Category Archives: Hsuan Hua

Five Schools of One Buddhism

This year I’m going to be immersed in Chinese Master Hsuan Hua’s fourteen volume commentary on the Lotus Sutra. In addition, I’m currently using the Buddhist Text Translation Society’s translation of the Lotus Sutra in my daily practice. The sutra itself is volume 15 of the commentary. In addition, I’m reading a number of other books published by the Buddhist Text Translation Society.

Why? I want to read everything about the Lotus Sutra. In the past I’ve discussed Dogen’s view of the Lotus Sutra and Thich Nhat Hanh’s interpretation of the Lotus Sutra. Hsuan Hau makes a third Chan master with something to say about the Lotus Sutra. So there’s nothing unusual in all of this.

As for my reading outside the Lotus Sutra – I recently re-read the Vimalakīrti Sūtra – that too comes from the Lotus Sutra, specifically Chapter 2.

“Śāriputra! I also expound various teachings to all living beings only for the purpose of revealing the One Buddha-Vehicle. There is no other vehicle, not a second or a third. Śāriputra! All the present Buddhas of the worlds of the ten quarters also do the same.

As Nichiren explains, all of the streams of the Buddha’s teaching flow into the ocean of the Lotus Sutra:

All the sūtras entering the ocean of the Lotus Sūtra take up the one flavor of Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō because of the wonderful merit of the ocean of the Lotus Sūtra. There is no reason why they have to be referred to by other names such as Nembutsu, Ritsu, Shingon, or Zen.”

Shoshū Mondō-shō, Questions and Answers Regarding Other Schools, Writings of Nichiren Shōnin, Doctrine 3, Page 165 (2022)

Yes, Nichiren was adamant about rejecting the practices of  Nembutsu, Ritsu, Shingon and Zen, but I’d argue that that doesn’t preclude Nichiren followers from studying all of these streams.

Since I’m  reading Hsuan Hua’s commentary, I want to acknowledge where he is coming from in his view of the Lotus Sutra.

Buddhism: A Brief Introduction includes a useful interview between Hsuan Hua and Karl Ray, which originally appeared in the Shambala Review under the title “Back to the Source.”

Karl Ray: (KR)

The first question I would like to ask is based on an article in which you suggest that Buddhists forget sectarian lines. Can you suggest practical steps that Buddhist organizations can take to bring this about?

Master: (M)

Before the Buddha came into the world there was no Buddhism. After the Buddha appeared, Buddhism came into being, but there was not as yet any division into sects or schools. Sectarianism is a limited view, a view of small scope, and cannot represent Buddhism in its entirety. The complete substance of Buddhism, the totality, admits no such divisions. When you divide the totality of Buddhism into sects and schools, you merely split it into fragments. In order to understand Buddhism in its totality, one must eliminate views of sects and schools and return to original Buddhism. One must return to the root and go back to the source.

KR: That brings me to a question about the different teachings taught here at Gold Mountain Monastery. I understand that you teach five different schools, including the Ch’an School, the Teaching School, the Vinaya School, the Secret School, and the Pure Land School. Can they all be taught like this together? Do they all belong to the original corpus of Buddhist teachings?

M: The Five Schools were created by Buddhist disciples who had nothing to do and wanted to find something with which to occupy their time. The Five Schools all issued from Buddhism. Since they came forth from Buddhism, they can return to Buddhism as well. Although the Five Schools serve different purposes, their ultimate destination is the same. It is said,

There is only one road back to the source, But there are many expedient ways to reach it.

Although there are five different schools, they are still included within one “Buddhism”. If you want to understand the totality of Buddhism, you need not divide it up into schools or sects. Originally there were no such divisions. Why make trouble when there is none? Why be divisive and cause people to have even more false thoughts than they already have?

