弘明集 3

English (machine translation) 3

Language: English

3.1

Compiled by the Śramaṇa Sengyou of Jianchu Monastery in Yangdu of the Liang

3.2

Sun Chuo's Treatise Illustrating the Dao
Layman Zong Bing's Letter in Reply to He Chengtian's Difficulties Regarding the 'Treatise on Black and White'

3.3

Sun Chuo's Treatise Illustrating the Dao

Someone had doubts about the ultimate Dao, and an illustration was offered to him: The six directions are remote and expansive, and the myriad kinds of beings are abundantly numerous; the thousand changes and ten thousand transformations are blended together without beginning. Thus, those with limited awareness each anticipate only what they can see. Creatures with scales and shells do not comprehend matters of the marshes and lands; flocks of feathers and hair do not understand the surges of running currents. Those who are content within a dilapidated well wonder at the capacity of the deep ocean; those who flutter about at a height of several fathoms doubt the power that soars into the sky. Entangled within secular teachings, they freely observe the traces of the Duke of Zhou and Confucius, asserting that ultimate virtue culminates in Yao and Shun, and that subtle words are exhausted in Laozi and the Changes. How could they ever see the marvelous import beyond the realm of the worldly or the profound illumination within the unseen? How sorrowful that ceremonial caps are discarded among naked tribes, and the music of the Shao and Xia is cast aside by the vulgar and rustic! The ultimate truth is cut off by loose habits; the Great Dao is abandoned by narrow-minded scholars. If one is utterly confused and will not change, words and allegories cannot move them. I shall attempt to clarify its purport, in the hope that someone may gain awakening from it.

3.5

Now, the Buddha is one who embodies the Dao. The Dao is that which guides creatures. Responding to stimuli and according with unobstructed passage, it acts through non-action yet leaves nothing undone. Because it is non-action, it is empty, tranquil, and natural. Because it leaves nothing undone, it divinely transforms the myriad things. The demands of the myriad things differ in being low or high; hence the methods of instructing and guiding them are either subtle or crude. When awakening those of superior understanding, it sets forth the primary source. For those who are not compliant, retribution and disaster return to them: those who overindulge in wine are snared by punishment; intoxication becomes a major penalty. Thieves are brought to justice under the three penal codes and five punishments; once violated, there is no pardon. These are the regular regulations of monarchs, shared by governors and shepherds alike. If a sage king rules the world and the hundred officials are luminous and perceptive, then the aforementioned criminals will surely be thoroughly investigated, having nowhere to conceal themselves. If the treacherous and wicked are not allowed to indulge their private ends, then the state will have no rebellious subjects, and the virtuous will surely be praised and promoted. Furthermore, when the lord is enlightened and ministers are impartial, the world is pure and good order prevails; they are still able to ensure that good and evil find their proper places and that the crooked and straight are not confounded. How much more so when divine spirits preside, knowing neither near nor far, hidden nor deep, clear-sighted and upright, punishing evil and blessing good? Therefore, the merit of a hair's breadth and the fault of a tiny weight—the time of their retribution cannot fail or err. Reviewing the evidence of misfortune and fortune through antiquity and the present, all have their causes and conditions, brilliantly documented in the records; how could they be obscured? Why is it that the descendants of families plotting secret schemes do not prosper, and generals for three generations are expressly avoided by the Daoists? Is this not brought about by the fact that weapons are ominous, war is perilous, and killing has accumulated? As for Wei Ke following the instructions given in sound mind and thus obtaining the recompense of knotted grass, or Zidu keeping faith and receiving the gift of a fine piebald horse; Duke Xiang of Qi shifted blame and therefore met the disaster of falling from his carriage; Duke Hui of Jin abandoned propriety and therefore faced the distress of defeat at Han. These are all proofs of the dead rewarding or punishing the living. As for Xuan Meng pitying the starving man under the mulberry tree, and the washerwoman feeling sorrow for the exhaustion of the Lord of Huaiyin, both saved someone in desperate hunger with a single meal: Zhao received the boon of a reversed halberd, and the old woman enjoyed a reward of a thousand pieces of gold. This is obtaining ten thousandfold retribution from a single act, without it exceeding a single lifetime. Thus, when one establishes virtue in obscurity, its blessings manifest above the myriad things. Hidden actions shining in the open are of a natural tendency, just like scattering grains upon the soil and reaping a hundredfold harvest: the earth and the grain have no personal feelings toward humans, yet the natural benefit arrives.

3.6

Someone raised an objection: 'If matters of retribution indeed all have proof, then why did the teachings of the Duke of Zhou and Confucius not eliminate killing, but rather Shaocheng [Mao] was executed and the two uncles were put to death?'

3.7

I answered: 'The guest may be said to have reached the outward voice of the teaching, but not to have embodied the inner spirit of the teaching. Do you say that the sages harbored a mind to kill? He said, "No." I answered: You truly know that they had no mind to kill; killing was merely the mind of the common people. Times shift and generations differ; things have their shallowness and purity. Before the tying of knots, all was harmonious in great peace. Reaching the eras of Tang and Yu, rites and laws began to arise. When it came to the Three Dynasties, penal nets became ever more manifest. Though knives and axes were severe, people were still not restrained. It reached the point where lords and ministers destroyed each other, fathers and sons harmed each other, and their devouring of one another exceeded even jackals and tigers. The sages knew that human feelings were deeply ingrained in killing and could not be halted overnight. Therefore, they gradually curbed it in search of moderation. It is like when a viper bites the foot: one cuts it off to preserve the whole body; when an ulcer afflicts the body, one lances it to save the life. Losing one to preserve ten is also an expedient measure of weighing lightness and gravity. Therefore, punishments accord with autumn and winter in order to follow the seasonal killing; spring hunting and summer weeding are used to spare pregnant and suckling beasts. According to the rites of the three drives, when prey comes toward one, the bow is cased; upon hearing an animal's voice or seeing it alive, when the meat arrives, one does not eat it. One angles with a line but does not use a net; one shoots with a corded arrow but does not shoot at roosting birds. Toward insects, one always extends hidden pity. As for deliberating over lawsuits to delay death, pardoning disasters and granting amnesties, choosing leniency when punishment is doubtful, and preferring to let a guilty person go free; weeping while conferring the battle-axe, and having sorrow and pity without rejoicing in convictions—the kindness of nurturing life was deep indeed, and the path of benevolence and love was fully realized! This is what is meant by acting without relying upon it, leading without dominating, virtue covering all while claiming no merit for oneself, and being used daily while the myriad things remain unaware. If one examines things with this, it is sufficient to understand their ultimate destination.'

