廣弘明集 25.75

25.75

Shi Yancong said: Why is it that a śramaṇa does not bow to secular folk? It is because leaving the world and staying in it follow different currents, and the inner and the outer are distinctly separated. Abiding by the fundamental principle, embodying the ultimate, resting their thoughts, and forgetting their bodies, they do not eagerly seek life, nor do they fussily conform to mundane changes. Their sentiments transcend the universe, while their traces are merely lodged in the mundane realm. This is why they stand on equal terms with the sovereign's abode and turn their backs on the affection of natural kin. Things of this world cannot alter their transformation; life upon life cannot burden their existence. Making a long bow to rulers and parents—this is the great purport. If we examine human affairs and investigate authoritative glosses, there are ten precedents for why they should not bow. Consider the sacrifices offered in ranks to the mountains and rivers, and the suburban sacrifices to Heaven and Earth: wishing to benefit all things, the sovereign exhausts his sincerity. Now, the Triratna abides, and the refuges and precepts bring vast benefit; their covert and overt aid in transformation can be briefly stated: they belong to the class of deities and spirits. The impersonator of the dead in a sacrifice must accord with the ancestral order; when slaughtering the victim and presenting the cooked offering, he is, for the time being, not treated as a subject. Now, the Triratna is a single substance, and respecting a monk is like respecting the Buddha; this is fully detailed in the inner texts and needs no redundant words: they belong to the class of sacrificial impersonators. The rulers of Qi and Song were descendants of the two previous royal dynasties; valued by the ruling monarch, they were honored as guests of the realm. Now, monks are the descendants of the Dharma King; the monarch receives the Buddha's entrustment and encourages the four assemblies to cultivate the three trainings: they belong to the class of guests of the realm. Honoring the Way and respecting the teacher, one does not treat him as a subject; even when having audience with the Son of Heaven, he does not face north. Now, śramaṇas transmit the Buddha's ultimate teachings, guiding the ordinary and leading living beings; dignifying the teacher and respecting learning—does it not reside herein? They belong to the class of Confucian conduct. The Rites state: 'A soldier in armor does not bow, because it would disrupt his deportment.' Hence Zhou Yafu made a long bow to Emperor Wen of Han. Now, the śramaṇa dons the armor of patience, subdues and slays the army of desire, holds the sword of wisdom in hand, and is resolved to shatter mental delusions: they belong to the class of the armored. The diviner represents the ancestral lineage; when coming of age, the guest crowns the youth at the east steps, and mothers and elder brothers bow to him to complete his adulthood according to the rites. Now, the śramaṇa takes the Great Dharma as his own duty, rescues all living beings from misery, reverently follows the bequeathed traces, and inherits the orthodox lineage: they belong to the class of transmitters of the lineage. Yao was praised for emulating Heaven, yet he did not bend the high integrity of Chaofu of Yingyang; King Wu's virtue was completely beautiful, yet in the end he preserved the purity of Boyi of Guzhu. Now, the śramaṇa elevates his endeavors and does not serve kings and nobles; sloughing off the clamorous dust, he places himself beyond the worldly realm: they belong to the class of recluses. Those who violate the five punishments, are confined by the three wooden bonds, are flogged, or are bound in iron are not required to perform full etiquette. Now, the śramaṇa shaves off his hair, cuts off descendants, disfigures his body, and changes his garments: they belong to the class of extreme punishments. Furthermore, though an imperial emissary is lowly, receiving the heavenly mandate makes him noble; even if a śramaṇa were lowly, receiving the Buddha's decree makes him honorable. How much more so when his virtue moves the covert and overt, and his transformation moistens dragons and spirits, calming the bitter waves of humans and devas and cleansing the scorching vapors of all kinds of beings! His merit is already broad, and his beneficence is vast. How could one cause this company that has severed worldly dust to bow and burden their rulers and parents, and reduce this leisurely and untrammeled group to the level of the Confucian code? In my youth, I was devoted to these matters; growing up, I investigated them thoroughly. I gathered the remaining exploits from the green tablets and compiled past fragrant deeds upon the sweat-dried bamboo slips. Moreover, moved by the setting radiance of the Buddha Sun, I exhausted my tiny torch of light to compose this essay, hoping to transmit it forever to those in future times who take an interest in such matters. Furthermore, ancient and modern writings and discourses all say 'do not respect' (bujing). Relying on this single word, I am privately perplexed. Why? Respect is an affair of the mind; the Summary of Rites states, 'Be without disrespect.' Bowing is merely bending the body; the Rites of Zhou sets forth the protocol of nine kinds of bows. Furthermore, the ruler and parents are venerable and solemn; for the mind to respect them is entirely fitting. The Vinaya rules are lofty and grave; for the body to bow violates the comprehensive scriptures. Substituting 'bowing' (bai) for 'respect' (jing) would be appropriate; therefore, this book is titled 'Not Bowing' in its text. Master Yuan had a saying: 'Does the deep abyss need the morning dew? It is merely to express one's infinite gratitude.' The composition of this work is likewise so. May discerning and penetrating worthies find no fault with it.