People think that the Five Schools are something really special and wonderful. In fact, they have never departed from Buddhism itself. It is just like the government of a country. The government is made up of different departments. There is a Department of Health, a Department of Economics, a State Department, a Department of the Interior, and so forth. People may not realize that all these different departments are under a single government. All they recognize is the department, and they don’t recognize the government as a whole. Their outlook is narrow. Now, we wish to move from the branches back to the roots. In the analogy, the roots are the government and the branches are the various departments. People should not abandon the roots and cling to the branches. If you only see the individual departments and fail to recognize the government, you will never be able to understand the problems faced by the country as a whole. You will have no idea what they are all about.

KR: Then one should feel free to pursue any or all of the teachings?

M: Of course. Religion cannot be allowed to tie one up.

KR: And if one chooses to follow only one certain school, can one reach the goal that all of them aim for?

M: All roads lead to Rome. All roads come to San Francisco. All roads will take you to New York. You may ask, ‘Can I get to New York by this road?’ but you would do better to ask yourself, ‘Will I walk that road or not?’

Buddhism: A Brief Introduction, p83-84

Another interesting glimpse into the thinking of Hsuan Hua comes from the Forward to the Dharma Realm Buddhist Association‘s translation of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra.

The Venerable Hsuan Hua’s Vision

Buddhism in the modern Western world isn’t even at the kindergarten level. But what Master Hua could see at the grand scale was that three things were necessary for Buddhism to come into the West. Not just Buddhism in the West, either. To ensure the future of humanity, there were three essential things: translation, education, and maintaining the monastic tradition. Basically, Master Hua could see that humanity would have to start all over again, from a seed; it might preserve some of what we have now, but it would more or less have to start over.

The first essential element in starting over is to maintain the monastic tradition as a choice. It has to be available as a choice. People only really have two modes of living: at-home and left-home. If you live at home, you have to engage with the conditional at some level; you have to participate in some kind of strategic construct-working for a living or whatever-that will take up some amount of time. As a monastic, that’s taken care of. In exchange, you take on the responsibility of maintaining the Dharma in one way or another. As a layperson, you can stay away from spouses and pets as much as you like, but you still have to pay for your apartment and so on; you have to get involved with the conditional, and you can throw in a little meditation here and there. As a monastic, you avoid that, but you have to be a Bodhisattva. That’s the trade-off. Master Hua was very clear: when it comes down to it, it’s one or the other. Maintaining the monastic tradition is vital, as a practical issue, not a just a metaphysical one. On the one hand, people need to have this choice available to them; on the other, someone needs to maintain the Dharma.

The other two elements–education and translation–are intertwined. Whatever framework of reality is operating within a culture at a given time, it comes primarily through the educational construct. So having a thriving system, from elementary up through post-graduate studies, is indispensable to a healthy future. Translation acts a kind of liaison in that process; it can influence the educational construct and help to create an alternative to the one we have now. We’ve barely even scratched the surface of translating the Dharma into English. As more texts become available, people will be faced with a lot of different things. The Buddha was very flexible. He taught to all kinds of conditions. As more of the Dharma is brought into English, plenty of opportunities will open up for people to look at things in a new way.

Master Hua wanted to see hundreds of people working together on translation. He wanted to bring people together from all over the world. Like a Borobudur of translation. The problem is our imagination. We think so small. We don’t really consider just how big a project this could be, and how many people could work on it together. Master Hua wanted to bring everyone together. If our translation work could be like this, it could really be what he envisioned as an essential part of ensuring a better future for all of us.

Doug Powers
Vice President for Finance and Administration,
Professor, Dharma Realm Buddhist University

September 27, 2020

Vajra Sutra: The King of Kalinga

Long before in a former life, Śākyamuni Buddha had been a young cultivator practicing in the mountains about thirty miles from the capital city where the King of Kalinga held court. One day the king decided to go hunting and called together a party of soldiers, ministers, and officials to accompany him. To complete the party he summoned the most beautiful concubines in the palace. Actually he could not bear to part with his women for even the duration of a hunting trip. He found them a most pleasant pastime.

The hunting grounds on the mountain were very large, and the King of Kalinga immediately set out in pursuit of big game, leaving the timid women behind to entertain themselves. As the women strolled around on the mountain, they happened upon the young bhikṣu who was only eighteen or nineteen years old and quite handsome, despite the fact that his hair had grown long and his clothes were tattered. When they first spied him they thought he was a kind of weird creature or a man-eating beast, and they panicked. “Look,” they gasped, clutching one another, “there’s a wild animal that looks like a man!”

