弘明集 5
English (machine translation) 5
- Language
- English
5.1
Compiled by Vinaya Master Shi Sengyou of Jianchu Monastery in Yangdu of the Liang
5.2
Discourse on Rebirth, by Luo Junzhang
Discourse on the Indestructibility of the Spirit, by Zheng Daozi
Discourses on Why Śramaṇas Do Not Pay Homage to Rulers (Five Pieces), by Master Yuan
Discourse on the Bare-Shouldered Robe of Śramaṇas (with objection and reply by He Zhennan), by Master Yuan
Master Yuan’s Reply to Huan Xuan Clarifying Retribution
Discourse on the Three Retributions, Occasioned by Secular Doubts over the Lack of Present Proof for Good and Evil, by Master Yuan
5.3
Discourse on Rebirth
5.4
Luo Junzhang
5.5
How fine are the words of Master Xiang! He said: What is Heaven? It is the collective name for the myriad things. What is man? He is a single thing within Heaven. Speaking from this basis: now the myriad things have a limited number, yet Heaven and Earth are inexhaustible. If so, then the inexhaustible transformations have never emerged from outside the myriad things. If the myriad things did not undergo rebirth, then Heaven and Earth would have an end. Since Heaven and Earth do not have an end, rebirth can be known.
5.6
Investigating the old treatises, they also say: 'Ten thousand portents are hangingly fixed; all living beings alternate and succeed one another.' When the Sage created the Book of Changes, he fully exhausted its ultimate: 'Exhausting the spirit to know transformations, exhausting principle to fulfill nature.' If the spirit can indeed be exhausted, then that which has corporeal form cannot lack a determined number. This being so, human beings and things have their fixed numbers; you and I have our established shares. What exists cannot be extinguished into non-existence, and another cannot be transformed into me. Gathering and dispersing, concealing and manifesting, they revolve on an endless course. The worthy and the foolish, the long-lived and the prematurely dead, each returns to its own kind; they naturally follow one another in succession without the slightest error. Merging with fortune, their recurrence is achieved without conscious knowing. How distant! How vast! Its Dao is profound. Although Heaven and Earth are great, they are integrated without confusion; although the myriad things are numerous, their divisions are already distinct. Each proceeds from its own root, with ancestors and descendants in proper order; the root and branches endure for a hundred generations without losing their former pattern. Furthermore, the spirit and material substance are a natural pair. In pairs, there are the changes of separation and union, death and rebirth; in material substance, there is the tendency of gathering and dispersing, going and returning. The transformations of humans and things each possess their own nature. Nature has its original share, and therefore things recurrently have constancy. Although their dispersal may seem jumbled, their gathering cannot be disordered. The further their going, the nearer their return. Moreover, the spirit and material substance have a profound agreement, fitting together naturally like tallies. The world laments that what unites must separate, yet none finds solace that what separates must unite. All know that what gathers must disperse, yet none recognizes that what disperses must gather. They simply have not reflected on this. Could it really be so far away? The actions of this present life are just those of the past life; the events of life are just those past events. In their essence, there is nowhere to place them; their intentions merge with the self, each without self-awareness. Who can claim to be aware of it? Current debaters merely know that the former 'I' is not the present 'I', but do not know that the present 'I' is just the past 'I'. This is how the clear-sighted equalize life and death, and also say that life and death are like waking and dreaming. How true are these words!
5.7
Letter from Sun of Changsha
5.8
Anguo
5.9
I have examined your Treatise on Rebirth. It encompasses transformations and exhausts the investigation of gathering and dispersing. Its conceptual reasoning is fine, and its expressive flavor and style are delightful; it is indeed a good treatise. However, my opinion still holds differences. Regarding the myriad things transforming into different corporeal forms, they are countless; responding to principle, they do not err, yet their concealment and manifestation span years and ages. Now, among the myriad transformations, there should still be more or less some. Are there none who regain their corporeal forms? When conditions are exhausted, they must become dark and distant, their ears and eyes no longer opening or pursuing; only then do they return to their root. I maintain that when the corporeal form turns to dust and disperses, sentience does likewise, chaotically mingling and transforming into different things. Other things each lose their former state and are no longer as in past days. This is why sentient beings lament. If this is so, then you cannot yet take solace in this alone.
5.10
Reply to Sun
5.11
I received your letter. Its text is succinct, its meaning fine, and its reasoning also encompasses genuine feeling. Although I rejoiced at your pure response, you have not yet understood, which leaves me with lingering concern. Please examine the original premise. The original premise never maintained that things do not transform at all; it merely held that those that transform each obtain that into which they transform, and those that decay also do not lose their former essence. Who oversees the potting of this, now mixing, now dividing? I say that its ultimate shares are so, and cannot be disordered. If so, how could this be merely a single rebirth? It will undergo endless rebirth alongside the infinite. Ending and beginning again, its numbers are clear. If one cannot understand the present, how can one understand rebirth? This was just an accumulation of sorrow leading to reckless words, inquiring after what could resolve it. How could I say it was merely for solace? It was just to dispel my thoughts.
