Author: Venerable Master Yanpei

Preface

The Universal Gateway Chapter of the Lotus Sutra, devoted to Guanyin Bodhisattva, and the Samantabhadra’s Vows Chapter of the Avatamsaka Sutra are the two most widely read and circulated chapters in Chinese Buddhist communities. Among them, the recitation and dissemination of the Universal Gateway Chapter is especially widespread. This is because the Great Bodhisattva Guanyin’s compassion is so profound, and his karmic affinity with the Saha World is the deepest of all. Though he travels to all Buddha lands in the ten directions, he remains here in the Saha World, constantly teaching and liberating the sentient beings connected to him by karmic ties.

The Buddha teaches in the sutra that the Great Bodhisattva’s merit and virtue are profound and immeasurable. Even those of modest wisdom and shallow intellect cannot glimpse even a fraction of it, and even Samantabhadra Bodhisattva, whose vows and practices are vast, cannot fathom it to the extent of a single hair or a single drop. We are ordinary, suffering-bound beings, trapped by all our afflictions—how could we possibly expound even a hundred-thousand-millionth of the Bodhisattva’s merit and virtue? Yet when I consider his intense, compassion-fueled aspiration to liberate all beings, his earnest vow to relieve suffering and rescue those in danger, and his great deeds of manifesting in countless forms suited to every kind of sentient being, answering their calls to save them from distress, I cannot help but hold him in the highest reverence. So whenever I travel to teach the Dharma, I often speak of the Great Bodhisattva’s merits, and my listeners are always eager to hear of his vast, profound vows.

In the spring of the 50th year of the Republic of China (1961), I went to Vietnam once more to teach the Dharma. The abbot of Di An Wanfo Temple invited me to give a series of lectures on the Universal Gateway Chapter for the assembly, so I agreed. At the time, the lay follower Jing Sheng recorded the talks as notes, but because I’ve spent most of my life traveling to teach the Dharma away from home, I could never determine where the original manuscript was stored, so it was never published as a book.

In 1967, the 56th year of the Republic of China, during the weekly Dharma talks at Bodhi Hermitage in Singapore, I agreed to the attendees’ requests to give a dedicated series of lectures on the Universal Gateway Chapter. Venerable Jingkai translated the talks into Cantonese for the sessions, and also volunteered to take notes of each week’s lecture, which she later shared with me to review. After reading them, I found the records to be very accurate, so I made minor revisions as the series progressed. By the time the lectures concluded, the full text ran over 100,000 words.

If anyone claims these notes offer original or special insights, I must demur—that is far more than I deserve. But I will gladly say that they are written in plain, easy-to-understand language. It moves me deeply that so many Chinese Buddhist disciples recite the Universal Gateway Chapter, and even more long to understand its meaning. This is a rare and welcome development, for the Dharma is not only something to be believed and accepted, but also something to be comprehended. Countless commentaries on the Universal Gateway Chapter have been written over the centuries, but very few are accessible to ordinary readers. When I lectured on this chapter, I aimed to explain deep principles in simple terms so everyone in the audience could follow. The recorder wrote down my words exactly as I spoke, and used her clear, fluid writing style to put the notes together, so that these lecture notes are easy for anyone to understand.

In the Universal Gateway Chapter, the Buddha teaches all sentient beings to single-mindedly recite Guanyin’s name and call upon him. Though Guanyin has a single, original form, he universally manifests in every possible physical form for sentient beings across the ten directions. This is why even in the remotest, most impoverished villages of our country, simple, unlettered men and women all know the Great Bodhisattva’s sacred name, and all venerate his holy abode. This shows how the Great Bodhisattva Guanyin’s great loving-kindness and great compassion universally embrace sentient beings of all capacities and inclinations, bringing benefit to both humans and celestial beings alike.

In this Saha World, Guanyin Bodhisattva is always with us, surrounding us on all sides, before us and behind us, to our left and our right. The only difference lies in the depth of our reverence for him: the more sincerely we revere the Bodhisattva, the closer we draw to him. This is an unshakable truth, leaving no room for even the slightest doubt.

For this reason, I hope all people in this age of widespread hardship will join in reciting Guanyin’s sacred name, to receive the Bodhisattva’s blessings and protection, so that we may know peace of body and mind in this life, and attain complete liberation in the future. Preface written on the 10th day of the 8th month, Buddhist year 2511, at Lingfeng Prajna Lecture Hall, Singapore.

Preliminary Remarks

Venerable Dharma masters! Lay Dharma friends! Time passes so quickly—another Lunar New Year has come and gone already. Starting today, I’ll be sharing the Dharma with all of you once again.

Last year we discussed the Śrīmālādevī Siṃhanāda Sūtra, which covers relatively profound philosophical teachings, so many of you may have found it a bit challenging to follow; this year, I’ve chosen to teach the Universal Gate Chapter instead, since it is a text everyone chants regularly, and I’m sure you will find it far easier to understand.

In fact, both the Śrīmālādevī Siṃhanāda Sūtra and the Lotus Sutra are teachings of the One Vehicle Great Dharma, expounded for those of high spiritual capacity; without the appropriate wisdom, they are not easy to grasp. The Universal Gate Chapter, by contrast, recounts real, lived events, so it is not at all difficult to understand!

Teaching the Universal Gate Chapter of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva to all of you this year feels especially meaningful to me, given the turbulent times we live in. Everyone alive today feels as though the world is on the edge of collapse; we truly urgently need Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva’s great compassion to save us. What’s more, only his selfless great compassion has the power to rescue the people of this present age!

The Universal Gate Chapter is entirely devoted to the fearless spirit of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, who rescues sentient beings from suffering and distress. After hearing this teaching, we should sincerely take the Bodhisattva’s compassionate vow to heart on the one hand, and earnestly awaken our own compassionate vows on the other, so that our own vows become one with the Bodhisattva’s. In this way, this suffering-laden world will be filled with Avalokiteśvara’s manifestations and saving grace on all sides, and the great calamities facing humanity can thus be dispelled.

When it comes to Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, there is no Buddhist who does not know him. The common Chinese saying, “Every household chants Amitābha, every person calls on Avalokiteśvara,” shows just how deeply he is rooted in the hearts of the people!

In fact, faith in Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, chanting his name, and making offerings to him are widespread not only in China, but also in Korea, Japan, Vietnam, and the Singapore-Malaysia region where many of you live. This is a shared faith across all regions where Mahāyāna Buddhism is practiced.

If you travel through these countries, you will see for yourself: in cities and villages, on high mountains and by the seaside—in short, wherever people live, you will find those who enshrine sacred images of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva and chant his holy name. Not only Buddhists do this; even non-Buddhists often chant Avalokiteśvara’s name without even realizing it.

At the same time, if we look at the many bodhisattvas named in Mahāyāna sūtras—especially the 80,000 bodhisattvas mentioned in the Lotus Sutra, even the eighteen foremost bodhisattvas it lists—how many of them are widely known and chanted by people today? Aside from Mañjuśrī and Maitreya Bodhisattvas, the most widely chanted of all is undoubtedly the Great Compassionate Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva. As for the other great bodhisattvas, not only are they not enshrined or chanted, but most people have rarely even heard of their names.

From this we can see how deeply karmically connected Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva is to the sentient beings of the Sahā world! How close and intimate their bond is! So we should chant Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva’s holy name more often. We should not let the compassionate salvation he offers us go to waste, and we should strive to live in tune with Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva at all times, walking the vast path of compassion and salvation for all.

1. The Origin of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva

Since Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva has such a deep karmic affinity with the sentient beings of the Sahā world, a natural question arises: Where is Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva from? And where is the sacred site where he teaches and transforms sentient beings? As this is a question many people often ask, it is worth giving a brief explanation here. Only by resolving this question in people’s hearts can we strengthen their faith in Avalokiteśvara, and inspire them to chant his holy name with devotion.

Where is Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva from, exactly? This cannot be answered by pointing to a specific country, province, township, or town in the Sahā world. According to many Mahāyāna sūtras, Avalokiteśvara is one of the two great bodhisattvas who stand on either side of Amitābha Buddha in the Western Pure Land of Sukhāvatī, located 100,000 koṭis of Buddha-lands away from the Sahā world. He is also the great bodhisattva who assists Amitābha in spreading the Dharma. He currently stands as a bodhisattva one lifetime removed from full Buddhahood (a bodhisattva in immediate succession to a Buddha); in the past, he was the Tathāgata Right Dharma Illumination, and in the future, he will succeed Amitābha Buddha and attain Buddhahood in the Western Pure Land, bearing the title Tathāgata King of the Mountain of Universal Light and Merit.

So all we can say for certain is that he is a great bodhisattva of the Western Pure Land of Sukhāvatī, endowed with boundless compassion and wisdom; there is no need to point to a specific birthplace for him here in the Sahā world.

As for the sacred sites where Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva teaches and transforms sentient beings, there are generally two categories: the fundamental sacred site, and the manifested sacred sites. The fundamental sacred site is the Western Pure Land, since Avalokiteśvara is a great bodhisattva of that pure land. All Buddhist disciples accept this fundamental sacred site as real, and no one doubts its existence.

Manifested sacred sites can be found in all worlds of the ten directions: wherever Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva teaches and transforms beings, that is a manifested sacred site of his. This means there are countless such sites, and every place can be a sacred site of Avalokiteśvara. That said, within the Sahā world, the Avataṃsaka Sūtra tells us that on the southern coast of India lies a mountain called Mount Potalaka, the first place Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva manifested in this world. To this day, Chinese Buddhists have not only never visited this site, but few even know it exists.

The most well-known sacred site of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva among Chinese people is Mount Putuo in the South China Sea, Zhejiang. In the past, huge numbers of pilgrims traveled to Putuo every year to pay their respects to Avalokiteśvara. Mount Putuo in the South China Sea is widely recognized by Chinese Buddhists as the manifested sacred site of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, and it is famous across the world. Of course, this recognition has its own karmic background, which we can briefly share now:

During the Northern and Southern Dynasties period in China, around the Zhenyuan era of the Liang dynasty, there was a Japanese monk named Venerable Huie who came to China to study the Dharma. He had deep devotion to Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva. After completing his studies and preparing to return to Japan, he brought back many sūtras, and also specially requested a statue of Avalokiteśvara to bring home and enshrine. In ancient times, transportation was not as convenient as it is today, so he of course sailed on a wooden ship. But shortly after setting off with the Avalokiteśvara statue on board, huge winds and waves suddenly rose in the sea, and no matter how hard they tried, the ship could not move forward.

In this desperate situation, he had no choice but to bring the Avalokiteśvara statue to a small island and build a simple thatched hut there to enshrine the Bodhisattva. Local fishermen who sailed the waters around the island, as well as nearby residents, often came to burn incense and pay their respects, and many inconceivable spiritual responses were recorded. More and more people came to burn incense and worship, and the small island gradually grew into a thriving settlement. Its original name, Meicen Island, was changed to Mount Putuo, which thus became the sacred site of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva.

Later, it joined the ranks of the Four Great Buddhist Mountains of China, alongside Mount Wutai in Shanxi (the sacred site of Mañjuśrī Bodhisattva), Mount Emei in Sichuan (the sacred site of Samantabhadra Bodhisattva), and Mount Jiuhua in Anhui (the sacred site of Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva), and became a major center of Chinese Buddhism.

Ever since Mount Putuo was established as the sacred site of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, many other places where his manifestations and spiritual responses have occurred have also been named sacred sites of Avalokiteśvara. To go further, any place where people believe in Avalokiteśvara, or where he is enshrined, can be called a sacred site of Avalokiteśvara. After all, the Bodhisattva teaches and transforms sentient beings across all worlds of the ten directions, and truly appears in every land without exception. No matter the place, no matter the type of sentient being in need of guidance, the Bodhisattva will always appear in the form most suited for that being to receive his Dharma. The saying “For those who should be saved by a particular form, he appears in that form and teaches the Dharma accordingly” is a perfect expression of this spirit. We will go into this in more detail later when we discuss the part of the sūtra where the Bodhisattva travels and teaches in various countries.

According to Mahāyāna Buddhist teachings, all great bodhisattvas who have practiced the bodhisattva path for eons, especially those in their final lifetime before attaining Buddhahood (bodhisattvas in the position of immediate succession to Buddhahood), are all able to “appear in every land without exception,” constantly teaching and transforming sentient beings at every moment.

Let’s take the well-known Maitreya Bodhisattva, who will attain Buddhahood in this Sahā world in the future, as an example. An ancient virtuous master composed a gāthā that reads: “Maitreya is truly Maitreya, manifesting hundreds of billions of forms, constantly appearing before the people of the world, yet the people of the world do not recognize him.”

Some people believe chanting the names of bodhisattvas is completely useless, since they have never seen a bodhisattva with their own eyes. This is a mistaken view. Let me be straightforward with all of you: bodhisattvas whose compassion penetrates to the very marrow of their bones are present before us at every moment.

Take Maitreya as an example: his name is no coincidence. He can manifest hundreds of billions of forms, appearing in all kinds of guises—sometimes as a Buddha, sometimes as a bhikṣu (monk), sometimes as an upāsaka (lay practitioner)—constantly and unceasingly, appearing at every moment before each person in need of guidance.

What is sad is that people of this age fail to recognize the Bodhisattva’s manifestations. We can only blame ourselves for not seeing that the Bodhisattva is appearing right before our eyes; we cannot claim the Bodhisattva has not manifested in this vast human world.

If Maitreya manifests in this way, then know that Avalokiteśvara does the same. If we adapt the above gāthā, we can say: “Avalokiteśvara is truly Avalokiteśvara, manifesting hundreds of billions of forms, constantly appearing before the people of the world, yet the people of the world do not recognize him.”

Among all of you seated here today, we cannot tell who is Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva and who is Maitreya Bodhisattva, but this does not mean there are no hidden manifestations of Avalokiteśvara or Maitreya in this hall. As Buddhist disciples, we should hold firm faith in this truth!

2.

The Gender of Guanyin Bodhisattva

We’ve already covered the basic details of where Guanyin Bodhisattva first appeared and the sacred sites where she manifests. There’s one more question we need to address: Is Guanyin Bodhisattva—who embodies great compassion, great wisdom, great vows, and great merit—a man or a woman? Since most Guanyin depictions you see today are female, this is a question people ask often.

At the most fundamental level, Guanyin Bodhisattva is male. What’s more, every sculpture and painting of Guanyin from China before the Tang Dynasty shows a male figure. Is there scriptural basis for this? Yes. The Avatamsaka Sutra refers to Avalokiteśvara as “the valiant, courageous man”—Avalokiteśvara is another name for Guanyin, and this description of a heroic male figure confirms that Guanyin’s true nature is male.

But when we talk about Guanyin’s manifestations, pinning down a fixed gender doesn’t really make sense. A great bodhisattva doesn’t take different forms for fun—they appear in whatever shape best serves the goal of saving sentient beings. If a group of beings needs to be guided by a male figure, Guanyin appears as a man. If another group responds better to a female form, Guanyin appears as a woman. There’s no single, fixed shape the Bodhisattva sticks to. This isn’t about the Bodhisattva’s personal preference at all. Guanyin appears in whatever form meets the needs of sentient beings, so there’s no fixed, unchanging shape the Bodhisattva is bound to.

As for why Guanyin so often appears as a woman in this world, there are specific reasons for that, which we’ll get to later. For now, let me share a story of how the Bodhisattva manifested as a woman to save beings:

During the Tang Dynasty, the Bodhisattva manifested as a young woman selling fish in Jintan, Shaanxi. This fish seller was strikingly pretty, and every morning she’d carry a basket of fish to a nearby village to sell. The village’s young men, taken by her youth and beauty, all started courting her, each hoping to win her hand in marriage. With so many suitors, the fish seller had no way to fend them all off.

So she came up with a plan and told the village young men, “There are so many of you, and I’m only one woman—I can’t possibly marry all of you. I’ll set a simple condition: whoever can fulfill it gets to marry me, and everyone else has to give up.” The young men pressed eagerly for the terms. The fish seller said, “There’s a Buddhist scripture called the Universal Gate Chapter. Whoever can memorize it in three days wins my hand.”

As it turned out, forty or fifty men had memorized the whole chapter in three days. The fish seller shook her head. “I still only have one life to give,” she said. “There are still too many of you left. Buddhism has another sutra called the Diamond Sutra—it’s longer than the Universal Gate Chapter. Whoever can memorize it in five days wins.” Driven by their infatuation, when the five days were up, more than ten men had still memorized the Diamond Sutra, and the fish seller still had no clear winner.

The fish seller made one more rule: “Buddhism also has the Mahāyāna Sutra of the Wonderful Dharma Lotus Flower. Whoever can memorize all of it in seven days will definitely marry me.” Think about it: the Lotus Sutra has seven scrolls and twenty-eight chapters—memorizing the entire thing in a week is no small feat. In the end, only one young man with the surname Ma pulled it off.

True to her word, the fish seller married the young man. Ma was overjoyed, of course, and even the other villagers were pleased for him, since he’d won the hand of such a lovely woman.

But on their wedding night, after the guests had left and the celebrations ended, the bride suddenly died of a stomach ailment! No one was more crushed than Ma, of course. He’d jumped through every hoop to win such a lively, beautiful woman, and now she was a lifeless corpse in the blink of an eye. How could he not be devastated? But grief does nothing to bring the dead back to life. All he could do was follow local custom and prepare to bury her—there was nothing else to be done.

As they carried the coffin halfway to the burial site, they ran into an old monk. “I heard you held a wedding just yesterday,” the monk said to Ma. “Why are you holding a funeral today?” Ma’s face was twisted with grief. “She was the love of my life,” he said. “I worked so hard to win her as my wife, I never imagined a vibrant, living woman would turn into a senseless corpse in the blink of an eye. How could I not be heartbroken?”

Seeing his sorrow, the old monk offered him guidance: “You young people only know how to chase after love and romance, but you don’t know to seek the truth. The woman you married yesterday was no ordinary mortal—she was a manifestation of Guanyin Bodhisattva, come to save you all. Because Guanyin’s compassion runs so deep, she saw that the old and young of your village had no knowledge of the Three Jewels, so she took this female form as a skillful means to guide and transform you. If you don’t believe me, open the coffin and see for yourself.”

Eager to prove it for themselves, they lifted the lid of the coffin—and found it empty, the beautiful woman they’d laid to rest gone without a trace. They had no choice but to believe the Bodhisattva had left using her spiritual powers. But when they turned to thank the old monk, he had vanished as well, no sign of him left anywhere.

This story makes clear that not just the fish seller, but the old monk as well, were both manifestations of Guanyin. Their goal was to shock the villagers into true awareness, so they would sincerely take refuge in the Three Jewels. After this, not only did Ma leave home to pursue spiritual practice, but the entire village came to believe in the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas and took refuge in the Three Jewels. There’s a well-known Buddhist saying that sums this up perfectly: “First, use desire as a hook to draw people in; then lead them to the wisdom of the Buddha.” This is the highest skillful means a bodhisattva can use to save beings.

Why Guanyin So Often Manifests Female Form to Teach Sentient Beings

There are two main reasons for this, which I’ll explain briefly now:

First, the Bodhisattva prioritizes rescuing the beings who suffer the most. Among humans, women have always faced the greatest hardships—this was especially true in past eras that favored men over women, when women’s suffering was far more severe than men’s. In those times, women were bound by countless restrictions: before marriage, they had to obey their parents’ every command; after marriage, they were required to submit to their husbands’ will; even in old age, if they had children, they still had to defer to their children’s wishes. Simply being a woman in this world meant enduring far more pain. Since Guanyin’s core purpose is to relieve suffering, it makes sense that she would prioritize rescuing women first. That’s why she so often appears in female form: to meet women where they are, understand their specific struggles firsthand, and then gradually guide them onto the path of Dharma practice, so they can free themselves from all suffering and find true liberation of body and mind.

Second, while women may suffer more, their innate tenderness, gentleness, and care for others is far more pronounced than men’s. Take parental love, for example: both fathers and mothers dote on their children, but if you compare the two, a mother’s love is almost always deeper and more intimate. I’ve often observed this: when small children come to their parents asking for money to buy peanuts or candy, the father will usually say, “Why do you always need money? I don’t have any to give you today”—and that’s the end of it, he won’t hand over a single coin. The mother, though, will scold the kids for asking so often, then reach into her purse and pull out the money anyway, patting them gently and saying, “Be good, go on now—don’t come begging again.” She says this every time, but when the kids come back asking, she does the exact same thing. This is why a mother’s love for her children always goes a step beyond a father’s.

Guanyin Bodhisattva is the very embodiment of great compassion and kindness, and appearing in female form is simply a way of taking the world’s maternal love, purifying it, and expanding it into universal compassion for all beings. The maternal love we see in the world, while often very sincere, is also very narrow: it only extends to one’s own children, not to the children of others, and it often carries with it traces of attachment and selfishness. People often say a parent’s love for their children is unconditional, but if you look closely, that “unconditional” love has unspoken conditions of its own. As the old Chinese saying goes, “Store grain to guard against famine, raise children to support you in old age.” Isn’t that a condition, when you think about it?

This means the Bodhisattva’s compassion is fundamentally different from ordinary parental love in two key ways: ordinary parental love is neither all-embracing nor unconditional, while Guanyin’s compassion is both. She takes the maternal love of the world, purifies it, and expands it to cover all sentient beings, not just a select few. That’s why the Bodhisattva’s compassion is so vast and noble—it can’t be compared to the limited, worldly love of ordinary parents. Guanyin knows how precious and rare true maternal love is in this world, which is why she so often appears in female form. She hopes to connect with ordinary women as one of their own, to show them that they don’t have to be trapped in the narrow scope of loving only their own families. Instead, they can take that same maternal instinct and direct it toward all sentient beings, so that every being can escape suffering, find happiness, transcend the cycle of birth and death, and attain full, perfect enlightenment.

These are the two main reasons Guanyin Bodhisattva manifests female form. But I urge you all to keep one key point firmly in mind: this is only a manifestation of the Bodhisattva’s skillful means. You must never assume that Guanyin’s true nature is female. 三

观音的千手千眼

The Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed Guanyin Bodhisattva manifests in countless forms to respond to the needs of different beings, appearing as Fish Basket Guanyin, Child-Giving Guanyin, White-Robed Guanyin, Guanyin Standing on a Turtle’s Head, Eight-Armed Guanyin, Sixteen-Armed Guanyin, Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed Guanyin, and so on—all forms well known to many. Among these manifestations, the Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed Guanyin is one many people find puzzling, so we will offer a brief explanation here: Most of us are accustomed to a person having only two hands and two eyes. If someone is especially capable or skilled, we describe them as extraordinary, as though they had three heads and six arms. Just the idea of someone with three heads and six arms strikes us as remarkable enough. How much vaster, then, must be the power of Guanyin Bodhisattva, who is said to have a thousand hands and a thousand eyes?

It is natural to wonder why Guanyin Bodhisattva has a thousand hands and a thousand eyes, and what these symbols signify. This is a question worth addressing, for if we do not, we will find ourselves at a loss if others ask us about it—and even worse, we may carry private doubts ourselves that prevent us from reciting Guanyin Bodhisattva’s sacred name with genuine devotion and sincerity. To answer this, we will first look to the traditional stories, then explore a reasoned interpretation.

According to records in the Gazetteer of Ruzhou (汝州志), there once lived a woman named Miaoshan (妙善), the third daughter of King Zhuang of Chu. She was a daughter of exceptional filial piety. When King Zhuang fell critically ill, his physicians declared that the only cure required the hands and eyes of a close relative. Upon hearing this, Princess Miaoshan, without the slightest hesitation, cut off her own hands and eyes to cure her father’s grave illness, and he was restored to health. Once the king had recovered, the princess passed away seated in meditation. The physician declared her to be the Bodhisattva of Great Compassion (大悲菩萨), and the physician himself immediately vanished. King Zhuang thereupon posthumously honored the princess as the Bodhisattva of Great Compassion, built Xiangshan Temple in her honor, and had a thousand-armed, thousand-eyed image sculpted for it. Some say the king ordered a sculpture with fully formed hands and eyes, but a eunuch mistakenly carved it with a thousand hands and a thousand eyes, giving rise to the iconography of the Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed Guanyin. As this story does not appear in the Record of Inspired Responses (感通录), however, it is clearly an unsubstantiated legend.

