廣弘明集 24.65

24.65

泉亭光顯寺釋真觀。致書領軍檀越。竊聞。四依開士。匡正法於將頹。十地高人。秉玄文於已絕。能使崛山遺跡無虧宴坐之風。祇樹餘苗得肆經行之道。伏見今者皇華奉宣嚴憲凡是僧尼之類。不書名籍之者。並令捐茲法戒就此黎民。去彼伽藍歸其里閈。既普天之下莫匪王臣。正當僶俛恭承鞠躬祇奉。但愚情所謂竊或疑焉。自佛法肇興千有餘載。流轉此地數百年間。濟濟僧徒一何為盛。雖復市朝亟改風化頻移。慧炬常明戒香恒馥。其為福利難可勝言。所現靈祥聞諸史傳。至如浮圖和上曜彩鄴中。高座法師流芳鞏雒。或復昆明池內識劫燒之餘灰。長沙寺裏感碎身之遺蔭道開入境仙人之星乃出。法成去世紺馬之瑞爰浮。乃有青目赤髭黃眸白足。連眉表稱大耳傳名。莫不定水淵澄義峰山竪。汪汪道望。類迦葉之高蹤。肅肅威儀。似頞鞞之清行。頃年訛替乃日澆漓。而正法洪基猶應未殄。忽復違其本志奪彼前心。莫不仰高殿而酸傷辭舊房而悽楚。依依法座重反何期。戀戀禪門再還無日。乃非岐路。而有分袂之悲。雖異河梁。遂結言離之痛。若以不繼名籍為其深罪。延茲咎累亦可哀矜。夫出俗之人務應修道。許其方外之禮。不拘域中之節。或有不貫名籍無關簿領。並皆遊方採聽。隨處利安望剎為居臨中告飯。或頭陀林下。或蘭若巖阿。如此之流寧容繼屬。若勝業不全清禁多毀。宜應休道此事誠然。而持犯難知聖凡相濫。譬菴羅之果生熟難分。雪山之藥真偽難辯。忽使崑峰之上玉石同焚。大澤之中龍蛇等斃。何期惜也。吁可傷哉。又其割愛辭親披緇剪髮。既無僕使永絕妻孥。或老病之年。單貧之士。皆憑子弟還相養衛。如其一朝雨散。便溘死溝渠。遂有赴浚壑而投身。縊長繩而殞。命雖復汨羅之痛匹此猶輕。荒谷之悲方斯未重。且復奇才絕學並寄後生。聽講誦經咸資晚秀。所以須陀得戒猶是幼童。身子揚名羌非耆老。如斯之類若並翻緇。恐此法門便無紹繼。梵輪絕矣。精舍空焉。若八陣未休四郊多壘。前驅所寄後殿斯憑。愚謂此人殆成無用。若必有拔拒投石之能。索鐵申鉤之力。則並從軍募久預長驅。儻復尚服緇衣猶居寺宇。則是習勇心薄樂道情深。若非衛玠之清羸。便同孟昶之浮怯。既不便弓馬徒勞行陣。雖復身披甲冑還想法衣。手執干戈猶疑錫杖。必當遙聞戰鼓色變心驚。遠望軍麾魂飛氣懾。將恐有沮都護之威。無益二師之勇。若謂不輸王課靡助國儲。所以普使收其賦斂。但浮遊之屬萍迸蓬飛。散誕之流且貧終窶。鄉里既無田宅。京師又闕主人。納屨則兩踵併穿。斂衿則雙肘皆現。觀董生之百結尚覺輕華。見顏子之一簞更疑豐飽。求朽壤以為藥。寧識紫丸服糞掃而為衣。豈逢黃絹貨財之禮。此則無從懷璧之𮘧。信哉應免。若令其在道。猶可分衛自資。遂使還民便是糇糧莫寄。伏惟皇朝御曆齊聖欽明。繼踵軒羲比肩炎昊。握鏡之風彌遠。垂衣之化方深。兼復梁棟三寶敷弘十善。昔漢明靈感止夢金人。晉武覆修纔招玉像。用今方古彼有慚焉。或深經是護等仙預大王。珤塔斯成類無憂國主。明揚仄陋。信巢父之清虛。徵聘漁畋。許嚴生之高尚。愚謂絓預今者免首僧尼。若已離法衣無遵道業。或常居邸肆恒處田園。並依民例宜從策使。如其禪誦知解蔬素清虛。或宣唱有功梵聲可錄。或繕修塔廟建造經書。救濟在心聽習為務。乃至羸老之屬。貧病之流。幸於編戶無所堪用。並許停寺仍上僧籍。必望十城之珤或出荊山。百步之中時逢芳草。於是寺斷流俗之僧。眾無餔酒之客。六時翹請。常以國界為心。三業精修。必用君王為本。豈不幽明踴躍人鬼忻歡。冥力護持善緣扶助。然後二儀交泰六氣調和。征馬息鞍軍旗卷斾。邊荒入附。無待丹水之師。玉帛來朝還想稽山之集。何期樂矣。實可忻哉。儻復疆埸不虞軍資有闕。薄須費討伏聽徵求。仰唯領軍檀越。外則探賾典墳。內則鉤深經論。才高帷幄寄重鹽梅。必願降意芻蕘留心正法。微惠研詳薄垂觀覽。如其一毫可採深悕。曲為矜論。無使蘭艾同鋤薰蕕俱氣。庶得仙人苑裏更轉法輪。長者園中還鋪講席。則匡維之德。比恒岱而齊高。擁護之功。似滄溟而共廣。橫此忓煩彌增悚惕。

Śramaṇa Zhenguan of Guangxian Temple in Quanting presents this letter to the Army Commander and Dānapati. I have heard that the Bodhisattvas of the Four Refuges rectify the True Dharma when it is about to collapse, and the lofty persons of the Ten Grounds uphold the profound scriptures after they have been severed. They enable the remaining traces on Mount Gṛdhrakūṭa to maintain the tradition of peaceful meditation without diminution, and allow the remaining shoots at Jetavana to expand the way of walking meditation. I have humbly observed that lately imperial commissioners have promulgated severe statutes: all monks and nuns who are not registered on the official registers are ordered to renounce these Dharma precepts and join the ranks of the common folk, departing from those saṅghārāmas and returning to their home villages. Since all under the wide heaven are none other than the subjects of the king, one ought dutifully and respectfully to accept and bow down to obey. Yet in my foolish mind, I secretly harbor doubts. Since the Buddha's Dharma first arose more than a thousand years ago, and circulated to this land several centuries ago, how grand and flourishing the assembly of monks has been! Even though markets and courts have swiftly changed and customs have frequently shifted, the torch of wisdom has shone constantly, and the incense of the precepts has ever been fragrant. The blessings and benefits it has brought are difficult to describe fully, and the spiritual portents it has manifested are heard of in the historical records. Thus, Master Fotudeng shone brilliantly in Ye, and Dharma Master Gaozuo spread his fragrance through Gong and Luo; or, in Kunming Pool, the residual ashes of the aeon's incineration were recognized; and in Changsha Temple, the sheltering shade of the relics of the broken body was felt. When Dao Kai entered the borders, the