3.8

The objector said: 'The Duke of Zhou and Confucius killed in accordance with the times, but the Buddha wishes to eliminate it entirely. How then will he punish brutality, halt treachery, and govern the multitude of sentient beings?'

3.9

I answered: 'It is not so. The Duke of Zhou and Confucius are the Buddha, and the Buddha is the Duke of Zhou and Confucius; these are merely outward and inward designations. Therefore, among the August Sovereigns he was an August Sovereign, and among the Kings he was a King. "Buddha" is a Sanskrit term, glossed in Jin as "awakened." The meaning of "awakened" refers to awakening beings. Just as Meng Ke considered the sage to be one who awakens first, their purport is one and the same. Responding to the world and standardizing things also accord with the times. The Duke of Zhou and Confucius rescued extreme defects, while the Buddhist teaching clarifies the fundamental root. Together they form the beginning and the end; their ultimate destination is not different. It is just as the outer sages left traces of depth and shallowness: the age of Yao and Shun was tranquil, so the two sovereigns made lofty abdications; the times of Tang and Wu were difficult, so the two armies wielded halberds. The profound silence [of non-action] and the blazing wrath [of warfare] had traces as different as Hu and Yue. Yet that by which they left their traces—how could it ever have a division? Therefore, those who trace back in opposition always see two, while those who follow through with harmony find that everywhere they are one.'

3.10

Someone raised an objection: 'The teachings of the Duke of Zhou and Confucius take filial piety as foremost. Filial piety is the utmost of virtue and the root of the hundred conducts. When the root is established, the Dao is born, reaching through to the divine spirits. Therefore, in a son's serving his parents, while they are alive he provides them with utmost nourishment, and when they pass away he offers sacrifices to them. Among the three thousand offenses, none is greater than having no descendants. Since one's body comes from parents, one dare not injure or ruin it; hence Yue正 [Yuezheng Zichun] injured his foot and harbored shame for the rest of his life. Yet the path of a śramaṇa abandons those who gave him birth, casts aside relatives and approaches strangers, shaves off beard and hair, and ruins his natural appearance. In life he neglects caring for his parents' countenance, and in death he forever cuts off blood sacrifices, treating blood relations as mere passers-by on the road. Nothing violates principle and wounds sentiment more severely than this. Yet you claim to propagate the Dao, spread benevolence, and broadly deliver the multitude of beings. How does this differ from chopping down the roots and pruning the trunk, while praising the lushness of shoots and grain? I have never heard or seen such a thing! If the skin is no longer there, where can the hair attach? This greatly contradicts secular teachings; how will you dispel this doubt?'