According to widespread folk tradition, the Bodhisattva was King Zhuang of Chu’s third daughter, named Miaoshan. Because she sacrificed her hands and eyes to cure her father’s dire illness, she appeared in the form of the thousand-armed, thousand-eyed image. The Comprehensive Chronicle (编年通论) records that this story was shared by a deva with the eminent Nanshan Dharma Master Daoxuan. This, too, is no more than a traditional legend.

According to the Dhāraṇī Sūtra of Great Compassion (大悲心陀罗尼经), in the past, when Guanyin Bodhisattva was in the presence of the Tathāgata known as the Calm-Abiding King of a Thousand Lights (千光王静住如来), that Tathāgata imparted to her the “Great Dhāraṇī of the Vast, Perfect, and Unhindered Great Compassionate Mind” (广大圆满无碍大悲心大陀罗尼), and instructed her to uphold this mantra-heart so that in the coming degenerate age, she might universally bring great benefit and joy to all sentient beings. Upon hearing this dhāraṇī, Guanyin Bodhisattva immediately uttered a great vow: “If, in a future age, I can bring benefit and joy to even a single sentient being, may my body instantly manifest a thousand hands and a thousand eyes.” No sooner had this vow been uttered than a thousand hands and a thousand eyes appeared upon her form. The earth of the ten directions trembled, and the Buddhas of the ten directions radiated infinite light, illuminating all the boundless worlds of the ten directions. This is the origin of the name “Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed Guanyin Bodhisattva.” Of course, this is a symbolic account, which we will explain briefly now.

The “thousand hands” are a symbol of the boundless power Guanyin Bodhisattva wields to save sentient beings. Think of everyday experience: if you try to move a heavy object with only one hand, no matter how hard you push or pull, it won’t budge. Anyone watching would tell you to use both hands, and suddenly the job becomes possible. One extra hand adds a measure of strength. Or imagine someone who is completely swamped with work, saying they have no way to keep up. If they had a few extra hands, or a few helpers to split the tasks with, everything would become far more manageable. This is plain to see: more hands mean more strength, and more strength means more can be done. We apply this same logic to the thousand hands of Guanyin Bodhisattva. The beings she guides are countless, and the students who practice the Dharma under her are countless as well. When their practice and understanding reach a high enough level, she sends them out in all directions to teach and guide others. The power these students manifest in their own spheres is an extension of the Bodhisattva’s own power. So the thousand hands represent nothing more than the vast, far-reaching power of Guanyin Bodhisattva’s work to save beings. We do not need to take the image literally, as though the Bodhisattva actually has a thousand physical hands.

The “thousand eyes” are a symbol of Guanyin Bodhisattva’s deep, unfathomable wisdom. Consider ordinary sight: if you look at something with only one eye, it may appear blurry or unclear. Open both eyes, and whatever is before you comes into sharp focus. If two eyes give us such clear vision, how much clearer must a thousand eyes see? But Guanyin Bodhisattva’s way of seeing is not the same as ordinary people’s reliance on physical eyes alone. She perceives with the eye of wisdom, looking deeply and analyzing thoroughly. Her wisdom is thus exceedingly profound and subtle. With this wisdom-eye, she can see the true nature of all dharmas across the entire universe, and discern the unique capacities and needs of every sentient being. She responds to these different capacities and needs with tailored teachings and guidance, adapting her approach to each individual. If our own wisdom is limited, even if we wish to save sentient beings, we can only offer a single teaching to everyone, unable to bring universal benefit. Because Guanyin Bodhisattva’s wisdom is so profound and subtle, she can teach the right Dharma to each and every being according to their needs. For this reason, the thousand eyes represent her wisdom.

Putting these two symbols together, we can see that the thousand hands and thousand eyes stand for the Bodhisattva’s great power and great wisdom. Such vast power and wisdom are not within the reach of ordinary beings; only a great bodhisattva possesses them. This is why she is known as the Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed Guanyin Bodhisattva.

四　普门品流通的原因

The character pǐn (品) in “Universal Gateway Chapter” means “category.” Most Mahāyāna sūtras are organized into pǐn: all passages dealing with the same topic are grouped together under a single heading. This pǐn collects all the passages describing Guanyin Bodhisattva’s many acts of salvation and diverse manifestations, which is why it is called the Universal Gateway Chapter. The Wonderful Dharma Lotus Sūtra has twenty-eight pǐn in total, and this is the twenty-fifth.

This brings us to the question at hand: with twenty-eight pǐn in the full Lotus Sūtra, why is it that this single pǐn is recited, taught, explained, and circulated far more than all the others? There are clear reasons for this. The most important is that Guanyin Bodhisattva has a deep karmic connection with the beings of this world, especially the people of China, Japan, Korea, and Vietnam. There is also another specific reason for how widely this pǐn has been spread, tied to an episode from Chinese history.

During the period of the Five Hu and Sixteen Kingdoms, when northern China was overrun by nomadic groups known as the Five Barbarians, there was a small realm called Northern Liang, ruled by Juqu Mengxun (沮渠蒙逊). He once fell gravely ill, to the point where all his physicians were stumped and every medicine failed; there seemed to be no hope left but death. Just then, the Dharma master Tanwuchen (昙无谶), who was traveling through northern China translating sūtras and teaching the Dharma, heard of the ruler’s illness. He went of his own accord to the palace and told the king’s attendants: “This is not a physical illness that worldly medicine can cure. It is a karmic blockage rooted in the mind. But I see that the ruler’s lifespan has not yet run out, and there is a way to help him. There is a sutra in Buddhism called the Wonderful Dharma Lotus Sūtra, which contains a section on Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva called the Universal Gateway Chapter. If the ruler recites this section with sincere, wholehearted devotion, he will receive Guanyin Bodhisattva’s compassionate blessing, which can clear his karmic illness and restore him to health.” When the court ministers heard this, they immediately relayed the message to the king. Desperate to recover, the ruler and his officials followed Master Tanwuchen’s advice, and recited the Universal Gateway Chapter with earnest, sincere devotion. Miraculously, it worked: within a short time, the king’s illness vanished and he was restored to full health.

After this, the ruler ordered all his subjects to recite the Universal Gateway Chapter, and many ordinary people took up the practice of their own accord. Countless people recovered from karmic illnesses by reciting this pǐn. From that time to the present, this section has been circulated more widely in China than any other part of the Lotus Sūtra, taught more often, recited by more people, and commented on in more texts. Its status as a standalone, widely circulated text comes directly from this historical event. There are many recorded cases of people in China receiving responses after reciting the Universal Gateway Chapter. One example is a Yuan dynasty woman known as Tao Shiliu Niang (陶氏十六娘). Widowed at twenty-six and childless, she recited the Guanyin Universal Gateway Chapter constantly. One night, she dreamed of a figure in white robes who offered her a white lotus flower to eat. Three years later, she saw the light of the Buddha, and a fireball the size of a marble appeared on top of her sutra box. Fearing the sutra would burn, she reached out to smother the flame, and found a single śarīra in her hand after it vanished. At the moment of her death, transformed Buddhas came to welcome her, and she passed away peacefully amid the assembly.

五　本品品题的略释

This chapter is titled “Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva’s Universal Gateway Chapter” (观世音菩萨普门品), eight characters in all. Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva is the “person” of the title; the Universal Gateway is the “Dharma” of the title. The Bodhisattva is the one who realizes the Dharma, and the Universal Gateway is the Dharma she realizes. This is why the chapter is named for both a person and a teaching. The five characters of the person-title, “Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva,” break down into two parts: the first three characters are a specific name that applies only to Avalokiteśvara; the final two, “Bodhisattva,” are a general title for anyone who has awakened bodhicitta and walks the bodhisattva path—it is not a name reserved for any one being.

Avalokiteśvara (观世音) is the Bodhisattva’s virtue-based epithet. She is also known as “World-Illuminating Sound” (光世音), “Contemplating Self-Existence” (观自在), or simply “Guanyin” (观音) for short. “Avalokiteśvara” is the translation rendered by Tripitaka Master Kumārajīva; “World-Illuminating Sound” comes from Tripitaka Master Dharmarakṣa; and “Contemplating Self-Existence” is the translation of Tripitaka Master Xuanzang. Other variations include “Contemplating the World’s Self-Existence” (观世自在) and “Holy Contemplator of Self-Existence” (圣观自在), where “holy” (圣) is a term of praise.

The name “Contemplating Self-Existence” (观自在) has two meanings, according to Fazang’s Brief Commentary on the Heart Sūtra (心经略疏). First, from the perspective of wisdom: it refers to the fact that Avalokiteśvara’s wisdom has attained complete freedom with regard to all phenomena and principles, unobstructed by even the slightest limit. Second, from the perspective of compassion: it refers to the fact that her great compassion has likewise attained complete freedom when she goes to rescue and guide beings in line with their capacities, never facing any obstacle or difficulty. She is called “Contemplating Self-Existence” because she freely moves through the world to remove suffering and grant joy to beings. We will explain the meaning of Kumārajīva’s translation “Avalokiteśvara” (观世音) in detail when we turn to the sūtra text itself.

All of these different names refer to the same being. Kumārajīva’s translation prioritized conveying the meaning of the name, while Xuanzang’s prioritized a more literal rendering, which is why their translations differ. There is no need to say one is correct and the other is not. To this day, the name most commonly recited by people in China is “Guanyin” or “Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva” (观音 or 观世音菩萨).

“Bodhisattva” is the shortened form of the original Sanskrit term; the full term is bodhisattva (菩提萨埵). In Chinese, it is translated as “enlightened being who carries sentient beings” (觉有情)—referring to a being of vast mind who seeks supreme enlightenment for themselves above, and works to transform sentient beings below. The pursuit of supreme enlightenment is the function of great wisdom; the work of transforming sentient beings is the function of great compassion. All bodhisattvas therefore practice the unity of wisdom and compassion in action. But when Buddhism speaks of a bodhisattva, it does not refer only to the great bodhisattvas enshrined in temple halls. It refers to living bodhisattvas: ordinary people who have already generated bodhicitta and are actively walking the bodhisattva path in the world.

Now let us turn to the three characters of the Dharma-title, “Universal Gateway Chapter” (普门品). As we noted earlier, pǐn (品) means “category”: things of the same kind are grouped together, as the saying goes, “things gather according to their kind.” In the Wonderful Dharma Lotus Sūtra, the Buddha collects all teachings related to Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva and presents them here, which is why this section is called a pǐn. “Universal” (普) means all-encompassing, and “gate” (门) refers to a path that allows passage. Think of the front door of a house: with a door in place, anyone can freely come and go. If a house had no door at all, no one could enter from outside, nor could anyone leave from inside. In the Buddhist teaching, it is said that there are ten gates leading from the lowest realm of hell all the way to Buddhahood, and the key to each gate lies in your own hands. If you wish to enter a particular gate, you need only take up its key and turn it; without doing so, you cannot pass through.

Take the gate of hell, for instance: it is kept shut tight under normal circumstances. How could anyone enter? The answer is simple: if you commit the karma of the five grave offenses and the ten evil acts, you earn the key to the gate of hell. With that key in hand, you can open the gate whenever you wish and walk straight in. If you do not have this key, no matter how badly you might want to enter, you will never find a way in. The difference between the states on either side of a gate is enormous. Some gates lead to great happiness, like the heavenly realms, where beings constantly enjoy the pleasures of desire and the bliss of deep meditation. Others lead to great suffering, like the three lower realms, where beings endure the agony of extreme cold and heat, the pain of violent death, or the torment of hunger and thirst. But every key is in your own hands. If you wish to enter a particular gate, the choice is entirely yours.

That said, while the ten dharma-realms each have their own gate, only one can be called the Universal Gate: the gate of the Buddha path. The gates of the six worldly destinies are gates of defiled existence; you cannot pass through them to reach the undefiled, so they are not the Universal Gate. The gates of the two vehicles beyond the worldly path are often called the gate of emptiness, but they only liberate beings from half of the afflictions of birth and death; their gate is therefore not universal. The bodhisattva’s gate falls between the two extremes of emptiness and existence, unable to fully unify these two truths; for this reason, it too cannot be called the Universal Gate.

The Buddha is called the Universal Gate because, after attaining enlightenment, she acts from her great compassionate vows to go into the hell realms and teach sentient beings. Even if the gate to hell is barred shut, she can enter whenever she wishes, with no obstruction at all, by the power of her vows. She comes and goes through the gate of hell just as freely as she passes through the gates of the hungry ghost and animal realms, unimpeded and at ease. This is why she is called the Universal Gate. At this point, you may wonder: if only a Buddha can be called the Universal Gate, and Avalokiteśvara is still a bodhisattva who has not yet attained full Buddhahood, how can she bear this title? This is easily explained by looking at both her fundamental nature and her manifest activity. From the perspective of her fundamental nature, Avalokiteśvara attained full Buddhahood long ago, under the name Right Dharma Brightness Tathāgata (正法明如来). She possesses all the vows and merits of a Buddha, so she is fully worthy of the title Universal Gate. From the perspective of her manifest activity, although she has not yet taken the final step to full Buddhahood in this current era, she has already reached the stage of a next-abode bodhisattva (补处), one who is poised to become a Buddha in the very next lifetime. She possesses all the merits of a Buddha, and can travel through any of the ten gates to save beings. For this reason, the title Universal Gate is entirely appropriate for her.

六

We touched briefly on the meaning of “Universal Gate” when explaining the chapter title, but the term carries further depth that warrants a closer look on its own. Let’s break it down as follows:

1. The Universal Gate of Compassion

Compassion is a core Dharma gate in Buddhism, and a phrase you’ll constantly hear on the lips of Buddhist practitioners. If you ask someone for a favor and they say they’re too busy, you might tease, “Have a little compassion.” Or when someone makes a request of Buddhist practitioners, they’ll say, “You Buddhists are rooted in compassion—I’m sure you’ll grant my wish.” Compassion comes up in countless everyday contexts, which speaks to how central it is to the Buddhist path. At its core, compassion means to bring joy to beings and free them from suffering.

Though we use the same word for all these acts, compassion runs deep and shallow, wide and narrow. Buddhism generally sorts it into three categories:

• a. Afflicted Compassion (some sutras call it compassion born of worldly attachment): Every ordinary person has this kind of compassion. The care parents show their children is a clear example. But this compassion is neither universal nor vast; it is also bound up with defilement and discriminatory thinking. It cannot extend to rescue all sentient beings, so it is limited and finite, and cannot be called a Universal Gate.
• b. Dharma-Related Compassion: This is beyond the reach of ordinary people; it is the compassion of the sages of the Two Vehicles (Śrāvakas and Pratyekabuddhas). These sages see that all phenomena in the universe, and their own personal life aggregates, are assembled from countless causes and conditions. All things arise dependently, with no inherent nature of their own, and all dharmas are empty. But they only grasp emptiness, and do not realize the aspect of non-emptiness. They can only teach beings in accordance with their conditions, but cannot teach all sentient beings universally, so their compassion is still not a Universal Gate.
• c. Unconditioned Compassion: This is the compassion of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, and the only kind that can truly be called the Universal Gate of Compassion. Broken down, it is great unconditioned compassion and great compassion of shared substance. Buddhas and Bodhisattvas alike understand this truth: sentient beings are the sentient beings that dwell in their own minds. From their perspective, sentient beings are not separate from themselves. Every pang of suffering a sentient being feels is their own suffering; if a sentient being has no joy, it is as if they themselves have none. To put it in the terms of Chinese Confucianism, this is what is called “worried by what worries them, joyful by what brings them joy.”

From the perspective of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, there is no inherent suffering for them to grieve, nor any inherent joy for them to cling to. But because they see sentient beings suffer, that suffering becomes their own; because they see sentient beings happy, their own hearts light up with joy. When they see a being liberated, it is as if they themselves are free. In the minds of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, there is only the suffering and joy of sentient beings—no separate self. Because of this, they never perceive a distinction between self and other. They spend every moment liberating beings, yet do not see a single being they have personally saved. They blend themselves and all sentient beings into one, so there is no telling who is the liberator and who is the liberated. Even with no distinction between the one who acts and the one who is acted upon, they keep on, unceasing and diligent, teaching and liberating every sentient being across the ten directions of the world. Not a single being is left outside the reach of their compassion. This is great unconditioned compassion, great compassion of shared substance, and the true Universal Gate of Compassion.

Guanyin Bodhisattva is great in compassion, great in rescuing beings from suffering and resolving calamities, so the compassion he embodies is exactly this unconditioned compassion. Precisely because the Bodhisattva carries such vast compassion, he uses it in this Sahā world to teach and liberate every being he is meant to reach, which is why he is also called the Universal Gate of Compassion.

2. The Universal Gate of Teaching the Dharma

Buddhas and Bodhisattvas do not appear in the world for their own sake, but for the sake of sentient beings, to teach them the Dharma. The teachings the Buddha gave for sentient beings are countless: great teachings and small, teachings on emptiness and teachings on existence, provisional and ultimate—all of every variety. Ordinary people who teach the Dharma to liberate beings lack the wisdom to discern the different capacities of their listeners, so when they teach the great teachings, they cannot also teach the small; when they teach the small, they cannot also teach the great. The same goes for teachings on emptiness, existence, provisional and ultimate dharmas. Their teachings do not reach everyone, so they cannot be called a Universal Gate.

Guanyin Bodhisattva possesses profound, subtle wisdom. When he teaches the Dharma at a single assembly, he expounds many different dharmas, so that every person present feels the teaching is directed exactly at them, and all can receive real benefit from the Buddhist Dharma. This is what we call the Universal Gate of Teaching the Dharma.

There is also a vast difference between the language ordinary people use to teach and the language Bodhisattvas use. Language varies from region to region, and differs across the six paths of existence. For example, I cannot speak Cantonese, Hokkien, or other local dialects, so when teaching the Dharma to Cantonese speakers I have to translate into Cantonese, and when teaching to Hokkien speakers I have to translate into Hokkien. Otherwise, people in those regions won’t understand a word I’m saying, so this cannot be called a Universal Gate. Guanyin Bodhisattva has attained the samādhi of language:

“He can teach the Dharma with a single voice, and sentient beings of each kind each understand it in their own way.”

This is no small feat! The Bodhisattva emits only one sound, but when different kinds of sentient beings hear it, it sounds like their own language: to Hokkien speakers it sounds like Hokkien, to Cantonese speakers like Cantonese, to the eight classes of celestial and earthly beings like their own tongue. Only a Buddha or Bodhisattva can accomplish such a thing. This is the Universal Gate of Teaching the Dharma. 7

Sister Chapters to the Universal Gate Chapter

Though the Universal Gate Chapter was extracted from the Lotus Sutra to circulate on its own—a mark of its importance—the Lotus Sutra itself is the Tathāgata’s ultimate teaching that opens the provisional to reveal the true, the full exposition of the supreme Dharma of the One Vehicle. Every one of its 28 chapters is deeply important; we cannot dismiss any chapter as irrelevant to the core teaching.

That said, since ancient times, great masters have singled out four chapters from the sutra as the most important of the important, each representing a unique significance. According to the traditional distinctions drawn by scholars of old:

• The Expedient Means Chapter illustrates the first step of the path: arousing the mind of enlightenment. The mind of enlightenment is what we generally call motivation. Whatever you set out to do, you must first arouse this mind, or have a clear intention. In Buddhism, the path you ultimately walk depends on the intention you set now. For the Mahāyāna path, the central intention is arousing bodhicitta.
• The Practice of Peaceful Conduct Chapter shows how a person practices in accordance with the Dharma after arousing the mind of enlightenment. Practice is what we generally call putting the path into action. Once you have aroused bodhicitta, you will naturally want to advance along the bodhi path—but you must do so in line with the Dharma and precepts. This chapter offers clear guidance for this.
• The Lifespan of the Tathāgata Chapter shows that a person attains the supreme, unexcelled bodhi through practice: effort applied in this way is never wasted, and always bears fruit.
• The Universal Gate Chapter we are discussing now illustrates the unabiding supreme nirvāṇa a person attains, which allows them to liberate beings without abiding in saṃsāra or nirvāṇa—exactly as exemplified by Guanyin Bodhisattva, making it the clearest demonstration of unabiding supreme nirvāṇa. For anyone studying and practicing the Buddhist Dharma, these four chapters map the three sequential stages of the path: arousing the mind, practicing, and attaining the fruit. Since the ultimate fruit of the Mahāyāna path has two aspects—the great bodhi fruit and the great nirvāṇa fruit—it is split into two chapters. From this analysis, we can see these four chapters are the most important in the entire Lotus Sutra, and are the sister chapters of the Universal Gate Chapter.

The Universal Gate Chapter is the 25th of the Lotus Sutra’s 28 chapters. Now that we have named the four most important chapters, let’s take a quick look at the content of all 28 chapters in order. According to the traditional divisions of ancient masters, the 28 chapters fall into two main sections: what the Tiantai school calls the Trace Gate and the Origin Gate. The first 14 chapters explain the Trace Gate, and the latter 14 explain the Origin Gate.

The terms “Trace Gate” and “Origin Gate” may sound strange and hard to grasp at first, so a brief explanation is in order. “Origin” refers to the fundamental nature: looking at Śākyamuni Buddha from this fundamental perspective, he attained Buddhahood an immeasurably long time ago—far earlier than we can possibly imagine. In the 16th chapter of the Lotus Sutra, the Lifespan of the Tathāgata Chapter, there is the following passage:

“All the heavenly beings, humans and asuras in the world think that the present Śākyamuni Buddha, after leaving the palace of the Śākya clan, not far from the city of Gayā, sat at the bodhi seat and attained anuttarā samyaksaṃbodhi. But, good sons! I actually attained Buddhahood immeasurable, boundless, hundreds of thousands of tens of millions of nayutas of kalpas ago. For example, if five hundred thousand tens of millions of nayutas of asaṃkhyeya three thousand great thousand worlds were ground into dust, and someone took one dust and dropped it beyond the eastern direction five hundred thousand tens of millions of nayutas of asaṃkhyeya countries, and traveled east dropping one dust at a time, [all the worlds passed would be filled with dust]… If all these worlds, whether the dust lands on them or not, are all counted as dust, then one dust represents one kalpa, and the time since I attained Buddhahood is even longer than that by hundreds of thousands of tens of millions of nayutas of asaṃkhyeya kalpas.”

This makes clear that the Buddha attained Buddhahood an immeasurably long time ago—he is not the Śākyamuni who attained Buddhahood just over 2,500 years ago, as most people believe.

“Trace” refers to manifested activity: it is the activity of the World-Honored One, who after attaining Buddhahood long ago, constantly appears in various worlds to teach and liberate sentient beings. All manifestations a Buddha displays are called “traces.” Traces arise from the Origin; they are manifestations of the fundamental, so of course they are not the fundamental itself. The Brahmā Net Sūtra says: “I have come to this world eight thousand times, sitting on the vajra flower-light royal throne for this Sahā world…” This, of course, refers to these manifested traces. The Lotus Sutra says: “Since that time, I have constantly been in this Sahā world teaching the Dharma and liberating sentient beings, and also in other places, across hundreds of thousands of tens of millions of nayutas of asaṃkhyeya countries, guiding sentient beings. Good sons! In between, I spoke of the Buddha Dīpaṃkara and others, and also said that they entered parinirvāṇa—all of these were just expedient means to tailor the teaching for sentient beings.” This too is a trace, not the Origin.

In short, all the Śākyamuni Buddha we know belongs to the Trace Gate; the Origin Gate lies in an immeasurably distant past, far beyond our ability to fathom. Why does the Buddha keep appearing in the world, rather than staying long to teach and liberate beings? This too comes from an unavoidable hardship on the Buddha’s part. Most sentient beings have a habit: when they see the Buddha often, they come to see him as ordinary, and are unwilling to follow his teachings in accordance with the Dharma. The Lotus Sutra’s Lifespan of the Tathāgata Chapter says:

“If the Buddha remains in the world for a long time, people with little virtue will not plant good roots, [they will be] poor and lowly, greedy and attached to the five desires, caught in the net of deluded views and false thinking. If they see the Tathāgata constantly present and not passing away, they will become arrogant and lax, develop a mind of weariness, and will not be able to generate the mind of reverence for the rare encounter [with the Buddha].”

