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# 續高僧傳 23.13

續高僧傳 23.13

- **Language:** Classical Chinese

### [23.13](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060.23.13)

釋道安。俗姓姚。憑翊胡城人也。識悟玄理早附法門。性無常師聞道而至。兼以恬虛靜泊凝心勝境。謙肅為用動止施度。凡厥禪侶莫不推服。後隱于太白山。栖遁林泉擁志經論。思拔深定慧業斯舉。旁觀子史粗涉大綱。而神氣高朗挾操清遠。進具已後。崇尚涅槃。以為遺訣之教。博通智論。用資弘道之基。故周世渭濱盛揚二部。更互談誨無替四時。住大陟岵寺。常以弘法為任。京師士子咸附清塵。安內外既明特善文藻。動言命筆並會才華。而風韻疎通。雅調翔簡。執禮居尊仁被朝貴。故榮達儒宰。知名道士。日來請論咸發信心。故得義流天下草偃從之。周武廓清天步中外禔福。頻御彫輦躬禮安焉。安道為物宗。坐鎮崇敬。令帝席地而止。安則如常敷化。高談正法詞無涉世。公卿側目觀者榮慶。時及中食安命供設。帝將舉筯曰。弟子聞。俗人不合僧食。法師如何以罪累人。安曰。佛教權實律制開遮王賊惡臣並通供給。貧道據法相擬。理非徒爾。帝曰。審如來言非佛意也。但恐損道眾耳。又與賊臣同席。誠無預焉。即勅將去。更論餘法。曾不以介意。斯即季代之高量也。後勅住大中興寺。別加殊禮。帝往南郊。文物大備。勅諸道俗同覩通衢。勅別及安。令觀天子鹵簿儀具。安答曰。陛下為民故出。貧道為法不出。帝聞彈指嘆善久之。安鑒悟絕倫德風遠扇。立形平准守道自遵。皆此類也。與同學慧俊知名周壤。俊姓朱氏。京兆三原人。生不學書。而耳飡取悟一聞不忘藏諸胸臆。流略儒釋談如泉涌。攻擊關責鋒鍔叢萃。曾於一日安公正講涅槃。俊命章設問。遂往還迄暮。竟不消文。明旦又問。講難精拔。安雖隨言即遣。而聽者謂無繼難。俊終援引文理徵並相詶。遂連三日止論一義。後兩捨其致方事解文。故使驚唱前修預聞高揖。俊後歷尋華土。縱學名師。凡所霑耳。皆義通旨得。安與同室三十餘年。言晤飛玄誠逾目擊。因疾而卒。安撫屍慟哭曰。宣尼有言。信不虛矣。至天和四年歲在己丑三月十五日。勅召有德眾僧名儒道士文武百官二千餘人於正殿。帝昇御座。親量三教優劣廢立。眾議紛紜。各隨情見較其大抵。無與相抗者。至其月二十日。又依前集。眾論乖咎是非滋生。並莫簡帝心。索然而退。至四月初。勅又廣召道俗。令極言陳理。又勅司隷大夫甄鸞。詳佛道二教。定其先後淺深同異。鸞乃上笑道論三卷。合三十六條。用笑三洞之名。及笑經稱三十六部。文極詳據事多揚激。至五月十日。帝又大集群臣。詳鸞上論以為傷蠧道士。即於殿庭焚之。道安慨時俗之混并。悼史藉之沈網。乃作二教論取擬武帝。詳三教之極。文成一卷篇分十二。初歸宗顯本篇。有客問曰。僕聞。風流傾墜。六經所以緝修。誇尚滋彰。二篇所以述作。故優柔弘潤於物必濟曰儒。用之不匱於物必通曰道。斯皆孔老之神功。可得而詳矣。近覽釋教文博義豐。觀其汲引。則恂恂善誘。要其旨趣。則亹亹茲始良。然三教雖殊勸善一途。教迹誠異理會則同。至如老嗟身患孔嘆逝川。固欲後外以致存生感往以知物化。何異釋典之厭身無常之說哉。但拘滯之流未馳高觀。不能齊天地於一指。均是非於一氣。致令談論之際每有不同。此所謂匿摩尼於胎㲉。掩大明於重夜。傷莫二之淳風。塞洞一之玄旨。祈之彌劫奚可值哉。主人答曰。子之窮辯未盡理也。夫萬化本於生生。三才兆於始始。然則無生無始。物之性也。有化有生。人之聚也。聚雖一體。而形神兩異。散雖質別。而心數弗亡。故救形之教。教稱為外。濟神之教。教稱為內。是以智論有內外兩經。仁王辯內外兩論。大等明內外兩律。百論言內外二道。若通論內外。則該彼華夷。若局命此方。則可云儒釋。釋教為內儒教為外。備彰聖典非為誕謬。詳覽載藉尋討源流。教惟有二寧得有三。何者。昔玄古樸素。墳典之誥未弘。淳風稍離。丘索之文乃著。故包論七典統括九流。咸為治國之謨。並是修身之術。若派而別之。則應為九教。總而合之。則同屬儒宗。論其官也。各王朝之一職。談其藉也。普皇家之一書。子欲於一化之內。令九流爭川。大道之世。使小成競辯。豈不上傷皇極莫二之風。下開拘放鄙蕩之弊。真所謂巨蠧鴻猷眩曜朝野矣。佛教者。窮理盡性之格言。出世入真之正轍。論其文則部分十二。語其旨則四種悉檀理妙域中。固非名號所及。化擅繫表。又非情智所尋。至於遣累落筌陶神盡照。近超生死遠證泥洹。播闡五乘。接群機之深淺。該明六道。辯善惡之昇沈。敻期出世。而理無不周。邇毘王化。而事無不盡。能博能要不質不文。自非天下之至慮。孰能與斯教哉。雖復儒道千家農墨百氏取捨驅馳。未及其度者也。惟釋氏之教理富權實。有餘不了稱之曰權。無餘了義號之為實。通言善誘何名妙賞。子謂。三教雖殊勸善義一。余謂。善有精麁優劣宜異。精者超百化而高昇。麁者循九居而未息。安可同年而語其勝負哉。又云。教迹誠異理會則同。爰引世訓以符玄教。此蓋悠悠之所昧。未暨其本矣。教者何耶筌理之謂。理者何耶教之所詮。教若果異理豈得同。理若必同教寧得異。筌不期魚蹄不為兔。將為名乎理同安在。夫厚生情篤。身患之誡遂興。不悟遷流。逝川之歎乃作。並是域內之至談。非踰方之巨唱。何者。推色盡於極微。老氏之所未辨究心窮於生滅。宣尼又所未言。可謂瞻之似盡。而察之未極者也。經曰。分別色心有無量相。非諸二乘所知。且二乘之與大行。俱越妄想之鄉。菩薩則慧兼九道。聲聞則獨善一身。其猶露潤之比巨壑。微塵之比須彌。況凡夫識想何得齊乎。故經曰。無以日光等彼螢火。若夫以齊而齊不齊者未齊矣。以齊而齊於齊者未齊焉。余聞。善齊天下者。以不齊而齊天下者也。何須夷岳實淵然後方平。續鳧截鶴於焉始等。此蓋狷夫之野議。豈達士之貞觀乎。故諺曰。紫實昧朱狂斯濫哲。請廣其類。上至天子下至庶人。莫不資色心。以成軀。稟陰陽而化體。不可以色心是等。而便混以智愚。陰陽義齊。則同之於貴賤。此之不可。至理晈然。雖強齊之。其義安在。帝為張賓搆譖。意遣釋宗。初覽安論通問僚宰。文據卓然莫敢排斥。當時廢立遂寢。誠有所推。至建德三年歲在甲午五月十七日。乃普滅佛道二宗。別置通道觀。簡釋李有名者。並著衣冠為學士焉。事在別傳。安削迹潛聲逃于林澤。帝下勅搜訪。執詣王庭。親致勞接。賜牙笏綵帛。并位以朝列。竟並不就。卒于周世。初安之住中興。携母相近。每旦出覲手為煮食。然後上講。雖足侍人不許兼助。乃至折薪汲水。必自運其身手。告人曰。母能生養於我。非我不名供養。卒于母世初無一息。斯准大聖擔棺之像。布化澆夫矣。及其即世也乃作遺誡九章。以訓門人。其詞曰。敬謝諸弟子。夫出家為道至重至難。不可自輕不可自易。所謂重者。荷道佩德縈仁負義。奉持淨戒死而有已。所謂難者。絕世離俗永割親愛。迴情易性不同於眾。行人所不能行。割人所不能割。忍苦受辱捐棄軀命。謂之難者名曰道人。道人者行道人也。行必可履言必可法。被服出家動為法則。不貪不諍不讒不匿。學問高遠志存玄默。是為名稱參位三尊。出賢入聖滌除精魂。故得君王不望其報。父母不望其力。普天之人莫不歸揖。捐妻減養供奉衣食。屈身俯仰不辭勞役者。以其志行清潔通於神明。淡泊虛白可奇可貴故。自頃荒流道法遂替。新學之人未體法則。棄正著邪忘其真實。以小黠為智。以小供為足。飽食終日無所用心。退自推觀良亦可悲。計今出家或有年歲。經業未通文字不決。徒喪一世無所成名。如此之事不可深思。無常之限非旦則夕。三塗苦痛無強無弱。師徒義深故以申示。有情之流可為永誡。其一曰。卿已出家永違所生。剃髮毀容法服加形。辭親之日上下涕零。割愛崇道意陵太清。當遵此志經道修明如何無心故在色聲。悠悠竟日經業不成。德行日損穢迹遂盈。師友慚恥凡俗所輕。如是出家徒自辱名。今故誨勵宜當專精。其二曰。卿已出家棄俗辭君。應自誨勵志果清雲。財色不顧與世不群。金玉不貴惟道為珍。約己守節甘苦樂貧。進德自度又能度人。如何改操趨走風塵。坐不暖席馳務東西。劇如徭役縣官所牽。經道不通戒德不全。朋友蚩弄同學棄捐。如是出家徒喪天年。今故誨勵宜各自憐。其三曰。卿已出家永辭宗族。無親無疎清淨無欲。吉則不歡凶則不慼。超然從容豁然離俗。志在玄妙軌真守撲。得度廣濟普蒙福祿。如何無心仍著染濁空爭長短銖兩斗斛。與世同利何異僮僕。經道不明德行不足。如是出家徒自毀辱。今故誨示宜自洗沐。其四曰。卿已出家號曰道人。父母不敬世帝不臣。普天同奉事之如神。稽首致敬不計富貧。尚其清修自利利人。減割之重一米七斤。如何怠慢不能報恩。倚縱遊逸身意虛煩。無戒食施死入太山。燒鐵為食融銅灌咽。如斯之痛法句所陳。今故誨約宜改自新。其五曰。卿已出家號曰息心。穢雜不著惟道是欽。志參清潔如玉如氷。當修經戒以濟精神。眾生蒙祐并度所親。如何無心隨俗浮沈。縱其四大恣其五根。道德遂淺世事更深。如是出家與世同塵。今故誡約幸自開神。其六曰。卿已出家捐世形軀。當務竭情泥洹合符。如何擾動不樂閑居。經道損耗世事有餘。清白不履反入泥塗。過影之命或在須臾。地獄之痛難可具書。今故戒勵宜崇典謨。其七曰。卿已出家不可自寬。形雖鄙陋使行可觀。衣服雖麁坐起令端。飲食雖疎出言可飡夏則忍飢冬則忍寒。能自守節不飲盜泉。不肖之供足不妄前。久處私室如臨至尊。學雖不多可齊上賢。如是出家足報二親。宗族知識一切蒙恩。今故戒汝各宜自敦。其八曰。卿已出家性有昏明。學無多少要在修精。上士坐禪中士誦經。下士堪能塔寺經營。豈可終日一無所成。立身無聞可謂徒生。今故誨汝宜自端情。其九曰。卿已出家永違二親。道法革性俗服離身。辭親之日乍悲乍欣。邈爾絕俗超出埃塵。當修經道制己履真。如何無心更染俗因。經道已薄行無毛分。言非可貴德非可珍。師友致累恚恨日殷。如是出家損法辱身。思之念之好自將身。安有弟子慧影寶貴。並列名隋世。影傳燈大論繼踵法輪。汎迹人間情多野外。著傷學存廢厭修等三論。傷學除謗法之愆。存廢防奸求之意。厭修令改過服道。並藻逸霞爛。煥然可遵。後卒開皇末歲。貴翫閱群典講律為務。見晉世支敏度合五家首楞嚴為一本八卷。又合三家維摩經為一本五卷。隋沙門僧就合四家大集為一本六十卷。貴乃合三家金光明為一本八卷。復請崛多三藏。譯銀主陀羅尼及屬累品。以之成部。沙門彥琮重覆梵本。品部斯具焉。