“I am not a wild animal, I am a cultivator of the Way,” the young man assured them.

When the concubines heard that the creature could talk their curiosity was aroused, and they edged closer to speak with him.

“What does it mean to ‘cultivate the Way’?” they asked, for they had never been outside the confines of the palace, and so had never heard of such a thing. The young cultivator spoke dharma for them. Seeing what they had never seen before, and hearing what they had never heard before, soon they were enthralled and forgot everything even who and where they were.

Meanwhile the King of Kalinga returned from his expedition to discover that his palace concubines had wandered away. He set out to find them. Eventually he caught sight of them gathered around the strange-looking man. The king, bent on discovering who the man was and what he was doing with the concubines, crept silently towards them like a spy on a secret mission. When he got close he paused, listened to the young cultivator speaking dharma, and realized that the concubines were so enraptured they had not noticed the arrival of their king. Whereupon the King of Kalinga cleared his throat and challenged the young man, “What are you doing here?”

“I am cultivating the Way,” replied the bhikṣu.

“Have you attained the fruit of Arhatship in your cultivation?” asked the king.

“No.” said the young cultivator, “I have not certified to Arhatship.”

“Have you attained the third stage?” continued the king.

“No,” said the bhikṣu, “I have not certified to the third fruit.”

“I have heard there are people who live in the mountains and by eating a certain kind of fruit they attain immortality, but they still are not free of greed and desire. They still have lust in their minds. You are so young and you haven’t certified to any of the fruits of the Way. Do you give rise to thoughts of lust?” asked the king.

“I have not cut it off,” replied the bhikṣu.

With that reply the King of Kalinga became enraged. “If you haven’t cut off lust, then when you see my… these women… you see them like this… how can you be patient with the lust which arises in your mind?” he challenged.

“Although I have not cut off lust, I do not give rise to lustful thoughts. In my cultivation I contemplate the nine kinds of impurities.”

“Ha!” spit back the king, “you cultivate the contemplation of impurities. You are a cheat! What proof do I have that you do not lust after my women? What proof that you can bear your thoughts of lust?”

“I bear them,” replied the bhikṣu. “I can bear anything.”

“Oh you can, can you? Well, we shall see about that. First I will cut off your ear.” The king unsheathed his glistening sword, took hold of the bhikṣu’s ear, and lopped it off. By that time the ministers and officials had gathered around to see what had caused such commotion. They looked at the young cultivator who appeared totally unmoved and without pain, and they pleaded with the king, “Great King, do not take your sword to him. He is a great master. He must be a Bodhisattva. You must not take your sword to him.”

“How do you know he is a Bodhisattva? How do you know?” demanded their king, bristling with jealousy.

“Look at him,” said the officials, “you cut off his ear and he did nothing. He has not even flushed. He just sits there as if nothing had happened.”

“How do you know that he feels as if nothing had happened? I wager in his mind he hates me. I shall try him out again.” He positioned his sword and neatly sliced off the bhikṣu’s nose. “Are you angry?”

“I am not angry,” replied the bhikṣu.

“You aren’t? It is more likely that you are a liar as well as a cheat. Perhaps you can cheat these women, but you can’t cheat me. I shall cut off your hand and see what you do. Can you bear it?” his voice shook as he brought down the sword again.

“It is all the same to me,” said the bhikṣu.

“All right, if it is all the same, then I shall cut off your other hand,” which he did, saying with barely controlled rage, “still not angry? Are you enraged yet?”

“No, I am not enraged,” said the bhikṣu.

“I don’t believe you. Nobody could stand to have both hands cut off and not get angry. You are certainly a freak,” he said as he cut off one of the bhikṣu’s legs. “Still not angry?”

The king chopped away at the other leg. “Angry?” he nearly screamed once more.

The maimed bhikṣu continued to sit as before, although now both his ears, his nose, both his hands and both legs were totally severed from his body. “I am not angry,” he said once again.