5.12
Treatise on the Indestructibility of the Spirit
5.13
Zheng Daozi
5.14
Most people consider that corporeal form and spirit are extinguished together, illumination and consciousness both exhausted. Can what Heaven has made so be spoken of in terms of a single lifetime? They have already taken the Duke of Zhou and Confucius as the ultimate, and benevolence, righteousness, and ritual teachings have first tied their hearts, while the root of the spirit's brightness is cut off and left unspoken. Thus what their feelings embody does not extend beyond corporeal form. When the Buddha proclaimed the ultimate words, they were long indifferent and disbelieving. Having fallen into the confusion of youth, I resolved to rescue myself from drowning. Looking upward, I investigated the profound purport and scrutinized the essentials of the spirit. I realized that principle is subtler than corporeal form, and spirit is more marvelous than principle. Relying on images to convey the mind, I roughly raise its proofs, hoping to mirror it for those who are about to awaken, and thereby perform a service for those mired in confusion.
5.15
Corporeal form and spirit are blended together; although they exist together with life, when coarse and subtle diverge at their origins, being and non-being are distinct. Why do I say this? The corporeal form consists of the five viscera, six bowels, four limbs, and seven apertures united into one; this is how it forms life. When receiving life, the five constants are diversely bestowed. Therefore, if a limb is partially diseased or ears and eyes are mutually deficient, this does not strip away its being alive. Within a single corporeal form, it is already like this; how much more so for the essence of the spirit, whose luminous illumination marvelously governs the multitude of corporeal forms! Corporeal form operates together with breath; spirit flows in unison with subtle awakening. Although motion and rest assist one another, fine and coarse diverge at their origins. How could it be that each does not have its own root, mutually depending on each other for their function? Drawing an example from the body close at hand clarifies this principle, and one may perhaps awaken to it. In what a single body relies upon, the flesh and bones are where pain and itch are perceived, whereas nails and hair are where perception ceases. What is the reason for this? Is it not that flesh and bones are that by which life exists, while nails and hair are not the root of life? When life resides in the root, perception endures; when life resides in the branches, perception ceases. If the function of a single corporeal form still prospers or decays depending on the root and branches, how much more so when spirit is the root of life and its source is supremely subtle! How could it wither together with the seven-foot body and be exhausted alongside its doors and windows? Inferring from this principle, the indestructibility of the spirit can be known right where we sit.
5.16
A guest objected, saying: 'Your analysis of spirit and corporeal form is exhaustive. Drawing upon perception and non-perception within a single corporeal form is subtle indeed. However, although corporeal form and spirit diverge at their origins as coarse and subtle, they both share in the division of conditioned things. That by which they exist takes life as its root. Since this is so, how could the root already be exhausted while that which relies on the root alone survives? Transcending the bounds of life, it becomes vast, dark, and exhausted. Once it is dark and exhausted, not only is there nowhere for it to be established, but even speech has nowhere to establish its consciousness. When consciousness is not established, where will the spirit lodge? Having nowhere to lodge, how could it not be extinguished?'
5.17
I answered: 'Your objection is eloquent indeed, but you have not rooted it in the mind; hence you raise such an objection. The myriad transformations are all existent things. Flourishing and withering, thriving and decaying, death and life alternate: one corporeal form is exhausted, and another corporeal form is born; this is the beginning and end of what has life. As for water and fire, they thoroughly penetrate all living beings, sustaining them without exhaustion. Is it not that the essence of fire depends on objects, while the principle of water is empty and compliant? They do not give birth to themselves, yet are relied upon by all living beings; relying on them constitutes their efficacy, and therefore things cannot exhaust them. Even within the realm of life, their subtlety is such; how much more so for the principle of the spirit, which is uniquely transcendent, beyond the neighborhood of vessels! How could one limit it by saying that beyond life it is darkly exhausted and the spirit has nowhere to lodge? Speaking from this: the Great Ultimate is the mother of the Two Modes, and the Two Modes are the root of the myriad things. That Great Ultimate is merely the primordial qi of the chaotic origin, yet it can subsume the roots of these transformations without altering its oneness. How much more so for the spirit's brightness and luminous ultimate, which fully exhaust both being and non-being? Can its indestructibility not be realized from this?'
5.18
The guest objected: 'You project the spirit's illumination beyond corporeal form and point to the Great Ultimate prior to things. This truly has its rationale. However, principle values satisfying the mind; only then can discussion be exhausted. Spirit and corporeal form have never diverged for a single moment. If they diverged, there would be no spirit. This is why plants and trees have neither spirit nor consciousness. Once this corporeal form is exhausted, where will the spirit attach itself, that you call it indestructible? If it could indeed be indestructible, it would naturally contradict its own numinous nature and not rely on corporeal form. Since it would not rely on corporeal form, by what principle does it constitute life together with corporeal form without ever diverging? Since they cannot diverge, it is conclusively knowable that their root of life is the same.'
5.19
I answered: 'For this objection, corporeal form and spirit have their origins. Please allow me to explain it for you by tracing back to the root. Fire exists because of firewood; without firewood, there is no fire. Although firewood is that by which fire arises, it is not the root of fire. Fire inherently exists at the root, merely taking firewood as its function. If one had to wait for firewood before fire existed, was there no principle of fire before Suiren? Fire is originally the ultimate Yang, and Yang is the pinnacle of fire; thus firewood is what fire lodges in, not its root. The mutual reliance of spirit and corporeal form is also like this. Mutually relying and mutually causing, they are merely the path through which life proceeds. How could it be that when there is corporeal form, spirit exists, and when there is no corporeal form, spirit is exhausted? Its root is indistinct and beyond words. Please allow me to broaden the comparison to clarify this for you: when firewood is in the fire, the fire is extinguished; when it comes out of the fire, the fire is born. While a single piece of firewood remains unchanged, the fire departs first. That the spirit does not depend on corporeal form is also like this. Can you not realize that the spirit does not depend on corporeal form?'
