弘明集 7.23

7.23

During a lull in late summer, free of affairs and watching the fleeting light, I opened Master Gu's treatise, and it shone as though dispelling blindness. I saw the origins of his differentiation between identity and difference, and his clarification of the tendencies toward right and wrong. His rhetoric is rich, his meaning clear, his literary embellishments splendid, and his sentiments profound. Whenever I studied and read it, I forgot fatigue, finding comfort as if holding the daylily; it is truly what one calls a grand literary work written with heartfelt sentiment by a gentleman! Yet when examining what it aims at, doubts and laughter are truly abundant. It is like a blind person gathering pearls who pockets red beans and thinks he has obtained treasures, or a deaf guest listening to music who hears a donkey braying and delightedly takes it as the music of an attuned friend. This discussion of barbarians and Chinese by you, sir—believing that you have grasped the truth—departs so very far from it! Seeing your treatise citing Daoist scriptures, it becomes all the more obscure. In the past, the text composed by Laozi was only five thousand words; the rest are mingled, confused, licentious, and errant teachings. Yet you separately speak of 'Daoist scriptures'—from where did they emerge? Since they were not initiated by Laozi, how could they be genuine scriptures? I hope you will reflect thrice more, so that you may perhaps dispel your delusions. The treatise says: 'If Confucius and Laozi are not the Buddha, who could be equal to it? The Dao is indeed the Buddha; the Buddha is indeed the Dao.' In making this statement, you are almost lost at the ford. Therefore a scripture says: 'Mahākāśyapa is called Laozi over there; the pure and radiant youth is named Zhongni over there.' From this we know that Laozi was not the Buddha; that is also obvious. It is truly because you, sir, have not broadened your vision of truth that you have become stubborn. Thus Laozi and Zhongni were dispatched by the Buddha; moreover, they proclaimed virtue and showed beings misfortune and fortune, and thereafter the Buddha's teachings spread. However, the Great Dao is difficult to follow, while minor accomplishments are easy to practice; this has been a cause of lamentation since antiquity, not merely something bemoaned today. Laozi composed a text of five thousand words, yet those who make far-fetched interpretations are numerous: some narrate delusions to turn people's minds, while others transmit licentiousness and cruelty to agitate people's natures. Therefore, those who do good are few, and those tainted by evil are many. I say that the attire of the gentry, the bows of humble bending, and the rituals of burial and mourning—these all belong to the time when the Great Dao fell into decay. This is why benevolence and righteousness arose, and filial piety and respect emerged. When clever desires just began to arise, emotional pretense multiplied day by day; the sages therefore restrained them with ritual teachings and regulated them with laws and standards. Therefore, ritual is the thinning of loyalty and good faith, and the beginning of disorder. Once non-action is lost and intentional action is esteemed, how could it be sufficient? As for the appearance of shaved hair, the reverence of kneeling like a fox, and the custom of casting oneself outwards—I say that magnificent adornment is not worth coveting, and wealth cannot be guarded; this has indeed been verified. Laozi said that the five colors cause people's eyes to go blind, and excessive accumulation leads to great loss later. Therefore, one cuts hair, wears dark robes, reduces wealth, and renounces the world—this is the utmost of concession. Thus Taibo was considered of supreme virtue, and Confucius praised him; this is of the same kind. Kneeling in reverence originated in Tianzhu, and the four quarters followed it. Tianzhu is the center of heaven and earth, the place from which the Buddha's teachings emerged. This is the solemnity of the Great Dharma, the strict regularity of the supreme teaching. When you, sir, compare it to kneeling like a fox, how petty is your reasoning! Thus, when evil spirits assist wickedness and formidable Māras destroy the right—that applies to you! It is like holding a ladle wishing to reduce the rivers and seas, or turning one's palm sideways to shade the sun and moon: one cannot diminish the springs of the rivers and seas, nor conceal the brightness of the sun and moon. When it comes to high antiquity, human nature was still pure; without relying on ritual teachings, things could be harmonized, and without applying punishments, order was maintained naturally. When someone died, they were buried in the open wilds, without mounding a grave or planting trees, with no set mourning period; when grief arrived, they simply wept. This was the pure wind of high antiquity, truly worthy of emulation. If you wish to condemn this, what justification do you take? Furthermore, you compared the two teachings of Daoism and Buddhism to a boat and a cart. Anyone with understanding who hears this cannot but chuckle with a smile. I say that the Way of Heaven does not speak, and the sage is without a personal mind. Therefore, the Dao is magnified by man; it is not the Dao that magnifies man. Thus the spiritual illumination of the sage leaves nothing unpenetrated; how could his wise radiance fail to be comprehensive, such that you say he focuses on one thing and cannot provide for both? It is like the spiritual sunlight appearing at dawn, shining upon things in accordance with their nature, or the seasonal wind blowing in the evening, giving rise