So the Buddha has no choice but to appear in the world again and again, and pass into parinirvāṇa again and again, to rouse sentient beings from their complacency. 8

The four characters of the sūtra’s title, Wonderful Dharma Lotus Blossom, are no small matter to unpack fully. Master Zhiyi of the Tiantai school alone spent ninety days expounding just the single character “wonderful” (miao) — a story so well-loved it’s become a classic anecdote in the history of Chinese sūtra commentary, known as the “Ninety Days of Discussing the Wonderful.” It’s impossible to offer a thorough explanation in a short span, so I’ll just give a brief overview here.

The character dharma in Wonderful Dharma refers to all dharmas: worldly and transcendent, defiled and undefiled, conditioned and unconditioned, the dharmas of ordinary beings and the dharmas of sages — every possible kind is included within its scope. It would be impossible to explain every single one of these dharmas in detail, and there’s no need to do so anyway. For this reason, Buddhism groups the infinite, boundless dharmas into three broad categories: the dharmas of mind, the dharmas of sentient beings, and the dharmas of the Buddha. All three categories are deeply subtle and wondrous, which is why we call this the “wonderful dharma”: mind dharmas are wondrous, sentient being dharmas are wondrous, and Buddha dharmas are wondrous too. Taken individually, each is wondrous, but even more wondrous is that these three dharmas are not separate at all. As the saying goes, “Mind dharmas and sentient beings, these three are without distinction” — that is exactly the point. This is a deep principle, not easy to understand at first, but this inconceivable wonderful dharma is something every person has within them from the start — it must not be ignored. Ordinary beings are ordinary because they have lost sight of this wonderful dharma; Buddhas are Buddhas because they have awakened to it. That’s why it’s worth taking a moment to clarify this difference.

First, why are mind dharmas wondrous? To grasp this, we first need to revisit the ten dharma realms mentioned earlier. The ten dharma realms are: the hell realm, the hungry ghost realm, the animal realm, the asura realm, the human realm, the heavenly realm, the śrāvaka realm, the pratyekabuddha realm, the bodhisattva realm, and the Buddha realm. Taken separately, these ten realms are distinct and easy to tell apart. But the principle that all realms interpenetrate one another is far more profound and harder to wrap your head around. What we call realm-interpenetration simply means that every single realm contains all nine of the others within it. Take the hell realm: it is not only the hell realm, it also holds all nine other realms within it. The same goes even for the Buddha realm — it is not only the Buddha realm, but contains all nine others as well. If every one of the ten realms contains all ten, that gives us one hundred realms total — and all one hundred of these realms are present in a single thought of our mind.

Take the human realm as an example. If we center ourselves on the present moment’s single thought, any mind that awakens will generate thoughts that shift from moment to moment: a single flash of anger, and you fall into the hell realm; a single thought of greed, and you fall into the hungry ghost realm; a single thought of delusion, and you fall into the animal realm; a single thought of jealousy, and you fall into the asura realm; a single thought of keeping precepts and doing good, and you land in the human realm; thoughts of the ten good deeds, the four dhyānas, and the eight concentrations, and you rise to the heavenly realm; a single thought of emptiness, and you enter the śrāvaka realm; a single thought of dependent origination, and you enter the pratyekabuddha realm; a single thought of great bodhicitta, and you enter the bodhisattva realm; a single thought of compassionate, impartial mind, and you enter the Buddha realm. The human realm holds all ten realms in this way, and each of the other nine realms does the same. All ten realms interpenetrate to form one hundred realms, and every one of those hundred realms lives right here in this single thought of mind. This is why mind dharmas are called wondrous: they are inconceivable.

Since a single thought in a sentient being’s mind contains all ten dharma realms, this means that both Śākyamuni and Amitābha are present within our own minds. That’s why Mahāyāna Buddhism often says, “This mind creates Buddhahood, this mind is Buddhahood.” This makes clear that a single thought in a sentient being’s mind is already a Buddha in this very moment, or that a single thought in a sentient being’s mind can practice and realize Buddhahood. From this we can also say, “This mind is a bodhisattva, this mind creates a bodhisattva.” Bodhisattvas are formed by this single thought of mind: as long as we intend to be bodhisattvas, we can become bodhisattvas in this very moment. Not only that, but this very mind is itself a bodhisattva — bodhisattvas do not exist outside the minds of sentient beings. This is explained from the standpoint of transcendent sages, so we call this the wondrousness of mind dharmas. If we look at this from the standpoint of worldly dharmas, the same principle holds. Take heaven and hell, for instance. There is no pre-made path to either: they are created entirely by our own choices. The bright, open road to heaven is paved by your own efforts; the dark, rough path to hell is walked by your own choices. No one else can carry you up to heaven, or shove you down into hell. As the saying goes, “The mind contains hell, the mind creates hell; the mind contains heaven, the mind creates heaven.” Since both heaven and hell are of our own making, this proves that our single thought of mind is inconceivable — which is why we call this the wondrousness of mind dharmas.

How do we know all dharmas arise from the mind? The Śūraṅgama Sūtra says: “When the mind arises, all dharmas arise; when the mind ceases, all dharmas cease.” From this we know that every worldly and transcendent dharma comes into being with the arising of the mind. If this present thought of mind did not exist, no dharma could exist at all! Sadly, people use this mind every single day, yet never truly come to know it. If they did, every problem could be resolved. Ancient masters put it this way, to show how essential knowing the mind is: “If a person recognizes their mind, the great earth has not an inch of soil left.” This is why the most important task in life is to come to know your own mind. The mind is plainly here, present in every moment, yet knowing it is not as easy as it might seem. The true nature of our original mind has been covered over by endless accumulated habits since beginningless time. Without the work of scraping away the dirt and polishing off the grime, we cannot see the mind’s true face. That is why the Buddha-dharma teaches us to cultivate the mind.

Next, why are sentient being dharmas wondrous? “Sentient beings” here refers to each of us as living, feeling beings. All the actions of sentient beings in the world boil down to the three karmas of body, speech, and mind. Every action of these three karmas, no matter what it is directed toward, is driven by afflictions, so we create many good, bad, and defiled karmic deeds. Pulled along by these good and bad karmic deeds, we spin through the cycle of birth and death, experiencing all kinds of suffering. From this we can see that all sentient beings have in this world is nothing but the endless turning wheel of delusion, karma, and suffering. Looked at from this angle, it all seems crude and ordinary — so how can we call it wondrous? That’s true, but if we look at it from another angle, we can absolutely call this “coarseness turning into wondrousness.” What does that mean?

The three merits of the fully enlightened Buddha — prajñā (wisdom), liberation, and dharmakāya — where do they come from? Are they not born from the three paths of delusion, karma, and suffering? The three paths of delusion, karma, and suffering transform into the three merits of prajñā, liberation, and dharmakāya. This is exactly what we mean by “coarseness turning into wondrousness.” Delusion, karma, and suffering are clearly part of the mundane cycle of birth and death, so how can they be called three merits? This is a point that needs clarifying: We usually think of greed, hatred, delusion, and other afflictions as solid, real things, and we wallow in the thicket of afflictions without being able to escape. But what real substance do afflictions actually have? Aren’t they just stirred up by various conditions? As soon as the external conditions that trigger afflictions are gone, what real affliction is left to hold onto? If you understand that afflictions have no inherent nature to begin with, they are themselves wisdom in this very moment. So if you go looking for the essence of wisdom, you’ll find it right there in afflictions all along. If you try to find wisdom apart from afflictions, where would you even look? It’s fundamentally impossible to find, which is why the sūtras so often say “afflictions are bodhi.” The standard teaching that one should seek wisdom outside of afflictions is for those who have not yet understood the emptiness of affliction nature. If you truly know your own single thought of mind, and see clearly that afflictions have no real inherent substance, you will naturally realize that afflictions are themselves the merit of prajñā (wisdom).

Why do we say karmic power is liberation? All the good and bad karmic power we carry is created and driven by afflictions. But no action arises or acts on its own: every action comes into being only when many different conditions come together. Take giving, for example: if there is no one to receive your gift, how can the act of giving ever be completed? Take killing: if there is no being to be killed, how can the act of killing ever be completed? The same applies to all other karmic deeds, whether keeping precepts, practicing concentration, or any other defiled action. When karmic power matures, you take rebirth; when it dissipates, it is extinguished again. From the perspective of sentient beings, we are born and ceaselessly reborn along with the arising and ceasing of karmic power, tossed east and west, up to heaven and down to earth, dragged along by karmic power with no freedom of our own. Little do we know that this is all deluded conceptualization and discrimination. In reality, the nature of karma is empty from the start. If you don’t understand that the nature of karma is empty, it seems like you are bound by karmic power, with no freedom. But if you see that the nature of karma is empty and still, you attain freedom and liberation right here, in this very moment. That is why we say karmic power is the merit of liberation.

Why do we say the fruit of suffering is dharmakāya? The karmic fruit of life, existing in the world as it does — how can that be dharmakāya? The sūtras say: birth and extinction are suffering, and they are suffering because they are impermanent. Life is not eternal, it is constantly changing and shifting without cease. This endless flow of birth, extinction, and rebirth driven by impermanence means we are constantly bombarded by pain. Sentient beings have been caught in the cycle of birth and death, a process of birth followed by extinction and rebirth, since beginningless time. This endless cycle of birth, extinction, and rebirth is what makes up our continuous existence. If birth, extinction, and rebirth had a real, fixed inherent nature, then the suffering that comes from them would be impossible to resolve. But the birth and extinction that arise from conditions have no real arising, and no real extinction: birth and extinction are empty of any inherent nature. Unborn yet arising, unextinct yet ceasing — this kind of birth and extinction is the Tathāgata’s dharmakāya. The Tathāgata’s realization of dharmakāya is the realization of the unattributed essence that is neither born nor extinct. This fully proves that the karmic fruit of birth and extinction that sentient beings experience is itself the merit of dharmakāya, right here and now. Since the delusion, karma, and suffering of sentient beings are exactly the three merits of prajñā, liberation, and dharmakāya that the Tathāgata possesses, sentient being dharmas are wondrous.

We’ve covered the wondrousness of mind dharmas and sentient being dharmas; now let’s turn to the wondrousness of Buddha dharmas. A Buddha is one who has attained the supreme, unexcelled perfect enlightenment: one who has cut off all afflictions, put an end to the two kinds of birth and death, and reached final liberation — a great sage. Seen with the Buddha’s eye, all things are subtle and inconceivable. Sentient beings are beings in the Buddha’s mind, all things are things in the Buddha’s mind, every dharma is ultimate reality, every dharma is prajñā — what distinction is there between this and that? So the Buddha has no separate, special dharma of his own: what he realized is nothing other than the mind dharma of sentient beings. The saying “This mind is a Buddha, this mind creates a Buddha” is exactly what this means. The word Buddha literally means “the awakened one,” or “one who is no longer confused.” Our present single thought of mind, as long as it is not deluded by outer worldly conditions, is a Buddha in this very moment. As the sūtra says: “When a single thought does not arise, one is the Thus Come One of Suchness” — this is exactly the point. This is why Buddha dharmas are wondrous.

When we combine the wondrousness of Buddha dharmas, the wondrousness of sentient being dharmas, and the wondrousness of mind dharmas, we get what is called the Wonderful Dharma — the Lotus Sūtra of the Wonderful Dharma. This wonderful dharma cannot be grasped by conceptual thought or discrimination. And this wonderful dharma is not something outside of us: it is already inherent in our nature. Every being with a mind has this wonderful dharma, but sentient beings have not yet realized it.

How do we realize this wonderful dharma? It depends on each person’s practice, and there are different views on the matter: some say the wonderful dharma is very hard to realize, some say it is not hard at all, and some say it is neither easy nor hard. These three views differ, so let me illustrate with the story of the Chinese Buddhist layman Pang Yun, his wife, and their daughter discussing the path:

Pang Yun was a famous lay Buddhist in China; his family was originally very wealthy, so he was essentially a millionaire. But after he came to understand the Buddha-dharma, he dumped all his family’s wealth into the Han Yang River, and his family lived a life of extreme simplicity, devoting themselves single-mindedly to studying and practicing the Dharma. One day, in the course of their practice, the family gathered together to discuss whether practice was hard or easy. The discussion went like this:

Pang Yun spoke first: “Practice is no easy task, and realizing the inconceivable wonderful dharma we already have within us is very hard. How hard? Let me put it this way: Hard! Hard! Hard! It’s like trying to spread ten bushels of sesame seeds over the top of a tree!” Spreading sesame seeds out on flat ground to dry is easy enough, but spreading them high up on a tree? That’s a nearly impossible task. His point was: our ordinary thoughts and mental activities normally follow the well-worn path of deluded discrimination, greed, and attachment, so we wander back and forth along that path without any effort at all. Now we want to turn this single thought of mind around, and walk the path of practice and realization. This is a road we have never walked before, so it’s no wonder we find it so hard to take even the first step! That’s exactly how it is. Our mind consciousness is extremely hard to steady: tell it to go one way, and it insists on going the opposite; tell it to focus on one thing, and it runs ceaselessly outward in a hundred directions. It’s no wonder we struggle to even begin practicing.

After Pang Yun finished, his wife Pang Po shared her own take: “In my experience, practice isn’t hard at all — it’s easy. Easy! Easy! Easy! The patriarchs’ meaning is right on the tips of every blade of grass. Pick up anything, and it’s there: green bamboo, yellow flowers, all of it is prajñā.” What she meant was: everything you see when you open your eyes is the patriarchs’ teaching; every random thing you pick up is the wonderful dharma. Take the piece of chalk in your hand, for instance: it seems meaningless at first, but if you understand its dependent origination and emptiness of inherent nature, it is ultimate reality in this very moment — it is the wonderful dharma. If you can see this, what difficulty is there? To me, practice and realization are effortless. If you can’t see the patriarchs’ meaning in the tips of grass, and write it off as just ordinary grass, you’ll never gain awakening. But if you can understand this, then everything you see and hear, every blade of grass and every tree, is the wonderful dharma — what’s so hard about that?

After Pang Po finished, their daughter Lingzhao shared her own experience: “From what I’ve found in my own practice, it’s neither as hard as you say, Father, nor as easy as you say, Mother. It’s neither hard, nor easy: eat when you’re hungry, sleep when you’re tired!” That sounds like a child playing around, doesn’t it? Who can’t eat when they’re hungry and sleep when they’re tired? Calling that practice and cultivation seems completely absurd! But most people have no idea there is a deep principle here — she wasn’t just saying it for fun.

Let me share a kōan that expands on this “eat when hungry, sleep when tired” saying as a footnote to this. Once, the Vinaya master Youyuan went to visit the Chan master Dazhu Huihai, and asked him, “Venerable, do you still apply effort in your practice of the path?” “I eat when I’m hungry, I sleep when I’m tired,” Dazhu replied. “Do all people practice with effort just like you, Venerable?” “No.” “Why not?” “When they eat, they don’t actually eat: they have a hundred idle worries and distractions running through their minds. When they sleep, they don’t actually sleep: they have a thousand calculations and schemes churning inside them. That’s why they’re not like me.” We sentient beings truly let these “hundred idle worries, thousand calculations” ruin everything when we encounter any task, so we can’t even eat and sleep in peace, let alone talk about practice. The whole point of practice is to recognize our own original nature. Eating when hungry, sleeping when tired — these are also part of our original nature. It’s only because of these idle worries and calculations that we are covered over, unable to see it for what it is. If we can let go of these idle worries and calculations, then eating and sleeping — how could those not be practice, how could they not be awakening to our true nature?

Therefore, Master Huihai said, “Those who have realized the Way find the Way in every movement, every moment of stillness, sitting, and sleeping; those who have awakened to the Dharma find the Dharma in all their comings and goings, free and unrestrained.” Based on this principle, eating when hungry and sleeping when tired is precisely the time for practitioners to cultivate the Way. If a practitioner works at cultivating the Way and yet can't stop calculating and scheming, of course they'll find it hard to get anywhere. If one can truly eat all day without biting a single grain of rice, sleep all day without giving rise to inverted or deluded thoughts, then right there in that moment is the wondrous Dharma. Nun Lingzhao's words, "Eat when hungry, sleep when tired," are her hard-won insights from practice, and a glimpse of the particular state she realized.

The wondrous Dharma is something every person already has. The question is whether we can recognize it. If one gains awakening through dedicated practice, the wondrous Dharma is right here in the present moment — there's no need to seek it outside oneself. If one doesn't practice in a way that aligns with it, the wondrous Dharma seems far away, impossible to find. But even so, it has never been lost; it's always been there. Just turn the light around and look within, and it's yours at any time.

The principle of the wondrous Dharma is subtle and hard to grasp, so the teaching offers a special analogy using the lotus to bring this difficult teaching to light. There are many kinds of flowers in the world, but only the lotus can represent the wondrous Dharma — no other flower will do. The difference between the lotus and other flowers is this: all other flowers bloom first and then bear fruit; only the lotus blooms and bears fruit at the same time. Because flower and fruit appear together in the lotus, it can represent the wondrous Dharma of the non-duality of cause and effect. So it's the most fitting analogy we could ask for.

The greatest characteristic of the lotus is captured by the Tiantai school in three key phrases:

1. The flower exists for the lotus seed. The lotus is the seed — the fruit. Why does the lotus bloom? It blooms for the seed, and the lotus and the flower appear at the same time. This is an analogy for the Buddha's "teaching of the provisional for the sake of the true." After awakening to the wondrous Dharma of true reality beneath the bodhi tree, the Buddha wanted to share everything he'd realized with sentient beings, without holding anything back. But the wondrous Dharma is so profound that sentient beings couldn't receive it, so he didn't dare proclaim it outright. As the Lotus Sutra says, "My Dharma is profoundly deep and wondrous; without faith, how could it be understood?" To understand the wondrous Dharma, faith must come first — without it, how could one comprehend? Failing to understand is one thing; failing to understand and then slandering it is quite another. Not only would it fail to help sentient beings, it would cause great harm. So the Buddha hesitated at length over whether to teach at all. After much reflection, he felt that saying nothing would not benefit sentient beings, so he reluctantly employed skillful means, beginning with the expedient teachings that beings could accept — such as the human and heavenly paths, and the paths of the two vehicles. All of these were expedient teachings offered for the sake of sentient beings. Why did the Buddha teach these provisional teachings? For the sake of the true. Though he taught many different expedient methods, the ultimate aim was always the true Dharma. As the Lotus Sutra puts it, "Though I teach many paths, in truth it is for the one Buddha vehicle" — the clearest expression of teaching the provisional for the sake of the true.

2. The seed appears when the flower blooms. When does the seed of the lotus become visible? The moment the flower opens, the seed is already there within it — there's no need to wait for the petals to fall away before the seed appears. This is an analogy for the Buddha's "opening the provisional to reveal the true." The Tathāgata used many skillful, expedient means to teach sentient beings, gradually ripening their capacities. Once conditions were right and beings were ready to receive the wondrous Dharma, the Buddha opened the provisional to reveal the true at the Lotus Sutra assembly, telling the great congregation that everything he had taught in the past was merely expedient — all of it a path leading to the single Buddha vehicle. The true, ultimate Dharma is only the one Buddha vehicle; there is no second or third vehicle. As the Lotus Sutra says, "There is only the one vehicle; there is no second, no third. Whoever hears this Dharma will, without exception, attain Buddhahood." This thoroughly reveals the intent of the ultimate single vehicle — setting aside all the skillful expedients taught before. This is what is meant by "opening the provisional to reveal the true." All Buddhas attained Buddhahood by realizing this wondrous Dharma, and sentient beings remain as sentient beings because they are lost in it. Since Buddhas and sentient beings share the same wondrous Dharma, sentient beings can of course become Buddhas. The Lotus Sutra reveals this very truth, which is why it is called the Wondrous Dharma.

3. The seed is fully formed when the flower falls. When the lotus petals fall away, the seed is completely mature and ready to be used. This is an analogy for the Buddha's "abolishing the provisional and establishing the true." The provisional is expedient and not ultimately real; the true is ultimate and real. The ultimate true should be established; the provisional that is not ultimately real should be abolished — this is "abolishing the provisional and establishing the true." In truth, the Buddha embeds the true within the provisional. The provisional is the true — where else would the true be found apart from the provisional? If the provisional already is the true, then there is no true outside the provisional, and so all sentient beings are able to attain Buddhahood.

"Wondrous Dharma" is the Dharma; "Lotus Flower" is the analogy. Together they form "Wondrous Dharma Lotus" — a name that unites the teaching with its image. "Sutra" is the meaning of the Sanskrit sūtra — this is the standard explanation and need not be repeated here. Wondrous Dharma Lotus Sutra is the title of the entire scripture; Universal Gate Chapter of Guanyin Bodhisattva is the title of this particular chapter within it.

9

Introduction to the Translator's Historical Background

We've covered the title of the sutra and the title of the chapter in brief. Now let's turn to the translator's background. The translator of this sutra is the Tripiṭaka Master Kumārajīva, one of the most outstanding translators in the history of Chinese Buddhist scripture translation.

Master Kumārajīva was from the kingdom of Kucha. His father, Kumārayāna, was originally from central India but traveled to Kucha, where the king, admiring his high virtue and deep learning, gave him his own sister as a wife. Kumārajīva was born of this union. From a young age he was unusually bright, and his bearing was mature beyond his years — which is why his name was translated as "Child Longevity."

At the age of seven, when his mother herself ordained, Kumārajīva decided to leave home as well. Because his mother was the king's sister, she received a great deal of offerings after ordaining, which she found burdensome and an obstacle to her practice. So she took Kumārajīva to Jibin (Gandhāra) to seek the Dharma. One day in Jibin, his mother went to pay respects at a temple, and Kumārajīva followed her inside. In the main hall he spied a large iron alms bowl, and on a whim put it on his head — not feeling its weight at all. Later, a passing thought arose: this bowl is so big, and I'm so small — how could I possibly hold it up? The moment that deluded thought arose, he immediately felt the bowl's weight bearing down heavily on him. From this he awakened to the truth that everything turns with the mind: with no discriminating mind, there's no sense of heavy or light; once the discriminating mind appears, so do these distinctions.

After two or three years in Jibin, his mother brought Kumārajīva back to Kucha. On the way they passed a high mountain where a noble arhat lived. Seeing that Kumārajīva was a worthy vessel for the Dharma, the arhat told his mother, "Take good care of this young novice. If he has not broken the Buddha's precepts by the age of thirty-five, he will guide immeasurable, boundless sentient beings." Jibin was the great stronghold of early Buddhist learning, so what Kumārajīva studied there was naturally of that tradition.

Later, he passed through the kingdom of Shule, where the king's son, Prince Shache, had ordained and was devotedly studying Mahāyāna Buddhism. One day the prince was reading the Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra in the temple, reciting again and again that emptiness cannot be apprehended. Kumārajīva found this very strange: "What I learned in Jibin was that the five aggregates exist, the twelve sense fields exist, the eighteen elements exist. Yet here this master recites that the five aggregates are empty, the twelve sense fields are empty, the eighteen elements are empty… everything is empty. What's going on?" So he went to ask him, and a debate between the two traditions unfolded. In the end, Kumārajīva lost, and began studying the Mahāyāna teaching of emptiness under Shache. Before long, he had gained penetrating insight into this Mahāyāna teaching and became its most powerful proponent. Not only did many ordinary people, moved by Kumārajīva, become practitioners of the Mahāyāna path of emptiness — even his former teachers from the early Buddhist tradition were converted to Mahāyāna through his influence.

Later, Kumārajīva's mother left Kucha for India. Before parting, she said to him, "I'm about to leave you now, and there are a few things I need to say. The Mahāyāna Dharma spreading to the land of China will greatly benefit the sentient beings there, but only you have the ability to carry it across. It will help others, but it won't help you. For your own sake, I don't want you to go; for the sake of guiding beings, I can't forbid you either. So I don't know what to do." Hearing this, Kumārajīva replied without hesitation, "A great being sacrifices self for others. As long as it benefits sentient beings, even if I have to endure the suffering of boiling cauldrons and burning coals, even if it costs my life — I would not hesitate." With these words, his mother was able to leave him in peace. And Kumārajīva's spirit of self-sacrifice is fully revealed in them. Every Mahāyāna practitioner should have this kind of spirit.