> Shi Dao'an, whose secular surname was Yao, was a native of Hucheng in Pingyi. Awakening to the profound truth, he early joined the Dharma gate. By nature he had no permanent teacher, going wherever he heard the Way. Furthermore, being placid, vacuous, quiet, and tranquil, he concentrated his mind upon superior realms. Employing modesty and solemnity, his movements and pauses displayed moderation. Among his fellow dhyāna companions, there were none who did not defer to and admire him. Later, he secluded himself on Taibai Mountain, dwelling in retirement among forests and springs, harboring aspirations toward the sūtras and treatises. Through deep dhyāna he extracted profound insight, thus elevating his undertaking of wisdom. He looked collaterally into the masters and histories, broadly touching upon their general outlines. His vital spirit was lofty and bright, harboring pure and far-reaching principles. After receiving full ordination, he venerated the Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra, regarding it as the bequest of ultimate instruction; he was widely versed in the Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa, using it as a foundation for propagating the Way. Thus during the Zhou dynasty, these two works were vigorously promoted along the banks of the Wei River; alternating his preaching and instructions, he never ceased throughout the four seasons. Dwelling at Dazhigu Monastery, he constantly took the propagation of the Dharma as his duty. The scholars of the capital all attached themselves to his pure dust. With both internal and external learning lucidly understood, An was especially gifted in literary composition; his spontaneous speech and brushwork both harmonized with artistic talent. Moreover, his demeanor was open and penetrating, his refined tone soaring and concise. Upholding etiquette and residing in a place of honor, his benevolence extended to the nobility of the court. Therefore, prosperous and distinguished Confucian ministers and renowned Daoist masters daily came to request discussions, all giving rise to faithful minds. Consequently, his doctrine flowed throughout the realm, and the people bowed like grass before the wind. When Emperor Wu of Zhou cleared the realm and brought blessings to both inner and outer regions, he frequently rode his carved carriage to pay personal respects to An. Because An's Way made him a leader among men, he remained seated to command respect, bidding the emperor to sit on the floor and remain there. An then expounded teachings as usual, discoursing loftily on the true Dharma without words touching upon mundane affairs. The dukes and ministers watched with sidelong awe, and the onlookers felt honored and delighted. When noon arrived for the midday meal, An ordered food to be served. As the emperor was about to raise his chopsticks, he said, "This disciple has heard that laypeople are not permitted to eat the food of the saṅgha. How can the Dharmabhāṇaka burden people with guilt?" An replied, "In the Buddha's teachings of the provisional and real, and the Vinaya's regulations of permission and prohibition, provision is extended to kings, bandits, and evil ministers alike. I, a poor monk, base this upon the Dharma; this reasoning is not unfounded." The emperor said, "If it is truly as the Tathāgata spoke, it was not the Buddha's intention \[to give indiscriminately\]; I only fear harming the community of the Way. Moreover, I truly have no part in sharing a seat with rebel ministers." He then ordered the food removed and discussed other Dharmas instead, never holding a grudge in mind. Such was the lofty capacity of that late age. Later, by imperial decree, he was installed at Daxingzhong Monastery, where exceptional honors were additionally bestowed. When the emperor went to the southern suburbs, with cultural and military trappings fully prepared, he ordered the monastics and laity alike to view the main thoroughfares. A special decree was sent to An, commanding him to view the emperor's imperial insignia and regalia. An answered, "Your Majesty goes out for the sake of the people; I, a poor monk, do not go out for the sake of the Dharma." Hearing this, the emperor snapped his fingers in praise for a long time. An's discernment and awakening were peerless, and the wind of his virtue fanned