to sounds according to shapes. Therefore, when shapes differ, sounds are distinct; when things differ, the illumination is varied. The sun does not vary its illumination because of differing things, nor does the wind change its sounds because of distinct shapes. One should know that the sun is one and the wind is one; it is merely that those who receive them are not the same. When you, sir, make the analogy of the boat and cart, how can the meaning be acceptable? The Great Teaching is without bias, and supreme virtue is impartial. Transforming living beings with a shared purport, they lead people to arrive at the same destination. Among the Rong and Di barbarians, there is an equal resonance; residing among the Hu and Han, there is a common voice. How could the sage divide the earth, vary the teaching, separate realms, and differentiate customs? How could there be 'barbarian'? How could there be 'Chinese'? In the past, when Gongming Yi played the tune of 'Qingjiao' for a cow, the cow continued to graze as before; it was not that the cow did not hear it, but that it did not suit its ears. When he changed to the sounds of mosquitoes, horseflies, and a lonely calf, the cow immediately twitched its ears, wagged its tail, and stepped around to listen. Now what you, sir, have heard is merely the sound of mosquitoes and horseflies. Where does the substance of this distinction between barbarian and Chinese lie? Furthermore, you say: 'Below, they abandon wives and children; above, they abolish ancestral sacrifices. Desirable worldly things are all expanded through ritual, yet the canons of filial piety and respect are bent by this law alone.' The Way and the secular have the distinction of darkness and light; the internal and external have the difference of speech and silence. As for the ancestral temple feasts and sacrifices, and the seasonal offerings to imperial ancestors, the perfection of filial piety and respect in the secular world cannot surpass them. But if one burns fragrant incense on the evening terrace, chants the Dharma in the morning hall, and bows, repents, prays, and petitions without ceasing—extending upward to relatives across kalpas, and extending downward to all living beings—such vastness of filial affection is not something the foolish and blind can fathom. The state relies on the people as its foundation; the ruler depends on the people to be established. That the state is peaceful is due to the people's effort; inferring from the Tathāgata's discourse, it seems to be an empty setup. Furthermore, you say: 'Like carving the boat, śramaṇas; like guarding the tree stump, Daoists—vainly disputing greatness and pettiness, mutually censuring one another.' Opening and caressing your flowery treatise, you deeply resolve the stalemates of texts; yet when seeking the truth through your words, to what can they properly return? The licentious and erratic ways of non-Buddhists have accumulated for years and decades; sinking in darkness without moving, drowned in delusion, how could they return? Wandering through villages and hamlets, roving across settlements, they openly use sacred arts while privately practicing licentiousness. How could attaining the Way be like this? It is shameful! In the past, a man of Qi who loved hunting was impoverished; chasing large deer all year round, he did not catch a single beast. Thereupon he withdrew and returned to plowing. Now, sir, if you have wisdom, returning to plowing would be the right plan! Furthermore, you say: 'Once the Great Dao was hidden, minor accomplishments arose one after another; the eloquent and the stammering topple each other, but who can correct it?' The correct path is difficult to destroy, while perverse principles are easy to retreat. It is like a light feather on high that flies when it meets the wind, or small stones in a valley that tumble when encountering a stream. Only Mount Tai is not moved by violent winds; only a massive rock is not swept away by swift currents. Therefore, plums and prunes lose their leaves when encountering frost, while the pines and cypresses do not wither in the cold of the year—this is indeed true. When licentious and demonic arts encounter the upright, they are instantly thwarted. You take yourself as the Great Dao, but who is it that represents minor accomplishments? I wish you would reflect further and only then engage in debate. When Yan Hui saw Dongye Bi driving, he predicted he would fail; when Zigong observed the customs of Zhu and Lu, he ascertained they would perish. Why are you lacking in knowledge to such an extreme extent? Therefore, I mark the distinction between foolishness and wisdom, and compose the difference between the worthy and the vulgar, briefly raising one corner to show you, hoping you can infer the other three. Furthermore, you say: 'Nirvāṇa and transcendent transformation are each an art. The Buddha is called Right and True; the Dao is called Right and One. The One returns to non-death; the True joins with non-arising. The teaching of non-arising is lax; the teaching of non-death is pressing.' This is your clever eloquence and ability to speak; a humble man like me has nothing to surpass it. However, the discourse on Nirvāṇa and extinction is prominent in the orthodox scriptures; as for the claim of transcendent transformation and entering the Dao, to what principle could it adhere? Laozi said: 'Valuing life too heavily inevitably leads to the realm of death.' He also said: 'The reason heaven and earth can endure and last long is that they do not live for themselves.' He who forgets life preserves life; he who clings to life inevitably dies. When the path of death is about to arrive, you