Master Kumārajīva came to China in the third year of the Hóngshǐ era of the Later Qín. The "Qín" here refers to one of the Sixteen Kingdoms during the period of the Five Barbarians' upheaval, specified as Later Qín to distinguish it from the Qín of the First Emperor and from the Former Qín of Fú Jiān. It is the Qín under the reign of Yáo Xīng of Later Qín.

The circumstances of his arrival were these: Fú Jiān of Former Qín, hearing of Kumārajīva's great reputation, was deeply impressed and specially dispatched General Lǚ Guāng to travel all the way to Kucha to fetch him. On the return journey, when they reached Liángzhōu, Lǚ Guāng suddenly learned that Fú Jiān had died in battle and that Yáo Chǎng of Later Qín had usurped the throne in the Guānzhōng region. Lǚ Guāng then declared independence in Liángzhōu, naming his state Liáng. Fearing that Kumārajīva's brilliance would be put to use by Yáo Chǎng, he kept him in Liángzhōu and would not let him go on to Guānzhōng. Later, when Yáo Xīng succeeded to the throne, a devout believer in Buddhism who greatly admired Kumārajīva's virtue and learning, he sent troops westward to campaign against Lǚ Lóng (a descendant of Lǚ Guāng) and forcibly brought Kumārajīva to Guānzhōng, honoring him as the state preceptor. He was given residence at the Xiāoyáo Garden so that he could devote himself entirely to translation. In all, Kumārajīva translated some three or four hundred fascicles of scripture.

What stands out most about Kumārajīva's translations is their flowing prose and the complete, accurate rendering of meaning. Works such as the Lotus Sutra, the Amitābha Sūtra, and the Vimalakīrti Sūtra are written in elegant, lucid Chinese and are widely loved for recitation and study. By imperial decree (奉詔) — the character 詔 means an imperial edict, indicating that Kumārajīva translated this sutra under the edict of Yáo Xīng. In the history of Chinese Buddhist translation there are four great translators, and Kumārajīva and Master Xuánzàng stand out as the most outstanding. The richness and completeness of Chinese Buddhism owe a great deal to these two masters. If Chinese Buddhism had had no Kumārajīva in its earlier period and no Xuánzàng in its later period, it would never have shone as brightly as it does — this can be said with confidence.

Kumārajīva was fully confident that his translations contained no errors, so after his passing, when his body was cremated, his tongue remained intact and unburned. So we should practice in accordance with Kumārajīva's translations and take them to heart with unwavering faith. Tripiṭaka Master means that Kumārajīva both used the teachings of the Tripiṭaka to guide and liberate sentient beings as a teacher to others, and studied the Tripiṭaka deeply, taking the great Dharma as his own teacher — hence the title.

Explanation of the Sutra Text

Part 1

Prose Elaboration (Part 1)

Question and Answer on the Origin of the Name (Section 1)

The Interlocutor Raises the Name and Asks

At that time, Bodhisattva Inexhaustible Intention immediately rose from his seat, bared his right shoulder, pressed his palms together toward the Buddha, and spoke these words: "World-Honored One! By what causal condition is Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara named Avalokitesvara (Perceiver of the World's Sounds)?"

The full text of this chapter is divided into two main sections: First, the prose (changxing), which expounds the sutra’s meaning in prose form. Second, the verses (gathas), which expounds the meaning in metrical form. The prose and verses cover nearly identical content; it’s just the literary form that differs. We will discuss the prose first, then the verses.

The phrase "at that time" has several valid interpretations. As noted earlier, this is the 25th chapter of the Lotus Sutra; the preceding chapter is the 24th, called the Chapter of Bodhisattva Wonder Sound (Miaoyin Pusa Pin). "At that time" marks the moment the Chapter of Bodhisattva Wonder Sound had just concluded, and the Buddha was about to teach the Universal Gateway Chapter of Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara (Guanshiyin Pusa Pumen Pin). The Chapter of Bodhisattva Wonder Sound closes with these words: "When this chapter on the travels of Bodhisattva Wonder Sound was taught, forty-two thousand heavenly beings attained the patience of non-arising, and Bodhisattva Flower Virtue attained the Lotus Samadhi." This shows that when the Buddha taught this chapter, many beings reaped the benefits of the Dharma. Having received these benefits, the assembly asked the Buddha to continue teaching the wondrous Dharma. So "at that time" can be understood as the moment a great many beings were longing for the Thus Come One to teach the Dharma.

As the Lotus Sutra introduces him, Bodhisattva Wonder Sound is a great bodhisattva from the Pure Radiance Adornment Realm in the east. As most readers know, Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara is a great bodhisattva of the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. The eastern Bodhisattva Wonder Sound had already attained the Samadhi of Manifesting All Physical Bodies, so when teaching and transforming beings in the world, he could freely manifest whatever form was needed to guide them. Whatever physical form suited a being’s capacity for learning, he could appear in exactly that form. As we will see later in this chapter, Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara of the west "manifests in whatever form is appropriate to save and teach a being," showing he has likewise attained the Samadhi of Manifesting All Physical Bodies. For this reason, ancient masters called these two chapters "sister chapters," for they carry equal significance and value.

Another explanation is that after the assembly heard of the supreme merits of the eastern Bodhisattva Wonder Sound, they turned their thoughts to the western Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara, another remarkable great bodhisattva. Still, some in the Dharma assembly did not know the full details of his merits—both his own realization and his work teaching others. They looked to the Buddha, hoping he would share the story of Avalokitesvara’s deeds. This moment, when the assembly looked to the Buddha in hope of his teaching, is what is meant by "at that time."

"Bodhisattva Inexhaustible Intention" is the one who speaks for the assembly to request the Dharma in this chapter. When the Buddha finished teaching the Chapter of Bodhisattva Wonder Sound, Bodhisattva Inexhaustible Intention rose from his seat to ask for a teaching.

Inexhaustible Intention is a great bodhisattva of the Unblinking World in the east, and the guiding Buddha of that world is Thus Come One Universal Sage. Just as Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara is destined to succeed Amitabha Buddha and become a Buddha in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss, so too will Bodhisattva Inexhaustible Intention succeed Thus Come One Universal Sage and become a Buddha in the eastern Unblinking World. Since Inexhaustible Intention is a great bodhisattva of the east, how did he come to the Saha World to hear Shakyamuni Buddha preach the Dharma? He came at the command of Thus Come One Universal Sage.

When the Buddha taught the Lotus Sutra, he was speaking directly from the depths of his own realization, so the Buddhas of the ten directions all sent their chief bodhisattvas to hear him teach the wondrous Dharma. Inexhaustible Intention had been sitting quietly in the assembly since the Lotus Sutra teachings began. When the Buddha finished the Chapter of Bodhisattva Wonder Sound, he rose at once from his seat to request the Dharma.

The sacred names of Buddhas and bodhisattvas are all drawn from the merits and virtues they embody. What merit is the name "Inexhaustible Intention" drawn from? It can be explained across three dimensions: the worlds, sentient beings, and his compassionate vows.

First, regarding the worlds: Worlds as vast as our Saha World are infinite, boundless, and numberless; Buddhist scriptures call these "inexhaustible worlds." Even counting only the Saha World, the human population of the Southern Continent of Jambudvipa alone is staggering. Combine that with the populations of all four great continents, and the number grows far larger. Beyond humans are countless other sentient beings. This is true not just for one world, but for every world—hence, sentient beings are inexhaustible.

When this great bodhisattva used his wisdom to observe the worlds, he saw that there are inexhaustible worlds, each filled with inexhaustible numbers of active sentient beings. Step into one place, and you find another world; arrive in that world, and you find its countless beings.

Furthermore, swept along by their afflictions, these beings drift into the sea of karma, sink in the cycle of samsara, and are oppressed by endless suffering, with no end to their torment in sight. Bodhisattva Inexhaustible Intention could not bear to see these infinite beings suffer for so long. From the depths of his heart, he arose with inexhaustible compassionate vows: he vowed to deliver all sentient beings across inexhaustible worlds, and only once every last being had attained Buddhahood would he himself become a Buddha. This is why he is called Inexhaustible Intention.

Ancient masters described the meaning of the name Inexhaustible Intention in a four-line gatha:

Worlds are boundless, filled with dusty turmoil;
Sentient beings are endless, adrift in a vast sea of karma;
The river of desire is bottomless, its waves surging endlessly;
Therefore, he is named Inexhaustible Intention.

The gatha’s core meaning is this: It is true that worlds are endless, but among them, pure worlds are far outnumbered by defiled, impure ones. Most of these infinite worlds are mired in filth and dust. The beings in these worlds, no matter how numerous they are, are mostly adrift in a vast sea of karma, pulled this way and that by the force of their own karmic deeds. Karma pulls you to the heavenly realms if that is your karmic lot, and drags you to the hell realms if that is what you have earned—you have no say in the matter. The root of sentient beings’ aimless drifting, with no place to take refuge, is their drowning in the bottomless river of desire, swept endlessly along by its surging waves. This is why the sea of suffering is boundless. Seeing sentient beings caught in this unending cycle of delusion, karma, and suffering, the bodhisattva thought: "If I don’t arouse the resolve to save and teach these suffering beings, who will do this work?" And so he arose with inexhaustible compassionate vows, vowing to deliver all infinite sentient beings. This is why he is called Inexhaustible Intention.

Seeing that no one else in the great assembly rose to ask, Inexhaustible Intention stood from his own seat to question the Buddha on everyone’s behalf, as all wished to understand the merits of Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara.

The phrase "he immediately rose from his seat" seems simple on its face, but carries deep meaning when interpreted through the Tiantai school’s method of "observing the mind" (guanxin). The "seat" referred to here is no ordinary seat: it is the seat of the emptiness of all dharmas, which the Lotus Sutra calls "the emptiness of all dharmas is the seat." To take the emptiness of dharmas as one’s seat means one must not attach to material phenomena, nor may one attach to the concept of emptiness itself. If one clings to emptiness, one has not truly understood its nature. Inexhaustible Intention rising from his seat shows he is not tainted by attachment to emptiness—this is the meaning behind the phrase "the emptiness of all dharmas is the seat." Not being attached to emptiness does not mean nothing exists: this is proven by the bodhisattva rising from the seat of dharmic emptiness to ask for the Dharma. If nothing existed at all, why would he rise to ask a question? Why would there be any need to teach sutras or speak of the Dharma? Because emptiness is empty yet not empty, he rises from the seat of dharmic emptiness to request the Buddha’s instruction. In this way, the simple phrase "rose from his seat" holds the profound meaning of non-attachment to both emptiness and existence, of transcending both emptiness and form, and of directly realizing the wondrous Dharma of reality’s true nature.

"Bared his right shoulder" is a standard ritual for renunciant disciples of the Buddha when rising to ask a Dharma question. In the Buddha’s time, the kasaya (robe) worn by bhikkhus was identical to those worn by Theravada monks today. Per Buddhist monastic discipline, a bhikkhu keeps both shoulders covered when not bowing to the Buddha or teaching the Dharma. When approaching the Buddha to pay respects, the right shoulder is bared specifically as a sign of reverence. Since Bodhisattva Inexhaustible Intention was about to request the Dharma, he showed his respect for the Buddha by first lowering his robe to bare his right shoulder.

When interpreted through the lens of "observing the mind," baring the right shoulder and covering the left also carries deep significance. Buddhist practitioners who have reached a certain stage of practice possess two kinds of wisdom. The first is true wisdom: it realizes the truth of the empty nature of all dharmas, and cannot be expressed in words. It is like the left shoulder, covered and hidden from view. The second is expedient wisdom, also called skillful wisdom. Born from true wisdom, it can observe all worldly phenomena, teach the Dharma to sentient beings, and point the way to practice. Like the right shoulder, it is bared so all can see it clearly. Expedient wisdom corresponds to the right shoulder; true wisdom to the left. One covered, one exposed—they perfectly embody these two wisdoms. As a great bodhisattva, Inexhaustible Intention’s covered left shoulder signifies his possession of the true wisdom that realizes the true nature of all dharmas. His bared right shoulder signifies his ability to apply skillful, expedient wisdom. Expedient wisdom transforms the mundane world; true wisdom aligns with ultimate truth. Using both wisdoms together shows the state where the ultimate and the mundane intermingle, the highest realm where truth and convention blend seamlessly.

"Pressed his palms together toward the Buddha" refers to the gesture of bringing both hands together and facing the Buddha. It is an Indian custom of respect for superiors, as well as a common greeting between people. Interpreted through the lens of observing the mind: the two hands have ten fingers. When separated, each finger stands independent, representing the Ten Dharma Realms mentioned earlier. Bringing the ten fingers together in pressed palms at the chest shows that the Ten Dharma Realms exist entirely within a single thought of our mind—they do not exist apart from this single thought.

"And he spoke these words" means that after Inexhaustible Intention completed the proper rituals, he said the following to request the Buddha reveal the deeds of Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara. These few lines actually illustrate the activity of the three karmas of body, speech, and mind: rising from his seat is bodily karma; speaking these words is verbal karma; pressing his palms toward the Buddha is mental karma. At that moment, his mind was fully one-pointed. What appeared outwardly to be a physical act was in fact an act of mental karma. All beings engage in activities of the three karmas; what matters is the direction of that activity, and whether it is wholesome and appropriate. The three karmas of ordinary beings are generally directed toward unwholesome actions; even when they occasionally act with goodness, those actions remain defiled (outflowing). All of Inexhaustible Intention’s karmic activities—whether traveling to the ten directions to see Buddhas and hear the Dharma, or manifesting in various forms to teach sentient beings—are entirely pure, undefiled, perfectly good, and flawless (unoutflowing).

"World-Honored One! By what causal condition is Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara named Avalokitesvara?" This is the formal question Inexhaustible Intention poses. It is a question even new Buddhist practitioners might ask. For example, if a new follower is encouraged to earnestly recite Avalokitesvara’s holy name, they may well respond: "Of course I am happy to recite the holy name, but what exactly does the name Avalokitesvara mean?" Inexhaustible Intention is a great bodhisattva on the verge of Buddhahood, soon to become a Buddha himself. How could he not know the meaning of Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara’s holy name? He asked this question to represent all those who do not yet understand the bodhisattva’s merits, especially on behalf of sentient beings in the Dharma-Ending Age. The very reason we now understand the greatness and profound compassion of Avalokitesvara is entirely due to the question Bodhisattva Inexhaustible Intention asked at that time.

"World-Honored One" is one of the Buddha’s noble titles. It signifies that the great sage, the Buddha, is revered by both worldly and transcendent beings, and so is called the World-Honored One. Inexhaustible Intention began with this title as he made his request for the great Dharma.

We all know the great name of Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara, but few know the exact causal condition that earned him this name. There are still those in this Dharma assembly who do not know, so I respectfully ask the Buddha to briefly enlighten us all!

Section 2

The Thus Come One's Complete Exposition on Resonant Response (Subpart 1)

Directly Answering the Origin of the Name (Sub-subpart 1)

General Indication: Responding to Sounds to Relieve Suffering The Buddha said to Bodhisattva Akṣayamati: “Good son, if incalculable hundreds of thousands of myriads of millions of living beings are beset by all manner of suffering, and upon hearing of Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara they single-mindedly recite his name, the Bodhisattva will immediately perceive the sound of their call, and all will be freed from suffering.” These verses respond to Akṣayamati’s earlier question, and form the Buddha’s comprehensive reply. They are the most important passage in the entire chapter—its core outline, its very heart. For here, the full depth of Avalokiteśvara’s vast compassion and solemn vows is laid bare. The origin of the Bodhisattva’s name, the method for living beings to recite it, and the benefits that come from doing so are all made clear in these few lines. Within them, three phrases carry the greatest weight: hearing of Avalokiteśvara, single-mindedly reciting his name, and attaining liberation. These three are the kernel of this passage itself. The address “Good son” is the Buddha’s greeting to Akṣayamati. The term “man” (男子) is used in contrast to “woman” (女子): those with masculine attributes are called men, those with feminine attributes are called women. “Good man” (善男子) refers not to an ordinary man, but one with deep, cultivated wholesome roots. Those with such roots are called good men; women with equivalent wholesome roots are called good women (善女人). These wholesome roots are not something we are born with—they are built up over time. Listening to sutras, receiving the Dharma, practicing generosity, and upholding precepts are all the most effective ways to grow these roots. Anyone who takes an interest in the Buddha’s teaching already has some wholesome roots; the path asks only that we keep nurturing them. The phrase “if there are incalculable multitudes of living beings beset by all manner of suffering” points to the beings Avalokiteśvara vows to rescue. This description of boundless, countless living beings captures how vast the suffering in the world is: these beings do not know ease or happiness, but are constantly pressed down and tormented by every kind of pain. Those born in the hell realms, as hungry ghosts, or as animals know nothing but suffering of every sort. To list every kind of suffering in detail would be an impossible task. Even looking just at human life, we face all sorts of pain: the well-known eight sufferings that no human can escape. These fall into three groups: the sufferings of birth, aging, sickness, and death afflict both body and mind; the pain of parting from loved ones and meeting those we dislike are social sufferings; the pain of not getting what we want is a suffering of the natural world. As the Blessed One summed up the root of all suffering: “In short, it is the suffering of the five aggregates blazing fiercely.” This tells us that the cause of all a sentient being’s pain lies in the being itself: the five aggregates are the constituent elements of a sentient being [Footnote: Five aggregates: form, sensation, perception, mental formations, and consciousness]. As long as we possess these five aggregates, and they burn like raging fire, this is why the sea of suffering is boundless. When pain and affliction strike, weighing on body and mind, who would not long for immediate release? No matter who we are, when suffering hits, we cannot help but cry out loud—even that small outward expression eases the heart’s burden a little. The Buddha tells us here: when you are crushed by suffering, do not waste your breath on empty moans. Turn instead to single-minded recitation of Avalokiteśvara’s holy name. Hence the verse: “When living beings beset by suffering hear of Avalokiteśvara and single-mindedly call his name, the Bodhisattva will immediately perceive the sound of their call, and all will be freed.” This passage reveals the origin of Avalokiteśvara’s name. He is called “Avalokiteśvara” because he hears the sounds of living beings calling his name, and responds to those sounds to lift their suffering. Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva acts from boundless compassion to relieve suffering and rescue beings from peril: there is no pain he will not ease, no being he will not carry across. So when living beings are beset by hardship and hear his holy name, if they can recite it with single-minded focus, the Bodhisattva will hear the sound of their recitation, and at once come to lift their suffering, freeing them from the bonds of pain that hold them. The character for “hear” (聞) is the key to this entire passage. Living beings hear the sound of Avalokiteśvara’s name, and the Bodhisattva hears the sound of living beings calling for relief: only through this mutual hearing can true resonance and response arise. Living beings call out to Avalokiteśvara with a heart of need; the Bodhisattva hears their call with a heart of response. This mutual hearing—beings calling, the Bodhisattva answering—is what joins the two, and allows living beings to gain liberation. Because Avalokiteśvara pervades all of empty space and the entire dharma realm, no matter when or where, as soon as he hears the sound of a being seeking relief from suffering, he immediately manifests before them out of great compassion, lifts their pain, and grants them full liberation. This is why the act of “hearing” holds such unique power here. Living beings hear Avalokiteśvara, and Avalokiteśvara hears living beings—both connect through the faculty of hearing. So why is he not called “He Who Hears the World’s Sounds” (聞世音) but “He Who Observes the World’s Sounds” (觀世音)? Living beings cannot yet use their six sense faculties interchangeably: they can only see with their eyes and hear with their ears. But the Bodhisattva has attained the ability to use all six faculties without distinction: his eyes can not only see but also hear, and his ears can not only hear but also observe. Avalokiteśvara is called by this name because he can perceive the sounds of suffering, and respond to them to lift that suffering. Another way to understand the name: the character guan (觀, “observe”) refers to the Bodhisattva’s wisdom of observation; the phrase shi yin (世音, “worldly sounds”) refers to the realm he observes. With this observing wisdom, the Bodhisattva perceives every cry of suffering and plea for rescue from sentient beings in the world, and at once, in keeping with his great compassionate vows, relieves their pain, gives them joy, averts their disasters, and grants them peace: no suffering he will not pull out by the root, no difficulty he will not set right. This is why he is called Avalokiteśvara. More than this: when he uses his observing wisdom to perceive the realm of worldly beings calling out for relief from their suffering, the object of observation and the wisdom observing it merge as one in his mind. This, too, is why he is called Avalokiteśvara. The Sutra of Compassionate Flowers (Beihua Sutra) also records the story of Avalokiteśvara’s original vow, formed at the start of his bodhisattva path: countless eons ago, when he was still an ordinary being, he was the eldest prince of a wheel-turning king. At that time, the Buddha Ratnagarbha had appeared in the world. The prince had deep faith in the Three Jewels, and made a special vow to offer alms to the Buddha and Sangha for three full months. Before Buddha Ratnagarbha, he generated the mind of great bodhicitta and made this solemn vow: “If there are suffering beings in any world who, seeking to be freed from their pain, call my name, and I am unable to rescue them from their suffering—seen by my heavenly eye, heard by my heavenly ear—then I vow never to attain full buddhahood.” Seeing how rare and profound this vow was, Buddha Ratnagarbha praised it highly, and gave him the name Avalokiteśvara. So we know from the Beihua Sutra that his name comes from the vow he made at the start of his path, bestowed on him by Buddha Ratnagarbha. This sutra explains the name in terms of his work to benefit others; the Laṅkāvatāra Sutra explains it in terms of his own spiritual attainment. Attaining wisdom for oneself is wisdom; working to benefit others is compassion. So the name Avalokiteśvara holds both meanings: the dual cultivation of wisdom and compassion, for self and for others. For the Laṅkāvatāra Sutra’s full explanation of the name, you may consult that text directly. To show that reciting Avalokiteśvara’s name truly brings rescue and liberation, here is a story of spiritual response from history: Long ago, in Shangyu, Zhejiang, there lived a rice merchant who was a devout reciter of Avalokiteśvara’s name. He lived only with his wife. Good-natured by nature, he recited the Bodhisattva’s name whenever he had a spare moment, and even in his dreams, he remembered to call on Avalokiteśvara. One night, as he slept, the Bodhisattva appeared to him in a dream, and warned him that a great calamity was coming. To save him from this disaster, he gave him four lines to commit to memory: “Do not moor your boat beneath a bridge; when you see oil, smear it on your head; one dou of grain holds three shēng of rice; flies will cluster on the tip of the judge’s brush.” He remembered these four lines clearly when he woke the next morning—far more vivid than an ordinary dream. The rice merchant was puzzled, and had no idea what they might mean, but because he trusted in Avalokiteśvara, he held them close in his mind. The next day, he hired a boat to go elsewhere on business. Not long after they set out, a violent storm blew up. The boatman spotted a large bridge in the distance, and wanted to moor the boat underneath it to wait out the wind and rain. Just as the boat reached the space under the bridge, the rice merchant suddenly remembered the first line: “Do not moor your boat beneath a bridge.” He immediately called for the boatman to push the boat back out into open water. Coincidentally, the very moment the boat cleared the bridge, the structure collapsed and fell into the river. If they had stayed, they would surely have perished. Seeing this, the rice merchant knew it was the Bodhisattva’s saving grace, and his faith in Avalokiteśvara grew even deeper and more resolute. A short while later, one evening he was bowing in worship to Avalokiteśvara at home. Just as he knelt down and had not yet risen, the glazed lamp hanging in the Buddha hall suddenly fell, spilling oil all over the floor. Remembering how the first line had come true, he believed the second must have meaning too: so he took the spilled oil and smeared it liberally over his own head. After a while he went to bed. In the middle of the night, he woke suddenly to the smell of blood filling the room. He lit a lamp to investigate, and found his wife had been murdered. Bewildered and with no other recourse, he went to tell his father-in-law. When his father-in-law asked what might have happened, he could give no answer, so the father-in-law went to investigate the house himself. He learned that his son-in-law was a Buddhist believer, while his daughter was not, and suspected the couple had been fighting. Concluding his daughter had been killed by her husband, he reported the matter to the magistrate. The officials treated it as a capital case, and summoned the rice merchant for questioning. But seeing he was an honest man with no appearance of a murderer, they first asked if anything had been stolen from the house that night. The rice merchant said no, ruling out a robbery. They also asked if he had any feuds with neighbors; he said he did not. The interrogators found the case deeply strange: if it was neither a crime of passion nor a robbery, and it had happened in the middle of the night, who else could have done it but the husband? They picked up their brushes to sentence him to death. At that very critical moment, a great swarm of flies suddenly flew into the room and clustered on the tip of the judge’s brush. As the magistrate stared at this odd sight, the rice merchant cried out in sudden, ecstatic joy: “Wonderful! Wonderful! ‘Flies will cluster on the tip of the judge’s brush’—it has come true again!” Hearing his cry, the magistrate knew there must be more to the story, and asked why he was so overjoyed. The rice merchant realized three of the four lines had already come to pass, and trusted the Bodhisattva would protect him fully. So he told the magistrate the full story of his dream. The magistrate was a learned man, and pondered the four lines carefully. He realized the key lay in the third: “one dou of grain holds three shēng of rice.” One dou of grain contains three shēng of rice; the rest is naturally chaff. So the killer’s name must be either Kang Qi or Qi Kang. After a quiet inquiry, they indeed found a man named Kang Qi in the area. They arrested and questioned him, and Kang Qi had no choice but to confess to the murder. Why had he killed her? It turned out he had been having an affair with her, and had originally planned to kill the rice merchant. Groping in the dark, he had felt an oily head and assumed it was the rice merchant’s wife, so he killed the person with oil on their head instead of the one without. He never realized he had killed the wrong person. Once the truth of the case came to light, the magistrate sentenced Kang Qi to death, and freed the innocent rice merchant to return home. After this close brush with death, the rice merchant felt the full extent of the Bodhisattva’s great compassion, and saw clearly the illusory, insubstantial nature of worldly life. He left the household to become a monk, and attained full awakening. The magistrate, too, was deeply moved by the Bodhisattva’s vast spiritual power, and from that day forward placed his full trust in the Buddha’s teaching. This proves that reciting Avalokiteśvara’s name can indeed bring rescue and liberation. Some may ask at this point: Avalokiteśvara is infinitely compassionate, and countless people recite his name—so why do so few gain liberation? The answer lies entirely in how we recite. The “single-minded recitation” spoken of in this text is the most essential point. If recitation is not done with single-minded focus, no matter how much you chant, the effect will be negligible. The ancient masters said: “To mouth Amitābha’s name with a scattered mind is to wear out your throat for nothing.” The same holds true for reciting Avalokiteśvara’s name as for Amitābha’s. Do not think that chanting his name all day long, or that many people chant his name, is enough: if your mouth chants but your mind wanders, if your speech and your heart are not aligned, recitation will rarely bring liberation. True single-minded recitation means focusing your full attention on the holy name, gathering your entire spirit into it, allowing no distracting thoughts to intrude. One pure thought follows the next, forgetting all that goes on around you, until the one who recites and the Avalokiteśvara you recite merge into one. Only then can it be called single-minded recitation. Practiced in this way over time, such recitation will naturally bring benefit, and you will naturally attain liberation. Living beings sink and drift in the cycle of birth and death, tormented by all kinds of suffering, never able to be free and at ease. If you wish to escape this cycle, to no longer be crushed by pain, and to regain freedom of body and mind, then in this age of the dharma’s decline, there is no more sublime and effective practice than single-mindedly reciting Avalokiteśvara’s holy name. Trust that the Bodhisattva, in his great compassion, will hear your call, come to relieve your suffering, and grant you liberation. 戊二 别示持名感应己一

Rescue from Fire Disasters "Should one who holds the name of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva enter a great fire, the fire will be unable to burn him, through the majestic spiritual power of this Bodhisattva."