3.11

I reply: This is indeed the deep delusion of the utterly worldly, the great error of inverted views, over which one sighs and cannot remain silent! Father and son are of one body, sharing only a single life. Thus when a mother pricks her finger, the child’s heart is seized with dread: it is the resonance of shared vital breath, whose sameness admits of no gap. Therefore, only when one wins their joyful heart is filial piety perfected. When the father is prominent, the son is noble; when the son is noble, the father is honored. Hence what makes filial piety worthy of esteem is the ability to establish oneself and practice the Way, forever bringing glory to one's parents. If one crawls in their embrace and daily presents the three kinds of sacrificial animals, yet cannot cause all things to honor oneself, or the whole world to rely on oneself—relying on mere that to nourish one's parents—such honor is shallow. Following the central meridian as one’s rule and holding to softness as one's constant practice, with corporeal form and name both cast off, parent and self mutually forgotten: such is the Way of nourishing one's parents. Having already clarified the fundamental principle, let me further speak to you of what is secondary. Loyalty and filial piety cannot both stand by name alone. Ying Kaoshu went against his ruler's command, yet the historical record praises him for pure filial piety; Shi Que executed his son, and his martial integrity was thereby made complete. The tradition says: 'When a son is capable of holding office, his father instructs him in loyalty; when he registers his name and surrenders his body, any duplicity is a crime.' If so, when one binds one's hat-strings in the lord's court, the duty of a son is discarded. Why? Sacrificing one's life in the face of danger and departing without looking back at one's parents—these are recorded by the scribes' brushes, held up as foremost in filial piety. How could the chroniclers condemn them for unfilial conduct? Thus the proverb says: 'Seek loyal ministers surely at the gate of filial sons.' This clarifies that though they slightly contravene this [lesser duty], they greatly accord with that [greater duty]. Furthermore, Gun was banished to remote borders, yet Yu did not ask to resign. If he had abandoned Yao's command to pursue his father, subjecting the supreme public good to private grief, this would be a minute fraction of small goodness, not something great and far-reaching. Taibo of Zhou discarded his kinsmen far behind and took refuge in a foreign realm, cutting his hair and tattooing his body, never returning in life or death; yet the Analects praise his supreme virtue, and the writings record him as a great sage. Truly, it was because he disdained the honor of facing south, preserved the nobility of the tranquil spirit, and the merit of his thrice yielding [the throne] was far-reaching, while the transgression of harming his body was minuscule. Thus he was able to greatly transform barbarian customs and leave down a lasting legacy. Bo Yi and Shu Qi starved together beneath Mount Shouyang, taking no care for the lineage of Guzhu; Zhongni regarded them as benevolent and worthy. Can those who judge correctly still call this a violation of virtue? Gaoxing of Liang disfigured her appearance to preserve her chastity; Lady Ji of Song adhered to ritual principle and disregarded her life. Both had names surpassing all heroic women, their virtue a model for all ladies. Emulating the standard of these two women, they avoided the reproach of folly and defiance. Discussing matters on this basis, what is weighted as light or heavy in what one upholds may be known. In the past, when the Buddha was the crown prince, he abandoned his kingdom to study the Way. Wanting to keep his body whole to pursue the Way, he feared he could not escape its entanglements; therefore, he cut off his beard and hair and changed his ceremonial robes. Showing outwardly that he would not return, he cultivated simplicity within. Thereupon, he left the splendid palace and went into the wilderness, took off his dragon robes and put on deerskin garb. He then made hanging branches his dwelling and spread grass for his mat. Dispensing with the labor of combing and dressing, ending the trouble of hot baths, he pulled up the reins of wild rushing, and shut the door of rising desires. His eyes barred dark and yellow colors, his ears cut off sensual music, his mouth forgot sweet and bitter, and his mind cast off joy and sorrow. His heart was freed from burdens, holding to the One within his breast; steadying and balancing his hun- and po-souls, he internally contemplated ānāpāna: first counting, second following, third stopping, fourth contemplating, fifth returning, and sixth purifying. He roamed his mind through the three and four, entering and exiting the twelve gates. In dhyāna meditation, he sat in reverent silence, stable like a mountain and calm like a deep pool, his spirit like cold ashes, his body like dried wood. Sitting upright for six years, his Dao was achieved and he was named the Buddha. Endowed with the three knowledges and six supernormal faculties, he attained unexcelled right awakening. His noble body stood sixteen feet tall, shining with a radiant golden color; his brilliance rivaled the sun and moon, and his voice harmonized with the eight winds. Marked with the thirty-two marks, his countenance bore the eighty secondary signs, an imposing form towering above all beings, possessing boundless supernormal power. Thereupon he strolled beyond the three realms, wandering freely through the realm of inexhaustible transformation, turning the heavens, dancing the earth, flying mountains, and congealing streams. Vanishing and appearing in an instant, his spiritual transformations reached far and wide; wherever his intention directed, nothing failed to open before him. Greatly modeling the various heterodoxies, he guided them onto the right path; the hordes of Māras and lesser paths all submitted in obedience. At this time, heaven was pure, earth was moist, and all kinds of things flourished. Crawling and wriggling creatures were steeped and nourished by the spiritual dew; withered and dried kinds turned from languor to bloom. He returned to illuminate his native land, widely expounding the Dharma's sound. His royal father was moved to awakening and likewise ascended the arena of the Dao. Bringing glory to one's parents like this—what filial piety can compare to it? Thereupon, later scholars took up his vast instructions and sought to tread his lofty tracks, all with their parents sharing the same ideals and winning their joyful hearts before acting. If there are brothers and kin, care and nourishment are not neglected; having both achieved the extensive cultivation of the great enterprise, loving care and bonds of duty are not abandoned. Moreover, they cause the deceased to gain blessed recompense and be born in heaven, no longer longing for worldly sacrifices. How could this not be the Way of universal goodness and supreme penetration? When the eastern neighbor slaughters an ox, the western neighbor performs the Yue sacrifice; the Yin dynasty praised millet and grain, while the Zhou valued bright virtue. The moments of flourishing and ruin are manifest in this. The Buddha has the twelve divisions of the canon, four of which are exclusively dedicated to encouraging filial piety; the sincerity of their purport may be called supreme! Yet worldly people do not examine their source and stream, nor have they entered their domain; they utter blind words and absurd statements, readily raising attacks and objections. With the view of a firefly or candle, they doubt the brilliance of the three luminaries; with drops from an awn-like crack, they marvel at the capacity of the deep ocean. Taking falsehood as eloquence and temerity as renown, they may indeed be called those who are disrespectful to great men and insult the mandate of Heaven!

3.12

Layman Zong Bing's Letter in Reply to He Chengtian's Objections to the Treatise on the White and the Black

3.13

He [Chengtian]'s Letter to Zong [Bing]

3.14

Recently I received a letter from your worthy cousin, the Court Gentleman of the Household, who said that you are diligently practicing the Buddhist rituals of the Western Regions. A worthy person has great ambitions; how could you consider ten thousand kalpas to be excessive? I only regret that in this short life there is no means to fathom the unseen spirit. Śramaṇa Huilin of Zhicheng composed the Treatise on the White and the Black, and was thereupon rejected and ostracized by the assembly of monks. Fortunately, he encountered an enlightened sovereign who skillfully rescued him, enabling him to escape a pārājika offense. Once he had become a monk, he should not have clarified this; yet why would a layman say nothing? I ask you to examine which of the two schools is superior. I am exceedingly in the dark, and hope to receive good illumination from you. He Chengtian speaks.