5.20
The guest objected: 'That the spirit does not depend on corporeal form cannot be resolved at once. Taking it as you say: if it does not depend on corporeal form, then relying on corporeal form and illuminating alone would be always identical in principle. Although they are said to mutually rely, originally they would be unrelated. What the Buddhist principle clarifies must mold this spirit to aid that corporeal form—why is that?'
5.21
I answered: 'Your question comes from a thoughtful mind. This is what the vast multitude is confused about, not having reached its root. Although the spirit does not depend on corporeal form, that corporeal form must be born, and in the corporeal form that must be born, this spirit must reside. Must reside and must be born: illumination and stimulus become one, naturally aiding each other. Naturally aiding each other, principle reaches its culmination in molding. When molding occurs, efficacy is preserved; when efficacy is preserved, the Dao prevails. It is like the four seasons with respect to the myriad things: how could they intentionally aid them? It is simply what accords with principle, the natural outcome.'
5.22
The guest objected: 'Although corporeal form and spirit are different, that they naturally aid each other I have respectfully heard. You already compared the spirit to corporeal form as fire to firewood: firewood has no intent to have fire, and fire has no sentiment to lodge in firewood; thus they can combine in endless function, enduring naturally with transformation. It is not that the fire of this firewood moves to that firewood and only then becomes fire. Yet the Buddhist principle holds that once this corporeal form is exhausted, it lodges in another corporeal form, the coming and going of corporeal form and spirit being due to sin and merit. May I ask: is this corporeal form creating sin, or is it this spirit? If it is corporeal form, it is merely one thing in the Great Foundry. If it is spirit, then spirit cannot sustain itself and is bound to a different corporeal form; then your thesis that corporeal form and spirit do not rely on each other stumbles here.'
5.23
I answered: 'It is appropriate that there should be this question; only then can principle be exhausted. What is meant by corporeal form and spirit not relying on each other refers to their different origins. Once they constitute life, within the ongoing generation of life each fulfills its function. If one uses this life to produce sin and merit, how could the spirit keep its illumination marvelously to itself without serving as the function for this corporeal form? If it were so, it would possess intentionality regarding worthiness and foolishness, rather than forgetting illumination and profoundly uniting. According with principle, it profoundly unites; according with principle, it exhausts the corporeal form. Transforming, the spirit lodges in corporeal form. Do you not doubt that at the beginning both are of one principle, yet assign fixed natures to them at the end?'
5.24
The guest objected: 'The spirit takes corporeal form as its illumination; the corporeal form relies on spirit for its function. This is indeed so. Awakening is due to delusion, yet delusion does not reside in the spirit. The spirit follows this corporeal form, and therefore there are worthiness and foolishness. Worthiness and foolishness are not the spirit, yet the spirit is used by corporeal form. Circling through the three times for countless tens of thousands of kalpas, worthiness and foolishness have no beginning, yet efficacy becomes manifest midway. The principle of beginninglessness is profound, yet the efficacy midway is not yet mature. Is there an efficacy existing in the branches that can uproot the beginning of beginninglessness? If you have an excellent explanation, I ask to follow behind you.'
5.25
I answered: 'You hold its beginning accountable, and you have these words. Principle has neither beginning nor end; the profound ultimate is boundless. Once born and once transformed, sin and merit alternate, naturally produced. What is called hearing and seeing indeed derives from ears and eyes, yet the root of ears and eyes is not hearing and seeing. What is called worthiness and foolishness indeed ought to have a beginning, yet once they become worthiness and foolishness, their beginninglessness can be known. That which has thinghood cannot govern things; only that which is without thinghood can become that to which things return. If it had a beginning, it could not be the end; only by having no beginning can ending and beginning be endless. This is inherently not what principle allows; one cannot cite things having a beginning and demand that spirit be identical to things. The Dao of the spirit is profound and distant; the ultimate principle is beyond words. We approximate its essential tenets to awaken together, but citing the root from the branches constantly loses its overarching thread. Therefore, holding to this single perspective, I hope to scale its peak. If you unleash debate and dispute words, I know it will never cease.'
5.26
The 'Hongfan' explains the origin of life, and it agrees with the Buddha. When it comes to what the Buddha expounds, [some dismiss it as] sheer fabrication, but this is merely being drowned in daily utility. Shangchen was exceedingly rebellious, yet his descendants enjoyed prosperous fortunes; Yan Hui and Ran Geng possessed virtuous conduct, yet died young without lasting fame. The teachings of the Duke of Zhou and Confucius are naturally confined within the realm. Inferring from this principle, it can surely be known. Please allow me to broaden the evidence to examine it in detail: One who receives spiritual essence and rides the harmonious [vital force] has an essence of the utmost purity; yet Yao gave birth to Danzhu, who was obstinate, vicious, unruly, and ignorant of humaneness and righteousness. The Blind Old Man fathered Shun; the father was fundamentally not of the sort that could nurture him, yet the son naturally should have inherited virtue. Matters being like this, yet they call the Buddhist principles far-fetched—how could they fail to awaken?