call it 'pressing'—is that not exceedingly 'pressing'? The proverb says: 'Pointing south and calling it north, one claims not to be deluded; pointing west and calling it east, one claims not to be blind.' You take inevitable death as imminent life; how can you be so perverse? Therefore Master Qian cut off grain to cultivate the art of transcendence. I have heard that Laozi had warnings about the five flavors, but no instructions on abstaining from grain. Thus cicadas and moths do not eat—which gentleman values them? Frogs and pythons hide in burrows—why should the sage esteem them? Moreover, since antiquity, there has been no sage or worthy who did not return to an end. You, sir, alone speak of not dying—how reckless! Thus Shun had his tomb at Cangwu, Yu had his tumulus at Kuaiji, the Duke of Zhou had the chapter on reburial, Zhongni had the dream between the two pillars, Zeng Shen had his words about uncovering his feet, and Yan Hui had the lamentation over his misfortune. Have you not heard of these? How could they be mistaken? In the past, someone who had never seen a qilin asked someone who had seen one: 'What is a lin like?' The answer was: 'A lin is like a lin.' The questioner said: 'If I had already seen a lin, I would not ask; yet you say a lin is like a lin—why?' The respondent replied: 'A lin has the body of a water deer, the tail of an ox, the hooves of a deer, and the back of a horse.' The questioner then understood clearly. Now, sir, do you wish to see the lin, or will you tell people you have not seen it? Furthermore, you say: 'Daoist scriptures are simple and obscure; being obscure, the wondrous gate is difficult to see.' I say that the teaching of Laozi is directed at the five thousand words; beyond this, they are no longer genuine scriptures. As Daoist texts are repeatedly displayed, doubts and oddities become deeper: most of them rely falsely on captivating words and make empty boasts of beautiful phrases. It is like the man of Zhou who held a rat to trade for uncut jade, and the gentleman of Zheng saw it and withdrew—this is what applies here. Examining this statement, how can it ever be found acceptable? Furthermore, you say: 'For the cruel and obstinate, taking the Buddha as teacher is superior; for the compassionate, gentle, empty, and receptive, submitting to the Dao is easier.' Therefore Laozi said: 'The violent and forceful do not die a natural death; I shall take this as the father of my teachings.' Hence, the reason people expound and practice texts of precepts and make literary teachings evident is for the sake of the foolish and blind, not for the sake of the worthy and wise. Those who violate them will certainly meet misfortune; those who follow them will certainly obtain good fortune. Those who are violent and obstinate belong to the category of the lowest fools; when the Great Teaching exercises compassion and skill-in-means for their sake, could it be empty study? As for 'compassionate, gentle, empty, and receptive,' I say these should not be empty talk. Nowadays, those who study the Dao act contrary to this: they display the Huangshu as genuine scriptures, and wear purple talismans as wondrous arts. Men and women make no distinctions, and the inner chambers are thrown into chaos. Some take elixirs to pray for longevity; some practice licentious deceit to cure illnesses. Where can your talk of 'compassionate and gentle' find any basis? Furthermore, the traces of the Dao are secret and subtle, and its advantageous function lies within oneself. Therefore Laozi said: 'The reason I have great calamity is that I have a body; when I have no body, what calamity do I have?' Laozi took the body as a great calamity, yet you, sir, take the physical form as something to be preserved for long—how abundant is your departure from the truth! One puts one's body behind and the body comes first; one detaches from one's body and the body is preserved. You merely say it lies within oneself, but I do not know on what basis you argue this talk. Furthermore, you say: 'Devious eloquence each emerges from its respective custom; their mutual understanding is like the buzzing of insects and the squawking of birds—how could it be worth recounting or imitating?' I say that one who feeds on pungency does not know that pungency is pungent, and has no longing for sweetness and fragrance; one who delights in foul odors does not perceive that foulness is foul, and does not indulge in pepper and orchid. Just like you, sir, drowning in your fondness for licentiousness and falsity, how could you have any thought for the Great Dharma? The sagely teaching penetrates wondrously, and the Supreme Dao is deep and broad: it can neither be called existent, nor can it be called non-existent; it is free of notions of other and self, and dissolves disputes over identity and difference. Words are like archery: when the notch has left the bowstring, regret cannot catch up to it. Will you, sir, be prudent in your speech? When you speak of 'the buzzing of insects and the squawking of birds,' on what principle does it rely? Recently, Sun Tai was wild and reckless, openly practicing the lack of Dao; with demonic licentiousness he destroyed ritual, and with cruel rebelliousness he abolished righteousness. Worthy gentlemen shared the same aspiration, while foolish men abandoned falsity and turned their minds. Treacherous cohorts filled the rooms, and evil companions crowded the gates; villages and hamlets suffered piercing grief, and the roads and paths bore complaints of hardship. The Way of Heaven brings misfortune to the full and the spirits bless the humble; and thereafter he brought about his own ruin and demise.