3.15

Zong [Bing]'s Letter in Reply to He [Chengtian]

3.16

The "Discourse on the White and Black" by the monk Huilin which you sent has exceedingly beautiful diction and sentiment. However, I am dim in discerning the principle and have not yet grasped his intention. Since he says that the principle of the unseen realm is not exhausted by human affairs, and that the Duke of Zhou and Confucius doubted it and did not debate it, while Śākyamuni debated it but it is untrue—then as for this principle of the unseen realm beyond human affairs, is it utterly and purely void, or are there still spirits and deities? If it is utterly and purely void, why did all the sages, Zhuangzi, and Laozi all say that there are spirits? If there are spirits and deities, on what basis can one judge it to be untrue, as the Buddha spoke of it? Today we dwell together in the domain of ordinary men; in deliberating on proximate matters we still make many errors, thereby falling into disaster and misfortune. Even with a coarse art like board games, when one focuses the mind and investigates it, one might call life death or call death life. In proximate matters, one has never seen anyone who always gains and never loses; on what basis can one conclusively judge that beyond heaven and earth, outside of myriads of kalpas, in the deep unseen realm, what was debated must definitely be untrue? If one deduces from facts that it cannot be true, then it is fine to doubt it. Now man's corporeal form is most coarse, but man's spirit is truly subtle. How could the corporeal form and the spirit come to an end together? What the mind stimulates [causes] a city wall to collapse, frost to fall, a white rainbow to pierce the sun, Venus to enter the Pleiades, and physicians using breath restraint to conjure water and fire in their minds, with cold and warmth answering immediately. How much more so with the utmost bright wisdom and the utmost refined purpose, through concentrated sincerity and subtle penetration, responding so as to receive a body and be reborn in a jade realm of the seven treasures—why could this not be real? Furthermore, he says that splitting a hair on an empty tree does no harm to the luxuriance of its cast shade, and heaping timber in empty space does not impair the beauty of lofty halls; that patterned brocade displays brilliance through variegated colors, and a harmonized broth achieves delicious flavor through salt and plums—using these to block the teaching of original non-existence. This text is not so. What the Buddhist sūtras call 'original non-existence' does not mean that what is formed by the harmony of conditioned causes is entirely void. The cast shade and the lofty halls naturally exist in the place of things; therefore this is called the truth of existence. Their nature is fundamentally non-existent; therefore this is called the truth of non-existence. Although I am not fully versed in Buddhist principles, I consider this proclamation to be distinctly at peace [with reason]. From antiquity, the existences of thousandfold transformations have, in an instant, all become void. At the time of their flourishing existence, did they not always contain the reality of inevitable voidness, so that in an instant they could become void? It is also as Huizi said: things are born at the same time they die; the sun is at noon at the same time it declines. The reality of death and declining is always clearly anticipated prior to being unborn and prior to noon. The foolish do not perceive this principle and only see existence; therefore the Marquis of Qi, holding the remnants of Shuangjiu, falsely clung to his rank and was attached to its pleasures. The worthy has a mind at one with principle; therefore Master Yan came close [to perfection] by being frequently empty, treating what he had as if he had it not, and treating reality as if it were void. From Yan Hui on down, each savored this voidness according to their depth. Even if one further instructs the lower sorts, even if they cannot purify themselves through the ultimate words to cast off the delusion of love and competition, how could they ever lack a semblance of it in the slightest hair? How could it instead increase obstacles through a great [delusion] and cause them to further change their cravings and desires? He then says that clarifying impermanence increases the sentiment of thirsting for shade, and displaying suffering and falsity intensifies the anxiety of competing for time. His words are excessive. Furthermore, he says that the discourse on the boat in the ravine and Tang and Si has already filled ears in the central lands and is not the profound essence of principle, and so is not raised as the foundation of the teaching, claiming that the analysis of this principle comes from ordinary people pointing to their palms. Now, the hidden departing of the boat in the ravine is what the Buddhist sūtras call 'the present does not abide.' If one can truly understand this, then things and self are constantly empty. How is this not the profound essence of principle? It is simply that those who awaken to it are few, so it was not taken as the foundation of the teaching. This is what Master Zhi meant by 'not yet the same as the Buddha.' Why should one disparage his ultimate words merely because they were ordinarily heard in the central lands? Furthermore, he says that testing the divine light yields not an inch of brightness, verifying spiritual transformations yields not a shred of reality, and vainly proclaiming immeasurable life—who has seen a centenarian old man? All such matters are claimed not to accord with reality. Now, divine light, spiritual transformations, and immeasurable life all stem from sincere faith in the unseen and wondrous; thus, one will be born in the Buddha-land, directly reflecting the brightness, and one's life will be immeasurable. Now, being sunken in deviant views and contemptuous arrogance, one is naturally separated from spiritual transformation as far as heaven from earth; by what means could one witness the accord of these matters? The mind lacking greedy desire is the root of the ten wholesome deeds; thus, one can cut off the hells below and be born in heaven above; this is indeed donning righteousness, treading the Dao, and rectifying the mind. Now, inwardly harboring reverent admiration, one therefore bows in worship and repents sins; understanding impermanence, one's feelings harbor no stinginess. Abandoning wife and children to practice giving—how could there be any seeking from common people? How can one then say that it does not proceed from a respectful and reverent intention, nor rely on a spirit free from stinginess? Nirvāṇa takes no-pleasure as pleasure; the Dharma-body takes no-body as body. If one originally had no yearning or emulation, it might indeed increase anxieties of indulging in leisure and spark a mind fond of novelty. If one sincerely takes nourishment and looks up with admiration, indulgence in leisure is gradually removed, and one gains benefit from what is non-beneficial. Why then question the custom of competing for profit? Furthermore, he says that the Dao lies in desirelessness, yet it is sought through having desires; between bowing and looking up, nothing moves without profit—how profound is this slander of the Buddha! The grand purport of the Buddhist school naturally holds that the eight sufferings all arise from desire, and clearly speaks of the twelve links of dependent origination so that those of lofty and subtle rank may illumine their spirits in the unborn. Those who desire this Dao may be said to have a desire for desirelessness. As for guiding the coarse and proximate, the heavens and hells all have the reality of shadows and echoes, just as Lord Yu received enfeoffment through his benevolence in saving lives, and the Yan clan incurred execution through being fond of killing. Those who fear execution and desire enfeoffment will surely abandon killing and cultivate benevolence. Striving in subtle practices to hope for heaven, and observing the five precepts to distance oneself from hell—although having a desire for what is desirable, they actually tread the pure path of daily decrease. This is also like traveling west to seek Ying; why worry that one will not arrive? Furthermore, he suspects that cinnabar and azure bewilder eyes fond of dazzling colors, and earth and timber boast to minds fond of grandiosity, establishing the power of private factions, forming the influence of teacher-cliques, seeking the reputation of strenuous vigor, and indulging the ambition of overbearing competition—which are indeed the ugliness of the black locusts, or may be called establishing laws with stinginess, whose defect is still greed. How can he then show contempt for the Buddha by saying that he established laws on greed? Wang Mang stole the Six Classics to usurp the imperial throne; the First Emperor of Qin built the Afang Palace on the occasion of receiving audiences; how could one blame the ritual teachings of the former kings? Furthermore, he says that one ought to abolish the traces of the manifest and the hidden and preserve only their essential purport. To show future generations the obscuration and deficiency in Daoism and Buddhism, having no other recourse, I venture to ask: what is the essential point he desires? He surely desires to make people cultivate profit and turn toward goodness to fulfill their nature. Now, the sage has no constant mind; he takes the mind of things as his mind. If the body dies and the spirit is extinguished, and this is the true nature of things, he should merely take their nature of inevitable extinction and join forces with the Duke of Zhou and Confucius to establish the teaching, causing things to have nothing they receive; would not the reality of turning toward goodness then be pure? Why deceive them with non-extinction and trick them with Buddhist principles, causing them to shave their hair and skin and sever their copulation, obstructing offspring beyond measure? If the harm is like this, injuring the beauty of completely fulfilling one's nature, why would Śākyamuni have had no other recourse? If they are of the unbelieving sort, they will also be unwilling to cultivate profit and turn toward goodness. Those who believe are surely of the cohort of Jīvaka, Gandhāra, Yidami, Zhu Facheng, Bo Fazu, Dharmarakṣa, Yu Falan, Zhu Faxing, Yu Daosui, Que Gong, as well as Fotudeng, Śrīmitra, Guo Wenju, Shi Dao'an, Zhi Daolin, and Master Huiyuan. In spiritual principle and moral conduct, they seem not in the least inferior to the monk Huilin. How could they falsely destroy human reason and discard their hairpins for the teachings of untrue men? It is all because the reality of the spiritual and wondrous drew their distant minds to accomplish the pure and true enterprise of spiritual penetrations. Availing yourself of his disbelief, you sent this discourse from afar, and doubters in the world all also consider it subtle; therefore I exert myself to reply in writing to clear the dust and expose the general sentiments. Whether the world affirms or denies the Buddha-Dharma is entirely a great matter in the rise and fall of mankind; how can we dwell together in between the acceptable and the unacceptable? I have therefore exhausted my foolish thoughts and composed the "Discourse Clarifying the Buddha" to present my own sentiments. It has just been completed, and I have already ordered someone to transcribe it; it could not catch this letter, but later, when another letter is dispatched and you can hear of it, I shall send it along. Zong Bing respectfully states.