5.27
Huan Junshan's 'Xinlun' on Form and Spirit (Your servant Zheng observes: Junshan had not heard the teachings of the Śākya clan, yet when discussing form and spirit he had already formulated the metaphor of firewood and fire. Later speakers silently converged with him, hence this is selected.)
5.28
I once visited Du Fang of my home commandery, formerly the magistrate of Chen. Seeing him reading the Laozi, he said, 'Laozi used tranquility to cultivate his nature and achieved an age of several hundred years. Now if I practice his Dao, could I prolong my life and ward off old age?' I answered him, saying: 'Although humans share the same form and name, their innate nature and constitution are each different; they possess endowments of strength and weakness, hardness and fragility. Caring for and appropriately using them merely produces slight improvements. It is like clothes, shoes, and utensils: if you care for them, they will remain intact and last long.' I saw a hemp-wick candle beside him with a stalk of residue hanging down about a foot. I then used it as a metaphor for the situation, saying: 'The spirit residing in the corporeal form is like fire burning a candle. If one cares for it well, trimming and tilting it in accordance with the flame, it can burn to the end of the candle without premature loss. The candle without fire cannot travel alone through empty space, nor can fire burn again on the residue. The residue is like a person who is old, with fallen teeth, white hair, and dried and withered flesh, while the spirit can no longer nourish it. When inside and outside are exhausted, the vital breath ceases and they die, just as the fire and the candle are both extinguished. When people meet with pathogenic harm or sickness and do not receive care from a good physician, some die untimely deaths. When they die, their flesh, sinews, and bones are like a fire tipped by a gust of wind and left unsaved; once it burns out, the remaining wick remains long. I once sat drinking at night in the interior room, burning a candle. When the candle was half-collapsed and about to be extinguished, I inspected it myself and saw that its outer bark was peeling and severed. I then supported and turned it; the fire thereupon passed across and burned again. When the human body suffers severe depletion and injury, if one can practice caution and sustain it well, one may likewise survive. Furthermore, no one can remember the time of their birth, and when old, one naturally cannot foresee their own death. In the peaceful and harmonious times of antiquity, the people were born under fine and abundant conditions; all were sturdy, long-lived, and died only around the age of a hundred. When they died, it was suddenly like falling asleep and going out, just like fruits and grains that naturally drop when aged and ripe. Later generations met with dwindling, foul vital breath, married out of season, and toiled excessively. Therefore, both parents and their offspring suffered harm, and their sinews, bones, blood, and vital breath were neither replete nor strong; thus many met with misfortune, died young, or perished abruptly in middle age. When afflicted by illness, they suffered poignant anguish, and only then did their life come to an end; hence people lament and dread it, regarding death as the greatest disaster. Thus King Jing of Qi once praised the beauty of his state and the delight of its pleasures, saying: 'If from antiquity there had been no death, how would it be?' Yanzi said: 'The Lord on High regards human death as good: through it, the humane rest, and the inhumane are subdued.' Now, if one does not strive daily to broaden learning, to achieve mastery for oneself, and to pursue establishing oneself and making one's name known, but only greedily seeks the benefit of long life and extensively seeks to prolong longevity and increase one's years, this is delusion without understanding.' Someone objected, saying: 'Using candle and fire as a metaphor for form and spirit is, I fear, specious. When human skin and flesh are occasionally scraped or injured, they heal on their own because the blood and vital breath circulate through them. When that hemp-wick candle is damaged, even though fire resides in it, it cannot become whole again. Thus spirit and breath generate growth, whereas the fire and candle cannot repair themselves. This is precisely how they differ; why would you equate them?' I answered, saying: 'Fire arises from one end, whereas human spirit and vital breath in the body gradually emerge from the inside to unite with the outside, and gather from the outside to reach the inside; they do not necessarily travel from one end. It is like glowing charcoal: if a small amount of water passes over it, it is slightly extinguished, but then rekindles. This is comparable to the blood and vital breath growing flesh. Looking at the ultimate end, it either becomes ash or becomes residue. Why should it not serve as a metaphor? Later, I sat talking at night with Boshi over a fat lamp. When the fat in the lamp was exhausted and the wick was charred and stubby, about to go out, I showed it to him to enlighten him. Boshi said: 'Human aging is also like that stubby wick.' I then told him about the previous matter of burning the hemp-wick candle. Boshi said: 'When the lamp and candle are spent, one should add fat and change the candle. When a person ages and declines, can they renew themselves?' I answered, saying: 'A person, having received and established their corporeal form, is like that single lamp or candle; when it reaches its ultimate end, how could it renew itself? Changing what is spent depends on humans; a person's renewal also depends on Heaven. If Heaven can endow their muscles, bones, blood, and vital breath with abundance and strength, then form and spirit will flourish and live long; if impaired, they will be cut short and injured. It is like fire: its slowness or speed depends on the abundance or scarcity, length or shortness of the fat and candle. If one wishes the lamp and candle to replenish and change themselves, they cannot; one can only gather the surrounding fat to soak the tip, and turn the wick so the fire can dwell securely, and then it shines bright again. When the source is exhausted, there is nothing with which to burn. Now, when people cultivate their nature, some can cause fallen teeth to regrow, white hair to turn black again, and the face to become plump and glowing. This is like turning the candle toward the fat: when the utmost lifespan is reached, they still die alone. The enlightened know this is difficult to attain, so they do not weary themselves; the foolish deceive themselves and hope to obtain the efficacy of adding fat and changing the candle, striving eagerly without rest. Furthermore, herbs, trees, and the five grains are generated from the earth through the yin and yang vital breath. When they grow large and bear fruit, the fruit enters the earth again, and only then can they be generated. It is like humans, beasts, and insects, all generated through the sexual union of male and female. When there is birth, there is growth; when there is growth, there is aging; when there is aging, there is death. It is like the succession of the four seasons. To wish to alter their nature and pursue an extraordinary path is delusion without understanding.'