But by then the Four Great Heaven Kings were angry and cursing the king. They sent down a rain of hail stones the size of dumplings. The hail beat down so violently that a section of the mountain near the party fell away and went roaring down the slopes. The king froze with fear upon realizing his mistake. He knelt before the earless, noseless, handless, legless bhikṣu and begged forgiveness. “I was wrong, I was wrong,” he cried in terror. “Heaven is punishing me. Do not be angry, please do not be angry.”

“I have not become angry,” said the bhikṣu.

“That is not true,” cried the panic-stricken king. “If you are not angry, why is heaven punishing me?” He still thought the bhikṣu had called down a curse on him.

“I can prove that I have not become angry,” said the bhikṣu. “If I have, then the extremities of my body will not mend. But if I have not become angry, then my hands, legs, ears, and nose will grow hack the way they were.” No sooner had he finished speaking then his legs, hands, ears, and nose perfectly rejoined the trunk of his body. When he was whole again the bhikṣu made a solemn dedication to the king, “Upon realizing Buddhahood I will take you across first.”

Later when the young cultivator was reborn as a young prince who realized the Way and became Śākyamuni Buddha, he first went to the Deer Park to take across the former king of Kalinga, the Venerable Ājñātakauṇḍinya.

After hearing that account, some people may say, “I think I shall find a bhikṣu who practices patience in the mountains and cut off his ears, nose, hands, and legs. Then he will make the vow to take me across when he first realizes Buddhahood.” That plan would be fine if you were assured of meeting a cultivator with a compassionate, patient mind like Śākyamuni Buddha’s. However, if the cultivator gave rise to one thought of anger while you were slicing away at him, then you would fall into the unintermittent hells. So you had better think twice before attempting that method. Besides, you are not a king. If you were a king you might manage it.

Śākyamuni Buddha referred to his encounter with the King of Kalinga at that point in order to remind Subhūti that he understood the paramita of patience. “When the King of Kalinga dismembered my body, I had no mark of self, no mark of others, no mark of living beings and no mark of a life.”

The Vajra Prajna Paramita Sutra, p114-118

Vajra Sutra: Frightening Emptiness

“If someone hears the Vajra Prajña Pāramita Sūtra and is not frightened, or alarmed, or terrified.” Why would it frighten people? Ordinary people have always been attached to the mark of self, so if they are told there is no self they are very frightened. “What!” they exclaim, “Where did I go? How can there be no me? I am always here. How can I, myself, not exist?”

Those of the Two Vehicles have realized the emptiness of self, but have not yet realized the emptiness of the dharma. When they hear that “Even the dharma should be relinquished” they become terrified. “How can I give up the dharma? If I cast aside the dharma, what will I use in cultivation? I will not have anything.”

Although fully accomplished Bodhisattvas have certified to the emptiness of self and the emptiness of the dharma they have not obtained the emptiness of emptiness. They have not realized that emptiness also must be emptied. With emptiness still remaining, there is an attachment to it. The Buddhadharma teaches not to be attached to self and not to be attached to phenomena. However, when there is no self and no phenomena, emptiness arises. Involvement with that emptiness can cause one to be waylaid by it. Loitering in emptiness, stopped in stillness, one simply guards the emptiness within which one dwells. That is also a mistake. So when Bodhisattvas who have not realized the emptiness of emptiness hear of real mark, the principle substance of prajña which does not even admit of emptiness, they also become alarmed and terrified.

A person who hears the sūtra and is not frightened, or alarmed, or terrified understands the true proper dharma of prajña pāramita. Therefore Śākyamuni Buddha said, “You should know that person is most rare.”

