破邪論 2.22

2.22

Now, as for Śākyamuni, it is translated as "Capable of Benevolence," meaning that his virtue is full and his Way complete, capable of saving the myriad beings. Yet the dharmakāya has two aspects: the first is called the real and true, and the second is called the provisional and adaptive. The true body refers to the ultimate essence: wondrously transcendent over entanglements, it cannot be circumscribed by place, nor can it be bounded by form and measure. Where there is a stimulus, it responds; its essence is ever serene. The adaptive body, on the other hand, accumulates causes through kalpas and seeks the fruit across myriad births; it harmonizes its light with the six realms and shares the dust with the myriad kinds. Its appearing and disappearing accord with the times, its length and brevity are for the sake of beings. Its form arises from stimulus and its essence is not truly existent. Although the provisional form passes away, the Dharma-essence does not shift. But because the times lack wondrous stimulus, beings cannot constantly see it.

A worldly saying goes: "The men of Lu did not even prize Qiu of the eastern house; how could those of wrong view believe that there is a Buddha of the western quarter?" Their roots are deep and hard to pull up—alas, how lamentable! A confused person asked: "Can that really be so? Please illustrate this principle." The treatise master replied: "Have you not heard? The blind have no means to participate in the sight of fine patterns; the deaf have no means to participate in the sound of bells and drums. One must know that the waves of the ten non-virtues easily stir the mind's source, whereas the branches of the myriad goods are difficult to shoot forth from the tree of intention. This is truly because ordinary beings are inverted, scorched by thirst and craving; with deluded thoughts grasping at objects, their bodies and minds are unrestrained. They stir up the waves of the five desires and drift down the river of the two kinds of death, constantly below the cliff of black darkness, at the bottom of the waves of ignorance. Sleeping through the long night, they dwell within a burning house of dreams, never sobering from a heaven-revolving drunkenness; how could they recognize the sights that delude and confuse them? Dark and dim for eternal kalpas, toiling and moiling, stealing a meager living, they furthermore follow heterodox teachers and draw close to evil friends. Roaring like wild elephants, they unleash the mind-monkey; they raise the mountain of the sixty-two views and sail upon the ocean of the ninety-eight anuśayas. Indulging in a walking latrine, they cling lovingly to a painted vase; they fan the winds of the eight māras and blow the fire of the three poisons. Giving free rein to the bandits of the six sense spheres, they plunder the city of the five aggregates; unconcerned by the peril of the two mice, they constantly arouse the rage of the four serpents. Trusting their eyes of cattle and sheep, they unleash the ferocity of owls and jing beasts. Thereupon they erect the banner of haughty pride, sound the drum of self-aggrandizement, turn their mouths to reverse praise and blame, and boastfully ape the discourse of the Confucians and Mohists. They turn the outside in and wear skirts as shirts; they corrupt customs and damage truth, alienating companions and disordering friends. They insult the Three Jewels, mistreat their two parents, make light of the dark deities, and revile the wind and rain. They make enemies of ghosts and spirits, and hold resentment and hatred against their own flesh and blood. Conceited and haughty, unbenevolent and unfilial, relying on their narrow view, their folly considers it a compass. How is this different from a centipede relishing a smelly snake, or an owl and falcon delighting in a rotten rat? Taking poison to be a delicacy—how deeply terrifying! They give no thought to future guilt and feel no sorrow over retribution in hell. Alas! Giving vent to the misfortune of a single word brings about the calamity of myriad kalpas, causing them to sink and linger in the dark paths, plunging into and passing through the evil destinies—entering the nets of bronze dogs and bronze serpents, dwelling in the cities of the eight cold and eight hot [hells], severed by saws, ground by mills, roasted in furnaces, boiled in caldrons, eating ashes and consuming fire, chewing snow and swallowing ice. Every place is scorched; every thought is bitter pain. A hundred bones and nine apertures are mangled by knife blades; the five viscera and four limbs are hacked and scattered by sword edges. The reason this is so is entirely brought about by negating cause and effect, slandering that which transcends the world, breaking the harmonious Saṅgha, disbelieving the true Dharma, and possessing deep roots of wrong view. How much more so as they discard bodies and receive bodies, perpetually afflicted in the three realms, going from hell to hell without leaving the three miserable paths! The Great Sage, having observed this, aroused compassion; the Utmost Benevolent One wept bitterly for them. Therefore, know that the principle of good and evil is like an echo answering a sound; the signs of retribution and effect are like a form casting a shadow. Can one not be careful? Can one not be careful?"