5.29
On Śramaṇas Not Paying Homage to Rulers
5.30
By Dharma Master Yuan
5.31
In the Chengkang era of the Jin dynasty, General of Chariots and Cavalry Yu Bing questioned what principle made it clear that śramaṇas should resist paying court to the lord of ten thousand chariots. The General of Agile Cavalry composed a reply (the titles of both treatises are in this collection). Coming to the Yuanxing era, Grand Defender Duke Huan also shared this view, holding that Yu's statements had not been exhaustive, and wrote a letter to the Eight Ministers:
5.32
'Although the Buddha's transforming influence is vast and limitless, extending beyond what is seen and heard, it takes reverence as its foundation. In this, the recluses and the worldly do not differ; it is merely that their ultimate aspirations are distinct, and it is not that reverence and respect should be abandoned. Laozi ranked kings and lords together with the three great ones; tracing this back, what he valued lay entirely in supporting life and keeping fortunes flowing. How could it merely be that because the sage is on the throne, he is equated with heaven and earth? It is because the great virtue of heaven and earth is called life, and keeping life flowing and ordering things rests with the ruler. Therefore, the sacred vessel of rule is revered, and the rites are indeed exalted. How could it be empty adulation, merely an intention toward the ruler's governance? The reason śramaṇas are born and exist in the state also relies daily on his ordering of life. How could they receive his virtue yet omit his rites, benefit from his grace yet abandon their reverence?' At that time, many court officials and eminent worthies replied; although their words had not yet brought understanding to the times, they all had their respective merits. Yet they all merely exhausted what they harbored, while the underlying principle remained trapped in emotion. Consequently, the supreme garment of the Dao was defiled by the worldly dust, and minds of bright integrity were bowed to human affairs. How sorrowful! This is the source of mutual demise and the misfortune of a thousand years. Deeply fearing that the Great Dharma was about to submerge, and moved by the unforgettable events of the past, I have composed five treatises to investigate and expound this subtle purport. How could it be said that the deep abyss depends on the morning dew? It is merely to declare what is boundlessly profound, and also hoping that future gentlemen who revere and respect the Buddha's teachings might examine it thoroughly.
5.33
On Śramaṇas Not Paying Homage to Rulers: Chapter 1: The Lay Life
5.34
Tracing the core of what the Buddha's teachings elucidate, the essential division lies between the householder and the recluse. Those who go out into the world and dwell in seclusion fall generally into four classes. When they propagate the teachings and reach out to beings, their merit equals that of emperors and kings, and their transformation embraces the Dao of governance. As for inspiring the worldly and enlightening their times, there has never been an age without them; yet depending on whether their circumstances allow them to act or to withdraw, they appear or remain hidden according to their flourishing or decay. Among them, regarding those that can be discussed, please allow me to speak briefly: Those who observe the Dharma at home are citizens who comply with transformation. Their sentiments have not altered worldly customs, and their traces are identical with those within the realm; therefore they have the love of natural kin and the etiquette of serving the sovereign. Etiquette and reverence have their source, and taking this as the basis, the teaching is formed. Tracing what they are based upon, their merit derives from the past. For this reason, by relying on affection one teaches love, making the people know natural kindness; by relying on solemnity one teaches respect, making the people know natural gravity. The emergence of these two truly arises from invisible resonance. Since the resonance does not belong to the present, one should trace back to its origin. Therefore, one uses retributions for guilt as punishments, making them cautious after feeling fear; and uses heavenly realms as ranks and rewards, making them act after feeling joy. These are all teachings made clear based on the retribution of shadow and echo, serving as communication through compliance, without altering their natural condition. Why is this? Enriching the body and preserving life takes clinging to boundaries as an entanglement. The root is deep because self-centeredness and inverted views are not yet forgotten; they are about to make desires their park and sounds and sights their pleasure-garden, steeped in worldly delights and unable to free themselves to transcend them. Therefore, the restraint of the teaching takes this as its limit, and does not elucidate what lies beyond it. When what lies beyond is not yet elucidated, they largely conform to those who comply with transformation. Therefore, they must not receive his virtue yet omit his rites, or benefit from his grace yet abandon their reverence. For this reason, those who delight in the tradition of Śākya always first serve their parents and respect their sovereign; those who alter worldly ways and cast off the hairpin must await the command and act in compliance. If sovereign or parent has doubts, they withdraw to cultivate their aspiration, awaiting shared awakening. This is why the Buddha's teachings value supporting life and assist the ruler's transformation in the Dao of governance. The purport of the disputants' arguments seems superficially similar; therefore, I distinguish the inner from the outer divisions to clarify the intent regarding the three bonds, briefly narrating the meaning of the scriptures to convey what I harbor.