The Vajra Prajna Paramita Sutra, p112-113

Vajra Sutra: When Subhūti Wept

Subhūti, completely understanding the meaning and implications of the doctrine of no mark expressed in the Vajra Sūtra, wept. Tears flowed from his eyes and his nose ran. Usually people cry when they are sad or worried or when something unfortunate happens, but occasionally they also cry from joy, just as Subhūti then did. “Extreme happiness brings sorrow.” The Buddha expressed the depths of prajña so thoroughly that Subhūti was overjoyed at being able to hear the specific teaching, the wonderful dharma door of prajña. Subhūti realized that his former contentment with the Small Vehicle teachings had been misguided. His awakening may be thus expressed:

“Upon realization, I do not reproach myself for the past;
I know that in the future I can rectify mistakes.
Aware that I am not too far down the muddled path,
I have now awakened to today’s rights and yesterday’s wrongs.”

The Small Vehicle was Subhūti’s “muddled path,” and his further awakening indicates that his former attachment to Small Vehicle dharmas had not been very great, he had “not gone too far down the muddled path.” “Awakened to today’s rights and yesterday’s wrongs” means he had realized it was right for him to seek the Great Vehicle dharma, and that his former fondness for the Sound-Hearer fruit of the Small Vehicle had been a mistake. He greeted those realizations with great emotion, however, so he wept for joy and exclaimed, “How rare!”

The Vajra Prajna Paramita Sutra, p108

Vajra Sutra: When Nothing Is Spoken and Nothing Is Heard

Recognizing the emptiness of all phenomena is actual truth. Recognizing the falseness of all phenomena is common truth. Recognizing that all phenomena are neither empty nor false is the truth of the Middle Way. Furthermore, throughout the present discourse on prajña, nothing has been spoken. It is just as when Subhūti eloquently spoke prajña and the Brahma Heaven King listened well to prajña, until finally Subhūti asked him, “What have I said?”

To which the Brahma god replied, “The Venerable One has not spoken.”

“Well, what have you heard?” pursued Subhūti.

“I also did not hear a thing,” came the reply.

“That is true prajña,” confirmed Subhūti.

When nothing is spoken and nothing is heard, that is called true prajña. So the prajña paramita spoken by the Buddha is not prajña paramita, but is merely called prajña paramita. It is a false name and nothing more.

The Vajra Prajna Paramita Sutra, p103-104

Vajra Sutra: The Not Spoken Dharma

Subhūti replied, “Nothing has been spoken by the Tathagata.” What do you say about that?! The Buddha spoke dharma and at the same time asked Subhūti if he had spoken any dharma. How should he be answered? Subhūti told him that he had not spoken dharma. Subhūti probably took one look and understood the principle of emptiness. He was called Empty Born because he was foremost in understanding emptiness, so he understood that with true, real prajña. It is not the case that anything is spoken. So he said, “There is nothing spoken. The Tathagata has not spoken anything.”

Most people are unable to comprehend this passage of text. Clearly the Buddha spoke dharma, and yet he asked if he had spoken dharma. Subhūti, moreover, replied that he had not spoken dharma. What is the meaning of that?

Sakyamuni Buddha and Subhūti were discoursing on true, real prajña. Since true, real prajña does not reside in a framework of language, what can be spoken? The emptiness of the dharma is beyond words and speech. The Buddha spoke dharma for forty-nine years and when the time of his nirvāṇa arrived, he said that he had not spoken one word. He said, “If anyone says the Tathagata has spoken dharma, he slanders the Buddha because he has been unable to understand what I have said.”

“Since the Buddha did not speak dharma, why are there so many sutras spoken by the Buddha?” one may rightly ask. The answer to that lies in the method of using conditioned phenomena for people bound to conditions and speaking unconditioned dharma for people who dwell in the unconditioned.

The Vajra Sūtra says, “Even the dharma should be relinquished, how much the more so what is not dharma.” The Buddha said he had not spoken dharma because he was concerned that people would become attached to the mark of dharma. Being attached to dharma is the same as being attached to self. People’s attachment to emptiness must also be broken. When the dharma door of prajña is spoken, even emptiness must not become an attachment.