3.17

Resolving Difficulties on "Equalizing Goodness"

3.18

He Chengtian

3.19

Previously I sent the "Discourse on Equalizing Goodness" and also inquired after your refined views. Your reply was thorough, and you also considered that the rise and fall of this principle ought to be clarified, and that one cannot merely dwell between the acceptable and the unacceptable. Although I cannot conform entirely to it, neither do I rigidly cling to biased views; I am merely searching for the night-shining pearl in the vast sea, but simply have not yet found it. I consider the Buddhist sūtras to be a distinct school among the good teachings of the Nine Schools, mingled with Daoism and Mohism. Their compassion and loving giving are not different from those of the central lands. The noble man and gentleman takes benevolence as his personal duty, his mind free from preconceptions and certainty. Moreover, using images and colorful decorations will harmonize with the ears and eyes of ordinary people; the waste and damage they cause are still slight, while the benefits they induce may be prominent. For this reason, I preserve them side by side. As for busybodies who consequently take them as surpassing Confucius and transcending Laozi, holding that only this is valuable—these are people who cannot seek the foundation of establishing teachings and are bewildered by secondary doctrines. Those who understand their words must await the person who forgets words. If one merely places trust in the retribution of heaven and hell and the verification of imperishable causes and conditions, repressing sentiments, eating meagerly, and exhaustively bowing and worshipping, hoping to be shaded by the canopy of the Jeweled Scales and ascend the seat of the Boundless Lamp, this is why Master Chunyuan made such grand mockery of it. Your discourse says: 'All the sages, Laozi, and Zhuangzi all said that there are spirits and deities; on what basis can one judge it to be untrue, as the Buddha spoke of it?' I reply: Ostensibly there are rites and music, and in the unseen realm there are ghosts and spirits; this is why the sage kings established their teachings, never obscuring their existence from the start. If there truly were retribution in future lives, would the Duke of Zhou and Confucius have remained silent without a single word? When an infant is about to fall into a pit, ordinary people feel alarmed and distressed for it; could sages still be unbenevolent? Furthermore, you say: 'Man's corporeal form is most coarse, but man's spirit is truly subtle. How could the corporeal form and the spirit come to an end together?' I reply: Corporeal form and spirit rely on each other; the ancients compared them to firewood and fire. When the firewood is damaged, the fire is faint; when the firewood is exhausted, the fire is extinguished. Though there is its subtlety, how could it be transmitted alone? Furthermore, you say: 'What the mind stimulates [causes] a city wall to collapse, frost to fall, a white rainbow to pierce the sun, Venus to enter the Pleiades, and physicians using breath restraint to answer cold and warmth immediately; through concentrated sincerity and subtle response, to receive a body and be reborn in a land of the seven treasures—why could this not be real?'