5.35
On Śramaṇas Not Paying Homage to Rulers: Chapter 2: The Renunciant Life
5.36
Those who leave the household are guests outside the realm; their traces are severed from worldly things. As for the teaching for them: they understand that suffering and entanglement stem from having a body, so they do not preserve the body to end suffering; they know that living life after life arises from receiving transformation, so they do not comply with transformation to seek the ultimate. If seeking the ultimate does not derive from complying with transformation, then they do not value the support of life's fortunes; if ending suffering does not derive from preserving the body, then they do not prize the benefits of enriching life. This is where principle diverges from form, and where the Dao opposes the worldly. For such persons, their vow begins with shedding the hairpin, and their established aspiration is embodied in changing their robes. Therefore, all who are in the renunciant life flee the world to pursue their aspiration, and alter worldly customs to attain their Dao. If they alter worldly customs, their vestments cannot share the etiquette of secular canons; if they flee the world, they should elevate their traces. Thus, they can rescue the drowning world from the submerged stream, and uproot dark roots across multiple kalpas. From afar they open the ford of the three vehicles, and broadly open the path of devas and humans. If a single person perfects virtue, then the Dao pervades the six relations, and grace flows to all under heaven. Although they do not occupy the seat of kings or lords, they are already in accord with the August Ultimate, sheltering the living beings. For this reason, inwardly they diverge from the gravity of natural kin yet do not violate filial piety; outwardly they lack the deference of serving the sovereign yet do not lose reverence. Viewing it from this, we know that transcending the manifestations of transformation to seek the ultimate means the principle is deep and the significance is earnest; illuminating great repose to speak of humaneness means the merit is secondary and the kindness is shallow. If this is so, even if someone were to turn their steps before the dark mountain, they would still be ashamed to hear such talk; how much more so for those who comply with transformation and the worthies who merely hold salaried office—how could they share the same filial piety and reverence?
5.37
On Śramaṇas Not Paying Homage to Rulers: Chapter 3: Seeking the Ultimate without Complying with Transformation
5.38
The questioner asks: "If we examine Laozi's thought, heaven and earth are great because they attain the One, and kings and princes are noble because they embody compliance. By attaining the One, they are the root of the myriad transformations; by embodying compliance, they have the efficacy of revolving and circulating. If so, illuminating the fundamental principle must lie in embodying the ultimate, and seeking the ultimate must come from complying with transformation. Therefore, past sages took this as a fine discourse, and the various arguments could not dissent from it. For one who dissents from the various arguments, his doctrine has nothing to recommend it. Why, then, do you say that one does not comply with transformation?"
I answer: "All that exists within the spatial realm equally receives life from the Great Transformation. Although the myriad kinds are immensely diverse and their fine and coarse aspects have different threads, to speak of them in terms of their overarching principle, there are simply those with sentience and those without sentience. Those with sentience have feelings toward transformation; those without sentience have no feelings toward transformation. With those who have no feelings toward transformation, when transformation ends, life is exhausted; because life does not arise from feelings, when the corporeal form decays, transformation ceases. With those who have feelings toward transformation, they are moved by responding to external things; being moved necessarily involves feelings, and therefore their life does not cease. When life does not cease, their transformations become ever more extensive and their corporeal forms ever more accumulated, their feelings become ever more stagnant and their burdens ever deeper. How could the troubles this causes ever be fully described!
"Therefore, the sūtras state that Nirvāṇa is unchanging, taking the exhaustion of transformation as its dwelling, while the three realms are in flux, taking suffering and affliction as their arena. When transformation is exhausted, causes and conditions cease forever; when there is flux, one endures suffering without end. How do we know this to be so? Life takes the corporeal form as its fetters, yet life arises from transformation. When transformation is stirred by feelings, the spirit stagnates in its root and wisdom is blinded in its illumination. When there is obstinate attachment, what is preserved is only the self, and what is encountered is only movement. Thereupon, the reins of the spirit lose control and the paths of rebirth open daily. One simply follows craving into the long current—how could it be limited to just a single lifetime?
"Therefore, one who returns to the root and seeks the ultimate does not burden his spirit with life; one who transcends the dust of worldly bounds does not burden his life with feelings. When one does not burden his life with feelings, life can be extinguished; when one does not burden his spirit with life, the spirit can merge [into the dark principle]. When the spirit is merged and objects of perception are cut off, this is called Nirvāṇa. How could the name of Nirvāṇa be an empty fabrication?
"Please let us examine this through reality: Heaven and earth, though taking the generation of life as great, cannot make the living not transform. Kings and princes, though taking the preservation of life as their merit, cannot make the preserved free from distress. Therefore, the preceding treatise said: 'Understanding that distress and burden stem from having a body, he does not preserve the body to extinguish distress; knowing that the generation of life arises from receiving transformation, he does not comply with transformation to seek the ultimate.' The meaning lies precisely in this; the meaning lies precisely in this. This is why the śramaṇa treats the lord of ten thousand chariots as an equal, holds his enterprise high, does not accept enfeoffment from kings and princes, yet extends his blessings to them."
5.39
A Treatise on the Śramaṇa Not Bowing Before Kings: Embodying the Ultimate Does Not Concurrently Respond [to the World], Part 4
5.40
The questioner asks: "Surveying past history, those who have held the throne and occupied the ancestral seat since the Sovereigns of High Antiquity have never diverged from their original root. The root cannot be two; therefore, a hundred generations have shared the same standard and all unified their lineage. As the saying goes: 'Only heaven is great, and only Yao took it as his model.' In this case, it is not that their wisdom failed to illuminate something; rather, there was simply nothing outside for it to illuminate. It is not that their illumination failed to exhaust something; rather, there was simply no principle left unexhausted. Inferring from this, outside what can be seen and heard, there is vast emptiness with nowhere to lodge anything. When the principle has nowhere else to lodge, the ultimate root is clear. Now, the śramaṇas do not realize the meaning beyond the text and are confused by the purport beyond the teaching. Their error is already complete. If this can be clearly demonstrated once again, it would be a rare discourse indeed."