The Vajra Prajna Paramita Sutra, p102-103

Vajra Sutra: The Thought of Adorning Buddha Lands

A Bodhisattva who adorns Buddhalands does not think that he is adorning Buddhalands. The adornment of Buddhalands is merely a name and nothing more. It has no real substance. Therefore a Bodhisattva Mahāsattva should produce a pure mind. A pure mind is free of attachment. That means you do not broadcast your good deeds to ensure that whatever merit and virtue may have accrued be properly credited. Such a mind is impure. It is dirty. If you have the thought of self and others when you do virtuous acts to adorn Buddhalands, then there are no virtuous acts and there is no adornment. A Bodhisattva’s mind should be pure, without self or others, and without right or wrong. Thoughts which delineate self, others, living beings, and a life are not pure. A mind which is attached to the six dusts is not pure, and is devoid of true and proper merit and virtue.

The Vajra Prajna Paramita Sutra, p83-84

Vajra Sutra: The Thought of Arhatship

Subhūti was asked if an Arhat can have the thought that he has obtained Arhatship, and he replied, “No, because although he has certified to the fruit of Arhatship, it is just a name and nothing more.” Not only upon certification to the fruit of Arhatship is there no realization, but even upon attainment of Buddhahood there is none. There is no tangible dharma which can be called Arhat. It is an empty name. If one thinks it exists, one has an attachment to dharma and has not realized the emptiness of phenomena.

If an Arhat did have the thought that he has obtained Arhatship, he would be attached to self, others, living beings, and a life. He would not have realized the emptiness of self or of phenomena, nor would he have obtained Arhatship. The thought of obtaining Arhatship carries with it the mark of self, which in turn produces its partner, the mark of others. Having the paired phenomena of self and others creates the mark of living beings, which in turn leads to the mark of a life. He would therefore be attached to the four marks.

The Vajra Prajna Paramita Sutra, p77

Vajra Sutra: Sweeping Dharma Dust

The teaching is spoken because there are people. The medicine is prescribed because there is sickness. The dharma which the Tathagata speaks cannot be grasped. It is like sweeping the floor when it is dusty. Who speaks? Who sweeps? The dharma spoken is dharma-dust, which the Tathagata sweeps away. It cannot be grasped. It is not dharma and not no dharma. What dharma is there? There are none. There isn’t anything at all.

Therefore, that which distinguishes the worthy sages is unconditioned dharma. Unconditioned dharma is non-active and devoid of marks, characterized by its lack of marks. Basically the Buddhadharma does not need to be studied. No one is apart from it; everyone is capable of knowing it. When attachment is relinquished the Buddhadharma appears. If attachments are not relinquished the more one grasps the less one has. Before everything has been put down, nothing can be picked up. It is necessary to put attachments down with the left hand and with the right hand pick up real mark prajña. But to say one can pick up prajña is just a figure of speech. That is not to say there is actually something that can be grasped with the hands. If one could grasp all of empty space in one fist, then one could grasp hold of real mark prajña. If unable to grasp all of empty space with one swipe of the hand, one should make no futile attempt to clutch at real mark prajña. Real mark prajña exhausts empty space and pervades the dharma realm. All things are basically within real mark prajña. How could a firmer grip than that be had? It is simply because of attachments that the basic substance of the dharma body has not been attained, and one’s original face not recognized. …

Those who can truly put everything down and investigate the meaning of that, can attain genuine, originally existent real mark prajña. To say it is attained is just a figure of speech. There is absolutely nothing attained because nothing was ever lost.

The Vajra Prajna Paramita Sutra, p65-66

Vajra Sutra: Giving Up The Raft

Living beings who produce the purest, most sincere thought of belief upon hearing the Vajra Sutra are those who have planted good roots before limitless millions of Buddhas. Giving rise to such a true, real mind, a mind that is without the least divergence or skepticism, they obtain limitless and unbounded blessings and virtue.

Such people have realized the emptiness of people and so have no mark of self, others, living beings, or a life. Having no self means seeing the self as empty. Having no mark of others means seeing people as empty. Self and people both empty, living beings are also empty. Naturally when living beings are empty then there is no mark of a life, which refers to the continual quest for immortality as well as to the constant pursuit of all things which one loves and cannot see through.

