廣弘明集 14.25

14.25

Some misapprehend emptiness and thereby give rise to the view of annihilationism (ucchedavāda). Without shame or fear, they call themselves Mahāyāna; this is what the true Dharma deeply warns against. Those holding the view of annihilationism say: 'The sūtras use dharmas as metaphors like bubbles and shadows, and birth as identical to illusory transformation. They also say that sin and merit are non-dual, and that karmic retribution does not exist. Thus we know that talk of planting causes and reaping fruits, and accounts of heavenly realms and hells, are no different from Sima Xiangru describing the mandarin orange trees of the Shanglin Park, or Cao Mengde pointing to a plum orchard on the road ahead. They are merely expedient enticements for the foolish and ignorant, falsely speaking of precious and marvelous things; the words exist, but the reality does not. As for the illness of Ran [Geng] and the early death of Yan [Hui], these were due to improper health preservation; that Peng [Zu] attained longevity and Lao Dan endured was because they had methods of self-preservation. Nobility and baseness naturally differ; suffering and happiness are merely what one happens to encounter. Consider plants and trees: they are divided and distinguished into types. For instance, the auspicious mingjia grass indicates good omens, and intertwined branches respond to glorious illumination; their names are recorded on bamboo and silk, and their likenesses are depicted in paintings—these are the noble among plants and trees. If a plant overgrows the three paths and spreads easily, or extends across the seven marshes and is hard to clear, serving only as firewood for servants and maids, and trampled underfoot by oxen and sheep—these are the base among plants and trees. If trees stand in rows on cloud-piercing peaks or grow spread out in inaccessible places, where axes never reach and woodcutters do not come—these are the long-lived among plants and trees. If trees are repeatedly eyed by Master Craftsman Shi, or are what farmers strive to remove, meeting with the vigorous hoeing of the carrier of the weed-basket, or encountering the swung axe of Lu Ban—these are the short-lived among plants and trees. If bamboo compares in quality to pine and cypress, or sweet orchids share their essence with fragrant angelica, their emerald green withstanding the cold without fading, their fragrance persisting in secluded valleys—these are the worthy and outstanding among plants and trees. If caltrops are detested upon springing up, or brambles and thorns proliferate with no beauty, used in the allegorical comparisons of the Book of Songs and the Elegies of Chu to match wickedness and symbolize the vulgar—these are the mediocre and wretched among plants and trees. Moreover, with their different scents and diverse tastes, their thousands of kinds and myriads of forms grown from the earth, how could they all be named? What karma makes some valued? What cause makes others despised? What fault brings swift death? What merit brings long life? What blame causes withered dryness? What blessing brings luxuriant bloom? What habit causes them to contain poison? What practice causes them to diffuse fragrance? Could this possibly be brought about by past karma? It is merely spontaneous nature with its myriad differences! Humans’ differing destinies are also just like this; how could past karma cause it to be so? Thus, being without right and without wrong is the profound principle of the Mahāyāna; clarifying good and clarifying evil is the shallow teaching of the Hīnayāna. The foolish...'