star of the immortals appeared; when Fa Cheng passed away, the auspicious omen of a dark-blue horse floated forth. Then there were those with blue eyes and red whiskers, or yellow irises and white feet; some were praised for their joined eyebrows, while others made their names renowned for their large ears. None among them did not have the water of samādhi clear as a deep pool and the peak of doctrinal meaning erected like a mountain. Their vast prestige in the Dao resembled the lofty traces of Kāśyapa; their solemn and dignified deportment was like the pure practice of Aśvajit. In recent years, declining into decay, the times have grown daily more degenerate; yet the grand foundation of the True Dharma should not yet be annihilated. Suddenly, their original aspirations are contradicted and their former intentions stripped away. None do not look up at the lofty halls with heart-rending sorrow, or bid farewell to their old cells with bitter lamentation. Longingly looking at the Dharma seat, when can they ever return? Yearning for the gates of dhyāna, there will be no day to come back. This is not a branching of the road, yet there is the sorrow of parting sleeves; though unlike the bridge over the river, it culminates in the pain of bidding farewell. If failure to remain on the registers is deemed a grave crime, bringing about such burdens of culpability is truly pitiable! Those who have left the mundane world must devote themselves to cultivating the Dao; they are granted etiquette outside the realm and are not bound by the regulations within the country. Some are not enrolled in the registers and have nothing to do with administrative documents; they all travel abroad to listen and learn, bringing benefit and peace wherever they go, looking to monasteries to dwell and begging for food as midday approaches. Some practice dhūta under the forest trees, while others stay in araṇyas among mountain crags. How could people of this sort be registered? If their supreme deeds are incomplete and the pure prohibitions frequently broken, they should indeed leave the religious life; this is truly so. Yet observance and transgression are difficult to discern, and the holy and the mundane are mingled together. It is like the mango fruit, whose ripeness and unripeness are hard to distinguish; or the herbs of the Snow Mountains, whose authenticity is difficult to determine. Suddenly causing the jade and stone to burn together upon the peaks of Mount Kunlun, and dragons and snakes to perish alike amidst the vast marsh—how regrettable this is! Alas, how sorrowful! Furthermore, they have severed emotional attachments, parted from their relatives, donned the black robes, and shaved their hair. Having no servants, they have forever cut off wives and children. In years of old age and sickness, these solitary and impoverished persons rely solely on their disciples to sustain and protect them. If one day they are scattered like rain, they will suddenly die in ditches and gutters. Consequently, there are those who cast themselves into deep gorges or hang themselves with long ropes to end their lives. Though the anguish at the Miluo River is great, compared to this it is still light; though the sorrow in the desolate valley is deep, measured against this it is not yet heavy. Moreover, extraordinary talents and peerless scholarship are entrusted to the younger generation; listening to lectures and chanting scriptures all depend on late-blooming