集古今佛道論衡 1.19

1.19

"Grasp the Dao of antiquity to direct the beings of today." The preceding chapter says: "Those who grasp it lose it; those who act upon it spoil it." Yet here it says again: "Grasp the Dao of antiquity to direct the beings of today." Alternately grasping and not grasping—does this not fall into contradictory discourse? "Abandon sageliness and discard wisdom, and the people will benefit a hundredfold." Sun Sheng says: Where there are benevolence and sageliness, there must be traces of benevolence and sageliness. If these are not revered, how could edifying instruction flourish? If benevolence and righteousness are not valued, the way of filial piety and parental affection is lost. Laozi speaks of abandoning sageliness, yet in every chapter he readily refers to the sage. Having spoken of the sage, how can traces be abandoned? If what is to be abandoned are the traces of Yao, Shun, the Duke of Zhou, and Confucius, then what traces belong to the one he calls a sage? If it is as he says, that for sages there are those whose traces should be destroyed and those whose traces should be praised, then with praising and destroying so divergent, whom should we follow? "Abandon benevolence and discard righteousness, and the people will return to filial piety and parental affection." If it is as this discourse says, then unless benevolence and righteousness are abandoned, there is neither filial piety nor parental affection. Yet it also says: "In dwelling, good is found in the land; in giving, good is found in benevolence." I do not understand whether this benevolence of "in giving, good is found in benevolence" is the very benevolence that he earlier spoke of wanting to abandon. If it is, then he should not praise and expound it again. If it is not, then the distinction between the two kinds of benevolence is not clarified—that one benevolence should be abandoned while the other benevolence should be made clear. This is another point I have not comprehended. If this refers to the sageliness of non-sageliness and the benevolence of non-benevolence, then what the standard teaching condemns does not require lofty proclamations [by him]. Coming down to Zhuang Zhou, he says: "Until the sage dies, the great robber will not cease." And he says: "Tian Chang stole benevolence and righteousness to seize the state of Qi." Now, Heaven and Earth mold and cast, rearing both good and evil together. Each is endowed with naturalness; by principle they do not depend on one another. The screech owl and the poison-feathered bird unleash their venom without needing to study under the luan-bird and the phoenix; jackals and tigers unleash harm without borrowing arts from the qilin. These are all natural endowments of Heaven that do not require external things. Why should vile and obstinate men alone have to borrow benevolence and righteousness to achieve their villainy? When Modu murdered his father, or the Earl of Zheng stole Kuai, did they first borrow the way of filial piety to achieve their ultimate harm? Yet Zhuangzi and Laozi strike down and destroy the root, slandering and rebutting correct teachings. How does this differ from despising robbers and thieves and therefore melting down shields and halberds, or seeing someone choke on food and therefore casting away fine grain? Even if later commentators craft twisted explanations and argue to resolve it, none avoids distress over killing the sage or stumbling over forgetting one's parents. "Those who understand me are rare, and therefore I am noble." The preceding chapter also says: "When the sage is in the world, the hundred surnames all fix their ears and eyes upon him." Teacher and student, esteem and love, are inevitably manifest to the ten thousand things. If it is like this, how could those who understand him be rare? And why must one whom few understand be noble? With his own person honored throughout the nine realms, how could he turn his back on reality and stubbornly claim that his nobility came from being understood by few? This was merely an attempt to restrain and reform common custom, which led to this exaggerated statement. The sacred teaching [of the sages] is not like this. Its words are moderate and harmonious, instructing and guiding through principle. Thus it is said: "At home he is sure to be heard of; in the state he is sure to be heard of." To be heard of means he is sure to have attained prominence. "Not showing off the good and being without resentment" is the virtue of the hidden dragon. "Not feeling resentful when people do not understand him" is the way of the noble person. "When the multitude loves him, one must examine it; when the multitude hates him, one must examine it." He neither considers having many understand him as prominent, nor considers having few understand him as noble. His instructions and enticements are generous and relaxed, naturally hitting the mean of principle. How could his merit and demerit be spoken of in the same breath as Lao Dan's words? "Rites are the thinning of loyalty and good faith, and the head of disorder. Foreknowledge is the flower of the Dao, and the beginning of foolishness. Therefore the great man dwells in the thick and not in the thin; he dwells in the solid and not in the flower." Sun Sheng says: Lao Dan was fully aware that the rites and music of the sages were not instruments of profound transcendence, but were fashioned only because there was no alternative. Why then did he deliberately vilify them? Discarding the study of rites to fulfill his own indulgence and discourse on naturalness—did he not understand that in decadent later ages, people could never return to the Dao of naturalness? He merely wanted to express what his own heart favored. In that case, he could not avoid being driven by his own preferences, and was not one who selflessly set his heart on saving beings. Not only did he fail to save them, he encouraged their vices. Some may ask: Did Zhuangzi and Laozi deliberately make these proclamations to serve as the exterior and interior along with the sage's teaching, their edifying of beings and lucid instructions returning to the same goal? Sun Sheng thought this was not so. The Way of the sage is broad, vast, and all-inclusive, like the sun and moon suspended in the heavens—what do they not illuminate? The words of Confucius are all interwoven in the Six Classics. Could there still be any deficit awaiting the support of Dan and Zhou? It is just what Zhuang Zhou called: "When the sun and moon have come out, yet the torch fire is not extinguished." As for empty cantillations, bizarre marvels, and craftily deceptive words, they remain confined and obstructed in one corner, arbitrarily proclaiming strange statements that are not canonical. "Kings and lords attain the One to become the uprightness of the world." "Uprightness" means rectitude. Yet the next chapter says: "Who knows its limit? It has no rectitude. Rectitude turns again into the strange; good turns again into the monstrous." Examining these two chapters, one says it is the rectitude of the world, while the other says there is no rectitude. Having said that the good person is the teacher of the bad person, it then says he becomes monstrous. The goodness of the world is one, yet it is alternately a teacher and monstrous. The upright Dao of the world is one, yet it says rectitude turns again into the strange. This is conversely something my humble understanding has not been able to penetrate.