5.41
I answer: "The hidden principle is boundless and distant; the divine Dao is subtle and profound. It can be sought through principle, but is difficult to interrogate through specific affairs. Once it touches upon teaching, it takes adapting to the times as its rule. Although the instruments for responding to the world differ in ten thousand gradations of superiority and inferiority, when it comes to subtle fulfillment in practical application, they respond to the minds of the people and open up their allotted capacities. Once their allotted capacities are reached, they stop at what their wisdom cannot know, without concerning what lies beyond it. If so, it is not that the one who embodies the ultimate cannot encompass both, but merely that encompassing both, he cannot deploy them together. Therefore, when the ancients spoke of the Great Dao, only after five alterations could forms and names be raised, and only after nine alterations could rewards and punishments be mentioned. These are merely gradations within the realm, yet they still could not be established all at once—how much less what lies beyond it!
"Please let us examine and extend this further to broaden its analogies: What lies outside the six directions is preserved but not discussed—not because it cannot be discussed, but because discussing it might lead to deviation. What lies within the six directions is discussed but not debated—not because it cannot be debated, but because debating it might lead to doubt. The records of the past kings' governance in the Spring and Autumn Annals are debated but not judged—not because they cannot be judged, but because judging them might cause disorder. These three cases all take what one's own ears and eyes cannot reach as their crucial boundary, without concerning what lies beyond sight and hearing. If one seeks the intention of the sages by this, the inner and outer paths can be reconciled and illuminated.
"I have always maintained that the Dharma of the Dao and the teaching of names, the Tathāgata and Yao and Confucius, though differing in their initial manifestations, secretly affect and influence one another; their emergence and retirement are indeed different, but their ultimate aims are the same. If we analyze and discern them in detail, their destination can be seen. In principle, some are first united and then diverge, while others first diverge and then unite. Those who are first united and then diverge are the Buddhas and Tathāgatas. Those who first diverge and then unite are the successive generations of sovereigns who have not yet reached the ultimate embodiment—they belong to this stream.
"How do we know this? The sūtras say that the Buddha possesses a natural and wondrous Dharma: he transforms beings through expedient means, extensively adapting to wherever he enters. He may appear as an immortal, a wheel-turning sage king, a minister, a state preceptor, or a Daoist master. Such manifestations appear wherever appropriate, and neither kings nor gentlemen know who he is. This is what is meant by being united first and then diverging.
"Others initially establish great enterprises, but their meritorious transformation is not yet complete. Because their traces are uneven, what they receive is not the same: some look for achievement after this life, while others manifest responses in their present age. The sage kings who build upon this to establish their teachings are also beyond count. Although their restraint and guidance take countless ways, they inevitably converge on the path of return. This is what is meant by diverging first and then uniting.
"If now they diverge first and then unite, those who intend to tread the open thoroughfare must not confine themselves to a single measure. If now they are united first and then diverge, it is definitely known that the destinations of Śākyamuni and Yao and Confucius are not different. Therefore, if one seeks their unity from their divergence, one knows that their accord in principle is necessarily the same; if one seeks their divergence from their unity, one realizes the manifold ways of embodying the ultimate. It is only because those who see mere forms cannot encompass both that they are alarmed by their differences on the various paths. Viewing it from this, the Dao of heaven and earth exhausts its merit in revolving and transforming; the virtue of emperors and kings carries its principle to the utmost in compliance and circulation. If compared with the incomparable teaching and the unchanging principle, they cannot be spoken of in the same breath, and their superiority and inferiority are already clear."
5.42
A Treatise on the Śramaṇa Not Bowing Before Kings: Corporeal Form Exhausted, the Spirit Is Not Extinguished, Part 5
5.43
The questioner asks: "The author of the treatise takes the exhaustion of transformation as the ultimate; therefore, one who attains the ultimate must go against transformation to seek the root principle. Seeking the root principle does not come from complying with transformation; for this reason, he cites the successive generations of sovereigns to align them with the Buddhist teaching, claiming that those who attained the ultimate ruled as kings through expedient means. This is what the refined treatise relies upon, presuming on an overarching comprehensiveness. Yet when we seek its practical truth, the principle is not so.
"Why is this? The endowment of qi is limited to a single lifetime. When life is exhausted, it dissolves and becomes nothingness. Although the spirit is a subtle entity, it is nevertheless merely the transformation of yin and yang. Having transformed into life, it transforms again into death; having gathered to form the beginning, it disperses to form the end. Inferring from this, we know that spirit and corporeal form transform together, originally without separate lineages. The fine and the coarse are of one qi, dwelling together from beginning to end. When the dwelling is intact, the qi gathers and there is sentience; when the dwelling is destroyed, the qi disperses and illumination is extinguished. When it disperses, it returns what it received to the Great Root; when it is extinguished, it returns again to nothingness. The cycles of reversal and termination are all the natural course of things—who could be doing this?