The Buddha gave Infinite Intent a general answer in the passage above. From here, the text goes on to explain the many benefits of Avalokiteśvara’s activity. As this chapter lays out, Avalokiteśvara’s work to benefit sentient beings falls broadly into two categories: one is called the hidden benefit (冥益), given quietly to sentient beings in ways they may not even notice; the other is called the manifest benefit (显益), given openly in ways that are clear and visible. Of these two broad categories, the hidden benefit is explained first. This section is further divided into three parts: (1) rescue from the seven catastrophes, (2) dispelling the three poisons, and (3) granting the two kinds of requests. The seven catastrophes are: fire, water, black wind, weapons and staves, rakshasa demons, shackles and manacles, and enemies and bandits. Though worldly disasters are countless, these seven are the most significant. The first of the seven is the catastrophe of fire—disasters arising from a great conflagration. Should you encounter such a disaster, if you can chant the holy name of Avalokiteśvara, you will be delivered from it!

In this world, no matter where we go or what time it is, we may all face a major fire. At best, it can wipe out everything we own; at worst, it can take our lives. That is why everyone fears fire. Fearing fire is one thing; fire actually breaking out is another. Even if we never wish for it, a single spark from carelessness can spark a raging wildfire! If you do find yourself in a major fire, what should you do? From a worldly perspective, do everything in your power to put it out. You should also steady your mind and avoid giving in to fear or panic—only a calm, collected mind can keep your losses to a minimum. If you panic and lose your head, the harm you suffer will be far worse. So the most important thing in a fire is to stay calm and unshaken. If you give in to panic, not only will you be no help, you will only make things worse—keep this firmly in mind!

From a Buddhist perspective, there is an even more effective method: chant Avalokiteśvara’s holy name single-mindedly. That is why it is said: "Should one who holds the name of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva enter a great fire, the fire will be unable to burn him." Within this passage, the character for "hold" (持) is especially important, just as the "single-mindedness" mentioned earlier is key. In ordinary usage, "to hold" means grasping something tightly in your hand and refusing to let go. When applied to chanting Avalokiteśvara’s name, we call this "holding the name." Most of the time, people hold tightly to things they consider precious. But the most precious thing in all the world is none other than the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. That is why when we chant the names of Buddhas or Bodhisattvas, we must hold to them firmly.

What does it mean to hold the name? It means chanting continuously, one thought after another, without break, moving forward straight ahead without wavering. This is what we call holding the name. When you hold the name in this way, your mind will naturally be filled with sincerity. With a sincere heart, you will receive a response from the Bodhisattva. Even if you accidentally enter a great fire, the fire will not be able to burn you. Why can the fire not burn you? It is because of the majestic virtue and spiritual power of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, who protects you unseen. That is why it is said: "through the majestic spiritual power of this Bodhisattva."

This can be explained in two ways: through factual accounts, and through underlying principle. As for factual accounts: Buddhists will naturally believe these stories; non-Buddhists may not. But whether you believe them or not, the inspired response of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva is very real. During the Qing dynasty in China, there was a grain transport official named Cai Enxiang. His home was adjacent to civilian houses, with no space separating his property from his neighbors at all. One day, a fire suddenly broke out in a neighbor’s home. While all the other families rushed to save their belongings, this official sat calmly at home and did not move. Even when someone urged him to flee, he refused to go out, as if he intended to share his house’s fate. Strangely enough, the fire spread from house to house, burning all the surrounding homes, but his house was completely untouched! Afterwards, someone asked him why this had happened. He answered: When the great fire was raging, I chanted the Great Compassion Mantra single-mindedly, with no other thoughts at all. Chanting the Great Compassion Mantra is a tradition in my family for generations; it’s not just me who does it. Every generation has had inconceivable spiritual experiences, escaping all kinds of different disasters! I have chanted the Great Compassion Mantra for ten or twenty years now, and every time I have faced urgent danger, I have been able to turn peril into safety! Today’s situation is something I have experienced before—I escaped a fire once before by chanting the Great Compassion Mantra! Because I have this firm faith, I know the Bodhisattva will protect me unseen. So everyone should trust in the Bodhisattva and chant Avalokiteśvara’s holy name often!

Second, during the Yao Qin era in China, there was a Dharma Master named Fazhi who always chanted Avalokiteśvara’s holy name wholeheartedly. Once, he had to travel to another place for an errand, and the route he took passed through a reed marsh. Just then, someone came to burn wild grass, and fire closed in from all four sides, surrounding Dharma Master Fazhi in a ring of flame with no way to escape the sea of fire. So he calmed his mind and thought: I am a devotee of Avalokiteśvara; I now entrust my life to the Bodhisattva. He sat upright in the middle of the reeds and chanted Avalokiteśvara’s holy name single-mindedly. After chanting for a while, the great fire drew close to his body, and he was overcome by smoke and passed out, certain his life was over. But when the fire died down and a cool breeze blew, he slowly came to. Looking around, all the wild grass had been burned to ash, but only the grass within about a foot of his body was untouched by the fire, so he was not burned to death. These true accounts confirm that chanting Avalokiteśvara’s holy name can indeed free you from fire disasters. Do not think that chanting has no effect—the key is whether you call the name single-mindedly.

Now let us consider this from the perspective of principle: The "great fire" mentioned in the sutra should not be understood only as a physical fire with form and shape. It can also refer to the formless, invisible fire we all know: the fire of anger (嗔恚之火). This is not an external fire, but a fire that burns inside the mind. This inner fire of anger also has the power to burn. As it is said: "The fire of anger can burn the forest of merit and virtue"—this is extremely terrifying! The Sutra of the Girl of Wondrous Wisdom (妙慧童女经) states: "Anger destroys wholesome roots; do not let it grow!" Ordinary people only know that external fire is fierce, that it can burn down houses and trees. They never stop to think that the inner fire of anger is even more terrifying than any great external fire. External fire can only burn objects outside the body, or at most the body itself; no matter what, it cannot burn away the merit and wholesome roots you have cultivated. Only the inner fire of anger can destroy your wholesome roots and accumulated merit. That is why while we need to guard against external fire, we need to guard against the inner fire even more.

How do you guard against the inner fire? When anger is about to rise in your mind, suddenly think of Avalokiteśvara and chant the holy name devoutly. This is like splashing a basin of cold water straight into your heart, extinguishing the fire of anger before it can burn your wholesome roots or destroy the forest of your merit. The line "Should one enter a great fire, the fire will not burn" could just as easily be read as "Should one enter the fire of anger, the fire will not burn"—doesn’t that make perfect sense? Even people who do not practice Buddhism would find that easy to believe. This shows that the Buddha’s teaching is completely reasonable and grounded in reality; it is not just a collection of fanciful stories or empty boasts.

The fire of anger can burn everything, and anger is harmful to everyone around you. Many sutras speak to this. Take the Sutra of Bequeathed Teachings (遗教经), which says: "The harm of anger is this: it destroys all wholesome dharmas, ruins one’s good reputation, and in this life and the next, people do not wish to see one. One should know that the mind of anger is more terrible than a raging fire; always protect yourself and do not let it enter." It’s true: if someone often loses their temper, no matter how capable or kind they are in other respects, people will not want to be around them. You have probably heard people say: "So-and-so is great at their work, always willing to help others, eloquent, and skilled at both writing and calligraphy—they just have a bit of a temper." If someone says they want to visit that person, others will warn them: "I wouldn’t go see them, their temper is too fierce." This shows how destructive the fire of anger can be! Often, we don’t even mean to lose our temper—we just can’t control ourselves, and anger bursts out before we realize it, as if it’s second nature. At a moment like that, if you can think of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, your anger will vanish instantly.

There was once a layperson who asked an ordained Dharma Master a question: "Master, I have had an illness for a long time that no doctor can cure. Do you think you could treat it for me?" "What illness do you have?" the Master asked. "To be honest, I have no physical ailment. I just lose my temper all the time. When it comes on, it’s like a clap of thunder, and everyone around me is scared. I don’t want to get angry, but when the situation arises, it just erupts on its own, as if I was born with it—it comes whenever it wants, and I truly have no way to stop it." The layperson explained to the Master. "That’s strange. I’ve heard of all kinds of illnesses, but never one like yours," the Master replied. "You monks are so unreasonable! You don’t even understand what it’s like to have a temper?" The Master said: "It’s not that I don’t understand. You say your temper is inborn, so why don’t you take it out and show it to me?" When the layperson heard this, he was stunned. He thought to himself: "He wants me to take out the illness and show it to him? The illness is in my mind, but how can I take it out and show it to anyone?" He thought and thought, but couldn’t figure out how to do it, so he said to the Master: "How am I supposed to take out an illness and show it to you?" The Master then said: "If the illness cannot be taken out and shown to others, then your claim that it is inborn is definitely untrue!" "You’re right. If it really were inborn, I should be able to take it out and show people. Since it’s not inborn, I just need to pay more attention to controlling myself." The layperson realized that no one is born with a bad temper; it can only be controlled through self-cultivation, by preventing your anger from running wild. And just like that, his "illness" of bad temper was cured without any medicine.

Truly, no matter what comes your way in life, if you can just pause and take a step back, even the greatest anger will not rise. Anger never comes from nowhere; almost always, it stems from being unable to control your emotions. If you can learn to master your emotions well, you will never lose your temper for no reason. Chanting Avalokiteśvara’s holy name is the best way to control the fire of anger and keep it from burning. There is another way to control your temper as well: anger almost always arises in response to other people—when someone provokes you, criticizes you, mocks you, or insults you, it is easiest to lose your temper. At times like that, if you use the method below, you can stop your anger before it starts: First, observe what kind of person is speaking to you: are they a person of principle, or a petty, unscrupulous person? If they are a truly upright, principled person, you should reflect on yourself first. A good person does not criticize others casually. If they are criticizing you, it means you must have faults they are pointing out. Otherwise, a decent person would never criticize you for no reason. You should accept their criticism and correct your shortcomings—how could you possibly get angry at them? Losing your temper in front of a good, upright person is deeply embarrassing! If the person criticizing you is a petty, unscrupulous person, why bother arguing with them? If you argue with a petty person, aren’t you just lowering yourself to their level? You will end up no better than they are, or even worse. When you think of it that way, even if you felt anger rising, it will fade right away. In short, no matter whether the other person is a person of principle or a petty person, you should not lose your temper.

己二

Deliverance from Water Disasters

If you are swept away by floodwaters, calling on Guanyin’s name will bring you to shallow ground. This is the second of the seven perils — the peril of water. Great floods are indeed a catastrophic disaster. Consider the “August Seventh” flood that struck Taiwan in 1959, and the “August First” flood of 1960: both were disasters of unprecedented severity. You may read about the gravity of these events in the papers, but it is hard to grasp just how devastating they were. When the August Seventh flood hit, I was in Taichung. When the waters rose, house after house was carried off, tree after tree toppled, and fertile farmland was instantly transformed into barren hills strewn with loose rock. Rail lines were torn apart, iron bridges washed away, livestock swept along in the current, and people drowned. A great flood can wipe out families entirely and cost people their lives. No one faces floods unafraid. Yet these natural disasters can’t always be prevented. When a great flood strikes, all we can do is act to the best of our ability. The Dharma teaches that the best response is to recite Guanyin’s name with sincere devotion. Thus the scripture says: “If one is swept away by great waters, calling on [Guanyin’s] name, one will reach shallow ground.” When a person is adrift in floodwaters, their life hangs by a thread. At this critical moment, if you can single-mindedly call on the Bodhisattva’s holy name, you will be quickly drawn from deep water to shallow ground, and delivered to safety. Therefore, when carried away by floodwaters, the most vital thing is to not forget the greatly compassionate Bodhisattva Guanyin.

Let’s first illustrate deliverance from water peril with a concrete example. According to the Lotus Miraculous Records (法華感通), during the Tang Dynasty in China, there was a man named Cen Jingren who had recited the Universal Gate Chapter since childhood. Once, he boarded a boat for Suzhou. Not long after setting out, the vessel capsized without warning, and everyone on board was thrown into the water. As he struggled in the water, Cen Jingren heard a voice call out: “Those who regularly recite the Universal Gate Chapter will now be spared from this water peril!” He heard this voice three times in total, then bobbed to the surface, drifted to the shore, and was truly delivered from the water disaster. Stories like this are common in Chinese tradition, and we would do well to take them to heart. Water disasters can strike anywhere, at any time. We should keep this in mind, and more than that, hold fast to this conviction: if we ever face a flood, we must remember to call on the holy name of Bodhisattva Guanyin.

Now let’s turn to the principle underlying this teaching. The “great waters” here do not refer only to towering external waves, but to the waters of craving and desire that rise within our own minds. Countless sentient beings drown in these waters of craving and desire, losing their very lives. The Dharma says: “The river of love has waves a thousand feet high; the sea of suffering has billows ten thousandfold.” We can see how powerful the pull of craving’s waters truly is. Just look at how many young people today turn away from their parents and loved ones, caught in the whirlpool of the love-river, refusing to stop until their desire is sated — some even choosing to end their lives together. This is why the “great waters” refer to the waters of greedy attachment. When sentient beings are drowning in these waters of craving and desire, the Buddha teaches that the only path to rescue is to arouse right mindfulness and single-mindedly recite Guanyin’s holy name, to awaken wisdom. With the fire of wisdom, we can burn away the waters of craving and desire, sparing ourselves unnecessary suffering and loss. For this reason, all Dharma practitioners should make a habit of reciting Guanyin Bodhisattva’s name. It can only bring us benefit.

In Buddhist teaching, craving and desire are the root of birth and death. The reason sentient beings cannot free themselves from the cycle of birth and death is precisely this craving and desire. The Sutra of Forty-Two Sections states:

“When a person harbors craving and desire, they cannot see the Way. It is like clear water: if someone stirs it with their hand, then even when many people gather around it, none can see their reflection in it. Because a person’s craving and desire intertwine, turbidity arises in the mind, and so they cannot see the Way. You monks should renounce craving and desire. When the defilement of craving and desire is exhausted, the Way can be seen.”

Ordinary people, deluded by craving and desire, go their whole lives without seeing the truth, with no path to liberation from the cycle of birth and death. It is like a basin of clear, still water that would normally reflect your face: if someone stirs it with their hand, creating countless ripples, no one standing before it can make out their own features. When a single moment of mind is clouded by craving and desire, and delusive thoughts fly wild all day, how can anyone hope to see the truth? For this reason, not only monastics but every student of the Dharma should cut off craving and desire, sever the stream of attachment, and restore the mind to its original purity. Only then can we see the truth and attain liberation.

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Deliverance from Rākṣasa Perils

If hundreds of thousands of myriads of beings set out across the great ocean in search of gold, silver, lapis lazuli, crystal, agate, coral, amber, pearls, and other treasures, and a black wind blows their ships astray into the land of rākṣasa demons — if even one among them calls on the name of Bodhisattva Guanyin, all of them will be delivered from the peril of the rākṣasas.

This is the third of the seven perils: the peril of rākṣasa demons. Wind disasters are referred to as “black wind” in the scriptures. Just what kind of wind a black wind is, we cannot say for sure. To grasp how severe wind disasters can be, anyone who lives on the island of Taiwan knows all too well. Every typhoon season, the destructive force of these storms is truly terrifying. The damage they cause each year is immense. These are natural disasters. Even in our age of advanced science, no method has been found to eliminate typhoons. All we can do is stay vigilant and take preventive steps to limit damage. This is truly a great calamity.

“If there are hundreds of thousands of myriads of beings” — this describes the great multitude. So many beings, “seeking gold, silver, lapis lazuli, crystal, agate, coral, amber, pearls and other treasures, enter the great ocean.” The seven treasures listed here are: gold (yellow gold), silver (white silver), lapis lazuli (a blue-green gem), crystal (a white gem), agate (a red gem), coral (shaped like tree branches), amber (formed from thousand-year-old pine trees), and pearls (precious round beads). Most of these seven treasures are found in the sea, so those seeking them often travel in large groups across the ocean to harvest them. To voyage out for treasure, one must travel by ship. These hundreds of thousands of myriads of seekers board their vessels and set out across the ocean — only to face the risk that a black wind may blow their ships off course, casting them adrift into the land of the rākṣasa demons. These demons are said to be man-eaters that dwell on coastal islands, lying in wait to devour any who come near. Their appearance is described as: “Mouth like a basin filled with blood, eyes like bronze bells, hands like iron pitchforks, green faces and jagged fangs” — a truly frightening sight. Because they move with incredible speed, they are also called “swift demons.” When treasure seekers are blown off course by a black wind and wash up in the land of the rākṣasas, their lives are undeniably in grave danger. At that very moment, “if even one among them calls on the name of Bodhisattva Guanyin, all those people will be delivered from the peril of the rākṣasas.”

Some might object: if one person recites Guanyin’s name and is saved, that makes sense. But if one person’s recitation saves hundreds of thousands of myriads of people, that seems hard to believe. In fact, there is no mystery here. When people are caught in terror and facing imminent danger, if even one person begins to recite, the others — even if they do not speak the words aloud — will already hold the Bodhisattva in their minds, and may even be reciting silently in their hearts. In this way, they all share in the benefit of deliverance, even if they do not realize it. Even now, when we travel by any means of transport, if we can single-mindedly recite Guanyin’s name so that our fellow travelers hear it and carry away an impression of the Bodhisattva, gradually inspiring them to take an interest in Buddhist practice, this too is a great meritorious act.

Regarding deliverance from rākṣasa peril through reciting Guanyin’s name, here is a story: Long ago, a merchant leader took five hundred traders out to sea to collect treasure. A black wind blew their ship off course into the land of the rākṣasas. Four hundred and ninety-nine of them were devoted followers of Guanyin. Facing certain disaster with no other option, they called single-mindedly on Bodhisattva Guanyin. To their surprise, as they recited, the rākṣasa demons hunting for prey could not see a single one of them. The one man who did not believe in Guanyin not only refused to recite, but thought to himself: “What use is calling on Guanyin when a great calamity strikes?” The moment this thought crossed his mind, a rākṣasa demon spotted him, lunged, and grabbed him. Only then did he realize the importance of reciting Guanyin, and he called the Bodhisattva’s name aloud in desperation. The demon heard him reciting Guanyin’s name, let go, and suddenly could not see him. In this way, all of them escaped the peril of the rākṣasas together. This story shows that, in terms of concrete events, reciting Guanyin’s holy name when facing any danger truly holds inconceivable, wondrous power.

On a symbolic level, the great ocean represents the ocean of the Dharma. The seven treasures are the seven holy riches of Buddhist teaching. The black wind stands for ignorance. The rākṣasa demon stands for the impulse to kill. The ships represent the sentient life-body. The meaning is this: when a person has plunged deep into the ocean of the Dharma, seeking to cultivate the seven holy riches, if they are suddenly struck by the fierce wind of ignorance and give rise to thoughts of killing, this causes the life-body to fall apart.

There is also a traditional Chinese story that illustrates this principle: Once, a prime minister visited a temple where a monk lived who practiced with great diligence, reciting the Universal Gate Chapter every day. The prime minister lingered for a while, then stood behind the monk listening to his recitation. When the monk reached the lines “Should a black wind blow their ships, casting them adrift into the land of rākṣasa demons,” the prime minister interrupted suddenly: “What do these two lines of scripture mean? Please explain them to me.” The monk knew full well who he was, but deliberately replied: “You are being most unreasonable! I am a monk reciting scripture, on the verge of entering samādhi — how can you interrupt me with questions? If you wish to ask, wait until I have finished reciting!” The prime minister was furious at being spoken to so bluntly. He immediately ordered his attendants to seize the monk and take him to the magistrate’s office to be sentenced to death. At this, the monk laughed heartily and said: “I truly have been blown by a black wind and cast adrift into the land of rākṣasa demons!” Puzzled, the prime minister asked him to explain. The monk replied: “Your inability to let go, the stirring of the wind of ignorance — that is the black wind. Your impulse to kill — that is the rākṣasa demon. That is why I say I have encountered a black wind and been cast into the land of rākṣasa demons.” Hearing this, the prime minister not only understood the meaning of the scripture, but also grasped the monk’s intention. He did not execute the monk; instead, he treated him with the utmost respect and personally escorted him back to the temple. This monk was truly the most skillful of Dharma teachers. Had he given any conventional explanation at the time, whether the prime minister would have understood is uncertain, and whether he would have accepted it is another question entirely. By teaching through direct demonstration like this, the prime minister not only understood the teaching fully, but his faith in it became deep and unshakable.

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Concluding the Explanation of the Name's Origin

For all these reasons, [the Bodhisattva] is named Guanshiyin.

