廣弘明集 24.65

24.65

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.