does not use merely a single character for praise, nor does he stop at the five punishments to establish precepts. To say that it harms harmony and fosters disorder—is this not the height of slander? And what harm does it do to the sun of the Buddha? Such a one merely sinks himself into the ocean of suffering. Slighting it without avoiding it—how truly lamentable! Thereupon the scholar was subdued in mind and looked ashamed; he vacated his mat and apologized, saying: 'Because I was accustomed to worldly conventions, I constantly transgressed the Way and gave myself over to laxity. I neglected what I had not investigated and took pleasure in what had been handed down before; turning my back on the correct Dharma, I entertained deviant theories, accepting perverse words and sharing in the error. Now that I have heard the profound depths of the Buddha's wisdom, I know the loyalty and substance of the Buddhist teaching. Suddenly enlightened in spirit, the truth is laid open, sufficient to sweep away confusion and dispel the malady. Though I followed deviance in past years, I beg to return to rectitude this day. I shall respectfully recite these admonitions to keep them always on my lips.'

11.11

The commentary says: In ancient times, Lord Sima Wenzheng criticized Cui Hao of the Northern Wei for being blind in his choice of methods. As for Court Astrologer Fu [Yi], his poor choice of methods is even more conspicuous. Just when heaven's will was grandly launching the Tang dynasty, Taizong manifested as a sage of great expedient means, becoming a sovereign of towering virtue and brilliant illumination such as appears once in a thousand years—how could such a meeting be easy to come by? There was Wenzhongzi, who personally took upon himself the role of teacher and classicist for a hundred generations, emerging between the He and Fen rivers. All of Taizong's chief ministers of the time, like the noble lords depicted on Lingyan Pavilion, turned northward to call him master and received from him the way of aiding a king. At that time, had Court Astrologer Fu known even slightly where to turn and entered Master Wang's school, his accomplishments—even if not reaching the post of prime minister—would not have fallen short of a renowned minister or capable grand master. Yet merely relying on the lowly arts of divination, astrology, and omens, with low rank and status and unable to assert himself, he seized upon old personal grievances to defame and desecrate the Great Teaching, plotting to steal fame. When Taizong ascended the throne, the empire was civilized and enlightened; the noble lords were stately and serene in the court, discussing the Way, ordering the realm, and instituting rites and music—even the reigns of Yao and Shun could not have surpassed it! At that time, Fu Yi's learning had long been neglected and his techniques exhausted; nursing his shame, he withered away at home, and his miserable death was entirely predictable. How marvelous was Gentleman Li's 'Discourse on Inner Virtue'! Examining it closely, it is indeed an insightful discernment and outspoken discourse for all under heaven. Its chapter 'Comprehending Destiny', which takes what Confucianism calls destiny and what Buddhism calls karma and synthesizes them from beginning to end, is especially striking. It is a pity that its lengthy text cannot be fully recorded here.

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佛祖歷代通載 — Classical Chinese