far and wide. Establishing himself in impartiality and abiding by the Way through self-restraint—all his conduct was of this kind. Together with his fellow student Huijun, he was famous throughout the Zhou region. Jun's surname was Zhu, a native of Sanyuan in Jingzhao. He had never studied books from birth, but by listening he attained awakening; hearing once, he never forgot, storing it in his breast. Versed in both Confucianism and Buddhism, his discourse gushed forth like a spring; his attacks, queries, and critiques were as sharp and dense as clustered spear points. Once, on a day when the Venerable An was lecturing on the Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra, Jun raised the chapter and posed questions, exchanging arguments until dusk without progressing through the text. The next morning he questioned again, his disputations exquisite and piercing. Although An responded immediately to each point, the listeners thought the objections would never end. Jun persistently cited texts and principles to examine and counter An, so that for three consecutive days they debated only a single meaning. Only after both laid aside their views did they turn to explaining the text. This amazed their predecessors, and those who heard bowed in deep respect. Jun later traveled throughout China, studying under renowned masters at will; whatever met his ears was understood in meaning and grasped in purport. An shared a room with him for more than thirty years; their exchanges soared in profundity, their sincerity surpassing speech. When Jun died of illness, An stroked the corpse and wept bitterly, saying, "Confucius's words were truly not in vain!" In the fourth year of the Tianhe era, the year yichou \[569 CE\], on the fifteenth day of the third month, an imperial decree summoned more than two thousand virtuous monks, famous Confucians, Daoists, and civil and military officials to the main hall. The emperor ascended the imperial throne and personally evaluated the superiority and inferiority, the abolition or establishment, of the three teachings. The assembly's opinions were divided, each following their personal views to compare the broad outlines, none yielding to another. On the twentieth day of that month, they assembled as before; the arguments grew discordant, and right and wrong proliferated, none satisfying the emperor's mind, so they retreated despondently. In early fourth month, an imperial decree again broadly summoned monastics and laity, commanding them to express principles to the utmost. He also commanded Zhen Luan, Grand Master of the Metropolitan Rectifier, to examine the two teachings of Buddhism and Daoism in detail, determining their priority, depth, sameness, and difference. Luan then presented the Xiaodao lun (Treatise Ridiculing the Dao) in three fascicles comprising thirty-six articles, using it to ridicule the title of the "Three Caverns" and to ridicule their sūtras numbering thirty-six sections. Its text was extremely detailed in evidence, with many vehement polemics. On the tenth day of the fifth month, the emperor again assembled the ministers to examine the treatise Luan had presented; deeming it harmful to the Daoists, he burned it in the palace courtyard. Dao'an, lamenting the confusion of worldly customs and grieving over the suppression of historical records, composed the Erjiao lun (Treatise on the Two Teachings) to address Emperor Wu, detailing the ultimates of the three teachings. The text formed one fascicle divided into twelve sections. The first was the "Section on Returning to the Fundamental and Revealing the Root." A guest asked: "I have heard that when refined customs collapsed, the Six Classics were compiled; when boastfulness became rampant, the two chapters \[of the Daodejing\] were composed. Thus, that which is gentle and broad, necessarily aiding all creatures, is called Confucianism; that which is inexhaustible in use, necessarily connecting with all things, is called Daoism. These are all the spiritual works of Confucius and Laozi, which can be known in detail. Recently I examined the Buddha's teachings; their texts are vast and their meanings rich. Looking at how they guide, they are gentle and skillful; grasping their purport, they