"Even if their roots were different qi and they only transformed together when their numbers combined, the spirit's abiding in the corporeal form would still be like fire being in wood: their generation is necessarily simultaneous, and their destruction is necessarily mutual extinction. When the corporeal form separates, the spirit disperses and has nothing to lodge in; when the wood decays, the fire is silenced and has nothing to rely on. The principle is naturally so.
"Even if the distinction between identity and difference is obscure and hard to clarify, the doctrine of existence and non-existence must reside in gathering and dispersing. Gathering and dispersing are the general names for the transformation of qi and the generation and extinction of the myriad transformations. Therefore, Zhuangzi said: 'The life of human beings is a gathering of qi; when it gathers, there is life, and when it disperses, there is death. If death and life are companions, what affliction do I have?' The ancients who were skilled at speaking of the Dao must have attained something of this. If it is indeed so, the ultimate principle is limited to a single lifetime: when life is exhausted, there is no further transformation. The meaning can be verified."
5.44
I reply: What is the spirit? It is that which is utmost in subtlety and thus spiritual. When subtlety is at its utmost, it cannot be figured by the hexagram images; hence the sages spoke of it as a subtle thing. Even those of superior wisdom still cannot determine its bodily appearance or exhaust its hidden drift, yet those who talk about it give rise to doubts with ordinary consciousness and mostly end up confusing themselves. Their delusion is already deep indeed! If one wishes to speak of it, this is speaking of that which cannot be spoken of. Now, amidst the unspeakable, let us again vaguely delineate it together. The spirit is universally responsive without a master, subtly consummated without a name. It is moved by sensing things; it operates by borrowing conditions (shù). Because it senses things yet is not a thing, things transform while it is not extinguished; because it borrows conditions yet is not a condition, conditions are exhausted while it is inexhaustible. Where there is affect, it can be sensed by things; where there is consciousness, it can be sought through conditions. Conditions have the fine and the coarse, so their natures each differ; wisdom has the bright and the dark, so its illumination is not the same. Deducing from this and discussing it, one knows that transformation is transmitted through affect, and spirit is transmitted through transformation. Affect is the mother of transformation; spirit is the root of affect. Affect has the way of converging with the origin; spirit has the efficacy of dark transmission. It is merely that those who penetrate into awakening return to the source, whereas those who are confused about principle pursue things. Among those of ancient times who discussed the Dao, none agreed; allow me to cite them to clarify this. Zhuangzi sounded a profound note in 'The Great Master', saying: 'The Great Clod burdens me with life, rests me with death'; moreover, he took life to be a hanging upside down and death to be returning to truth. This is what is meant by knowing that life is a great affliction, and taking non-arising as returning to the origin. Wenzi cited the words of the Yellow Emperor, saying: 'Form has decay, yet the spirit does not transform; riding upon transformation with the untransforming, its changes are inexhaustible.' Zhuangzi also said: 'Just stumbling into a human form is already cause for joy; but a human form undergoes myriad transformations without ever having an end.' This is what is called knowing that life does not end with a single transformation, yet one then pursues things and does not return. Though the discourses of these two masters did not fully reach its reality, they nevertheless once had some hearing bordering on this core principle. Debaters do not investigate the teaching of 'simultaneous arising and dying', but are bewildered by gathering and dispersing within a single transformation; they do not reflect that the spiritual Dao has the efficacy of a subtle thing, but claim that the refined and coarse perish together—is this not lamentable? The metaphor of fire and wood originally derives from the sacred scriptures. Losing its lineage of transmission, its hidden inspiration could not be sought out, and the subtle words subsequently sank into the mundane teachings, causing interlocutors to rely on them to form doubts. Had there not been at this time a master who awakened to the fundamental principle, no one would know that there was the illumination of the earlier awakened ones, and the skill of dark transmission would never have been heard of in this world. Why is this? The mutual resonance of affect and conditions generates transformations without end; causes and conditions are secretly constructed and covertly transcribe one another. Unless one possesses a far-reaching vision, who could recognize their changes? Let me verify this for the debaters with reality: fire's passing into firewood is like the spirit's passing into form; fire's passing to different firewood is like the spirit's passing to a different form. Since the former firewood is not the latter firewood, one knows the subtlety of the art of exhausting the fuel; since the former form is not the latter form, one realizes the depth of the resonance of affect and conditions. The confused see form decay in a single life and immediately assume spirit and affect both perish, just like seeing fire exhaust a single piece of wood and supposing it has entirely vanished forever. This is a narrow compliance with the discourse of nourishing life, not a far-reaching search into its categories. To take your argument: suppose form and spirit both transform, beginning from the fundamental nature of Heaven, and that the foolish and the wise in supporting life equally receive what is endowed. May I ask: is that which is received received from form, or received from the spirit? If received from form, then all that have form would transform into spirit. If received from the spirit, this would mean passing spirit from spirit: then Danzhu would be equal in sagehood to Emperor Yao, and Chonghua would be identical in spirit to Gusou! Could this be so? Could this be so? If it cannot be so, then one certainly knows that the construction of dark conditions was established in the past, and the division between bright and dark was determined at the beginning of form. Even though the Spiritual Potter turns skillfully, he still cannot change the spontaneous nature [of things]; how much less from this point downward? Verifying this with principle, the subtle words have proof; testing it with affairs, one need not doubt the Great Thoroughfare.
First 44 of 66 passages. Read on
Linked texts (1)
- 弘明集 — 僧祐, Classical Chinese