When Endless Intent asked about the causes and conditions for the Bodhisattva’s name, the scripture gave a full account of them. “For all these reasons,” it says, “the Bodhisattva is named Guanshiyin.” Once you understand the causes and conditions behind the Bodhisattva’s name, all doubts about her will fall away. When doubt gives way to faith, your recitation of her holy name will naturally grow all the more earnest and sincere.

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Extensive Demonstration of the Response to Name-Recitation

Escape from the Peril of Blades and Staves

"If again there is someone about to be harmed, who calls upon the name of Guanyin Bodhisattva, the blades and staves in the hands of those who would harm him will instantly shatter into pieces, and he shall gain liberation." Among the seven perils, this is the fourth: the peril of blades and staves. A blade is a sharp edge that can take life; a stave is a club or rod of some kind, which at the least can wound the body, and at worst can cost one his life. So wherever people go, on seeing someone brandishing blades or staves, they keep their distance, afraid of being struck and losing their lives.

If a person had broken the law and faced the state's sanctions, capital punishment in those days—the crime of beheading—was carried out with a blade. For lighter offenses, one might be flogged with planks or tortured with pressing rods; these too were called staves. To suffer punishment by blade or stave is to meet a calamity, and people naturally try to avoid it. No one is unafraid of blades and staves.

But suppose you find yourself in such a situation—what then? The sutra says: "If again there is someone," whether about to be harmed for no reason, or being punished for breaking the law, or beaten down by robbers—in short, at the very moment when he is "about to be harmed," if he can single-mindedly "call" upon the "name of Guanyin Bodhisattva," then the "blades and staves" "held" by those who would take his life will instantly "shatter into pieces," and "thus" he "gains" "liberation." "Instantly" means at once, without delay.

Blades and staves are lethal weapons; if they truly fall upon the body, one's life is surely at stake. But through the karmic connection of reciting Guanyin's holy name, the weapons break into pieces on the spot, losing their power to harm, no longer able to threaten life. Liberation comes in that very moment.

When people meet the peril of blades and staves, it is always a matter of evil karma—either created in this life or formed in past lives. Ordinarily, once such karma exists, there's no escaping it; the force of karma cannot be avoided. Yet because the wholesome karma generated by reciting Guanyin's holy name is stronger than the evil karma one has made, it can offset the evil. Once the evil karma is neutralized, even if blades and staves are brought against one, they cannot harm—and so one is liberated.

Blades and staves can be spoken of in two ways: the visible and the invisible.

As for visible blades and staves: there is a story from the history of Chinese Buddhism. During the Tang dynasty, there was a Chan master named Zhijue who, before becoming a monk, had served as a prefect. While in office, his jurisdiction was struck by an unprecedented famine. The people were starving so terribly that they had no rice to eat and could not even find grass roots to chew—misery could hardly have been worse. Yet the government granaries held abundant grain. The state's stored grain was meant for relieving famine, but to use it required the emperor's approval. The prefect feared a memorial to the throne would take time, and by the time the edict came down, the people might already have starved to death. Moved by compassion, he distributed the grain first and reported to the emperor afterward. His intention was good, but without prior imperial approval, he had broken the law. The emperor stripped him of his office and had him taken to the capital for execution by beheading.

But this prefect was a clean official of long-standing reputation. The king, knowing his character, instructed the executioner to watch the prefect's words and bearing at the moment of execution. The prefect knew his act was illegal, but to save the starving people he had transgressed knowingly, having long since set life and death aside. So at the time of execution, he showed no sign of distress and joyfully declared: "With this one life, I make offering to all beings!" The executioner, hearing this, found it strange and did not carry out the killing, but went to report to the king. The king immediately summoned the prefect back and asked why he had done it. He answered plainly: "There was no other reason. I simply couldn't bear to see the people suffer the pain of hunger. It was a single moment of compassion." The king, knowing he had acted for good, pardoned him. After this incident, the prefect felt worldly life held no further meaning, and resolved to leave the home life. His dharma name was Zhijue.

From this we can see: when a person is about to be harmed, if he can arouse even a single thought of goodness or compassion, his mind will resonate with the mind of the Bodhisattva, and he can receive the Bodhisattva's saving power—escaping the peril of blades and staves.

Let me tell another story of escape through reciting Guanyin's name. In old China, in a certain household, the husband and wife were devoted to each other. The wife managed the home with great care and devoted herself to reciting Guanyin's holy name. Her husband treated her well and traveled for business; whenever he spoke of her to friends, he never tired of praising her—her virtue, her chastity, her perfect fulfillment of a wife's duties. A friend, wanting to play a joke, made a pretext to visit the home. The wife, seeing he was her husband's friend, welcomed him courteously. In those days, women's garments had very wide sleeves; when a hand moved, the sleeve would rise and the arm would be exposed. The wife had a mole on her arm, which the friend secretly noticed. Later, meeting her husband, the friend said in jest: "You always speak of how virtuous your wife is and how she keeps to a woman's proper conduct, yet she has a dark mole on a certain place on her arm—I saw it clearly myself. So what of her faithfulness?"

The husband was absolutely furious. He thought: I trusted her so completely, and yet she's such a woman! How outrageous! In his rage, he came home in the middle of the night with a knife. He called to her to open the door. When she opened it, without a word of explanation, he struck at her with the knife. Believing he had killed her, he fled to escape arrest. While running, he thought of her virtue and chastity—knowing she could never have behaved so—and realized he had been cruelly deceived. Remorse filled his heart.

After many days, hearing no news of a murderer being caught, he slipped back home. He found his wife sitting, reciting Guanyin's holy name. Astonished, he asked her: "A few nights ago, did no one come to knock at our door?" The wife replied: "No one has come. Every night I'm in the Buddha hall reciting Guanyin's holy name—how could I have gone to open the door?" The husband, deeply puzzled, told her the whole story. Together, they recognized it as Guanyin's miraculous response. They brought out the Guanyin image they venerated and saw, on the neck of the statue, a clear knife-mark—proof that Guanyin had come and opened the door to save them. From then on, the couple recited Guanyin Bodhisattva's name with even deeper devotion.

As for invisible blades and staves: by these are meant the jealousy, obstruction, resentment, and inner turmoil hidden in every human heart. Jealousy is truly a sharp blade. When we see others surpass us—whether in wealth, status, or reputation—jealousy rises of its own accord, and it feels as though a knife were cutting into our own flesh. So jealousy is like a blade. Anger and affliction spring from a mind of hatred. When anger and affliction burn within and an unwelcome event arises that we cannot deal with, we can only rage inside, and it feels as painful as a sharp sword in the body. So anger and affliction, too, are like a blade.

When such states arise, if we can devoutly recite Guanyin's name, anger, affliction, and jealousy instantly dissolve like smoke in air. At the same time, we should reflect: sentient beings are intimately connected with me—why should I be jealous or angry toward them? When we think in this way, the heart opens, and we are liberated.

In the Lotus Sutra there is a Bodhisattva called Never Disparaging, a worthy model for us. As he practiced the Bodhisattva way, he bowed to everyone he met and said: "I would not dare look down on you; you shall all become Buddhas." People hearing this not only refused to believe but found it deeply annoying; still, the Bodhisattva continued. So they responded by hurling tiles, pebbles, and stones at him. He would retreat to a distance and joyfully continue: "I would not dare look down on you; you shall all become Buddhas." This was genuine respect for the dignity of every person—not idle talk. If each of us could respect the dignity of others, we would neither feel anger nor jealousy, and we would treat others with reverence. The ordinary reason people feel anger and jealousy toward others is a failure to respect their dignity. Though Never Disparaging was pelted with blades, staves, tiles, and stones, because of his respect for others, in time everyone who had contact with him was transformed and came to take refuge in the Dharma.

There's a saying: "The soft can overcome the hard." Blades and staves stand for hardness and force; only gentleness, patience, and forbearance can answer them. So although blades and staves are sharp weapons, before one who is gentle, patient, and forbearing they completely lose their power, and "instantly shatter into pieces." If you harbor anger or jealousy, step back and remember "softness overcomes hardness," and liberation comes naturally.

Section Five, Part Two: Escape from the Peril of Demons

"If the three-thousand-great-thousand-fold lands are filled to the brim with yaksha and rakshasa demons wishing to torment human beings, upon hearing them call the name of Guanyin Bodhisattva, these evil demons will not even dare to look at them with hostile eyes, much less do them harm." Among the seven perils, this is the fifth: the peril of evil demons. Though rakshasas were mentioned earlier in the peril of the black wind, the focus there was on the black wind—or we might say that passage referred to only one category; here, the reference is to many. Yaksha, translated into Chinese as "swift-speed demons," can fly both over land and through the air. Those who travel on land are called earth-traveling yakshas; those who fly are air-traveling yakshas. Rakshasas, as noted before, are man-eating demons, also translated as "fierce and evil demons."

"If" the entire "lands" of a "three-thousand-great-thousand-fold" world system "are filled to the brim with yaksha and rakshasa" demons, who at every moment "wish to come and torment" "people," then the tormented one need only single-mindedly call upon Guanyin. When these yakshas and rakshasas "hear them call the name of Guanyin Bodhisattva, these evil demons" will not dare to look at the person with hostile eyes—how much less dare to kill him! So it is said: "they cannot even look upon him with evil eyes, much less inflict harm."

From the worldly standpoint: tradition tells of a country in ancient times that happened to border the land of rakshasa demons. The rakshasas often crossed over to capture people and eat them, so the people of that country were constantly disappearing. The king loved his people, but could do nothing. Eventually he thought of a plan: he would negotiate with the king of the rakshasas to send one person each day to the rakshasa realm for them to consume. The rakshasa king thought this a fine arrangement and agreed. So the king, going by household registration, sent one person each day.

One day, the household called upon was that of a mother with an only son. Her love for him was deep, and with him gone her line would be utterly cut off—a grave matter. She went to plead with the king to send another family's child instead, but he refused. She had no choice but to send her son. Fortunately, the mother had deep faith in Guanyin. She comforted her son, telling him not to cry, not to be afraid, but to single-mindedly recite Guanyin's holy name. The boy obeyed and recited. When the rakshasas came to seize people, however much they searched, they could not see him at all.

Needless to say, after sending her son off, the mother at home had nothing else to do but single-mindedly recite Guanyin's holy name as well, trusting that if mother and son recited with such devotion, they would receive Guanyin's protection and escape the peril. So at dawn the next day, she went to the place where she had sent her son the night before. From a distance she heard him calling out to her. Knowing he had not been taken by the demons, she joyfully led him home and reported everything to the king. The king, hearing the good news, immediately decreed that from that day forward, all the people of the nation should recite Guanyin's holy name together. From then on, the rakshasas truly never troubled the country again. The people lived in freedom and happiness, no longer under the demons' threat. So reciting Guanyin's holy name can indeed protect one from this peril.

From the standpoint of principle: the so-called yakshas and rakshasas are, among human beings, truly everywhere, visible at any moment. A fierce man who loves to beat and scold people—we call such a one a "fierce rakshasa." A sharp-tongued woman who cries, curses, and throws fits—we call her a "female yaksha." In this world, then, yakshas and rakshasas truly exist, and any of us may become one. Yet, when you feel yourself about to behave this way, it's best to call Guanyin to mind and sincerely recite the holy name. Not only will you yourself not become a yaksha or rakshasa, but yakshas and rakshasas will not dare to come and harm you!

Furthermore, when we speak of ghosts in general, we say they're sly and furtive, always working in the dark. A person full of tricks, scheming and plotting—when one scheme fails, another is devised—what is this but a yaksha or rakshasa? When we meet such people, if we recite the name of Guanyin Bodhisattva and let the light of wisdom shine forth, we can see through their deceit and leave them no room to ply their tricks. Then we will not be harmed by them, and we gain liberation and ease.

Section Five, Part Three

Liberation from Imprisonment

If a person—whether guilty of a crime or falsely accused—is bound in handcuffs, fetters, a cangue, and iron chains, and calls out the name of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, every one of those bonds will snap, and they will be freed at once.

This is the sixth of the seven great calamities: the calamity of imprisonment in manacles, fetters, a cangue, and chains. Manacles bind the wrists, fetters bind the ankles, the cangue is a heavy wooden board locked around the neck, and chains are iron ropes bound tight around the body. When these restraints are not affixed to a person, they move freely; when they are, every action feels laborious, and no one ever wishes to face such a calamity.

“Suppose there is such a person,” whether they have “committed a crime” or are “innocent.” To have committed a crime is to have done something that violates the laws of the land; to be innocent is to have broken no law, but to have been falsely accused by others. The state’s law enforcement officials, judging the severity of the offense, will use “handcuffs, fetters, a cangue, and chains” to “restrain and bind” the person—restrain meaning to constrain, bind meaning to tie fast. The human body is meant to move freely, but when it is restrained and bound, it loses all liberty. Yet if, in that very moment, you can sincerely call out the name of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, every manacle, fetter, cangue, and chain binding your body will naturally break apart, and you will be freed at once.

As for the recorded account of this: it is said that long ago, there was a couple who were both devout followers of the Three Jewels, and who lived their daily lives with the deepest faith in Avalokiteshvara. Later, the husband was framed by others and accused of being a thief. The government arrested him and sentenced him to the prescribed punishment. When he learned of this, he knew arguing his case would be pointless, and the only option was to flee. But when the authorities could not locate the actual perpetrator, they arrested his wife in his place, locked her in handcuffs and fetters, and held her in jail with the other prisoners. One day, a fire suddenly broke out in the prison, and the inmates were moved out to the roadside. Just then, a monk passed by, and the woman, a Buddhist, called out to him: “Venerable Master, have mercy and save me!” As it happened, this monk was none other than the teacher under whom she had taken refuge. Her teacher said to her: “If you are asking me to save you, I truly have no power to do so. You have deep faith in Avalokiteshvara—cling to the faith you already have, and single-mindedly recite the holy name of Avalokiteshvara. There will surely be inconceivable spiritual power at work, and you will gain liberation.”

From that moment on, the woman set aside all worldly thoughts and devoted herself entirely to reciting the name. After chanting for three days and three nights, the fetters on her body suddenly all snapped. Even though she could have walked free, the guards were posted at the gate, and she did not dare to simply leave. Just as she was hesitating, she suddenly heard a voice from the air, telling her to leave the prison at once and harbor not a single doubt. She opened her eyes and looked around—sure enough, the prison gates were wide open—and so she escaped from the jail. She walked quietly for twenty or thirty li, and along the way, she ran into her husband. When the two met after such hardship, their joy was beyond words.

From this true account, we can confirm that reciting the holy name of Avalokiteshvara can indeed deliver a person from the calamity of handcuffs, fetters, cangue, and chains. The visible handcuffs, fetters, cangue, and chains certainly keep people from being free; but the invisible handcuffs, fetters, cangue, and chains bind people far more tightly, without them even realizing it! Take what is called the “bridle of fame” and the “shackles of profit”—do these not bind the people of the world just as tightly? Look around: how many people are not pulled this way and that by the pursuit of fame and gain? When fame and gain pull them east, they go east; when they pull them west, they go west. Chasing fame, they go wherever fame can be found; chasing profit, they go wherever profit lies. They can’t even control their own actions at all—how can we call that freedom? Greed for fame ties you to fame—this is the “bridle of fame.” Chasing profit locks you to profit—this is the “shackles of profit.” The cangue refers to attachment between men and women: when a man clings to a woman and a woman clings to a man, they marry and build a family, the man bound to the woman, the woman tied to the man, neither able to leave the other—what is this but a cangue? The fetters, on a deeper level, are each person’s attachment to the self. Because we cling to the idea of a solid, permanent “self,” we spend all day running around for that self, serving it at every turn; if even the smallest thing goes against our wishes, we fly into a rage—this is why attachment to self is the fetter.

For people living in this world, the Dharma teaches that being bound by visible handcuffs, fetters, cangue, and chains is a small problem; being tangled in the invisible handcuffs, fetters, cangue, and chains is the truly urgent one. What’s more, the visible cangue and chains are placed on us by others, and there comes a time when we are freed of them. But the invisible cangue and chains are tied by our own hands. If we do not find a way to untie them ourselves, no one else can do it for us. The Buddha has taught countless methods to free ourselves from the bonds that tie us. But as far as the Universal Gateway Chapter we are discussing now goes, we find the most concise and effective method is to single-mindedly call upon the Great Compassionate Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, seeking to leave this Sahā world behind as soon as possible. When we hold this intention in our hearts, our attachment to worldly fame and gain, to romantic attachment, and to the self naturally grows light, and we no longer cling to these things foolishly. Bondage is of our own making, and liberation is also of our own making—there is fundamentally no need to look for it outside ourselves!

b.4 Liberation from the Calamity of Bandits

If across a whole three-thousand-great-thousand-fold land filled with hostile bandits, there is a merchant leader guiding a company of merchants carrying precious treasures across a dangerous route, and one among them cries out: “Good people! Do not be afraid! You should single-mindedly call upon the name of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva—this Bodhisattva can bestow fearlessness upon all sentient beings. If you call his name, you will be delivered from these hostile bandits!”—then all the merchants, hearing this, will cry out together: “Namo Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva!” And by calling his name, they will be freed at once.

This is the last of the seven calamities: the calamity of hostile bandits. “Hostile” refers to enemies, “bandits” to thieves—both bring harm. If you encounter them, they will either threaten your life or steal your wealth, and you will never know peace. Suppose a “three-thousand-great-thousand-fold land” is entirely “filled” with “hostile” enemies and thieving “bandits.” Needless to say, this is an unimaginably dangerous place, and ordinary people would hardly dare travel through a land overrun with such people. Yet here we have “a merchant leader” guiding “a company of merchants,” each carrying exceedingly precious treasures, all together making their way across this “dangerous route.”

At first, everyone was on high alert, afraid they might run into hostile bandits who would rob them of their goods and take their lives. As they crept forward with fear in their hearts, “one among them” suddenly cried out: “Good people! We have now entered a most dangerous path, but you must not give rise to fear—fear is useless. You have no other recourse at this moment but to single-mindedly call upon the name of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva. Only this Bodhisattva can rescue us from our peril and bring us safely through this dangerous road. For this Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva dwells in this world constantly, able to bestow fearlessness upon all sentient beings. If you can truly call his name with single-minded focus, you will be delivered from all the hostile bandits across this three-thousand-great-thousand-fold world, and not a hairsbreadth of harm will come to you.”

The merchants, hearing that reciting the name of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva brought such benefit, thereupon cried out together: “Namo Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva!” And because they called his name, they were immediately delivered from the calamity of hostile bandits, and passed through the dangerous road in safety.

The way to deal with bandits is not to fight them, but to transform them with virtue. Fighting them will not make them turn away from their path—it will only strengthen their boldness in thievery. Only virtuous transformation can truly make them turn around and abandon robbery and plunder for good.

In ages past, there was a monk in our land named Hengshun who once encountered a thief. When the thief saw him, his first words were: “Hand over your money!” Monk Hengshun sat perfectly still, not moving a muscle. The thief grew angry, drew his knife, and held it up in front of the monk’s face: “Will you hand it over or not?” Without a word, Monk Hengshun gathered all the money he had and handed it to the thief. The thief took the money and turned to run immediately. At that moment, Monk Hengshun called out: “Wait!” Those two words carried the force of thunder, and the thief, hearing them, was so stunned he truly dared not leave. Then Hengshun said to him: “People in the world should act with reason in all they do. The money I gave you was set aside for offering to the Buddha. Now that you have taken it, you should properly say ‘thank you’ to the Buddha.” At first the thief thought something terrible was about to happen; but when he realized all he needed to do was thank the Buddha, he readily said “thank you” to the Buddha, then turned and ran off as fast as he could.

The incident might have ended there, but later the thief stole again in another location and was arrested by the authorities. During questioning, the officer asked him: “Why do you steal from others? Last time, Monk Hengshun’s money also seems to have been taken from him by force—why haven’t you changed your thieving ways?” The thief replied: “I didn’t force the monk to give me his money. If you don’t believe me, go ask him yourself!” The police brought the thief to question Monk Hengshun. The monk replied with great compassion: “He did not take money from me by force—I gave it to him willingly. How can this be proven? When he was leaving, he said ‘thank you’ to the Buddha, which proves he did not take it by force.” The police, hearing this, knew the monk had acted out of compassion, and so decided not to press charges for that particular incident. But since the thief had committed many other crimes, they couldn’t let him go free out of respect for the monk’s kindness—he still had to serve his sentence.

As they led him away, Monk Hengshun grasped the thief’s hand and said: “When you came to me last time, I sincerely gave you all the money I had, hoping I could inspire you to give up stealing for good. But I see my moral power was not enough to move you. You have now broken the law of the land and must face its consequences. I can only feel ashamed that I was not able to help you more—what else is there to say?” After the thief was locked in jail, every time he recalled Hengshun’s words, a deep sorrow rose in his heart. He made a firm vow then and there, swearing that from that day forward he would never steal again. After he was released from prison, the first person he wanted to see was Hengshun. He went to the monk, declared that he would never commit such deeds again, and begged the monk to bear witness to his repentance and accept his vow. And so he turned his life around.

There is a similar story from my hometown of Yangzhou: a Buddhist layman lived there with his family of seventeen. When bandits overran their hometown and there seemed no way to escape the disaster, their only recourse was to place their trust in Avalokiteshvara, so the whole family recited the holy name of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva. One night, the layman had a dream in which Avalokiteshvara said to him: “It is very rare that your whole family recites the holy name with such sincerity. The other sixteen members of your family will be spared from this tribulation, but you cannot escape this calamity, for a fixed karmic debt cannot be avoided. Among the bandits who will come to your house tomorrow is one named Wang Mazi. In a past life, you cut him sixteen times with a blade. Now that the conditions have matured, you must be cut sixteen times by Wang Mazi to repay this debt. But because of your sincerity, you may yet be spared this harm.”

The next day, the layman told his family to hide in the side rooms, and prepared a feast to welcome Wang Mazi. Sure enough, Wang Mazi arrived at his home that day, and the layman asked him: “Are you Wang Mazi? If so, in a past life I owed you sixteen cuts, and in this life I must repay that debt. But I hope you will eat this meal first, then cut me sixteen times to settle the grudge between us.” Wang Mazi was shocked to hear this, and asked: “How did you know my name?” The layman replied: “I am a follower of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva; the Bodhisattva told me this in a dream, so I know the karmic connection between us.” Wang Mazi thought for a moment, then said: “Since cause and effect are so precise—if you cut me sixteen times in the past, and I cut you sixteen times now, we will just keep killing each other back and forth. When will this grudge ever end? Better to settle it now and be done with it.” With that, Wang Mazi took his knife and struck the layman’s body sixteen times with the back of the blade, repaying the debt of the sixteen cuts from his past life. The layman was spared from this calamity, and the enmity between them was laid to rest.

This shows that reciting the name of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva truly brings benefit. Those who were once enemies become close friends; those who were once bandits become good, upright people. All of this is the inconceivable spiritual response of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva!

b.2 Summary of Divine Power

Akṣayamati! The majestic spiritual power of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, the Mahāsattva, is truly lofty and magnificent beyond measure!

Having spoken this far, the Buddha now sums up the four kinds of deliverance. He calls out to Akṣayamati: “The ‘majestic spiritual power’ of ‘Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, the Mahāsattva’ is ‘lofty and magnificent’ to ‘such’ a degree—how could we not sincerely and constantly call upon Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva? ‘Lofty and magnificent’ describes a great, towering presence; it speaks to the vast, boundless nature of the Bodhisattva’s vows, compassion, and wisdom, which deliver sentient beings from endless calamities and suffering.

c.2 Freedom from the Three Poisons

d.1

The Direct Teaching on Freedom from the Poisons

If there are beings burdened with excessive lust, who constantly and reverently recollect Guanyin Bodhisattva, they will be freed from lust. If burdened with excessive anger, who constantly and reverently recollect Guanyin Bodhisattva, they will be freed from anger. If burdened with excessive delusion, who constantly and reverently recollect Guanyin Bodhisattva, they will be freed from delusion.

The seven calamities we just discussed can certainly be understood as inner afflictions, but on the surface, they appear to arise from external circumstances. The three poisons we turn to now are what truly belong to the mind: they are the core afflictions that live in the hearts of all sentient beings.