Having realized the emptiness of people one should also realize the emptiness of phenomena, and relinquish the mark of the non-existence of phenomena as well. When there is no longer any judgment of phenomena as being right or wrong, then one has arrived at the basic substance of dharma.

If those living beings’ minds grasp at marks, if they hold to the mark of people, they still grasp at the four marks and have not obtained liberation. They have not genuinely put everything down. If they grasp at the mark of phenomena they are still attached to the four marks; if they grasp at the mark of the nonexistence of phenomena, they are also attached to the four marks, because they have not seen through and smashed them. They have not realized the emptiness of people, of phenomena, and of emptiness itself.

Regarding that principle, the Buddha often said to the bhikṣus, “You should know that the dharma which I speak is like a raft.”

The raft is used to cross the sea of suffering birth and death.

Before you have ended birth and death, you use the raft in cultivation. Once you have ended birth and death, you should put the raft aside. If you do not put the raft aside you have an attachment. If you do not put the dharma aside you have an attachment.

Attachment to the dharma can infect one like a disease. Using the dharma which teaches the emptiness of phenomena as medicine, the disease can be cured. Once cured, if a person fails to realize he is well and continues to take medicine, then he develops a senseless attachment to the medicine, and that amounts to yet another sickness. Those who have realized the emptiness of people and the emptiness of phenomena must also relinquish attachment to the non-existence of phenomena.

The marks of phenomena should be cast aside. When one has ended birth and death one should put phenomena aside. People and phenomena are empty. One should even cast aside true proper dharma, how much the more so the non-existence of phenomena. One should relinquish all one’s persistent attachments.

The Vajra Prajna Paramita Sutra, p61-63

Vajra Sutra: Giving Without Marks of Giving

A Bodhisattva should not dwell anywhere when he practices giving. In other words, he should not be attached when he gives. If he is able to free himself from attachment, he has understood that the substance of the Three Wheels, composed of:

  1. One who gives,
  2. One who receives, and
  3. That which is given, is empty.

If your act of giving carries with it the thought, “I practice giving and have done many meritorious and virtuous deeds,” or if you are aware of the receiver, or of the goods given, then you have not left the mark of giving. You should give and be as if you had not given. If you attach to the marks of the six sense objects – forms, sounds, smells, tastes, tangible objects, and mental constructs – when giving, your merit and virtue are limited. If you fall victim to the thought, “I contributed a million dollars to a certain temple,” then all you have is a million dollars’ worth of merit. When the money runs out, so do your merit and virtue.

If you are not attached to the mark of giving, you accrue limitless merit and virtue, even by giving as little as a single cent. If you fail to practice the proper method of giving, then although you may give gifts throughout as many great kalpas as there are motes of dust, you will still have accomplished nothing. It still has been just like boiling sand to make rice; no matter how long you cook it, it never becomes rice.

Sakyamuni Buddha used the analogy of “empty space in the ten directions” to represent the extent of merit and virtue involved in the act of giving which is detached from the mark of giving. He said, “Subhūti, a Bodhisattva should only dwell in what is taught thus.” A Bodhisattva who has already resolved to realize Bodhi should think of what he has thus been taught and adhere to it in cultivation.

If you remember what you have given, then I will forget it. If you can forget it, then I will keep it in mind. It is the same with the Buddha who, knowing the minds of all living beings, is aware that you have not forgotten the merit and virtue of your acts of giving, and so he finds it unnecessary to remember them himself. When you forget them, the Buddha remembers. Do you think it is better for you or the Buddha to remember?

You think, “I am afraid that if I forget, the Buddha will forget, too, and then I simply will not have any merit at all.”

Never fear. If you forget about your acts of giving the Buddha will eternally remember them. As it says later in the Vajra Sutra, “All the various thoughts which occur to all living beings are completely known to the Tathagata.” When you do good things, you remember them, but when you do bad, do you also cherish the memories? No, you try to forget your offenses immediately, yet you fondly ponder the good you have done. You should forget the good and remember the bad. Why remember the bad? So you will not do it again. Why forget the good? So you will feel the need to do more.

The Vajra Prajna Paramita Sutra, p54-55