3.20

I reply: The city wall collapsing, frost falling, piercing the sun, and entering the Pleiades are not analogies that clarify future lives; they should not be cited in the present discourse. Furthermore, seeing the restraint of water and fire and marveling at the ability to be born in a realm of the seven treasures is like watching a great foundry melt metal and hoping it can cast itself—it can never be known. Furthermore, you say: 'The truth of existence and the truth of non-existence: this proclamation is distinctly at peace [with reason]. From antiquity, the existences of thousandfold transformations have, in an instant, all become void. At the time of their flourishing existence, did they not always contain the reality of inevitable voidness? The foolish do not understand this principle and only see existence.' I reply: As your discourse says, at the time of their flourishing existence, they already had the reality of inevitable voidness. In that case, things are constantly empty just as they are; the empty and things are one. Now, if emptiness and existence are not different, why should the worthy and the foolish be designated differently? What was called the Dao in the past was formless regarding form, and effortless regarding affairs; placid, vacant, harmonious, and pure, it nourished wisdom and gladdened the spirit. How could it be that only when love and desire are not yet removed, past karma is feared? How could merely seeing existence be an error? To sneer at the Marquis of Qi with this is just like retreating fifty paces and laughing at those who retreated a hundred paces. Furthermore, you say: 'The hidden departing of the boat in the ravine is what the Buddhist sūtras call "the present does not abide." If one can truly understand this, then things and self are constantly empty.'

3.21

I reply: Does 'covertly shifting away and not abiding' not refer to passing from life into death, from being into non-being? Thus their words say: 'One may suffer distress of the physical form without injury to the mind; one may alter one's dwelling without harboring bitterness over death.' Master Jia also said: 'If transformed into an alien thing, why should one consider it a grief?' These were men who understood the mutations of life and death. Yet petty people vacillate, fretting about death while alive, their minds tied to the boundless and their aspirations fixed on rebirth in heaven. How could the everyday spiritual insight of our peers be so different as this? Moreover, you say that the divine light, marvelous transformations, and measureless lifespans all stem from sincere faith in the profound and wonderful, so that its brilliance is reflected; and that now, immersed in heterodox views, the principle is naturally separated from them as heaven from earth. I reply: At present, I am not seeking its brilliant light from those who are contemptuous and unruly, but only seeking it from those who are sincere and faithful. In examining the teaching of Śākya, it employs skillful means to save living beings. If the responses and verifications were truly like this, why does he not display his marvelous transformations to enlighten the followers of heterodox views? Would he spare nothing for hundreds of thousands of sermons, yet begrudge a brief flash of divine light? In vain making eloquence out of preaching sounds, in the end there is no clarity regarding true wisdom; toiling away all one's years without knowing where to return—is this not lamentable? Moreover, you say that because people cherish reverent devotion within, they prostrate and repent of their transgressions; and that because they realize impermanence, their hearts begrudge nothing, abandoning wives and children to practice giving, without coveting a hundredfold return. I reply: To stir up activities through intricate contrivances is not as good as eliminating greed and stopping contention; to abide by precepts in order to wash away regret is not as good as clipping away worldly glory and desires to preserve simplicity. How much worse is it to entice what people esteem in order to pray for profit, and to forget natural kin in order to demand fame? To call this having no covetousness—I do not believe it. Moreover, you say that Nirvāṇa takes the absence of pleasure as its pleasure, and the Dharma body takes the absence of a body as its body; and if one can truly feed upon and revere this, indulging in indolence will gradually be removed, and one will obtain benefit in non-benefit. I reply: Nirvāṇa takes separation from suffering as its pleasure, and the Dharma body takes receiving the good as its body; this is only how those who feed upon and revere it are kept from cutting themselves off. If it truly returns to non-benefit, what do the diligent obtain that you speak of obtaining in non-benefit? This is evidence that form and spirit are both exhausted, which I fear is not what your refined thesis ought to state clearly. Moreover, you say: 'One who desires this Dao can be said to have desire for desirelessness. As for guiding the coarse and near, it has the reality of shadows and echoes—just as Lord Yu obtained enfeoffment through his benevolent preservation of life, and the Yan family suffered execution due to their fondness for killing. Exerting oneself in marvelous practices to aspire to heaven, and observing the five precepts to distance oneself from hell, though having desire in what is desirable, actually treads the path of daily reduction; this is also heading west to seek Ying—why worry that one will not arrive?'

