廣弘明集 24.71

24.71

僧曇積白。皇帝大檀越。德握乾坤心懸白日。照燭無私之道。卷舒不測之化。能威臨皂白悲及僧尼。控引玄綱示之出路。欲使清昇練行顯迹於明時。寡德沙門恥還於素俗。爰降明詔責其試藝。頒下諸州問其課業。竊惟入道多端諒非一揆。依相驗人有五理不足。何者。或有僧尼生年在寺節儉自居。願行要心不犯諸禁。燒香旋塔頂禮慇勤。合掌低頭忘寢以食。但受性愚鈍於讀誦無緣。習學至苦而不得一字。今量所告意須文誦聰者為是。重審試僧不退。實行為是。正意偏望取其明決。且實而不聰。行之本也。聰而不實。智之相也。若用為有業。是不求備於一人。若實為非僧。便責知於滿足。大覺智慧不可思議。諸所為法天人頂受。況在凡夫輒思改易。群聖自言種種神變。於斯大法不能加減。大人出世識本知機。巧妙多方化人以漸。眾生根行各各不同。令聖說經互差不一。內外相通亦無乖異。又如孔子領徒三千達者七十有二。昇堂入室莫過數人。自餘已外豈容斥逐。今州郡縣各有學生。德及顏淵詎幾人也。可以不及顏淵廢郡不立。可以無德頑僧並令還俗。不及顏淵者猶勝於野人。無德頑僧者猶勝於外道。伏此二途。不足一也。或有專歸樹下擎錫持盂。望中而飡正命自活。名聞頓捨利養無心。理觀除煩遂闕文誦。論其人入道則內業有餘。究其文解則相功不足。何必聚眾京華悉是德僧。孤拔林野咸非行士。故果有生熟。不可以色相而噉。人有出沒。不可以形名而取。敢自三思。不足二也。或有營經造像厲力積年。修補伽藍憂勤累歲。捨身濟物不以寒苦經心。施樂與人不以飢貧易志。但無聰力日誦不過一言。旦夕栖栖日讀不盈數紙。准其迴向則善不空施。徵其發趣則佛之真子。今無辜退俗。是枉濫行人直性頓非。不足三也。佛說僧是福田理難損抑。雖可年未形凡。而法服尊重。豈容朝施暮奪自加廌毀。愛惡無常。豈責其得失於一人之上。置不恒之式於十二冲典。恐不合聖心甚乖大趣。上損慈悲下虧正化。唯畏後世相傳受誣僧之謗。不足四也。今大周大國。僧尼未幾。寺舍烈然有盈萬數。只應招延二部溢滿其間。動梵鳴鍾為國行道。方便窮其長短。曲覓愆非黜放還民。使棟梁空曠。若他方異國遠近聞知。疑謂求兵於僧眾之間。取地於塔廟之下。深誠可怪。但頑僧任役未足加兵。寺地給民豈能富國。染不頓除性由漸顯。一切眾生具諸煩惱。若頓遣圓修是滅佛法。匪直損身魔必得便。何者。一向純善精加供養。一向純惡退令還俗。此言所見深滅三寶。若麁細等看魔難得便。何者純善退還成麁。眾麁之人猶生物善。經文道理莫問麁細之行。唯不還俗終成佛子。進退三思。不足五也。貧道餘年賤質寄命關右。欽化承恩得存道業。是以呻吟策杖送此丹誠。忓悞之愆伏增戰越。敬白。

