破邪論 1.4

1.4

The spiritual and marvelous is boundless, beyond the calculation of tallies; ultimate truth is profound and remote, hardly to be grasped by plumb-line and marking-cord. Indeed, the constant Dao is wordless, and wherever bounds exist, it is cut off; how could one rely on innate celestial gifts to fathom its dark depths? Yet as for the sources of the five approaches and the six perfections, the teachings of the half-word and the One Vehicle, the titles of the nine schools and hundred masters, and the texts of the three caverns and four registers—if their plans can be woven together and expounded through standard works, and their realms reached by the power of the mind, then heroic models of lush fruition have appeared in every generation.

Now, Dharma Master Falin, whose secular surname was Chen, was a native of Yingchuan and a descendant of Qun, Minister of Works of the Jin. From the Liang through the Chen dynasties, his lineage held office generation after generation; from his grandfathers down to his uncles, they were Confucian masters of successive ages. In his youth, the Dharma Master studied the Three Treatises, his fame spreading across court and countryside; as he grew older, he mastered the various canons, his renown resounding in distant lands. His deportment was solemn and reverent, his integrity steadfast, and his learning deeply penetrating. Lingering over refined writings, he brought forth the obscure and hidden. His inner measure was like the earth welcoming spring, storing its function while manifesting benevolence; his virtue was like the simple and hesitant, outwardly dim yet inwardly bright. Surely his wisdom was comprehensive enough to measure the sea, and his Dao rivalled that of Dao'an; how could he merely compare in conduct to Shan Tao or in spirit to Yu Liang?

As for his literary style, it was classic without being rustic, ornate yet principled, like the eight timbres played in harmony or the five colours mutually displayed. In religious practice, he introduced right view into the three emptinesses and rescued the confused multitude from the eight sufferings. Although broadly learned, he kept his mind humble; though keeping to a lowly place, his tune was lofty. He was truly a pillar of the Śākya clan and a paragon of human relations. Moreover, he relieved the needy and aided those in peril, placing others before himself. He prized the breeze and sunlight sweeping across the woodland casement, and loved the mist and clouds girding the mountains and waters. His vow and aspiration melting away [worldly entanglements], he concealed his traces and withdrew into seclusion. At the end of the Kaihuang reign of the Sui, he secluded himself in the Guigu Cave on Mount Qingxi. Its towering cliffs obscured the sun and moon, and its airy portals exhaled and inhaled wind and clouds. There, he gathered the five kinds of fungus while at leisure, wandered in the eight dhyānas while at rest, fed on pine and atractylodes along mountain streams, and clad himself in climbing fig amidst the mountain recesses. [People from all around] joined their palms in refuge and touched their crowns [to his feet] to ask about the Way. His walking meditation went on serenely for more than ten years. Yet its layered peaks and perilous summits, tall pines and deep gorges, were places where hermits dwelt and ancient sages had trodden; none did he fail to visit in person and see with his own eyes, scaling caves and discerning their sites. Thereupon he composed the Qingxi Shan Ji (Record of Mount Qingxi) in one fascicle, which is in circulation in the world.

Fu Yi, the Grand Astrologer, whose scholarship was mediocre and shallow and whose insight was not far-reaching, then forced interpretations in a brief essay and insolently assailed the Rightly Awakened One. Fearing that this rattling of a cloth drum might claim comparison with the Thunder Gate, the mediocre took it as an impediment and were confused. Pitying those swarming insects, the Dharma Master further composed the Poxie lun (Treatise Refuting Heterodoxy) in one fascicle. Although knowing that when the music of Yu and Wei are played together, it is the ninefold Shao that manifests distinction, and that when a fly and a fine steed run side by side, it is the thousand-li courser that shows its marvel, ultimately vermilion and purple must each take their own hue, and the clear and the turbid must flow apart. He rebuked the offense of using the common to measure the sacred, and censured the fault of judging the true by the mundane. Citing texts to prove the principles, where it was not Daoist it was Confucian; meticulously conveying his deep feelings, his targets were exact and exhaustive. None of [the opposing arguments] failed to have its tracks thrown into disorder, its banners fallen, collapsing like tiles and melting like ice. In entering their chamber he had the plan of seizing their spears; in knocking their heads on the ground, they had nowhere to hide their faces. Thereupon it was continuously copied and circulated across ages, like parting the clouds to see the sun, or finding the Way after losing one's path.

The Master's habit in writing was swift yet well-reasoned; of what he completed, much has been lost. Now, having gathered from scattered sources what could be found of his poems, rhapsodies, stele inscriptions, hymns of praise, admonitions, records, biographies, memorials, and treatises, as well as the genealogies of the three teachings and the doctrinal origins of Buddhism and Daoism, I have combined them into thirty fascicles. The Dharma Master and I shared an affection as pure as water and a friendship as close as gold and orchids. Although our vestments were different, our mutual expectations were firm. I have boldly used a vine cord to string together these jade tallies, arranging them in order, and these are my words.