3.22

I reply: To speak of guiding the coarse and near, and to compare retribution to shadows and echoes—is that not fine? Yet what shadows and echoes depend on must match the form and sound. How could an ordinary form produce a shadow of eighty thousand yojanas? If what one is mired in is 'desiring desirelessness', one is still ordinarily mired in what one desires. The ears and eyes have different offices, and crafts have distinct professions; when it comes to minor arts, one's thoughts cannot even be combined. Therefore, when metals and stones are harmoniously tuned, Mount Tai cannot display its height; when the wild swan is about to alight, the dark autumn cannot convey its purpose. Yet you wish to accomplish desirelessness through having desires, and to approach daily reduction through expectation; although you speak of heading west, you are ever further from Ying—what can be done about this? Moreover, you say: 'If the death of the body and the extinction of the spirit are the true nature of things, one should merely join forces with the Duke of Zhou and Confucius to extend education; why deceive them with immortality and dupe them with the Buddha's principles, causing them to burn their hair and skin and sever their marital unions, thereby harming the meaning of fully realizing one's nature?' I reply: The Chinese and the barbarians naturally differ. Why? The people of the Central Kingdom are endowed with a clear and harmonious qi, harboring benevolence and embracing righteousness; hence the Duke of Zhou and Confucius clarified the teachings on nature and practice. The people of foreign states receive a nature that is unyielding, greedy, and wrathful; hence the clan of Śākya was strict with the articles of the five precepts. This is what your letter calls 'the sage has no constant mind, but accords with the nature of things.' As for warnings against violence, none is more fitting than hell; as for joys that entice to good, none is more splendid than heaven. To seek to eradicate the root of cruelty is not what is meant by the Golden Mean. The Duke of Zhou and Confucius did otherwise: they followed people's heavenly nature and removed what was excessive. Licentiousness and theft were made evident in the five punishments; offenses concerning wine were clarified in the Announcements of Zhou. In the spring hunts they did not encircle the marshes; seeing a beast alive, they could not bear to see it die. With the five transgressions and three drives, they angled but did not use a net. Thus benevolence and love were universally spread, their grace extending even to pigs and fish. For the auspicious rites there were standard sacrificial platters; the elderly were able to eat meat; spring plowing, autumn harvesting, sericulture and weaving were done in their proper seasons. The three luminaries were moved to descend, and all the hundred spirits were sacrificed to in order. Compared to what those others do, is this not magnificent? Furthermore, you distinguish the reward of making offerings and sprinkling, and impose severe penalties for doubting the Dharma; you recount the magistrate of Pu's inquiry as the basis for encouragement and conversion, and expound the reply concerning vapor and breath to clarify the verification of a future life. Those who respectfully wear the robes, open their eyes wide, and boast of these doctrines have indeed erred in their state of mind. Your treatise also claims: 'The spiritual principle and demeanor of Gidara and Śrī were not behind those of the monk Dao-lin.' Sir, since you have made clear that ordinary men cannot assess nearby matters, how can you now comprehend their superiority or inferiority from a hundred years ago and thousands of miles away? As for the monk Dao-lin, he had the appearance of a monk yet a heavenly spirit; he seemed to have a deep understanding of the true and the false, and refused entirely to avoid the scriptures, protect his masters, or embellish illusory doctrines; for this I respect him. Sun Xinggong's treatise says: 'Zhu Fahu's depth and discernment, Yu Falan's purity and erudition'—which scholar of the Central Kingdom do you wish to compare them to? And when Prince Ying of Chu built the Monastery of Benevolence, or Ze Rong gave aid to the famished along the road, did they truly have a pure and authentic demeanor? In the past, while in the eastern city, the śramaṇa Daohan came from Wu; he earnestly advised and used analogies with great sincerity. Thereupon he stayed three nights, explaining for me the causes and conditions of refining the form and clarifying the spirit, and the verifications of the arising and passing away of sin and blessing, all with systematic order. Folding my hands, I listened to his upright words, forgetting to sleep until daybreak. Upon reflection, I considered that the means by which a scholar establishes himself, makes his name known, shows good faith, and practices the Dao truly rely on the foundation of the Duke of Zhou and Confucius. Zilu said that when he heard something, before he could put it into practice, his only fear was that he would hear something else; the things I must practice are already many—why should I hastily abandon these to pursue those? Furthermore, examining the institutions that establish rituals in accord with human feelings, I know that [the idea of] a future life is extravagant; probing the ceaseless grief that lasts for one's whole life, I realize that receiving a physical form cannot happen again. The sages are my teachers; would the Duke of Zhou and Confucius deceive me? Because of your deep affection, Sir, I have laid out the beginning and the end in full. I think an elder of great wisdom does not tire of instructing others, and will not remain silent on this matter. I have already sent for the Mingfo lun, and hope that once it arrives, my mind might be illuminated. He Chengtian speaks.

3.23

Response to He Hengyang's Refutation of the Treatise Explaining the White and the Black