are ever fresh. Truly, though the three teachings differ, their encouragement of goodness follows one path; though the traces of their teachings are indeed distinct, their realization of principle is identical. As for Laozi lamenting bodily affliction and Confucius sighing over the flowing stream—the former surely wished to place himself last and outside so as to preserve life, while the latter was moved by what passes to know the transformation of things. How does this differ from the Buddhist scriptures' disgust with the body and discourse on impermanence? It is only that narrow-minded men have not mounted a lofty perspective, unable to equalize heaven and earth into a single finger, or level right and wrong into a single vital breath. This causes their discussions always to diverge. This is what is called concealing the maṇi jewel within its casing, or shrouding great brightness in deep night, harming the pure custom of non-duality and blocking the profound purport of pervasive oneness. Praying for it through kalpas, how could they encounter it?" The host answered: "Your exhaustive debate has not reached the ultimate principle. The myriad transformations are rooted in continuous generation; the three realms of existence originate from the primal beginning. However, being without birth and without beginning is the nature of things; having transformation and having birth is the gathering of humans. Though gathered into one body, form and spirit are two distinct things; though dispersed into different substances, the mental states do not perish. Therefore, the teaching that saves the physical form is called external; the teaching that delivers the spirit is called internal. For this reason, the Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa speaks of internal and external scriptures; the Renwang jing distinguishes internal and external treatises; the Vaipulya sūtras clarify internal and external Vinayas; and the Śataśāstra speaks of internal and external paths. If we speak broadly of internal and external, it covers both Chinese and barbarian; if we restrict the terms to this land, it may be said to refer to Confucianism and Buddhism. That Buddhist teaching is internal and Confucian teaching is external is fully demonstrated in the sacred scriptures and is no fabrication. Carefully examining the records and tracing the origins, there are only two teachings; how could there be three? Why? In ancient times of simplicity, the proclamations of the ancient scriptures had not yet expanded; as pure customs gradually waned, the writings of the three ancient tombs and eight books appeared. Thus, encompassing the seven canons and gathering the nine schools of thought, all serve as strategies for governing the state, and all are arts of cultivating the person. If branched and distinguished, there should be nine teachings; if gathered and united, they belong together to the Confucian tradition. Discussing their offices, each was a post in the royal court; discussing their books, they are all writings of the royal house. Within a single transformation, you wish to make the nine schools vie like rivers; in an age of the Great Way, you cause small accomplishments to compete in debate. Does this not, above, harm the non-dual custom of the royal standard, and below, open up the corrupt practices of narrowness, licentiousness, vulgarity, and dissolution? Truly it can be called a great blight upon the grand plan, dazzling and misleading both court and populace. As for the Buddhist teaching, it consists of standard words that fathom principle and exhaust nature, the correct track for transcending the world and entering truth. In terms of its texts, it is divided into twelve parts; speaking of its purports, it encompasses the four siddhāntas. Its principle is marvelous within the cosmos, certainly beyond what names can reach; its transformation dominates beyond attachments, and is not what ordinary intellect can seek. Reaching the abandonment of burdens, the dropping of fish traps, the refining of spirit and the culmination of illumination, it transcends birth and death in the near term and realizes nirvāṇa in the far term. It propagates the five vehicles, receiving the capacities of living beings