廣弘明集 14.23

14.23

Someone said: "Sages set forth blessings to encourage goodness and show misfortunes to warn against evil. Petty people say that goodness brings no benefit and so do not practice it; they say that evil brings no harm and so do not abandon it. Yet words about disaster and blessing are flowery but lacking substance, whereas the discourse that there is no benefit and no harm is trustworthy and verified by proof. Why do I say this? Boyi starved; Rong Qiqi was poor; Yan Hui died young; Ran Geng fell ill. On the other hand, some are lavishly and grandly wealthy, their words rarely touching upon righteousness; some have white hair and live to a ripe old age, though their names are unworthy of praise when they depart this life. Those who are benevolent are not long-lived, and those who are wealthy are not yet benevolent—since the invention of writing, such cases cannot be fully recorded. Therefore we know that Confucius's words about disaster and celebration merely deceive people, and Yu's metaphor of shadows and echoes can hardly be believed!"

One who diligently pursued good deeds without flagging lamented that such words would perpetuate delusion; thus he wrote an essay to explain, saying:

Disaster and blessing certainly have their roots; they cannot be incurred at random without a cause. Good and evil must reap their recompense; it is surely not that retribution fails and ends in vain. Yet the roots are deep and the retribution lies far off, beyond the reach of ear and eye; investigating the beginnings and plumbing the ends lies beyond the capacity of Ruists and Mohists. Therefore the fortunes one encounters, when judged by Heaven, are difficult to scrutinize in detail; the years of premature death or longevity, when examined in human terms, are easily perplexing. When humans distribute rewards and punishments, they can still discern clearly without overstepping; would Heaven, in sending down disaster and blessing, instead act chaotically and without order? Therefore we know that a principle resides within this, which cannot be denied. If not for the Greatly Awakened One who possesses universal knowledge, who could exhaust the principles and dispel the doubts?

The words of Bu Shang and Jia Yi, the essays of Ban Biao and Ji Kang—they only knew how to lump it together and call it 'destiny,' but none could discern the reasons why destiny is so. How does this differ from seeing millet in a granary without knowing it was obtained through sowing and reaping, or beholding silk in a hamper without recognizing it was produced by loom and shuttle? Sima Qian lamented the failing of retribution, accumulating doubts that he could not resolve; Fan Pang was perplexed by the fittingness of good and evil, harboring resentment with no way to dispel it. They all saw the stream without tracing the source; they saw the one without knowing the other. Only by examining the sūtras and treatises of the Śākya clan can one investigate their beginnings and ends!

The retributions of doing good and doing evil trace their myriad branches across a thousand leaves; a destiny of richness or poverty illuminates its root source across ten thousand ages. It discerns the comings and goings of the six destinies and demonstrates the disasters and blessings of the three periods of time. Thus we know that though the physical form perishes, karma does not decay; though a person dies, the spirit is born again. Sometimes a worthy or sage suffers past disasters, so that even with the six superknowledges he lacks palatable food; sometimes a beast enjoys remaining blessings, so that a four-footed creature carries a wish-fulfilling jewel. Since actions performed are not of a single thread, the retributions evoked are truly of a thousand varieties. Karmas differ according to the mind; retributions vary just as faces do.

Tracing their minds: some are first deluded and later return to the path; some have a beginning but no end; some are consistently evil without remorse; some are purely good and ever lofty; some achieve merit but incur blame; some have meager blessings but abundant wisdom; some share the same transgression with different intentions; some achieve different merits with the same aspiration.