excellence. Therefore, when Śruto received the precepts, he was still a young child; and when Śāriputra made his name renowned, he was by no means an elder. If those of this sort all turn back from the black robes, I fear this Dharma-gate will have no one to carry it on: the wheel of Brahmā will cease, and the vihāras will become empty. If the eight battle arrays do not rest and the four suburbs are full of ramparts, relying on the vanguard in front and depending on the rearguard behind, in my humble opinion, these [monks] will prove nearly useless. If they truly possessed the strength to tear down barricades and cast boulders, or the might to pull iron cables and draw bows, they would have joined the military levies and long since participated in long marches. If they still wear the black robes and dwell in monastic halls, it is because their inclination to practice valor is slight, while their love for the Dao runs deep. If they are not as frail and ethereal as Wei Jie, they are as timid and fearful as Meng Chang. Being unaccustomed to bows and horses, it would be futile to place them in battle lines. Even if their bodies are clad in armor, their thoughts will still return to the Dharma robes; though their hands hold shields and spears, they will still mistake them for tin staffs. Hearing the war drums from afar, their complexions will certainly change and their hearts be terrified; looking at the military banners in the distance, their spirits will take flight and their courage be daunted. I fear this will only depress the prestige of the Protector General, and bring no benefit to the bravery of the Two Generals. If it is said that they do not pay royal taxes and do not aid the state treasury, and for this reason their levies should be collected across the board, yet these wandering sorts drift like duckweed and tumble like tumbleweeds; these untrammeled folks are perpetually poor and destitute. In their home villages they have neither fields nor houses, and in the capital they lack a host. Putting on shoes, both heels poke through; pulling together their lapels, both elbows are exposed. Observing Dong Zhongshu's hundred-patched garments, they would still seem light and fine; seeing Yan Hui's single basket of food, they would suspect it to be rich and sating. Seeking decaying earth to use as medicine, how could they know of purple pills? Wearing cast-off rags as clothing, how could they ever encounter gifts of yellow silk and wealth? There being no reason to suspect them of concealing a jade, they truly ought to be exempted. If they are permitted to remain in the Dao, they may still support themselves through alms-gathering; but if they are forced to return to the laity, they will have nowhere to turn for provisions. I humbly reflect that the August Dynasty holds the imperial calendar, equal in sagacity and reverence to Xuanyuan and Fuxi, side by side with Yandi and Shaohao. The custom of holding the mirror reaches ever further, and the transformation of ruling with robes hanging down runs ever deeper. Moreover, it acts as a pillar and beam for the Triratna, widely spreading the ten virtues. Formerly, the spiritual response of Emperor Ming of the Han was limited to dreaming of a golden man; the practice of Emperor Wu of the Jin merely invited a jade statue. Comparing the present with the past, those rulers ought to feel ashamed. Either profound sūtras are protected, equal to King Xianyu; or precious stupas