according to depth; it completely clarifies the six destinies, distinguishing the ascent and descent of good and evil. Reaching far beyond the world, its principles are entirely comprehensive; drawing near to assist royal governance, its matters are exhaustively handled. Able to be vast and concise, neither crude nor embellished—unless one has the utmost reflection under heaven, who could match this teaching? Even if the thousand schools of Confucians and Daoists, and the hundred lineages of agriculturalists and Mohists, select and discard, strive and gallop, they cannot reach its measure. The teaching of the Śākya clan is rich in the provisional and the real. That which has remainder and is not definitive is called provisional; that which is without remainder and definitive in meaning is called real. To speak generally of skillful guidance—how could that be called marvelous appreciation? You said that although the three teachings differ, their meaning in encouraging goodness is one. I say that goodness has refined and coarse aspects, and superiority and inferiority should differ. The refined transcends the hundred transformations to ascend high; the coarse follows the nine abodes without resting. How can one speak of their victory and defeat in the same breath? You also said that though the traces of their teachings are distinct, their realization of principle is identical, citing worldly teachings to match the profound teaching. This is what the common herd is blind to, having not reached its root. What is teaching? It is that which captures principle. What is principle? It is that which is expressed by teaching. If teachings are truly different, how can principle be identical? If principle is necessarily identical, how could teachings differ? The fish trap does not expect a fish; the snare is not made for a rabbit. If taking names, where is the identity of principle? Now, deep attachment to life gave rise to the warning about bodily afflictions; failure to understand impermanence produced the sigh over the flowing stream. Both are supreme discourses within the cosmos, not grand proclamations that transcend boundaries. Why? Tracing form down to its infinitesimal particles is what Laozi could not distinguish; fathoming the mind down to arising and ceasing is what Confucius did not speak of. It may be said that looking at them, they seem exhausted, but examining them, they are not ultimate. The scripture says: 'Distinguishing form and mind has immeasurable characteristics, which are beyond the knowledge of the two vehicles.' Furthermore, both the two vehicles and the great practice transcend the realm of delusive thoughts. A bodhisattva's wisdom encompasses the nine destinies, while a śrāvaka only cultivates his own person. It is like comparing dew drops to a vast ravine, or a particle of dust to Mount Sumeru. How much less can the consciousness and thought of ordinary people be equaled! Therefore the scripture says: 'Do not equate sunlight with the fire of a firefly.' If one equalizes the unequal by means of equality, it is not yet equal. If one equalizes the equal by means of equality, it is still not equal. I have heard that one who is good at equalizing the realm equalizes the realm through inequality. Why must one level mountains and fill abysses before achieving flatness, or lengthen a duck's legs and shorten a crane's legs before making them equal? This is merely the rustic opinion of an obstinate man; how could it be the upright perspective of an enlightened scholar? Therefore the proverb says: 'Purple truly obscures vermilion; the madman thus mimics the philosopher.' Let us expand its categories: from the Son of Heaven down to the commoners, none fail to rely on form and mind to make a body, receiving yin and yang to transform the physical frame. One cannot, because form and mind are equal, confound the wise and foolish; or because yin and yang are equal in principle, equate the noble and base. That this is unacceptable is clear in the ultimate principle; though one forces equality upon them, where is the meaning in it?" Because Emperor Wu was slandered by Zhang Bin, he intended to eliminate the Buddhist order. When he first examined An's treatise and inquired of the ministers, the