Therefore, in their retributions: some weep first and laugh later; some worry about loss once they have gained; some are lowly in youth and meet calamity in the end; some flourish at first and meet good fortune in the finish; some are pure in conduct yet die young; some are base in behavior yet overflow with wealth; some commit the same crime yet receive different punishments; some share equal virtue yet receive different ranks. Karma has many facets and is intricately intertwined; fruition is fully repaid in every fine thread. It is just like a painter laying down colors of vermilion and azure, or a mirror's reflection answering to beauty and ugliness. Destined to summon the six seals, Su Qin succeeded through roaming discourse; karma drawing ten thousand pieces of gold, Fan Li fulfilled his calculating art. Taking the azure and purple ribbons as easily as bending down to pick them up—this is aided by past causes; mastering rites and music yet remaining firmly in distress—this lacks the support of past blessings. Those reciting the *Analects* followed in close succession, yet Zhang Yu alone enjoyed high honor; those expounding the *Odes* stood shoulder to shoulder, yet Kuang Heng singularly held exalted rank. Or merit and labor were worthy of record, yet emolument did not reach Jie Zitui; or faults and enmities deserved execution, yet noble rank was first bestowed upon Yong Chi. Wei Xian's classical learning far surpassed leaving behind gold; Zhao Yi's literary writings were inferior to a full pouch of coins. How could this be due to differences in visible deeds? It truly originates from differences in past destiny.

Sometimes one of small talent holds great office, yet as chancellor achieves no illustrious merit; sometimes the Way is manifest while one's person is lowly, so that Confucius and Mozi suffered the humiliation of wandering restlessly. There are also those whose virtue and position are both exalted, like the Eight Worthies standing in the court of Yao and Shun; their talent and destiny both flourished, like Fu Yue and Lü Shang receiving the trust of seasoned broth. When the two causes are both cultivated, then they combine in this way; when a single karma is cultivated in isolation, then one's fortune is one-sided like that. Guan Zhong was released from prison to become prime minister; Li Si served as prime minister and met with punishment. Fan Ju was first humiliated and later honored; Deng Tong was wealthy at first and starved in the end. It was not that they were slow of speech at first and eloquent in the end; how could they be foolish in the past and wise now? It is because when the fruit ripens, peace arrives; when blessings are exhausted, distress ensues.

If one says that it was Grand Minister Pi who brought down Wu Zixu and this was not due to past disasters, or that it was Wang Ling who saved Zhang Cang and this had nothing to do with past blessings—this is seeing conditions while being ignorant of causes, incurring the error of the view of annihilationism. If one says that karma has bound one to a noble post and so one does not remember the kindness of rising together, or that destiny met with a benevolent wind and so one feels no shame before the kindness of relief—this is knowing causes while failing to recognize conditions, committing the crime of ingratitude. If one fully understands both principles and dispels both entanglements, how could there be any hindrance in advancing in virtue and cultivating one's vocation?

Planting fine grain in spring depends upon summer rains to flourish; cultivating good causes in the past relies on present conditions to be activated. Receiving rich moisture yet remaining unplowed is barren land; meeting an enlightened era yet remaining poor and lowly is a scholar without causes. The principle of cause and condition is complete in the sūtras and treatises; wherever one encounters it, it grows—all are of this kind. If one sees only one and does not harmonize the two, the sprouting of fault and entanglement harms one's virtue.

Examining what is clarified in the Buddhist scriptures: white and black karma have the determined and the undetermined; the retribution of misfortune and blessing has the alterable and the unalterable. Practicing virtue or committing faults can only avert alterable karma; whether worthy or foolish, one cannot alter determined destiny. When great goodness accumulates, disasters vanish; when many evils are full, blessings are destroyed. The inevitability of this principle is trustworthy and without doubt. It is like medicine overcoming illness and removing it, or pouring rain extinguishing a blaze; a giant dam checking a trickling stream, or a sharp axe felling a morning mushroom. But when a disease resides in the vitals, good medicine cannot save it; when fire blazes across plains and marshes, a drop of water truly cannot quench it. The trees of the Deng forest cannot be exhausted with a single blade; the current of the Changjiang—how could a single clod dam it? Great virtue can conceal slight flaws; slight merit is insufficient to compensate for great faults. Inscribing metal and stone is difficult work; crushing what is withered and rotten is easy labor.

