廣弘明集 27.40

27.40

The Tathāgata pities and thinks of sentient beings, loving them equally as an only child. How could he ever fail to use skillful means to broadly deliver them at the crossing of benefit? Therefore, he manifested a sixteen-foot form to display his numinous deportment. In accord with the directions he responded to affinities, yet his Dharma-body was not merely one. When his golden countenance assumed physical form, adorned with the major marks and minor characteristics, he caused sentient beings to rejoice and gaze upon him. When he walked, the great chiliocosm shook and all māras were awed into submission; when he stopped, he penetrated all samādhis and non-Buddhists turned to his conversion; when he sat, he expounded the vaipulya teachings and Śakra and Brahmā inquired and looked up to him; when he reclined, he revealed the One True Path and the three vehicles received his virtue. When he spoke, the torments of the three evil paths were stilled; when he smiled, the four forms of birth experienced bliss. Those who heard his voice realized the Path; those who saw his form attained liberation. At that time, was it not magnificent? Now, though endowed with a spirit, our confusion and delusion form heavy obstacles. Going forward, we do not behold the kingdom and cities of his alms-gathering; turning back, we do not hear the explanations of his eightfold voice. This must be because our sinful karma is profound and thick, and our afflictions are entrenched. Not only do we fear not seeing the past and future Buddhas, the coming sages, and the present worthies, but we also deeply dread that there will be no way to cut off the evil paths. Giving rise to such thoughts brings truly piercing grief; harboring such reflections causes an unconscious, heart-rending agony. How could we yield in silence, allowing ourselves to drift and rest in ease upon the ocean of suffering, sinking into the boiling fire without extricating ourselves? One must become resolute and stern, subduing one's feelings and curbing one's desires, giving rise to an elevated mind to repent, extinguish sins, and cast off all defiling encumbrances; only then can one return to faith. If one does not fortify one's resolve, sacrifice body and life, withstand toil and endure bitterness, and harbor sorrow and grief, one fears that the blazing fire of afflictions will have no way to be quenched, and the heavy darkness of ignorance will have no prospect of clearing. It is like a heavily burdened prisoner in a dungeon who suffers all manners of pain, bearing a long cangue and wearing heavy fetters, bound with iron tongs, laden with iron chains, his body beaten and flogged, purulent sores and foul rot covering his limbs, surrounded by stench and filth—yet who desires in this condition to seek an audience with the ruler or noble ministers of the state. Even if he were single-minded without slackening and showed the most genuine, supreme sincerity, if he wished to ascend the high palace and step upon the jade mat, there would still be no way to realize it. Even if [the king] felt pity, wanting to see him would be difficult. Why is this? Because he is burdened with all manner of sins and evils, and has not separated from his instruments of torment. If he removes the cangue, casts off the chains, washes away the dirt, and dresses in fine robes, the king will not bar him, and naturally he will appear. Now, wanting to return to faith is also just like this: if one is to see the major marks, minor characteristics, and radiance of the Tathāgata, one must first purify body, speech, and mind, and wash away the defilements of the mind. Loving attachment to the six sense objects must be eternally quenched without arising, and the heavy obstacles of the ten evils must be completely cleared away without remainder. Once karmic entanglements are removed and both inside and outside are pure, only then can one direct one's clear contemplation toward Kapilavastu and plant a pure mind in the precious lands. Leaving behind all defilements and entering the gate of returning to faith, one will inevitably look up to the unhindered Dharma-body. Just as a prisoner who casts off his cangue and chains naturally sees the king, so if I now eliminate afflictions, I will certainly behold all the Buddhas. If it is not thus, even if one is doubly diligent and earnest, one fears that the obstacles will be hard to pass through. How could one not throw the five limbs to the ground like Mount Tai collapsing, single-mindedly returning to faith without any further doubt? On behalf of the Sovereign, the Crown Prince, the sagely spirits of the Seven Imperial Temples, the dragon gods and the eight classes, and all beings in severe suffering, I pay reverent homage to all the Buddhas of the ten directions and the three times, begging for pity and repenting. After having repented, one should constantly practice a pliable and harmonious mind, an accepting mind, a non-negligent mind, a quiescent mind, a true and correct mind, an unmixed mind, an uncovetous and unstinting mind, a superior mind, a great mind, a compassionate and peaceful mind, a good and joyful mind, a mind that delivers all, a mind that protects sentient beings, a mind free of self-possession, and the mind of the Tathāgata. Giving rise to such vast, superior, and wondrous minds, one should single-mindedly seek broad learning, cultivate samādhi free of desire, maintain the precepts purely, be mindful of repaying kindness and virtue, constantly harbor delight, and never abandon sentient beings.