are completed, resembling the ruler of the Realm of Aśoka. Promoting the humble and secluded shows trust in Chaofu’s purity and emptiness; recruiting those who fish and hunt grants acceptance to Yan Guang’s lofty virtue. In my humble opinion, among the monks and nuns who are now subject to being returned to the laity, if they have already cast aside the Dharma robes and no longer practice the Dao, or if they permanently reside in markets and shops and constantly stay in fields and gardens, they should all follow the regulations for commoners and submit to state corvée. But if they cultivate dhyāna, recite scriptures, possess understanding, eat vegetarian food, and dwell in purity and emptiness; or if they have merit in preaching and chanting, with Sanskrit voices worthy of record; or if they repair stupas and temples, or produce and copy scriptures; with salvation in their hearts and studying and listening as their duty; and even those who are frail and aged, or poor and diseased, who fortuitously can be of no practical use to the registered households—let them all be permitted to remain in the monasteries and be retained on the monastic registers. We may indeed expect that a treasure of ten cities might come forth from Mount Jing, and amidst a hundred paces fragrant herbs may be encountered from time to time. Thereupon, the monasteries will be severed from worldly monks, and the assemblies will have no guests who feast on wine. At the six periods of the day, their earnest prayers will constantly keep the state's borders in mind; in diligently cultivating the three types of action, they will surely take the sovereign as their foundation. How could the unseen and the seen worlds not leap for joy, and humans and spirits rejoice together? Unseen forces will protect and uphold them, and wholesome conditions will assist them. Thereafter, heaven and earth will achieve peace, and the six atmospheric influences will harmonize. War horses will rest their saddles, and military banners will be furled. The distant frontier tribes will submit without waiting for the expedition to Danshui; jade and silks will come to court, recalling the gathering at Mount Kuaiji. How joyful this will be! Truly it is cause for rejoicing! If the borders should encounter unforeseen difficulties and military supplies run short, and minor levies must be raised, we shall humbly submit to requisitions. Looking up to you, Army Commander and Dānapati, externally you explore the depths of the classics and histories, and internally you fathom the profundities of the sūtras and treatises. Your talent towers in the command tent, and grave hopes are entrusted to you as the salt and sour plum. We earnestly hope you will condescend to consider this rustic advice and turn your mind to the True Dharma, bestowing a bit of grace to investigate it thoroughly, and slightly deigning to peruse it. If there is a single hair's breadth worthy of adoption, we deeply hope you will make a special plea with compassionate consideration, so that orchids and mugwort are not hoed together, and the fragrant and the foul are not blended in one scent. May the wheel of the Dharma turn once more in the Rṣi’s deer park, and the lecture mats be spread again in the Elder’s grove. Then the virtue of your support will match the height of Mount Tai, and the merit of your protection will be as vast as the great sea. Venturing to trouble you with this, my trepidation and awe only increase.