Where karma is slight, its retribution is not firm; where action is firm, its fruition is determined. Because it is not firm, it can be altered; because it is determined, it is difficult to move. As for the distress that can be altered, therefore the three chants halted the waves of the great sea; as for the distress that is difficult to move, then even the four fruitions meet the harm of violent men. Liu Kun, a minor worthy, caused the wind to reverse and extinguish a fire; Tang Yao, a great sage, met with floods that mounted the hills. Judging by this, there is no need to be perplexed. Duke Wen of Jin increased his virtue, destroying the great snake by the roadside; Duke Jing of Song uttered virtuous words, driving back the baleful star at the edge of heaven—this is undetermined karma. Duke Wen of Zhu disregarded himself to benefit his people, having virtue yet meeting no response; King Zhao of Chu averted disaster and yielded blessings, uttering good words yet meeting personal misfortune—this is determined destiny. Sometimes sharing the same evil brings different retributions; sometimes having equal goodness brings different fruits. All are brought about by past causes; why should one find it strange within a single lifetime?

Confucius said: 'The petty man does not understand the mandate of Heaven and does not fear it.' He also said: 'Without knowing destiny, one has no means to become a gentleman.' What the Buddha calls karma is what the Ruists call destiny. Their words differ but the principle converges; they can be discussed together. Destiny is tied to karma; karma arises from the person. A person receives destiny to experience distress or success; destiny follows karma in richness or meager ness. A destiny of richness or meager ness is entirely due to oneself; is it not erroneous to resent Heaven and blame superiors? The *Book of Odes* says: 'The calamities of the common people do not descend from Heaven.' The *Zuo Commentary* says: 'Misfortune and blessing have no gate; they are summoned only by the person.' This means that Heaven cannot be blamed, and responsibility lies with the person. Meng Ke sought office in Lu, not bearing resentment at Zang Cang's obstruction; Zhongyou served the Ji clan, holding no anger toward Gongbo Liao's slander. This means that human beings cannot be blamed, and it is ascribed to Heaven. Their words may seem contradictory, but their ultimate aim is not different. In summary: both converge in advancing virtue, subduing oneself and admonishing others to encourage diligent aspiration, finding joy in Heaven and knowing destiny to eliminate sorrowful blame. For this reason, internally one is diligent in overcoming destiny, and externally one broadens the virtue of non-contention. Above, there is no fault of resenting Heaven; below, there is no entanglement of blaming others. The practice of the Golden Mean lies right here. Those of old who were skilled in practicing the Way—did they not apply themselves to this?

In the past, when I first heard the Buddhist scriptures, my faith was not deep; confined within the scope of my ears and eyes, I doubted what lay beyond sight and hearing. I thought the discourse of prior causes and later fruitions was like Zhuang Zhou's allegories, and discussions of heaven above and earth below were like Sima Xiangru's fictions. Seeing the wicked slip through the net, I acted wrongly without restraint; hearing of the loyal and upright meeting misfortune, I slighted goodness without encouragement. How grave was this delusion! When one understands karma, it is not so. The gentleman who understands karma is selfless and entrusts himself to destiny, looking up to the pure virtue of sages and worthies, and earnestly practicing noble conduct like gold and jade. He feels no distress living in a narrow alley; he forgets rivalry for fame and profit. Thus he brings to an end the remaining karma of the past and opens up enduring celebrations of the future. Disregarding the mockery and slander of the vulgar crowd, how could he seek the praises of his home village?

When planted, one does not see it grow, yet in time it becomes large; on a whetstone, one does not see it wear down, yet in the end its thickness is consumed. The retribution for the good and evil of one's present form is close in time and not yet ripe; the fruits of good and bad fortune from past lives must await the exhaustion of their span before they fade. For example, sowing and reaping yield sweetness, but one does not plant in the morning and harvest in the evening; caltrops produce thorns, but they sprout in spring and fruit in autumn. Those who do not plow yet are sated depend on the leftover grain of past years; those who are not worthy yet are wealthy and long-lived enjoy the old blessings of a previous life. The Way of Heaven has no favorites; human karma has abundance and deficit. Deducing the mandate of Heaven from this, doubts and perplexities can be dispelled.