If you tried to count the afflictions of sentient beings, they are immeasurable and boundless—as countless as grains of dust or sand. The nature of these afflictions is also extremely subtle and hard to fully grasp. But if we speak in plain, easy-to-understand terms, all afflictions boil down to the three poisons, which are the root of every other affliction. All the immeasurable, boundless afflictions spring from these three. If Dharma practitioners can let go of the three poisons, all other afflictions will fall away on their own. This makes clear that if we want to end affliction, the key work is to pull out the root of the three poisons. That is why this chapter focuses specifically on the three poisons, and lays out exactly how we can truly let them go.

The three poisons are the three afflictions of greed, anger, and delusion. Why are these three called poisons, specifically? Because in all our body and mind activities, they constantly poison practitioners, stopping us from practicing in line with the Dharma. Just as a person bitten by a venomous snake or poisonous dragon faces death and can no longer go on living, so too do the three poisons work. They poison the Dharma-body and wisdom-life of sentient beings, stopping the Dharma-body from growing and the wisdom-life from opening up—that is why they are called poisons. They poison both ourselves and others, and this is truly something we should deeply turn away from. The Nirvana Sutra, in the “Lion’s Roar” chapter, states: “The deadliest of all poisons is none other than the three poisons.” That’s why the toxins of this world are not what we need to fear. The three poisons, the deadliest poison of all, are what are truly frightening. This is why Dharma practitioners must make eradicating the three poisons their top priority. Consider the Guanyin Sutra’s words: “Purify the root of the three poisons, and there is no doubt of attaining the Buddha Way.” If a Dharma practitioner pulls up the three poisons by the root, not only is attaining the fruit of a Hearer or Solitary Realizer, or becoming a Bodhisattva, entirely assured—even attaining the supreme fruit of full Buddhahood is beyond doubt. So eradicating the three poisons is the single most important task for all of us.

The three poisons are like a tree’s roots: pull the roots out, and the branches and leaves will wither on their own, because the source of their life is gone. So when we practice to end affliction, we have to start at the very root. This is exactly why this sutra only addresses the most fundamental, important afflictions.

The names of the three poisons are sometimes given in the singular in the sutras—greed (tān), anger (chēn), delusion (chī)—and sometimes in the plural: lustful greed (tānyù), hostile anger (chēnhuì), foolish delusion (yúchī). This sutra also uses the plural forms.

Regarding the plural forms, the ancient masters made the following distinctions:

“Desiring for oneself is yù (desire); desiring another is yín (lust).”

All humans and sentient beings love themselves. Clinging to our own life and body, and wishing for our own life to continue on—this is what is called yù. In the worldly realm we inhabit, the mutual attraction between men and women, and their affectionate, intimate unions—this is what is called yín.

“Being angry at oneself is huì (hostility); being angry at another is chēn (anger).”

When a person loses his temper with himself, even cursing himself out of the blue—this is huì. When a person loses his temper with someone else, always convinced the other person is at fault, filled with disgust and aversion for them—this is chēn.

“Deluding oneself is yú (foolishness); deluding another is chī (delusion).”

Deceiving oneself—when something is clearly not true, yet you insist to yourself that it is—this is yú. Using improper means to confuse others, leading them to wander lost as if in a maze—this is chī.

While we can explain the three poisons from both the self-focused and other-focused angles, they are in truth the fundamental inner afflictions of all sentient beings.

To counteract the three poisons, there are different methods: those prone to greed practice the contemplation of impurity; those prone to anger practice the contemplation of loving-kindness and compassion; those prone to delusion practice the contemplation of dependent origination. This holds true for both the Mahayana and Hinayana traditions. That said, while the contemplation of impurity, the contemplation of compassion, and the contemplation of dependent origination are the most effective methods for counteracting the three poisons, they are not easy for ordinary beings to put into practice. If practiced incorrectly, they will not only fail to cut through defilements, but may even make afflictions grow stronger. The Buddha, out of his great compassion, opened a special skillful means for us: those who carry heavy burdens of lustful greed, hostile anger, and foolish delusion, and who cannot practice the contemplations mentioned above, need only constantly and reverently recollect Guanyin Bodhisattva, and they too will be freed from the three poisons.

At this point, you may wonder: standard teachings tell us that severing afflictions requires wisdom—without wisdom, you cannot cut through affliction. If that is true, why does the sutra say that simply reciting the Bodhisattva’s name can free you from greed, anger, and delusion? The key to this lies in the two words “constant recollection” (chángniàn) in the sutra. Constant recollection is right mindfulness. Through it, we can see that the nature of affliction is fundamentally empty. To abide in the midst of affliction is precisely to abide in the ultimate truth. In ultimate truth, there is no subject, no object; the nature of mindfulness is perfectly pure. Is this right mindfulness not wisdom itself? Where else would you even look for wisdom, if not here? This wisdom is not separate from affliction at all—what else could possibly free you from affliction? If you tried to use a separate, distinct wisdom to cut through affliction, you would create a split between the wisdom that cuts and the affliction that is cut. In that case, not only would the afflictions remain uncut, but the wisdom itself would become just another affliction—how could that still be called the wisdom that ends defilements? So you should understand: right mindfulness is wisdom, right in that very moment. This means that if you can constantly recollect the name of Guanyin Bodhisattva, you are using right mindfulness to remove the three poisons. This is the easy path the Buddha specially revealed for all sentient beings.

In this world, if there are a certain class of beings whose desire for lust is extremely heavy, who are especially burdened with excessive lust—though this is something sentient beings enjoy, the consequences it brings are endless. That is why both the sages of this world and the great transcendent sages pay special attention to this, warning us in countless ways to stay vigilant! As Emperor Wen of Wei writes in his Essay on Restraining Desire: “The foremost evil is none other than sexual desire; the most commonly committed transgression is mostly illicit lust.” The common saying “Of all evils, lust is the foremost” makes its faults even plainer. Buddhist sutras spare no words in condemning sexual desire. It is said that sexual desire harms people more than rampaging beasts or flooding rivers—you can see how grave its transgressions are!

Lust is a matter between two people, between a man and a woman—it is never a one-sided affair. So the condemnation of sexual desire should apply equally to men and women alike. But ancient India was a patriarchal society, and since the Buddha’s primary audience was male, the sutras mostly lay the blame for the sins of lust on women when they address the topic. For example, the Sutra on Condemning Desire says:

“Female beauty is the world's cangue; ordinary people cling to it and cannot free themselves. Female beauty is the world's grave affliction; because of it, ordinary people do not escape even at death. Female beauty is the world's calamity; when ordinary people encounter it, no misfortune does not befall them. A practitioner who has already broken free—if he looks back with longing, it is as though he has emerged from hell only to think of entering again.”

This passage makes clear just how great the peril of female beauty is. But if we flip that framing and replace female beauty with male beauty, is the peril of male beauty any different? So this cannot be blamed on women alone.

Sutras and treatises also often state: among all forms of decline, that brought by women is the greatest; among all illnesses, the affliction of attachment to women is the most severe; among all bonds, the bond of a woman is the hardest to break. If a person is truly bound by the chains of attachment to a woman, freeing oneself from that bond is extremely difficult! Countless people throughout history have drowned in this attachment, unable to pull themselves free. Because the bindings of attachment to such women are so strong and unbreakable, the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas instruct us: Poisonous snakes, swords, fire, thunder and lightning—though these are fierce and not to be touched, you can still approach them briefly if needed. But a woman full of stinginess, jealousy, anger, flattery, seduction, foulness, and contention, driven by lust—you must not go near her even for a moment. If you do go near her, the calamity that will befall you is beyond counting.

To speak more gravely, lust is the very root of all birth and death. Because lust fuels the fire of attachment, it causes sentient beings to cycle through birth and death endlessly. In the actual human world, lust feels unavoidable: as long as there are men and women in relation to one another, the bond of marriage will inevitably form. When a husband and wife are united, how could lust not arise? The reason the Buddha condemns sexual desire over and over is to urge us not to drown all day in sensual pleasure, unable to free ourselves, and certainly not to engage in improper, illicit sexual acts. For this reason, the Buddha did not entirely prohibit normal marital unions for lay Buddhist practitioners. That said, excessive indulgence in such relations not only harms the body, but also ruins one’s work and purpose in life—this is truly most unwise. Just think of how many ancient emperors, ministers, heroes, and champions have lost their reputations, their kingdoms, and their families because of this! Does this not warrant our vigilance? Moreover, it is the root of all suffering and the fundamental block to the Path—this is why the Buddha strictly forbids excessive indulgence in it.

While it is said that all sentient beings rely on lust to continue their lineage, it is the most easily committed fault of all humans. It is innate: as Confucianism puts it, “food and sex are human nature.” Avoiding it is extremely difficult. But if we keep a mind of caution and reverence at all times, regarding lust as the most impure and terrifying thing, then lustful thoughts will naturally fade, or not arise at all. The root reason so many people end up on a tragic path because of lust is simple: they are not afraid of it. They think sexual pleasure is their due in life—what could be wrong with having sex? This single wrong thought leads to a lifelong mistake. As the saying goes, “A single slip brings eternal regret”—this is exactly what that means.

If a Dharma practitioner becomes attached to the pleasures of desire, there is no way for them to advance on the Path. So you should understand the faults of sexual desire, and do everything you can to avoid it. Avoid spending too much time with the opposite sex, and problems will naturally decrease. That said, truly letting go of or extinguishing desire depends on the state of your mind in the moment. If your mind leans in that direction, it is naturally hard not to be pulled along by lustful thoughts. But if you place your mind on the name of Guanyin Bodhisattva, reciting it constantly with single-minded focus—if the only thought in your heart is the right mindfulness of Guanyin Bodhisattva, with no other distracting thoughts at all—then you will naturally receive the Bodhisattva’s responsive resonance, and your lustful thoughts will melt away like ice. At the same time, if you can see the woman before you not as an ordinary woman, but as a manifestation of Guanyin Bodhisattva herself, your lustful desire will vanish in an instant.

There is an old story about a practitioner who once suddenly felt a surge of lust and tried to persuade a woman to have illicit sex with him. The woman told him to place an image of Guanyin Bodhisattva on the bed, and only then would she agree to his request. At that exact moment, the practitioner woke up to what he was doing, realized this was something he must not do, and from then on stayed far from lustful thoughts. The Buddha, knowing well the root of sentient beings’ afflictions, specifically instructed: “Constantly and reverently recollect Guanyin Bodhisattva, and you will be freed from lust.”

The most important words here are “constant recollection.” You have to recite truly without stopping, not even for an instant—just like drilling wood to start a fire, or a hen sitting on her eggs to hatch them—for it to work. If you recite half-heartedly, off and on, without true continuity, it will still be hard to see any results.

If there is another class of beings whose anger is extremely heavy, who are especially burdened with excessive anger—what method can counteract this? According to the standard path, of course one practices the contemplation of compassion, for compassion is the direct antidote to anger. Anger is a grave illness; compassion is the medicine of the Dharma—it has extraordinary healing power. No matter how heavy your anger is, as long as you practice the contemplation of compassion in accordance with the Dharma, there is no case of anger that cannot be completely cured. According to the path of expedient means, if one can ‘constantly and reverently recollect Guanyin Bodhisattva, one will be freed from anger.’ Guanyin Bodhisattva’s foremost quality is great loving-kindness and great compassion. So if you constantly recite her name and attune yourself to her compassion, anger will naturally not arise. Just look around this world: no matter how terrible a person’s temper is, as soon as they recite Guanyin Bodhisattva’s name, even the greatest rage melts away completely. This is the simplest, easiest method to practice. If any of you feel anger rising, give it a try—you will find it works remarkably well. It is not only constant recitation that frees you from anger—even occasionally beholding the Bodhisattva’s gentle, dignified face will make it impossible for anger to rise in you. When you face that gentle, dignified presence, losing your temper feels utterly pointless.

The Buddha, who deeply understands the minds of all sentient beings, specifically urges us all to constantly and reverently recollect Guanyin Bodhisattva, so that anger does not arise. Anger is the most abnormal, most violent psychological state in the minds of sentient beings; once it erupts, the consequences are severe. The Avatamsaka Sutra says: “A single thought of anger obstructs the hundred Dharma gates of illumination.” The Mahāsaṃnipāta Sutra says: “A single thought of anger gives all demons and ghosts their opening.” For a practitioner, the hundred Dharma gates of illumination should be able to open, but a single thought of anger blocks them and stops them from arising. Demons and ghosts should have no way to disturb a practitioner, but because of a single angry thought, they can seize the opportunity to stir up trouble and disrupt your practice, making it impossible for you to continue. Think about how much damage anger can do to a practitioner’s practice!

For ordinary people: if they have a quick temper and fly into rage easily, at the least they may beat and whip others, and at the worst, they may take others’ lives. Many of the tragedies that happen in this world start with a single thought of unendurable anger. This is why Buddhism sees anger as the most unacceptable of all afflictions.

The causes of anger are, of course, many—even the smallest displeasure can trigger a huge outburst of temper. That is why our world is filled with an atmosphere of hostility and perversity everywhere. That said, Buddhist scriptures often summarize the various forms of anger into three types:

First, Reasonable Anger (shùnlǐ chēn): This refers to when you have never offended anyone, never maliciously criticized others, and done nothing whatsoever to wrong anyone, yet are inexplicably subjected to humiliation, verbal abuse, slander, sabotage, or even merciless physical beatings. In such circumstances, even a person of great cultivation would find it hard not to lose their temper. This kind of anger feels justifiable and understandable—it is forgivable, and seems to align with reason, hence the name “reasonable anger.” But from the Dharma’s point of view, even losing your temper in this situation is unnecessary. Even though you have been beaten and cursed for no reason at all, forbearance is still the best path. You should understand that the person beating and cursing you is not acting of their own free will—they are driven by their own afflictions. They have no control over their actions at all; why should you be angry with them? If you think this way, not only will you not lose your temper with them, you will even feel sympathy for them, seeing how pitiable their state is. In this way, hostility transforms into harmony, and both your body and mind remain at peace!

Second, Unreasonable Anger (fēilǐ chēn): This refers to losing your temper violently for no reason at all, with no cause or provocation whatsoever.

For instance, some people are perfectly fine—no one has offended them, no adversity has troubled them—yet suddenly they fly into a terrible rage that leaves others completely baffled. You see this often in ordinary society, but it's surprisingly common among Dharma practitioners, too. There was once an old practitioner living alone in a thatched hut. He cooked his own meals with no one to bother him, but one rainy day, his damp firewood wouldn't catch. He flew into such a fit of frustration that he refused to eat! This is groundless anger. From a Dharma perspective, it's even more unacceptable. At least when you lose your temper at someone else, there's an object for your rage. But getting angry at yourself—how does that make any sense? You're only making a fool of yourself. Throwing a tantrum and skipping a meal—what good does that do? Why torment yourself? The Buddha strictly condemns this kind of baseless anger, urging us not to give in to it.

3. Quarrelsome anger: Imagine a few good friends discussing an issue. At first, the conversation is pleasant and harmonious. But after a while, the back-and-forth escalates. Everyone clings to their own opinion, insisting they are right and the others are wrong. Neither side yields. The argument heats up until faces are flushed, tempers flare, and it might even turn into a shouting match or a fistfight. This is quarrelsome anger. You see it everywhere in the world. But honestly, there's no need for it. No matter the debate, truth becomes clearer through discussion, so why bicker unnecessarily? And why fly into a rage over it? Arguments that drift away from the real point are meaningless, and destroying a friendship over them just isn't worth it. Anger driving quarrels, and quarrels driving anger, are both to be avoided. Think about it: getting so furious over a discussion that you stoke the fires of rage and make everyone miserable—why put yourself through that? The Dharma considers this type of anger wrong and something to be restrained.

All anger falls into these three categories, and none of them are good. We can't let them keep flaring up. The harm of anger is immense, as the saying goes: "A single thought of anger can burn up entirely the seeds of bodhi." It uproots the Dharma, paves the way to the lower realms, acts as the enemy of Dharma joy, and steals away our virtuous mind. Dharma practitioners shouldn't give in to anger, and neither should anyone else. But if anger does flare up, immediately and reverently calling upon Guanyin Bodhisattva can make it disappear. Here is a true story to illustrate this.

Years ago in China, there lived a brilliant and talented man named Mr. Gao Fan, who passed the imperial exam at just fourteen. He married a woman named Jiangcheng. Despite her stunning beauty, she had a violent and fierce temper. The young scholar lived in constant fear of her, so miserable that his health began to waste away. When his mother-in-law found out, she disapproved of her daughter's behavior and deeply sympathized with her son-in-law. With no other options, she turned to Guanyin Bodhisattva for help.

Because of her sincere devotion, the Bodhisattva appeared to her in a dream one night, saying: "Your daughter was a long-lived rat in a past life, kept by a monk at a temple. Your son-in-law studied at that same temple in a past life and killed the rat. Now, it's a life for a life. Your daughter won't stop tormenting your son-in-law, and there's no way to save him—unless you devoutly recite the Universal Gateway Chapter."

Taking this to heart, the mother-in-law recited devoutly and had the scholar's parents and the entire household join her. But after months of chanting, nothing happened. Her faith remained unshaken, though, and she kept on, urging her son-in-law to join in. After all, we must dissolve our own karmic debts. Once the young scholar joined the recitation, it wasn't long before an old monk arrived in the village. This monk was known for his deep understanding of karma and his skill in physiognomy, so many locals sought his advice.

Jiangcheng went to the monk, asking him to point out a way out of her confusion. He immediately told her: "Do not be angry, do not be angry. What was in the former life is no fabrication; What is in this life is likewise no truth. Tsk! Rat-child, shrink back your head, and don't let the kitten come searching!" He then splashed a cup of water in her face.

The villagers, well aware of her shrewish temper, held their breath, certain she would explode in a furious rage. Strangely, hearing his words, she seemed to awaken. Not only did she hold her temper, but her entire demeanor changed. She became a virtuous wife and loving mother. This goes to show that reciting the name of Guanyin Bodhisattva truly dispels anger.

If there are beings heavily burdened by delusion, particularly 'abounding' in 'ignorance'—what do we mean by ignorance? It means delusion and folly, an inability to clearly grasp reality and truth. Those who lack this clarity aren't necessarily uneducated. Some may possess vast knowledge and deep academic learning, but if they reject the law of karma—cause and effect—the Dharma considers them ignorant. On the other hand, someone with little formal education who genuinely and deeply believes in cause and effect is considered wise. Ignorance isn't defined by a lack of knowledge, but by a lack of faith in karma. A firm believer in cause and effect has true wisdom; a non-believer is ignorant. Faith in karma is essential in the Dharma.

Some say they won't believe in what they can't see. What they don't realize is that the Dharma's concept of cause and effect spans past, present, and future. You can't just dismiss it because you don't see immediate results. There are people doing terrible things who seem to enjoy great prosperity, but their worst suffering is yet to come. We shouldn't envy them, much less copy their behavior. Similarly, some do immense good but face terrible hardships. It might look like good deeds bring bad luck, but the joyous fruits of their actions are waiting in the future—they won't be cheated. We shouldn't let this discourage us. Instead, we should look up to their generosity.

Once you grasp that cause and effect across the three times is exact and unfailing, you naturally won't dare to do evil, choosing good instead. Sadly, people often miss this point. They think the Dharma doesn't work, or they blame heaven and everyone else. In Dharma terms, this is pure ignorance. So, what do we do about it? If you can practice contemplating causes and conditions, do so. If not, 'constantly call to mind and revere Guanyin Bodhisattva,' and you 'shall' thereby 'be freed from ignorance.'

The Chinese Buddhist tradition holds a deep, universal belief that reciting Guanyin Bodhisattva's name dispels ignorance and grants wisdom. In the past, when monasteries took in young novices, the master would have them prostrate to Guanyin for the duration of one incense stick before bed. They would chant: "Disciple so-and-so seeks keen intelligence and bows for wisdom—vast, great, and ever-responsive, greatly compassionate, greatly merciful, savior from suffering, savior from difficulty, Guanyin Bodhisattva." One recitation, one prostration. Through years of this practice, many received the Bodhisattva's response. Those who were dull became sharp and bright. Here is a true story of such a response.

A newly ordained novice was exceptionally slow-witted. No matter how hard the old monk pushed him, he couldn't memorize the sutras. Out of options, the master told him to prostrate and recite Guanyin's name every day, hoping to clear his karmic obstacles and unlock his wisdom. His daily routine was to bow for one incense stick's worth of time. The master would ring a bell to signal when he could stop and sleep. He did this without fail for three straight years.

One night, as the boy bowed and chanted, the master forgot to ring the bell. But the bell rang on its own. Hearing it, the novice went straight to bed. Later, the master scolded him for ignoring the rules and being lazy. "I wasn't lazy," the boy replied. "I only went to sleep because I heard the bell."

The master thought: I didn't ring the bell. How could it have rung? Has the boy really tapped into the Bodhisattva's power? To test it, the master deliberately didn't ring the bell the next night. Sure enough, once the boy finished his incense-stick of prostrations, the bell chimed all by itself. Knowing this was a genuine, devoted response, the master stopped setting a fixed time for the boy's bowing. From then on, the novice only had to glance at a sutra to remember it perfectly. He grasped its meaning completely, growing up to become a renowned master of sutra exposition.

So, if any of us recognize our own ignorance and constantly recite Guanyin's name, we will surely gain wisdom. The problem is that most people think they're smart and refuse to admit their ignorance, making it hard to convince them to recite the Bodhisattva's name. We'd do better not to fool ourselves. We should acknowledge the limits of our wisdom, ask for Guanyin Bodhisattva's blessing, recite the sacred name often, and trust that the Bodhisattva will grant us the wisdom to leave ignorance behind. Ignorance obscures our wisdom, while studying the Dharma is the pursuit of it. Every practitioner must break through the darkness of ignorance and live in the light of wisdom.

己二 Concluding with reference to the divine power

"Endless Intent! Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva possesses such great awe-inspiring divine power, and brings many benefits. Therefore, sentient beings should constantly bear him in mind."

The Buddha continues, addressing 'Endless Intent': "Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva possesses such great awe-inspiring divine power," which allows him to "bring many benefits" to the world's sentient beings. Keeping beings free from lust, anger, and ignorance—what else could this be but a great benefit? These three poisons are also known as the three unwholesome roots. Simply reciting the Bodhisattva's name can transform greed into pure samādhi, anger into compassion, and ignorance into wisdom. The poison of the three unwholesome roots is weeded out, allowing the virtues of the three wholesome roots to flourish in harmony and balance. Without the Bodhisattva's majestic spiritual power, how could this be possible?

Sentient beings share a common trait: they hesitate to do things that offer no personal benefit, but gladly do whatever serves their interests. Avalokiteśvara possesses immense spiritual power that benefits beings, so the Buddha specifically exhorts us: "Therefore, sentient beings should constantly bear him in mind."

The key words here are "bear in mind" (xīn niàn 心念). Usually, when we recite the Bodhisattva's name, we only use our mouths. It's great if your mind and mouth are in sync. But if your mouth recites while your mind wanders, you might get a tiny bit of merit, but you'll struggle to get a real response! It's no wonder so many people recite Guanyin's name, yet few actually feel a response. If your mouth is moving but your mind isn't focused on the sacred name or the Bodhisattva's power, a response is impossible. That's why "bearing in mind" is so crucial.

And not only must you focus your mind, but you must do it constantly. Reciting only when you're in the mood won't work. You have to keep at it. As you recite, let your mouth speak, let your ears listen, and let your mind focus—only then will you tap into the Bodhisattva's awe-inspiring divine power.

戊三 Able to fulfill the two kinds of seeking

己一

Clearly Explaining the Response to Two Requests

If there is a woman who wishes for a son, and she reverently bows and makes offerings to Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, she will give birth to a son of merit and wisdom. If she wishes for a daughter, she will give birth to a daughter of graceful appearance and fine bearing—one who has planted virtuous roots in past lives and is loved and respected by all.