The monk Tanji speaks: The Emperor, the Great Dānapati, grasps heaven and earth in virtue and holds the radiant sun in his heart, illuminating the impartial Way and unfolding unfathomable transformations. He can overawe both the secular and the ordained with majesty, yet extends compassion to monks and nuns, pulling upon the profound guidelines to point out the path of departure from samsara. Desiring that those of pure advancement who refine their practice reveal their tracks in this brilliant era, while śramaṇas deficient in virtue feel ashamed to return to the plain secular world, an imperial edict was thus issued ordering their abilities to be examined, and circulated throughout the prefectures to question their daily studies. I humbly reflect that entering the Way has many paths and surely follows no single rule; judging individuals solely by external appearances falls short in five respects. What are they? First, there are monks and nuns who have lived in monasteries since their early years and dwell in frugality; their vows and key practices are resolutely kept without violating the prohibitions. They burn incense, circumambulate stūpas, and bow with devout respect; with folded hands and bowed heads, they forget both sleep and food. Yet, endowed by nature with dull faculties, they have no affinity with reading and chanting; though they study with the utmost hardship, they cannot retain a single character. If what is now proclaimed means that only those who are sharp in literary chanting are right, and upon reinspection examining monks to prevent relapse, only actual practice is right, the court's core intention tends toward seeking clear decisiveness. Yet sincerity without sharpness is the foundation of practice; sharpness without sincerity is merely the mark of intellectual knowledge. If one is employed for having a profession, perfection is not demanded of a single person; if sincere monks are deemed not to be monks, then exhaustive knowledge is wrongly demanded of them. The wisdom of the Great Awakened One is inconceivable; all teachings he expounded are received with reverence by gods and humans. How much less should ordinary mortals rashly contemplate altering them? The assembly of sages themselves stated that throughout their diverse supernatural manifestations, they could neither add to nor subtract from this Great Dharma. When a great person appears in the world, he recognizes the root and discerns dispositions, skillfully employing diverse means to transform people gradually. The roots and practices of sentient beings are each distinct, causing the sage to preach sūtras with mutual differences and no single mold; the internal and external penetrate each other without divergence. Furthermore, Confucius led three thousand disciples, of whom seventy-two attained mastery, and those who ascended the hall and entered the chamber were no more than a few; how could those outside this number ever be cast out? Today, every prefecture, commandery, and county has its students, yet how many are those whose virtue matches Yan Yuan? Could one abolish a commandery without establishing it just because its students fall short of Yan Yuan? Could one order all dense monks lacking virtue to return to lay life? Those who fall short of Yan Yuan are still superior to rustic wild men; dense monks lacking virtue are still superior to non-Buddhists. Bowing before these two comparisons, falling short in this regard is the first deficiency. Second, there are those who rely exclusively beneath trees, lifting the staff and holding the bowl, eating only at midday and sustaining themselves through right livelihood; fame is abruptly abandoned and gain is given no thought. Through contemplation of principle they dispel afflictions, and thus neglect literary chanting. If one assesses their entering the Way, their internal practice is more than sufficient; if one scrutinizes their textual comprehension, their manifest accomplishments are deficient. Why must it be that those who assemble in the capital are all virtuous monks, while those solitary and outstanding in the forests and wilds are all non-practitioners? Fruits are raw or ripe, yet one cannot eat them based solely on their appearance; people may be hidden or apparent, yet one cannot judge them by form and name. Daring to reflect on this three times, falling short in this regard is the second deficiency. Third, there are those who copy sūtras and make images, exerting their strength year after year, repairing saṅghārāmas and toiling with diligence across accumulated seasons; abandoning their persons to save living beings, they pay no heed to cold and hardship, and bestowing joy upon others, their resolve is not swayed by hunger and poverty. Yet lacking intellectual capacity, their daily chanting exceeds no more than a single word; bustling from dawn to dusk, their daily reading does not fill a few sheets. Measured by their dedication of merit, their goodness is not bestowed in vain; examined by their initial aspiration, they are true children of the Buddha. Now, if they are forced to return to secular life without fault, this wrongs and abuses genuine practitioners, abruptly condemning an upright nature. Falling short in this regard is the third deficiency. Fourth, the Buddha said that the saṅgha is a field of merit, whose principle makes it difficult to diminish or restrain. Though one may be young in years and ordinary in form, the Dharma robes are held in high esteem; how could one bestow them in the morning and seize them in the evening, inflicting harm and damage upon oneself? Love and hatred are impermanent; how can gains and losses be blamed on a single person? To impose non-constant regulations upon the twelve profound divisions of scriptures will, I fear, not accord with the sage's intent and will severely contravene the great purpose, harming compassion above and damaging orthodox transformation below; my only fear is that succeeding generations will hand down the slander of having falsely accused the saṅgha. Falling short in this regard is the fourth deficiency. Fifth, now the Great Zhou is a great state, yet monks and nuns are few, while monastery halls stand resplendent in their myriad numbers. One should simply welcome the two assemblies to fill them, sounding Sanskrit chants and striking bells to practice the Way for the state. Instead, expediently searching out their strengths and weaknesses, deviously seeking faults and offenses to dismiss and return them to the laity, leaving the ridgepoles and beams desolate and empty—if foreign lands and different states near and far hear of this, they will suspect that soldiers are being sought among the saṅgha and land is being taken beneath stūpas and temples, which is truly and deeply perplexing. Dense monks performing corvée labor are insufficient to augment the army; granting monastery lands to the common people can hardly enrich the state. Taints are not eliminated all at once; one's nature is manifested only by degrees. All sentient beings are fully endowed with afflictions; to abruptly demand full cultivation is to destroy the Buddhadharma. Not only will it harm oneself, but Māra will surely gain the advantage. Why? If one solely regards the purely good and attentively supports them, while solely regarding the purely evil and ordering them to return to the laity, this view profoundly destroys the triratna. If coarse and fine are viewed equally, Māra will find it difficult to gain the advantage. Why? For the purely good may regress and become coarse, while a multitude of coarse individuals may still generate worldly goodness. According to the principle of the sūtra texts, regardless of coarse or fine practice, so long as they do not return to secular life, they will ultimately become children of the Buddha. Considering advancement and withdrawal three times, falling short in this regard is the fifth deficiency. This poor monk, in his remaining years and with humble constitution, lodges his life west of the Pass; admiring your transformation and receiving your favor, I have been able to preserve my practice of the Way. Therefore, groaning and leaning upon my staff, I send forth this sincere devotion; my fault of intrusion and error humbly fills me with trembling fear. Respectfully spoken.