集沙門不應拜俗等事 3.44

3.44

Now, if one damages these Buddhist stūpas and destroys those forms of banners, this will lightly regard forbearance and further degrade the field of merit. To employ perilous suspicion in this manner will ultimately confuse what should be rejected and what should be chosen. If they take off their robes and bow, then transcending vulgar customs would not conform to the etiquette of the Zhangfu cap; if they straighten their robes and scurry forward [to pay court], then black robes differ from the statutes of audience with the sovereign. Therefore, they meditate in the secluded realm of Śrāvastī and withdraw their steps from the precincts of exalted gates; by principle they are cut off from court audiences, and in practice they are estranged from glorious receptions. Can it not be said that we venerate their Way, and for that reason invite them to come? Having invited them, what purpose is served by abasing them? Mount Lu is where the Way and virtue dwell, and is not within the scope of screening and selection; the sweet pear tree was where disputes were settled, thereby giving rise to the grace of 'do not cut it down.' If mountains and trees, lacking minds, yet preserve things by virtue, and the Dharma and the Way are bountiful, how could one revere the Way yet neglect the person? The saying goes: 'Man can magnify the Way'; thus the Way also relies on man to be practiced. Even though a royal emissary is of humble rank, his position is above the feudal lords; how can one further abase the etiquette of those who practice the Way? If one deems both [religions] to be deceitful, one may suppress them altogether. The method of suppressing them means weeding and mowing them down; in that case, what is stripped away would be great indeed—how could it stop merely at making them submit and yield? If one deems both to be of substantial aid, then they ought to be venerated. The method of venerating them means honoring and prizing them; how could one honor and prize their Way yet make them perform deferential bowing? If one takes gold and kingfisher feathers as a true likeness, one does not add veneration because of the gold and kingfisher feathers; if one takes straw dogs to honor an image, one does not add contempt because of the straw dogs. Reverence ultimately rests on the Way; lightness and gravity do not depend on material things. Just as things cannot alter the Way, so too the Way constantly accords with things. A śramaṇa wears his robes horizontally across the body and takes the Dharma robes to be noble; everyone respects their Dharma robes, so how could it depend merely on the person? The precedent of not bowing holds a meaning elevated in the scriptures and vinaya; the Dharma was entrusted to kings, and its affairs depend on their upholding and protecting it. The Dharma is constant; that which is constantly practiced should not be changed. Altering a single corner may corrupt a thousand gates. If one opens it, there will be the means to protect the Dharma; if one obstructs it, there will be the anxiety of the Dharma falling into ruin. Rather than letting it fall into ruin, how could it not be better to protect it? Why must one bend the demeanor of monks and require them to bow and scrape in their Dharma robes, causing those from ten thousand realms who have taken refuge to harbor grievances within their minds? The saying goes: 'Accord with what benefits the people and benefit them.' Then the method of benefiting them can also accord with their subtle attainments to benefit them. Coming down to the present, the sunlight shines from above and the imperial fortune is revered; the seas connect with the Heavenly River, and branches link to the jeweled edifice. Relying on the unsurpassed Way, You have expanded an endless enterprise. Even when respecting other clans and families, one still reveres antiquity; how could the divine foundation and spiritual lineage abase the Way today? This is the first great impossibility. In the eastern land of the Yuezhi, this precious throne awaited; the profound waves of the waters of samādhi and the Dharma clouds provide colorful moisture, elevating the joy of liberation and expounding the blessings of the eternally abiding. Former kings and past emperors still followed it; with a sage ruler and loyal ministers, why should there be this change? In this foolish minister's thousand considerations, there is not one gain out of ten thousand. If this innovation is created without benefiting the future, causing the slightest flaw across kalpas as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, then even if all across the land people shattered their heads and all sentient beings ground their bones to dust, how could they block the blame of harboring dissimulation or expiate the crime of disloyalty? This is the second great impossibility. The reasons this minister is so anxious in this matter, so sincere in his petty devotion, scratching his head, holding his heart, pouring out his liver and gall, is that he humbly hopes the Sage Court will re-exalt the supreme teaching to be ever springlike; may the wheel of the Dharma turn forever in the Garden of Amrapālī, may the hearts of hundreds of its followers rejoice, and may the imperial myriad-year fortune shine far into the distance. Then, though dying, it would be as living, morning or evening would suffice. I privately reflect that the imperial edict's intentions are subtle and delicate, its meaning difficult to discern with certainty. If the celestial mind has already decided, the people can only be made to follow; if the sagely consideration searches widely, who would not exhaust his thoughts? How is this minister, with his mediocrity and ignorance, worthy to offer words? If one considers the two teachings non-existent, then they have been venerated in the sagely destiny, and since the Sage venerates them, they are not non-existent. If one considers the two teachings existent, then in this enlightened era they are being expunged, and if the era expunges them, I fear they will not exist. This is why I hesitate at the crossroad, with the two sides warring within me. The Way should preserve its traces, yet the principle is not yet satisfying to the heart. How could a tube peer at the sky, or a frog measure the ocean? The principle lies beyond all hope; the matter transcends knowledge and intellect. Since keeping lead in hand, setting aside the brush, tapping silence, and extinguishing sound, I wished to offer words as a bird roosts, or blow stolen notes amidst the pipes, joining the worldly in their deaf listening and matching the blind in their sightless gaze. Although I have emptied my heart and mind, it will ultimately not reach what is heard and seen. It is only because the eight winds blow from afar, the ten thousand pipes all offer their sound, the two luminaries rise in brightness, and a thousand forms do not hide their shadows. Here I look up at the brightness, hoping for the compass to turn; turning toward the sun like a sunflower, I offer a trickle of dew from the post-station. With face blushing like a hot broth in summer, treading on thin ice in spring, my fear is extreme, and awe and dread mix together. Respectfully submitted.