弘明集 4.7

4.7

Previously I received your treatise and perceived therein your profound and broad considerations: you elevate and exalt the human way while degrading and distancing the animal species. Phenomena have clear evidence, and your points do not deviate from righteousness. Regulating sentiments and aiding the teachings, it is enough to make rival schools sweep away their tracks. How much more so for one who seeks harmony—how could I forget what to align with? Yet I fear only that if the qin and se lutes are played on a single note, the harmony of the performance will be lost once more. Therefore, I briefly expand on several points to fully elicit your later reply. You state that those who 'share the same essence with the two modes and together form the Three Powers' must refer to those who unify their virtue, not an appellation for ordinary men. However, generally designating the various species under the common title of 'sentient beings' is likewise an appellation for all that possess consciousness; how could it be an honorary title for superior sages? Thus, those who discuss the Three Powers do not include serfs and slaves, and those who speak of sentient beings—how do they improperly confound sages and the wise? Although one's sentiments lie in distinguishing ranks, there is naturally no worry of throwing the human relations into disorder. If one can draw upon both textual traditions and uphold both together, penetrating the principles, moderating their differences, setting aside the phrasing of the one and adopting the substance of the other, then through their shared reality the double gong notes can be self-harmonized and the split tally brought back together. Why should you be so disgruntled, clinging to the lü pitch-pipe to destroy the lü standard? Furthermore, 'the great virtue [of Heaven and Earth] is called life'; the myriad beings all share it, and what they share is their myriad being—how could the life [of each] be deemed different? Life that is not different should properly be considered 'sentient [multitude]'. It is only that among the multitude of categories, stupidity and wisdom differ in varying degrees. Humans employ creatures for their nourishment, and creatures are employed to nourish humans. Though at first this might accord with the natural order, in the end it leads to slaughter and destruction. The myriad desires sprout and cravings cannot be restrained; the harm to life is vast and cruel, and heavenly principle is stifled and extinguished. The August Sage pitied this state of affairs, but being unable abruptly to snatch away their attachments, he established the teachings on awaiting the seasons for creatures and was scrupulous regarding the classic texts on according with the seasons, intending thereby to unfold benevolence, nurture sentience, and gradually restore tranquility. Those who take the Dao as their mind might not stop at these limits. Furthermore, I know that by the great standard, birth and death are equated with flourishing and withering; looking at the various realms of existence, it is indeed fitting to be so. Yet in the preservation or extinction of the spiritual principle, perhaps it differs from withered roots changing and decaying? If it were identical to plants and trees, it should simply turn to smoke and vanish. Yet you also state that 'the three former kings have ascended far away, their refined spirits are in heaven.' If the refined spirit must exist, and thus truly differs from plants and trees, then would not the doctrine of receiving a corporeal form [again] gain further support? Is it not because of the pure goodness of the three former kings that their retribution is to be born in heaven? Wishing to refute future rebirth, you instead establish ascending to the heights; what was to be refuted is rather reaffirmed—truly we know it cannot be eliminated by effort. If there is merely a refined spirit without bodily form, I do not know on what it relies to establish itself in heaven. I am timid about making court-like judgments, and therefore strive to seek models to rely upon; yet deliberating back and forth, I have not attained peace of mind. Everything within the compass of qi and destiny inevitably elicits a response. The way of giving and retribution is an inevitable tally. Stating that it must tally—why suspect it of being done with anticipation? Therefore, one who leaves behind favors makes no demands, but one who preserves merit has an expectation. That an expectation is preserved does not vitiate the virtue of the favor; indeed, people may be worthy or unworthy, and thus their intentions may be public-spirited or private. One cannot, merely because some people look for a reward, assert that all cultivation of virtue involves demands. Moreover, the constant saying of worldly times values that the giver should not remember it, and a gentleman adhering to righteousness gives favors without possessing them. How much more so for those who hear the essentials of the Dao—could it be that they cannot have an empty mind, but must act always harboring cravings and dreading expedient teachings in every matter? You fail to guide them to ascend above, and ever drive them to sink below. Though you rebuke and take them to task deeply, you yourself have already spoken profusely without restraint. Your defended city has always been strong, making it difficult for an arrow-borne letter to penetrate; and as I dwell in sorrow and distress, my sentiments and thoughts have nothing to rely upon. Having recently received your honorable missive, I wished to spread out my thoughts, compose a reply, and resolve doubts, though I fear it may not hit the mark. Yan Yanzhi speaks.