弘明集 7.5

7.5

I have seen your lofty discussion, the "Debate on the Barbarian and the Chinese," which deliberates the principles of the two teachings and marshals the scriptures' essential purport. Profoundly meeting in the mystery and wonderfully harmonising in good concurrence, it was no empty speech! In former days, Ying Jifu put Confucius and Laozi on an equal footing; later, you, my worthy friend, also equated Li [Er] and Śākya. The divergent paths of myriad generations converge in a single dawn; the disputed contentions across successive dynasties find joyous resolution in the present day. Appreciating what is deep and understanding what is far-reaching, this has brought relief and comfort to many. Of discussions beneficial to the world, none surpasses this. Yet, when each espoused what he preferred, liver and gallbladder were treated as Chu and Yue, knowing nothing of each other’s sweetness or bitterness. Though appearing as two, in constituting their real nature they must be one; yet people attacked and provoked one another, and deviant doctrines subsequently arose. The incessant back-and-forth has brought no small harm, which is truly lamentable. At first, it seemed like ascending to heaven, shining its light beyond worldly confines; in the end, it was like sinking into an abyss, its bright radiance obscured and submerged. When a guide loses the way, many will stray on the path. Therefore, forgetting my own shallowness and ignorance, I hurriedly offer a helping hand. Now I first spread out my thoughts, not yet enumerating my regrets. I trust that one who follows goodness as water flows will not mind an initial divergence. Mountains and rivers lie far between, and a pleasant conversation cannot be had soon; I merely entrust this to writing in lieu of a brief face-to-face encounter. Once the banners of our minds meet, the understanding opened will not be shallow. Zhu Zhaozhi speaks: The sage's Dao is vacant and tranquil, hence able to respond perfectly without fixed bounds. Because its response is without fixed bounds, there is nowhere it responds that it does not fit. Thus, looking from the perspective of the sage, examining the mind, there was originally no name; through myriad encounters, names arise from the encounters themselves, and so designations and titles become manifest. Therefore, one whose wisdom is all-encompassing is termed the "Rightly Awakened" (Samyaksaṃbuddha); one whose comprehension meets no obstacle is termed a "sage"; and that which unfolds things and accomplishes affairs, leaving nothing unreached, is termed the "Dao." In that case, a sage does not exceed awakening, and awakening does not depart from the Dao. You surely know this; why seek afar? However, Chinese and barbarians have different customs, and their inclinations differ. The sage acts in accordance with conditions; hence the teachings he established may vary. Yet the Minor Rites and the Pure Precepts both number three hundred; the dignified bearings and deportment are likewise both three thousand. What may differ lies solely in the names of "Dao" and "Buddha," and in their garments and attire. An enlightened person still regards his corporeal frame as an inn; how could robes and caps even be worth debating? What might cause displeasure lies only in the beginning of the established teachings, where Chinese and barbarians applied them differently, and in current customs, which govern further changes and transformations: this single matter ought to be debated. Now I shall speak of it. The admonitions of a sage in moving people must accord with and adapt to them. The Eastern Realm values refinement; thus he instituted the attire of robes and caps, the deportment of rites and music, the etiquette of bending, stretching, bowing, and looking up, and the ornaments of hats, hairpins, and jade pendants, in order to magnify his Dao. This is drawing [them] in by making it proximate. Barbarian customs esteem plainness; therefore he taught them by means of ultimate simplicity: shaving the head and shedding fine adornments, wearing unstitched garments, quieting desires to open illumination, and anticipating the spirit across vast kalpas to nurture their minds. This is pushing [them] toward what is distant. The methods of the Dao involve gathering and eating mushroom essence, consuming mist and ingesting cinnabar, breathing the Great Oneness, and expelling the old and drawing in the new: in great matters, flying with spirits and feather-transformed; in small matters, light, robust, and free from disease, thereby preserving their bodies. This is applying [the teaching] directly to obtain results. All three respond to stimuli and feelings; using any one of them exclusively is not what I call the ultimate. That which is the extremity of the Dao is neither refined nor plain, neither immediate nor separate, neither near nor far: who abandons it, and who abides in it? It is neither partial nor partisan, neither condemned nor praised; perfect, unimpeded, and tranquil, provisionally named "nothingness" (wu). In such a wondrous realm, what difference is there? Yet since the August Xi, each promoted his own region, transmitting master to master without mutual interference. Truly, this was because both sides were sufficient unto themselves and had no further seeking beyond. Thus, since the Han dynasty, the pure spirit has grown ever more dilute, and benevolence and righteousness have gradually decayed. The principles of the Great Dao have ceased to be transmitted, and study of the Five Classics has grown ever scarcer. When the great righteousness was betrayed, subtle words were cut off; none travelled through the gateway of all wonders, nor was the deportment of the Golden Mean beheld. The arts of ritual fell into ruin, elegant music collapsed, customs sank into decline, and order between ruler and subject was lost. The orthodox teaching degenerated, and human relations lost their order. Thereupon, the sagely Dao encompassed all, and the heavenly movement reached afar: the dark transformation flowed eastward, binding the world with compassion. Sentient beings disdained what they had previously practiced and rejoiced in what they newly heard; changing their stance, they followed harmony, and essential truths were revived once more. Thus chambers of subtle words were erected everywhere, and guests chanting the mystery were found in all places. This can be seen from facts, not merely set forth in empty words. Is it not that things cannot remain perpetually blocked, and so it was received by the hexagram Tongren? In my humble opinion, when a sage nurtures the common people, it is just like a loving mother raising an infant: when it first eats, she feeds it sweet and rich foods; once it tires of sweet and rich foods, she switches to fat and honey; once it tires of fat and honey, its five bodily parts are peaceful and harmonious, internally and externally tranquil and content—its benefit is consummate! Is it not so? The principle being thus, to arbitrarily lay down blame and disparagement through delusional distinctions is to fail to realise the centre of the circle and be unfit to discuss principles with. The two worthies push and toss back and forth like sawing timber; even if it is sawn apart, it is not an act that accords with reason. If one analyses according to reason, why wait to push and toss? You laid down the origin and opened the premise, making clear that Confucius and Laozi are the Buddha; yet in concluding the chapter and formulating your arguments, your granting and denying diverged widely. Why should the scholar-officials' holding tablets and kneeling be the deportment of all China, while prostrating at the Buddha’s feet meets with the disparagement of a 'fox squatting'? Why should ceremonial robes and deep bowing be the respect of the royal domain, while placing the right knee on the ground receives the insult of a 'dog crouching'? May I ask: if Confucius is the Rightly Awakened One and Śākya represents deviant views, I would not even allow today's discussion to be heard; but if you grant that he is the truly real, on what grounds do you sneer at him? You have both compromised the inner quality of revering the sage and forgotten the ritual propriety that lacks pretension. This taking of positions is the first regret in my mind. You also said: 'Preserving the corporeal form and maintaining ancestral sacrifices is the teaching that continues goodness; shaving the appearance and changing the surname is the study that severs evil.' This implies that the son of Shangchen had the merit of continuing goodness, while taking the tonsure and shedding adornments is the intention to sever evil. Examining the name and the reality, this is my second regret. You also said: 'Below, they abandon wives and children; above, they neglect ancestral sacrifices.' The principle of ghosts and spirits is dark and hard to understand; hence when Zilu asked, Confucius did not explain. This surely must be because the ways of life and death differ, and the conditions of the spirit are hard to fathom. Could it be that the sage could not speak of it? Truly, he feared the worthy could not grasp it. The illumination of the three penetrations has its focus. You have already acknowledged that the spiritual transformation flowed eastward, yet you again set mourning and sacrifice against each other, wavering between granting and denying without certainty. This is my third regret. You also said: 'Strict methods can advance the humble and weak; lenient methods can restrain the arrogant and strong.' Reviewing this statement three times, it is inverted and unfitting. The humble and weak are easily swayed and can be advanced by lenient harmony; the arrogant and