弘明集 11.12

11.12

Shi Faming speaks: Your grand treatise has been graciously bestowed upon me. I have read it reverently for days. It is as fragrant as hidden orchids and as pure as a thoroughwort breeze. As for this poor monk, my capacity is not sharp like frost, and my fortune is not that of Ding the cook: with every step I fail to strike between the joints of principle, and alone I stumble over points of doubt. This is truly because my words are halting and my meaning is obstructed, so that it is utterly difficult to array them like stars. In my foolish view, relying on the unseen relies on the extraordinary, while observing appearances demonstrates manifestation. Bowing, singing praises, and moving spiritual transformations are all ferries toward the Dao and splendid gatherings for pure ascent. Therefore, it is appropriate that relying [on the unseen] and observing [manifestation] be raised together, and that doubt and verification proceed side by side. How could one totally extinguish visible manifestations and suddenly leave behind spiritual radiance, making [the Buddha's] path merely conform to the Duke of Zhou and Confucius and sharing the same mold as worldly instruction, so that emitting light and shaking the earth become mere empty words? The Dharma-body is coagulated and quiescent, and the wondrous form is limpid and clear. Thus it can hide or manifest in accordance with the times, and its movements and concealments cannot be measured. Manifesting, it comes as one who has ridden Suchness; hiding, it departs as the Well-Gone One. When seeking the meaning from the words, how does it fault the Ten Epithets? The illumination cast by its lingering light is enough to brighten the latter-day world. How could believers increase their doubt on account of a glimmering candle? At dawn, monastics and laity stand shoulder to shoulder, and stupas, images, and scriptures fill the world. How could scholars regret their efforts due to a lack of verification? Moreover, you cite the Seven Classics as also containing the meaning of the future: 'Accumulating goodness brings surplus celebration; accumulating evil brings surplus calamity.' Although arising and ceasing anew with each thought exchange across arms in alternate succession, the karmic deeds of good and evil must inevitably be experienced. This illuminates the three times all the more and renders the Seven Classics even clearer. Examining the texts and investigating the facts, I respectfully hear your instruction. The previous treatise stated that emperors, kings, the Duke of Zhou, and Confucius confined their teachings to the present world, preserving the matters of future lives without discussing them. Thus, whether they concealed or manifested, discarded or promoted, the expedient and the real could not be distinguished; it seemed contradictory, and where was the principle to rest? In the face of benevolence, one does not yield: I bow and listen to your profound subtlety. The previous letter roughly set forth the emergence and submersion of the Supreme Sage, but its doctrinal basis was not yet clear and its verbal illustrations were not yet dispelled. I now respectfully examine it in greater detail to jointly promote the Supreme Dao. Living beings sleep for long in the three realms of existence, and their consciousnesses are perpetually darkened by the six sense-dusts. Subtly shifting, they become the prey of devouring predators; continuing in succession, they turn on the revolving wheel. The body serves as an inn for travellers; the spirit acts as a guest pausing in transit. Passing back and forth in the three evil destinies, they suffer bitter pain; undergoing the eight difficulties, they endure misery and distress. Joys and pleasures are momentary delights, while sorrow and fear last for eternal kalpas. One body dies and disintegrates, and another body is received again. Even if worldly wisdom and eloquence are keen, all the books fill the belly, the hundred schools are thoroughly comprehended, and the nine lineages of thought are mastered, knowing that life and death have their destiny and wealth and honor depend on Heaven, yet ghosts and spirits cannot demand it, nor can sages and philosophers anticipate it. They still fail to avoid erroneous views obscuring their feelings and doubts and hesitations disturbing their thoughts. They lodge their hopes in shamans and spirits, and entrust their sincere faith to talismans and incantations. Grasping the heterodox, they look toward the upright; harboring the false, they wait for the true. Hesitating between two minds and wavering between two paths, how could the emitting of light and shaking of the earth ever be seen by them? Therefore, the profound texts were spread abroad and the nets of words were set out waiting for opportune capacities. When the capacity is moved, resonance inevitably follows; only after resonance is there a response. There are those who naturally lodge their intent in the profound abode and whose base conduct is deep, penetrating, and ever clearer. Viewing a single lifetime as like morning dew, they discern that the three times are not empty. They give free rein to their steeds on the path of purity and truth, and draw their reins on the thoroughfare of turbidity and falsehood. Planting virtue and weeding out evil, their [goodness] grows luxuriant; cultivating merit and watering righteousness, it spreads forth wide. Competing for every inch of time in austere discipline, purifying themselves, they vie to advance before the twilight years. Harboring sincerity and embracing aspiration, their resonance immediately penetrates. How could they not personally reflect that brilliant glory and witness its spiritual transformations? As for what is clearly understood by ears and eyes, or what is seen through dreams—it was like Emperor Ming of the Han, who was moved by the Sage through a dream, whereupon the Great Dharma came travelling [to China]. The sovereign poured out his sincere heart to take refuge in virtue; heroes straightened their robes to submit to conversion. Śramaṇas stood shoulder to shoulder with kings and dukes, and monks and nuns held themselves upright before the Son of Heaven. Among the ninety-six varieties [of non-Buddhists], which could be considered higher? When Emperor Wu of the Song first ascended the imperial throne, he dreamed of a Daoist practitioner carrying an alms-bowl who approached him to beg, and thereupon said to him: 'In a past life, you offered a single bowl of rice to Vipaśyin Buddha, and on that account you obtain this throne.' He dispatched someone to inquire of Master Yan to verify its truth, and Master Yan immediately submitted the Sūtra on the Seven Buddhas for imperial perusal. Sun Quan, the ruler of Wu, initially doubted that the Buddha-Dharma had any verification and was about to abolish it; he then obtained a relic, whose radiance illuminated the palace, which gold and iron could not crush, and which kilns and smelters could not melt. The present Jianchu Monastery in the imperial capital is that place. In Wu commandery there was a stone Buddha that floated upon the seawater. Daoist masters and shamans, followed by hundreds of people, used talismans, petitions, drumming, and dancing, but could not move it at all. Five or six monks in black robes and three or four members of the Zhu and Zhang families simply made a slight gesture of reverent reception, and they lifted it together with ease. It is present now in the North Monastery of Wu commandery. Among those whose pure sincerity reached the utmost, none failed to have a resonance. The Zhu and Zhang families served the Buddha for successive generations because they had witnessed this verification. Guo Wenju worshipped the Three Jewels, his right faith firm and clear; he reached into a tiger's throat to remove a bone, deeply understanding peace and peril. Master Lan brushed severe snow off a fierce beast, and Master Hu caused a parched spring to gush a torrential flow through his resonance. All of them possessed lofty conduct that surpassed the crowd, and their pure spirits transcended the vulgar world; all had extraordinary traces that were recorded by the world. Beyond these, they cannot be counted. This poor monk had little love for study in his youth, and now having reached white hair, I remain shallow, solitary, and of narrow hearing. Displaying my sincere feelings in straightforward words and simple phrasing, they may not necessarily be worthy of selection or appropriate. I bow in shame and trepidation. Respectfully spoken.