textual evidence was so outstanding that none dared reject it. At that time, the abolition was temporarily shelved, for it truly commanded respect. In the third year of the Jiande era, the year jiawu \[574 CE\], on the seventeenth day of the fifth month, he universally abolished both the Buddhist and Daoist orders. He separately established the Tongdao Monastery, selecting famous monks and Daoists and making them wear cap and gown as scholars. The matter is recorded in a separate biography. An concealed his traces, silenced his voice, and fled to the forests and marshes. The emperor issued an edict to search for him, and when he was arrested and brought to the royal court, the emperor personally consoled and received him, granting him an ivory tablet, colored silks, and a rank among the court officials. In the end he did not accept them. He passed away during the Zhou dynasty. Earlier, when An lived at Zhongxing Monastery, he brought his mother to live nearby. Every morning he went to greet her and cooked food with his own hands before ascending to lecture. Although attendants were plentiful, he did not allow them to assist; even gathering firewood and drawing water, he invariably did with his own limbs. He told others, "My mother was able to give birth to and raise me; if not done by myself, it cannot be called filial support." He passed away during his mother's lifetime, never having rested for a moment. This followed the Great Sage's example of carrying the coffin, to spread conversion among unfilial men. When he was about to pass away, he composed the "Nine Chapters of Bequest Instructions" to instruct his disciples. The text reads: "I respectfully address the disciples. Leaving home to practice the Way is extremely grave and extremely difficult; one must not take oneself lightly or easily. That which is called grave means shouldering the Way, carrying virtue, wrapping oneself in benevolence, and bearing righteousness, upholding the pure precepts until death brings an end. That which is called difficult means cutting oneself off from the world, leaving secular life, severing affections forever, changing emotions and altering nature, differing from the multitude. One practices what people cannot practice, severs what people cannot sever, endures suffering and accepts humiliation, abandoning bodily life. Being called difficult, one is named a 'person of the Way' (dāorén). A person of the Way is one who practices the Way. His actions must be worthy of emulation, his words worthy of law. Wearing the robes of the monastic, his every movement serves as a model. He is not greedy, not contentious, not slanderous, and not secretive. His learning is lofty and far-reaching, his aspirations lie in profound silence. Thus his reputation joins the rank of the Three Jewels; transcending sages and entering arhats, he purifies the essence of his soul. Therefore, sovereign kings do not expect repayment from him, and parents do not expect his labor. All people under heaven bow down to him, abandoning wives and reducing their own sustenance to offer food and clothing, bowing and prostrating without refusing toil, because his aspirations and deeds are pure, communicating with the spiritual powers; his detachment and luminous purity are extraordinary and precious. Recently, through disruption and wandering, the Dharma has declined. New students have not realized the regulations; abandoning the correct and clinging to the perverse, they forget the true reality. Taking petty cunning as wisdom and small offerings as sufficiency, they eat their fill all day without using their minds. Looking back upon this self-reflectively, it is truly lamentable. Calculating the present monastic life, some have spent years, yet their scriptural studies are not mastered, and the characters are unresolved; in vain they waste a lifetime without achieving any reputation. Such matters cannot be thought of deeply! The limit of impermanence comes either in the morning or the evening; the pains of the three bad destinies spare neither the strong nor the weak. The bond between master and disciple is deep, so I express this to serve as an everlasting admonition to all sentient beings. The first says: You have left home, forever