3.24

I have respectfully read your treatise. You curtail and suppress the Buddhist transformation to devote your will wholly to the Confucian legacy; its significance is strictly defined, and the talent of your writing is sharp and discerning. It is indeed good for warning and spurring on worldly sentiments, truly a fine discourse for the Central Realm. Observing your intention, you do not assert that the one who instituted the Buddha's teaching was not a sage; it is merely that his teachings are provisional expedients lacking reality. Yet I am not sure how you ultimately know they lack reality. Now, in our collective judgment of observable affairs, the general calculation of gains and losses is roughly half and half. The spiritual transformation arises beyond the mysterious ultimate, and its causes are intertwined within the unseen and dark realm. There has never been a divine person who pointed to the palm of his hand to explain it to us; relying merely on the fragmented texts of the historical records remaining after the burning of the books, you forthwith wish to discard and collapse the spiritual transformation, which truly makes one cold at heart. Now, the sage fathoms the principles and exhausts natures to arrive at destiny; if a single creature does not find its proper place, it is as though he had pushed it into a ditch himself. Now [you claim that Buddhism] falsely promises immortality and deceives people into achieving Buddhahood, causing them to shave their heads, wear red robes, burn their bodies, and incinerate their fingers, no longer employing their natural endowments to nourish parents, wives, and the Dao of father and son. Since the advent of the Buddha's teaching, in the thirty-six kingdoms west of the Sandy River down to China, those who have severed this lineage number in the millions. For the Eastern Yi and Western Qiang this might be acceptable, but among the worthy and wise, and those of the class of Youyu and Jin Midi, many who were about to be born have not been born. If the Buddha's teaching indeed lacked reality, how could the cruelty of pushing them into ditches be fully expressed? As for the provisional expedients of the scriptures, with what Dao do they accord that one should say they were intended to bend [the straight] past straightness to govern the unyielding and irascible populace of foreign realms? For the irascible sort, even when bound by the Three Articles of Law, with rewards and punishments clearly presented, they still do not believe or fear; how could one possibly govern them with words such as 'form itself is original non-being,' 'Nirvāṇa,' 'the Dharma-body,' 'the twelve links of conditioned origination,' and 'dust-mote-like kalpas'? Those who receive these instructions are all of the kind you described as endowed with clear and harmonious qi, cherishing benevolence, and upholding righteousness. Relying on clarity and harmony to penetrate the subtle words, and disciplining their righteous nature to practice marvelous deeds, they are thus able to illuminate and contemplate phenomena clearly, until both phenomena and illumination are empty, thereby reaching the Dao. These are all recorded in the Buddhist scriptures and believed by you, sir. As for those of recent times who penetrated the spirit and possessed illustrious virtue, such as the Eight Worthies praised by Sun Xinggong or the Five Sages eulogized by Zhi Daolin, they were all esteemed by their age; hence those two gentlemen were able to set brush to paper. How then can their words be deemed false? Sun praised the profound penetration of Zhu Fahu and the pure breadth of Yu Falan. Being unversed in matters refined or common, I do not know which scholars of the Central Realm they should be compared to. Yet Falan's disciple Daosui did not equal his master, and Sun's treatise states that at that time he was matched against the eminent, which refers to Yu Wenbing. Thus the two venerable masters, Fahu and Falan, must have surpassed him even further. I do not know them at all, nor was the monk Lin fully versed in worldly discourses; if you consider [Lin] equal to Wenbing, he might naturally not fall behind Daosui, but he should still fall behind Fahu and Falan. My previous evaluation was not a mistaken statement. If one can indeed possess the appearance of a monk and a heavenly spirit, profoundly discerning the true from the false, why might he not be a transformation wrought by Śakra, the Lord of Gods, deliberately inciting and encouraging people to attain Buddhahood? The Discourse of White and Black cannot yet be taken as authentic truth. You expressed doubt in your letter, asking why, if there truly is retribution in future lives, the Duke of Zhou and Confucius remained silent without a single word. This is indeed a perennial doubt born of partial views, and it is truly something that ought to be clarified together. The spiritual and divine mysteriously manifests, responding only after being stimulated; it does not take the lead before things. During the decline of the Shang and Zhou, the people fell into the mire and ashes, regicide and rebellion overflowed, and what stimulated the sages with the feelings of the whole world was disorder; therefore the six classics responded only to achieve order. This is why there are no words of the Buddha therein. Liu Xiang stated that the 'Tribute of Yu' enumerated the Nine Provinces, which was an account derived from the Shanhai jing; the people of Shendu lean close to others and love others, and Guo Pu said this was where Tianzhu's Buddha arose. Although this is regarded as a barbarian region by us, myriad lands are arrayed like stars in the great void; who ultimately knows which is the Central Realm? Pondering their inclination toward close affection and love, the transformation of the Buddha accordingly responded there. Among their coarser aspects, there are disorder and tyranny where rulers and ministers lack order; among our refined aspects, keeping to the Dao according to the times, Buddhist affairs likewise exist. Even though there may have been those who received the Dharma-nature at the Yi and Luo rivers, or tasted the true limit at the Zhu and Si rivers, if Shi Yi did not record it because it pertained not to the art of governance, and Bu Shang did not compile it because it deviated from Confucian narratives; and even if it was preserved in external texts hidden in double walls, it was burned again by the King of Qin. That the Duke of Zhou and Confucius did not speak of it is by no means certain. The Dao of the mysterious and void and the affairs of divine immortals have never been absent from worldly texts; the Master's words on the Dao are seen from afar in the writings of Zhuang Zhou, and the Banquet at the Jade Pond emerged from the Jizhong tomb. If so, then the five classics cannot be used to block the wondrous transformations beyond Heaven. You further raised the objection: If things themselves are constantly empty, and emptiness and things are one, then emptiness and existence are not differentiated; how then can there be different appellations for the worthy and the foolish? What the Buddhist scriptures call 'form itself is emptiness, and there is no other emptiness' does not mean that there is no existence; existence itself is simply empty. In terms of existence, the worthy and the foolish have different appellations; in terms of emptiness, the myriad differences are all empty. Form does not form itself; though it is form, it is empty. It exists through the combination of conditions, but originally has no existence. All are like creations of an illusion or visions of a dream: though they exist, they are not existent; the future has not yet arrived, the past is already extinguished, and the present does not abide, so there is no fixed existence. All these principles are the ultimate truths reached by the mysterious sages; to refute them with words is truly difficult to make clear. Contemplating things and self from this perspective, I truly perceive it to be luminous; thus, broad and vast, it heightens the purity of cleansing. How could you, sir, settle your mind upon this? You also said that corporeal form and spirit rely on each other, which the ancients compared to fuel and fire: when the fuel is exhausted, the fire grows faint; when the fuel is gone, the fire goes out; though there is something marvelous, how could it exist alone? Now, fire is produced by fuel, but the spirit is not made by corporeal form. The mind has the refined and the coarse; upon stimulation, it obtains a corporeal form and follows it. When the spirit reaches its utmost, it transcends corporeal form and exists alone; having no form while the spirit persists is what is meant by the constant abiding of the Dharma-body. Therefore, beginning from an ordinary mortal and ending with the Tathāgata, even if one inclines toward the coarse in a single lifetime, so long as consciousness inclines toward it, one will not sink through myriad kalpas, and by habituation will surely ascend in purity. The caterpillar has young, and the solitary wasp carries them off; how much more so when the spirit rests under the canopy of Ratnakūṭa and ascends the throne of the Lamp King—why should this lack a destined time? You also doubted why Śākya, who rescued beings through skillful means, would not begrudge hundreds of thousands of discourses, yet be stingy with a moment's divine light and not use it to enlighten those with deviant views.

First 24 of 30 passages. Read on

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弘明集 — 僧祐, Classical Chinese