strong are hard to transform and must be restrained by bitter strictness. If you search your heart and examine affairs, is it not so? When rice chaff is in the eye, east and west change places; when partial attachments divide the mind, words and meanings become confused and mistaken. That your words miss the mark is my fourth regret. You also said: 'When suppressed, the discerning alone advance; when encouraged, the ignorant compete to rush forward.' The words of the Dao are genuine and real, revered equally as a lofty proclamation; they cover and support myriad things, nourishing all physical forms. Yet to say 'the discerning alone advance' seems like being self-serving. When the voice of the Buddha thunders once, the four immeasurables encompass all, the three vehicles follow in unison, and devas and nāgas alike submit. Yet to say 'the ignorant compete to rush forward' is also nearly slanderous. To speak of probing the profound while arbitrarily giving rise to sores and warts, uttering loose words without restraint, is my fifth regret. You also said: 'The Buddha is a method for destroying evil; the Dao is an art for promoting goodness.' I have no criticism of the method for destroying evil: when evil ceases and goodness is practiced, this is precisely why the teaching of the Dharma flourishes. But I do not yet know about the art of promoting goodness: to whom will this art apply? If one who is good is already good, what use is promoting goodness? If one who is good is not good, then neither is it promoting goodness; thus the name and meaning of 'promoting goodness' have nothing to rely on. Now, the follower of the Dao is already good; to further take it as promoting goodness makes the name and meaning an excessive addition of wealth to the rich; and not taking the dispelling of evil as the teaching is one-sided. The Great Dao encompasses all, yet you wish to restrict it: this is my sixth regret. You also said: 'For the cruel and obstinate, taking the Buddha as master is supreme; for the gentle and receptive, submitting to the Dao is consummate.' Truly, subduing the fierce and turning away the brutal is indeed the immense merit of Muni, which does not diverge from your gracious meaning. But the power of the Dao is resolute and bright, its transformative effect reaches ever farther; it completes the nature and preserves it, its kindness leaving nothing untouched; owls and venomous birds change their hearts, its majesty leaving nothing unsubdued. Yet to say it is only capable of receptivity is far too shallow and superficial. Has your mind sunk into partial attachment, failing to realize that this narrowness harms the Dao? Examining your outline, you first warn against arbitrary explanations; yet in setting forth your words and giving free rein to your arguments, you unwittingly let your emotions shift. That your distinctions of names are hard to sustain is my seventh regret. You also said: 'The eight manifestations in the Western Rong and all the scriptures are presented in both broad and brief forms; the text of the Vajracchedikā Prajñā does not exceed one thousand [characters], yet its four-line verse proclaims the Dao encompassing the ten thousand dharmas.' Coarse and subtle are both deployed; the complex and the succinct exist together. Elaborate rules and minute admonitions are broken down into ritual codes; thus the fine and the coarse arise indiscriminately. That your words contradict reality is my eighth regret. You also said: 'Observing them by their realms, the barbarians are cruel while the Chinese are gentle.' May I ask: was the torment of the roasting pillar a punishment in Kangju or Tianzhu? Was the sorrow of shed blood borne by children outside of Qi and Jin? The suffering and harm of disembowelment did not originate in the minds of the barbarians; the autumn frost bearing shame did not belong to men of the seacoast. Examining nature and disposition, Chinese and barbarians are of the same measure. Your baseless distinction of gentle and harsh is my ninth regret. You also said: 'Playing chess is better than idle wandering; lecturing and reciting excel jesting.' Examining how cultured refinement is transmitted and how scriptures and classics are preserved, it is truly through lecturing and reciting that understanding is reached and awakening achieved through consultation. Thus it is said: 'To learn without discussing—this is my worry.' Yet to compare it to jesting is far too disparaging of virtue. May I ask: where shall the fish-trap of skilful guidance be placed? Wishing to forget words before first grasping the meaning is my tenth regret. Having these ten regrets, I cannot resolve them myself. I hope, gentleman, that you will clarify them once more. Master Xie also has discrepancies; you have attacked him closely and exclusively, so what I request need not replace the master carpenter.