parting from your parents. Shaving your hair and altering your appearance, the Dharma robes adorn your form. On the day of parting from kin, high and low wept; severing love and exalting the Way, your intention soared above the Great Purity. You ought to abide by this resolve, clarifying scriptural study and the Way; how can you be thoughtless, still lingering in sights and sounds? Idling all day long, your scriptural study remains unaccomplished; your virtuous conduct diminishes daily, and impure traces multiply. Masters and friends feel shame, and common folk despise you. Leaving home in this manner is merely bringing disgrace upon your name. Now I admonish and encourage you: you must be dedicated and refined. The second says: You have left home, abandoning the secular and parting from the ruler. You should admonish yourself, with aspirations resolute as the clear clouds. Paying no heed to wealth and beauty, not mingling with the world; valuing neither gold nor jade, prizing only the Way. Restraining oneself and keeping integrity, finding sweet the bitter and delighting in poverty; advancing virtue to deliver oneself, and also able to deliver others. How can you alter your conduct, rushing about in the mundane dust? Sitting without warming the mat, scurrying west and east on affairs, more harassed than corvée labor, dragged about by county magistrates! Scriptural study is not mastered, precept virtue is incomplete; friends mock you, and classmates abandon you. Leaving home in this manner merely wastes your heaven-allotted years. Now I admonish and encourage you: you should each take pity on yourselves. The third says: You have left home, parting forever from your clan. Having neither close nor distant kin, pure and free from desire; not rejoicing in good fortune, not sorrowing in calamity. Transcendent and unhurried, broadly detached from the secular; with aspirations in the profound and marvelous, emulating truth and preserving simplicity. Attaining liberation to deliver broadly, all receiving blessing and fortune. How can you be thoughtless, still attached to defilement? Vainly disputing over long and short, ounces and bushels, pursuing worldly gain—how do you differ from servants? The scriptural Way is not clear, virtuous conduct is deficient. Leaving home in this manner merely brings humiliation upon yourself. Now I instruct you: you should wash and purify yourselves. The fourth says: You have left home, bearing the name of 'person of the Way.' Parents do not receive your veneration, secular emperors do not make you a subject. All under heaven revere you together, serving you like a spirit; bowing their heads in deep respect, regardless of rich or poor. They esteem your pure cultivation, which benefits oneself and others. The gravity of their curtailment is such that a single grain of rice weighs seven catties. How can you be negligent, unable to repay kindness? Indulging in leisurely wandering, body and mind vainly agitated; without precepts consuming offerings, upon death entering Mount Tai! Consuming burning iron as food, molten copper poured down the throat; such agony is proclaimed in the Dharmapada. Now I admonish and instruct you: you should reform and renew yourselves. The fifth says: You have left home, bearing the title 'one who rests the mind.' Clinging to no defilement, revering only the Way. Aspirations equal to purity, like jade and ice; you should cultivate scriptures and precepts to deliver your spirit. Sentient beings receive blessings, and close kin are also delivered. How can you be thoughtless, drifting with the secular? Giving rein to the four elements, indulging the five senses; the Dao and virtue become shallow, while worldly affairs grow deeper. Leaving home in this manner is mingling with the dust of the world. Now I admonish you: fortunately, awaken your own spirits! The sixth says: You have left home, casting aside the worldly physical form. You must devote your heart to matching the tally of nirvāṇa. How can you be agitated, not delighting in quiet seclusion? The scriptural Way diminishes, while worldly affairs are surplus; not walking in purity, but instead stepping into the mire! Life, like a passing shadow, may last but a moment; the pains of hell can