As for the records of the Yu, Xia, Shang, and Zhou, and the words of Huang-Lao, Confucius, and Mozi, their Way is applied only to a single lifetime; their words never touch upon the three periods of time. Thus there are six points that can perplex, and they have no words to resolve them.

They show the benefits of doing good, referring to noble rank, reward, and reputation; they set forth the harms of doing evil, clarifying shame, disgrace, and punishment. Yet for scholars who flee rewards and conceal their names, what do they consider beneficial? Men who shamelessly seek to evade punishment do not suffer its harm. How can this suffice for warning and encouragement? This is the first perplexity.

They say that Heaven grants goodness and sends down a hundred blessings, and that spirits punish licentiousness and inflict the six extremities. Yet Boniu possessed virtuous conduct and fell ill—did Heaven dislike his doing good? Robber Zhi was violent and cruel yet did not die young—did the spirits favor his doing evil? Why do misfortune and blessing fall so indiscriminately? This is the second perplexity.

If one says that transgressions perish together with the physical form, and merit decays along with the body, what celebration of goodness can be spoken of, and what disaster of evil should be cautioned against? If the retribution of good and evil truly exists and is not absent, then for him who ate mountain ferns and starved to death, where were blessings added to him? For him who minced human liver and died in old age, when did he suffer misfortune? Why is there no retribution for good and evil? This is the third perplexity.

If one says that misfortune and blessing stem from one's ancestors, and disaster and celebration extend to descendants, examining this in earlier records shows it is not necessarily so. The lineage of Bo Zong and Yang She was extinguished in the Jin court; the descendants of Qingfu and Shuya flourished in the state of Lu. How could this be due to their ancestors? This is the fourth perplexity.

If one says that in observing good and scrutinizing evil, High Heaven is sometimes mistaken, and thus the blessings sent down and disasters dispersed are not equal on the earth below—yet would the bright mandate of Heaven truly be blind in rewards and punishments? Can one say that the Way of Heaven is inferior to the regulations of a mortal king? This is the fifth perplexity.

If one says that misfortune and blessing are not summoned by human beings, and good and evil have no retribution hereafter, then why did the hundred kings reward goodness and punish licentiousness, and why did the Six Classics praise virtue and censure faults? That would be vain encouragement toward what brings no benefit, and false warnings toward what brings no harm! Why then honor Confucius's propagation of teachings, and why blame Ying Zheng's burning of books? This is the sixth perplexity.

Therefore, the incitement and drawing forth of good and evil, and the leaning and resting of misfortune and blessing, if restricted solely to a single lifetime and not connected across the three periods of time, their principle is narrow and not broad! How could they resolve human delusions? In preventing evil, they are not thorough; in guiding toward goodness, they have many deficiencies. Their grasp of the principle is still shallow; their benefit to the people is still meager. Compared to the profound words of the Ten Powers and the wonderful Dharma of the Three Vehicles, which save the four forms of birth from the burning house and steer the six vessels across the sea of suffering, the difference between high and low is as an anthill to Mount Kunlun; the dissimilarity of shallow and deep is as a puddle to the Changjiang and Han Rivers. How could they be mentioned in the same breath?

Of old, the bright comprehension of Vimalakīrti and the acute eloquence of Śāriputra are detailed in the sūtras and treatises and can be compared: they suffice to surpass Xiang Tuo and excel Confucius; to outstrip Laozi and transcend Xu You; to subdue Mozi and shatter Zhuang Zhou; to engulf the hundred schools and encompass the nine streams of thought. Nothing recorded in the books can equal them. Yet they received various heterodox teachings without destroying their right faith; though versed in worldly scriptures, they ever delighted in the Buddha's Dharma. Serving Śākyamuni as their master, they devotedly embraced his skillful guidance. How could they fail to recognize the supremacy of the Way and hold it in veneration?"