hardly be fully written. Now I admonish and encourage you: you should esteem the classic models. The seventh says: You have left home; you must not be lenient with yourself. Though your appearance is humble, let your conduct be worthy of regard. Though clothing is coarse, let your sitting and rising be dignified. Though food is plain, let the words you utter be edible. In summer endure hunger, in winter endure cold. Able to preserve integrity, do not drink from the Stolen Spring. To an unworthy offering, let your feet not advance recklessly. Long abiding in private quarters, act as though facing the Supreme Monarch. Though your learning is not great, you can match the foremost sages. Leaving home in this manner suffices to repay both parents; clan, friends, and acquaintances all receive grace. Now I admonish you: each should cultivate sincerity. The eighth says: You have left home; natures vary in dullness and brightness. In learning, it matters not whether much or little; the essential lies in refining cultivation. The superior person practices dhyāna; the middling person recites scriptures; the lower person is capable of managing pagodas and monasteries. How can you spend the whole day achieving nothing? Establishing yourself without renown may be called living in vain. Now I instruct you: you should rectify your emotions. The ninth says: You have left home, parting forever from both parents. The Dharma transforms nature, and secular clothing leaves the body. On the day of parting from kin, one is now sorrowful, now joyful; distantly cutting off the world, transcending the dust. You should cultivate the scriptural Way, restrain yourself, and practice truth. How can you be thoughtless, becoming reinfected with secular causes? The scriptural Way is already meager, conduct lacks even a hair's breadth of goodness. Words are not worthy of value, virtue is not worthy of treasure; masters and friends incur burden, resentment and regret daily multiply. Leaving home in this manner harms the Dharma and disgraces oneself. Ponder it, reflect on it, and take good care of yourselves!" An had disciples named Huiying and Baogui, both renowned in the Sui dynasty. Ying transmitted the lamp of the Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa, following in the footsteps of the wheel of the Dharma. Moving through the human world, his mind was largely set on the wilderness. He composed three treatises: Shangxue (Grieving over Learning), Cunfei (Preservation and Abolition), and Yanxiu (Disgust with Cultivation). Shangxue eradicated the transgression of slandering the Dharma; Cunfei guarded against crafty ambitions; Yanxiu caused people to reform errors and submit to the Way. All were elegant, radiant, and brilliant, worthy of being followed. He later died in the final years of the Kaihuang era. Gui engaged in reading various scriptures and lecturing on the Vinaya as his duty. Seeing that Zhi Mindu of the Jin dynasty had combined the five translations of the Śūraṅgama Sūtra into a single text of eight fascicles, and combined the three translations of the Vimalakīrtinirdeśa Sūtra into a single text of five fascicles; and that the Sui śramaṇa Sengjiu had combined the four translations of the Mahāsaṃnipāta into a single text of sixty fascicles, Gui combined the three translations of the Suvarṇaprabhāsa Sūtra into a single text of eight fascicles. He further requested the Tripiṭaka Master Jñānagupta to translate the Yinzhu tuoluoni (Silver Lord Dhāraṇī) and the Entrustment Chapter, using them to complete the text. The śramaṇa Yancong re-examined the Indic manuscript, and the chapters and sections were thus fully established.  
> — English (machine translation) (machine translation)

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## Translations (1)

- [English (machine translation)](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060~en-mt.23.13) — English, machine translation

## Linked texts (1)

- [集古今佛道論衡](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2104.2.4) — Classical Chinese

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Source: [https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060.23.13](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060.23.13) · Pramāṇa