We have already covered the rescue from the seven calamities and the freedom from the three poisons; now we come to the response to the two requests—that is, Avalokiteśvara adapts to the two kinds of wishes among sentient beings and grants them appropriate fulfillment. The two requests are the request for a son and the request for a daughter. "Seek a son and gain a son, seek a daughter and gain a daughter"—this is the response to the two requests. Sentient beings in the world all wish to bear sons and raise daughters, out of the need to continue the family line. If a household has no descendants at all, from the worldly standpoint this is most tragic. Yet from the perspective of the Buddhadharma, children are a hindrance, especially for cultivation. Because of deep affection for children, it's very difficult to set out on the path. Moreover, children come in two kinds: some come to repay debts—like children who are filial to their parents and care for the family—while others come to collect debts, like children who are unfilial and squander the family fortune. A true cultivator doesn't necessarily need children, then. But in order to accommodate the wishes of worldly sentient beings, the compassionate Buddhas and Bodhisattvas can fulfill their desires. Hence among the manifestations of Guanyin shown here, there is the Child-Giving Guanyin, among others.

"If there is a woman who wishes for a son"—speaking generally of ordinary families, both husband and wife equally hope for children. Why does the text mention only the woman seeking a son or daughter? A woman's heart in seeking children is more earnest than her husband's, so the text specifically points to the woman. A wife's eagerness to bear children surpasses her husband's for roughly three reasons. First, parents-in-law generally take a daughter-in-law because of their burning wish to hold a grandchild. If after marriage the bride remains childless for long, her in-laws will inevitably be disappointed and may grow to dislike her—so a woman hopes to bear children early in order to win their affection. Second, a husband takes a wife to keep the family line going, and labors day after day for the sake of family and children. If his wife remains barren, she won't just lose his tenderness—she may drive him to take another wife. Her eagerness to bear a son is especially intense. Third, after a woman marries, if she has no children, her in-laws dislike her, her husband grows weary of her, and even relatives and friends will ridicule her. A woman's desire for a child is indeed more earnest than a man's.

If such a woman truly hopes to gain a son, what can she do? The sūtra tells us she need only "reverently bow and make offerings to Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, and she will give birth to a son of merit and wisdom." To bow means to prostrate oneself with utmost sincerity, as is commonly done in bowing to the Buddha today. To make offerings means to offer various items such as incense and flowers. From the Bodhisattva's side, he has no need of anything from us—so what is there to offer? But because we seek blessings or seek a child, we must express a token of sincerity. The offering spoken of in the Buddhadharma isn't necessarily material wealth. If one can physically bow with respect, verbally chant the sacred name, and mentally visualize the holy countenance—such threefold offering of body, speech, and mind—is the supreme offering. Being able to do this, Guanyin Bodhisattva will grant you a son complete in both merit and wisdom.

For one born human, merit and wisdom are equally important. To have merit without wisdom is like a simpleton born into a wealthy and noble family: though enjoying all the finest things, he understands nothing. Such merit without wisdom can only be called foolish merit. To have wisdom without merit is like a scholar born into a poor family: though full of learning and literary talent, his life is greatly straitened. Such wisdom without merit can only be called wild wisdom. Both fall short of the ideal. So when seeking a son, one must obtain a son complete in both merit and wisdom—not one with foolish merit or wild wisdom. This is the true meaning of "seeking a son and gaining a son."

Now an example. In China's past there was a Buddhist layman named Tan Xianqing. His household was very wealthy, and he had both wife and concubine, but by the time he reached fifty, neither had borne him a child. His fortune was so great that several cousins' sons were endlessly quarreling over who would be his adopted heir. When Tan Xianqing learned of this, he sighed deeply—while he was still alive, they were already fighting over his property. Being a devout believer in Avalokiteśvara, he thought of Guanyin's great compassion and great kindness, and resolved to take five thousand yuan to set up a Great Compassion Repentance altar, devoutly performing the Great Compassion Repentance for forty-nine days. Before long, his concubine became pregnant, and in due time gave birth to a fair, bright-eyed, clever and winsome, lily-white boy. When his wife saw that bowing to and reciting Guanyin's name truly had a response, she too resolved to donate one thousand yuan to build a White-Robed Pavilion enshrining the Great Being Guanyin, where she made single-minded bows and offerings. Later she too gave birth to a son of merit and wisdom. From then on the Tan family flourished with many descendants, proving that bowing and making offerings to Avalokiteśvara can indeed cause one to bear a handsome boy. May you all believe this deeply and without doubt!

Not only can those who seek a son gain a son—if there is a woman who "wishes for a daughter, she will give birth to a daughter of graceful appearance and fine bearing." This means that in this world, if a woman prays to Avalokiteśvara hoping to bear a girl, the Bodhisattva can also fulfill her wish. The four characters "graceful appearance and fine bearing" (端正有相) are especially important here. When a woman is born into the world, the grace and dignity of her appearance is held in even higher regard than for a man; she absolutely must have no defect. Common parlance speaks of "regular features in the five senses," while the Buddhadharma speaks of "the six sense faculties being complete"—both refer to dignified and stately appearance. Whether man or woman, no one wishes to be born ugly and unsightly; everyone hopes to be graceful and dignified. By "graceful appearance and fine bearing" is meant that a woman should have upright character and, above all, conduct herself with dignity. If she has dignified features but loose conduct, this is absolutely not ideal. If a woman has both graceful appearance and proper conduct, not only will her parents delight in her, but others will rejoice upon seeing her as well. In the actual world one can clearly see this at work: if a two- or three-year-old girl is good-looking, people will enjoy playing with her, but if she is both ugly and dirty, no one will like her. Graceful appearance and fine bearing are indispensable conditions for a woman.

Graceful appearance and fine bearing are, in Buddhadharma terms, the fruit; where there is fruit there must be a cause—it never happens without one. Why was this woman born with such appearance and bearing? Because of her "planting of virtuous roots in past lives." "Past lives" refers to previous existences. In past lives she took being human seriously, her moral conduct was lofty, her character elevated, and she performed various deeds of merit and virtue that benefited people in society. Only thus could she bring forth the fruit of graceful appearance and fine bearing. Possessing such a fruit, she naturally becomes "loved and respected by all." The two words "loved and respected" are also significant here. For a woman born into the world, to win everyone's love and respect is truly the most ideal—and she must surely be virtuous and dignified. Frankly, if a woman is only loved but not respected, she must be quite low and base; conversely, if she is only respected but not loved—people keeping a respectful distance—she will gradually become a lonely person, which is likewise not ideal. The most ideal situation is to be loved on the one hand and respected on the other. In other words, where love contains a component of respect, she will not be casually looked down upon or cause others to harbor improper thoughts. A person who is loved and respected naturally gains the goodwill of others. Hence the special use of "loved and respected" here to indicate a woman of complete talent and virtue.

Seeking a son and gaining a son of merit and wisdom, seeking a daughter and gaining a daughter of graceful appearance and fine bearing—this is a relative way of speaking. In truth, a man should have not only merit and wisdom but also graceful appearance and fine bearing. A perfect appearance isn't only what women hope for; men require it too. There's no man in the world who wishes to be born ugly, because the love of beauty is human nature. Likewise, if a woman has graceful appearance and fine bearing but lacks merit and wisdom, her life is unfulfilled too. As the Chinese proverb says, "beauty often meets a tragic fate"—this precisely refers to one who has the appearance but lacks the merit and wisdom. So a woman too should possess merit and wisdom. However, speaking relatively, men place greater weight on merit and wisdom, while women place greater weight on good looks. In fact, we should say that seeking a son gains a son of merit, wisdom, graceful appearance and fine bearing; seeking a daughter gains a daughter of graceful appearance, fine bearing, merit, and wisdom. The Sutra of the Girl of Wondrous Wisdom says: "A body of dignified and stately appearance"—this is the "graceful appearance and fine bearing" spoken of here; "noble wealth and honored station"—this is the "merit and wisdom" spoken of here. Thus, from the standpoint of being human, merit, wisdom, and fine bearing are equally important.

Concerning seeking a daughter and gaining a daughter, here is another factual example. In the past there was a person in our country named Hua Dun. He had been married for nearly twenty years, and throughout that time his wife had never borne a son or daughter, so the couple inevitably felt some anxiety. Yet they were both believers in Buddhism, and had especially high faith in Avalokiteśvara. So they earnestly prayed to Guanyin Bodhisattva and devoutly and reverently bowed and made offerings. Precisely because of their earnest devotion, they received the Bodhisattva's response. After about a week, his wife dreamed that Guanyin said to her: "I see that you are so devout in seeking me. So that you may not be disappointed, I now specially give you a son and a daughter. I hope you may set your minds at ease and not worry about this matter!" Not long after the dream, the following year she indeed gave birth to a boy, and the year after that she gave birth to a girl. From this we can see that as long as one sincerely and wholeheartedly seeks something from Avalokiteśvara, the Bodhisattva will fulfill the requests of every sentient being and bring their wishes to pass. We should believe these facts, because this was spoken by the Buddha himself at the Lotus Assembly—he would absolutely not deceive people.

Seeking a son and gaining a son, seeking a daughter and gaining a daughter—in actual fact, it is so; in principle too, it can be explained. The son spoken of here represents wisdom, while the daughter represents either meditative concentration (dhyāna/samādhi) or compassion. Let me briefly distinguish these.

Why a son represents wisdom can be seen from worldly observation: men indeed surpass women in the power to discriminate matters and principles. When some matter arises, a woman often shows indecisiveness, not knowing how to handle it; but a man will usually judge on the spot—do this now, do that now—proving the woman's wisdom is weaker. Yet from the standpoint of action and activity, it's clearly seen that a woman's disposition is calmer and more composed; in whatever setting she appears more refined than a man. People in general say men are active, women are quiet. Especially in ancient times, women were constantly praised for the virtues of being gentle, tranquil, chaste, and serene—so a woman is particularly used as a metaphor for meditative concentration. The so-called seeking a son and seeking a daughter, within the Buddhadharma, should be seeking the son of wisdom and the daughter of meditative concentration. This can be clearly understood from what the Buddhist scriptures say.

For example, in the human and heavenly realms of the Desire Realm, because the scattered and distracted mind is especially heavy, although there is ordinary wisdom, there is a lack of proper meditative concentration; therefore all such wisdom is wild wisdom. If called a son, it is a "wild son." As for the Heaven of Neither Thought nor Non-thought at the summit of the Formless Realm, although there is a most subtle mind of concentration, because the mental power is too weak, there is only concentration without wisdom. Concentration without wisdom can only be called withered concentration; if called a daughter, it is a "foolish daughter." As for the Four Dhyāna Heavens of the Form Realm and the first three heavens of the Formless Realm, although they have both concentration and wisdom, with both complete, this daughter of concentration cannot give birth to a son of undefiled wisdom, nor can it resolve the various afflictions. Such defiled concentration and wisdom can only be called "foolish sons and stone daughters," which is still not ideal—not the Dharma-son and Dharma-daughter that practitioners of the Buddhadharma should seek.

As for the undefiled concentration and wisdom possessed by the two kinds of Noble Ones of the Transcendent World, because they can transcend birth and death, they are called undefiled concentration and wisdom. "But this son of wisdom also only cuts off the afflictions of views and thoughts, unable to cut off the fundamental ignorance; the daughter of concentration, though giving birth to the undefiled, cannot enter the Middle Way. So we should seek the son of Middle-Way wisdom and the daughter of Middle-Way merit, not attached to emptiness or existence. Wisdom that is concentration itself is the son of wisdom with merit; concentration that is wisdom itself is the daughter of merit with wisdom. Wisdom is the adornment of wisdom-virtue; concentration is the adornment of merit-virtue. At the stage of Buddhahood, merit and wisdom are both complete—hence the title 'Honored of Two Completions.' The golden body and matchless radiance of the magnificent marks is the fullness of merit; the fourfold eloquence and eightfold tone of voice, discerning faculties and teaching accordingly, is the fullness of wisdom. Because we lack the adornment of Middle-Way merit and wisdom, we drift in birth and death and become sentient beings. As the proverb says: 'A person needs clothing, a Buddha needs gold; adornment is supremely important.' We must seek merit and seek wisdom, and we must cultivate both together. The self-nature is that which is adorned; merit and wisdom are that which adorns. When the two—adorning and adorned—are not two, this is called the wondrous adornment complete in the wondrous son and wondrous daughter."

It can be seen that the seeking of a son and seeking of a daughter spoken of in this chapter can't be taken as ordinary worldly sons and daughters; they should be regarded as the son of wisdom and the daughter of meditative concentration. There is yet another interpretation: the son represents wisdom, the daughter represents compassion. Looking at the personalities of ordinary men and women—a woman's nature is gentle and tender, her sympathy is great, and especially the expression of motherly love surpasses that of men, so a woman is used to represent compassion. Seeking a son, then, is seeking wisdom; seeking a daughter is learning compassion. Only by practicing both compassion and wisdom together can one attain the fullness of compassion and wisdom. Possessing compassion and wisdom, one accords with the compassion and wisdom of Avalokiteśvara, and naturally receives the mighty empowerment of the Bodhisattva, so that one's compassion and wisdom grow day by day. Compassion and wisdom, or concentration and wisdom—these are all what practitioners of the Buddhadharma should seek. Cultivators likewise seek a son and seek a daughter, only here it is seeking the son of wisdom and the daughter of compassion and meditative concentration.

己二 Summarizing the Spiritual Power

"Endless Intent! Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva has such power." Speaking to this point, the Buddha once again calls out, "Endless Intent," and says: Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva has such "mighty, majestic spiritual power," able to let those who seek a son gain a son and those who seek a daughter gain a daughter, never allowing sentient beings to be disappointed in the slightest!

戊四 Attaining Abundant Merit

己一

劝持较量

If there are beings who reverently bow and make offerings to Guanyin Bodhisattva, their merit will not be in vain. For this reason, all beings should hold fast to the name of Guanyin Bodhisattva. Below is a passage that explains the great merit that comes from this practice. First, we are exhorted to hold the Bodhisattva’s name, and the text compares the magnitude of the merit gained.

The Buddha taught: ‘If there are beings in the world who, with a sincere mind, reverently bow and make offerings to Guanyin Bodhisattva, the ‘merit’ they earn is certain not to be ‘tangyuan’.’ Tang means to pass in vain; juan means to discard. To say merit is not tangyuan is to say it will never be fruitless or thrown away.

So when we reverently bow and make offerings to Guanyin Bodhisattva, we should not think there is no benefit for us. In truth, reverence brings its own merit, and bowing brings its own merit. It will never be in vain, never a waste of time.

Some people bow and recite Guanyin’s name every day, but never feel the Bodhisattva’s response. They decide that reciting and bowing to Guanyin is useless: it has not brought them wisdom, nor increased their compassion, nor given them meditative stability. They do not realize this thinking is wrong. The Buddha tells us here that if we truly recite Guanyin’s name with reverence and bow to her, it will never be in vain.

For this reason, all beings should hold fast to Guanyin Bodhisattva’s name. Shou (receiving) relies on the support of faith; chi (holding) relies on the power of mindful remembrance. To receive the name in your heart and hold it without forgetting is what is meant by "holding fast." So holding the Bodhisattva’s name is a practice every person should follow firmly.

Now let us turn to a record of a great monk’s response to the Bodhisattva, as proof of this truth. During the Jin Dynasty in our land, in the region of Zhongshan, there was a monk named Bo Faguiao. Even as a youth, he loved to recite sutras, but for some unknown reason his voice was always hoarse and unable to carry. Faguiao realized his heavy karmic obstacles were the cause, so he resolutely began a fast, repented with utmost sincerity, and for seven days and seven nights bowed and prayed devoutly to Guanyin Bodhisattva, asking for her blessing to make his recitation voice clear and unimpeded. Other monks saw that he was not sleeping or eating, and warned him that such harsh practice would harm his health. They urged him not to torment his body so, but he did not change his course at all, sticking firmly to his original intention. As the saying goes, when a person has a sincere heart, the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas respond. On the seventh day, his throat suddenly felt light, and he knew this was the Bodhisattva’s response. He rinsed his mouth with water, and when he recited the sutras again, his voice carried three miles away. People from far and near were astonished, and both people and animals came to hear him recite. Even at the age of ninety, his voice had not changed. This proves that reverently bowing to Guanyin Bodhisattva brings real response, and is never a waste of effort.

Infinite Thought! If there is a person who holds the names of as many bodhisattvas as the sands of sixty-two billion Ganges Rivers, and for their entire life provides them with food, clothing, bedding, and medicine, what do you think? Would the merit of that good man or good woman be great? Infinite Thought replied: Very great, World-Honored One! The Buddha said: If another person holds the name of Guanyin Bodhisattva, and even for a single moment bows and makes offerings to her, the merit of these two people is exactly equal, and cannot be exhausted even after hundreds of thousands of millions of eons.

This passage so far has exhorted us to hold the Bodhisattva’s name; now the text turns to comparing the magnitude of the merit. What merit do we gain from reciting Guanyin Bodhisattva’s name in our daily lives? There is no way to know if the merit we gain is great or small except by comparison: by comparing the merit of holding the names of other bodhisattvas to the merit of holding Guanyin’s name, we can immediately see the difference in scale.

The Buddha said to the Bodhisattva Infinite Thought: "Suppose there is a person who resolves to hold the names of as many bodhisattvas as the sands of sixty-two billion Ganges Rivers." The Ganges is a great river in India, stretching thousands of miles, forty miles wide, and very shallow. The sand in the Ganges is very fine, and the sutras often use "sands of the Ganges" as a metaphor for an incalculable number. If you scoop up a handful of that sand, the grains are already too many to count; the total sand in the entire river is impossible to describe. One grain of sand stands for one bodhisattva’s name, so the number of bodhisattvas represented by the sand of one Ganges is already immense. But the text does not refer to the sand of one or two Ganges rivers, but of sixty-two billion. The bodhisattvas represented by the sand of that many Ganges rivers are countless, infinite in number.

For a being to hold the names of so many bodhisattvas is to hold countless names, and the field of merit they accumulate is equally immense. It is not only that they hold and recite these names: they also, for their entire lives, provide the four kinds of offerings: food, clothing, bedding, and medicine. These are called the four supports, the standard offerings made to the Buddha and his disciples when he was in the world. When someone was sick, they offered medicine; in ordinary times, they offered food, clothing, and bedding. These are all necessities for human life, required by the Buddha, Bodhisattvas, and arhats no less than by ordinary people. This offering is not for a day or two, not for a year or two, but for the span of one’s entire life. For example, if someone begins this practice at age twenty and lives to eighty, they will have made these offerings for sixty years. In short, they make these four offerings for every year of their life.

To sum up these four points: holding so many names is the first great merit, the merit of holding many names; the sixty-two billion Ganges-sand number of bodhisattvas is the second great merit, the merit of a vast field of blessings; the four offerings are the third great merit, the merit of abundant giving; and making these offerings for one’s entire life is the fourth great merit, the merit of long, sustained practice. Then the Buddha asked the Bodhisattva Infinite Thought again: ‘What is your view?’ ‘Do you think the merit of that good man or good woman is great?’ Put simply, he was asking if the merit they gained was great or not. The Bodhisattva Infinite Thought answered honestly: Very great, World-Honored One! The merit this person gains is immense. Not only would Infinite Thought answer this way, but anyone asked would say the same: World-Honored One, the merit these good men and women gain is so great it cannot be put into words.

After the Buddha heard Infinite Thought’s reply, he continued: This person’s merit is indeed very great. But what of the person he described: ‘if someone holds the name of Guanyin Bodhisattva, and even for a single moment bows and makes offerings to her’? Let us compare the two. The first person holds the names of countless bodhisattvas, while the second holds only one name: this is fewer names held. The first calls on the names of bodhisattvas as numerous as Ganges sand, while the second calls on only one sacred name: this is a smaller field of blessings. The first makes offerings for their entire life, while the second makes offerings for only a single moment: this is less time spent in practice. And since the second person makes offerings for only a moment, the four supports they give are far less abundant: this is less giving. By this comparison of much and little, an ordinary worldly person would assume the first person’s merit is far greater, and the second’s so small as to be incomparable. But the Buddha does not see it this way. He teaches us that ‘the merit of these two people is exactly equal, with no difference at all, and that the merit of each cannot be exhausted even after hundreds of thousands of millions of eons.’

Some may wonder why this is so. Consider this example: a single wish-fulfilling jewel is worth more than all the other treasures of the ocean combined. Reciting Guanyin Bodhisattva’s name is like the wish-fulfilling jewel; reciting the names of sixty-two billion Ganges-sand bodhisattvas is like all the other ocean treasures, so the merit is different in scale. Or consider: one liang of gold is worth more than a thousand jin of straw. Reciting Guanyin is like gold; reciting the names of those countless bodhisattvas is like straw, so the merit differs. The sutras also say: giving to a thousand wicked people is not as meritorious as giving to one good person; making offerings to a thousand ordinary monks is not as meritorious as making offerings to one arhat; making offerings to a thousand arhats is not as meritorious as making offerings to one bodhisattva. Why is this? A wicked person is not equal to a good person; an ordinary monk has not yet escaped the cycle of birth and death; an arhat seeks only their own liberation, not the liberation of others. So the merit of these acts is naturally different in scale.

Most people hold the view that the more they recite, the better. They don’t realize that too many thoughts bring correspondingly more distracting thoughts, which isn’t ideal for spiritual practice. No matter what we do, what matters is single-minded focus; we must never be greedy for more. We often see or hear of Buddhist practitioners who flit from one practice to another: sometimes they want to recite one sutra, sometimes another; sometimes they enjoy repentance rituals, sometimes they become interested in reciting mantras. They are busy from dawn to dusk with these practices. This is not without merit, but it often leaves their minds scattered and unsettled, becoming an obstacle to practice. It is far more beneficial to approach practice with sincere, undivided focus: whether you recite the Universal Gateway Chapter or hold Guanyin’s holy name, doing so with single-minded devotion brings far greater benefit.

Moreover, when the mind is single and undivided, it pervades the entire Dharma realm in that very moment. The names of all the sixty-two billion Ganges-sand bodhisattvas are already included within this single-minded focus, so single-minded recitation is the most appropriate approach. We should understand that the idea of "more" or "less" is relative, a product of comparison. In the true nature of all phenomena, everything is absolute, entirely equal, with no distinction of more or less at all. This is why the Avatamsaka Sutra often teaches the interpenetrating principle of "one is many, many is one." Following this truth, we can say that reciting one Guanyin Bodhisattva is equal to reciting all sixty-two billion Ganges-sand bodhisattvas, and those sixty-two billion bodhisattvas are no different from the emanations of Guanyin herself. For this reason, bowing and making offerings to Guanyin Bodhisattva is no different from bowing and making offerings to all those countless bodhisattvas. There is nothing surprising about this at all, and no reason to doubt it! I urge every Buddhist disciple who resolves to hold Guanyin’s name to do so with single-minded, undivided focus. Never be of two minds! If you waver between this practice and that, reciting this today and that tomorrow, you will end up gaining the response of neither Guanyin nor any other bodhisattva. You will truly lose out on both counts.

己二

结显多福

Infinite Thought! Anyone who holds the name of Guanyin Bodhisattva will gain the immeasurable, infinite merit and benefit described above. This passage sums up the merit that comes from holding Guanyin’s name. The Buddha said to the Bodhisattva Infinite Thought: "Any being in the world who ‘holds the name of Guanyin Bodhisattva’ will surely ‘gain’ the ‘immeasurable, infinite merit and benefit’ described above, and this will never be in vain." From the start of this chapter up to this point, the section of dialogue explaining the reason for Guanyin’s name has come to an end. Through this dialogue, we not only learn why Guanyin is called Guanyin, but also understand the Bodhisattva’s actual work of relieving suffering and fulfilling the needs of beings. For this reason, we should have faith in her.

乙二

问答游化方便

丙一

Infinite Intent Bodhisattva, the questioner for this passage, now stepped forward to ask: "World-Honored One! How does Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva travel throughout this Sahā world? How does she preach the wonderful Dharma to sentient beings? What is the nature of her expedient powers?"

This is the second major section of the prose portion of this chapter, titled “The Question and Answer on Traveling and Transformative Expedient Means.” First, the questioner offers his inquiry; then the Thus Come One fully discloses the many forms of response that follow. These three questions form the opening of Infinite Intent Bodhisattva’s address to the Buddha: first, how she travels through this Sahā world; second, how she preaches the wonderful Dharma to sentient beings; and third, the nature of her expedient powers.

We have already heard the Buddha’s compassionate teaching on why she is called Avalokiteśvara. From the Buddha’s introduction, we know Guanyin is a great Bodhisattva in the Land of Ultimate Bliss. Yet the Land of Ultimate Bliss is a hundred thousand million Buddha-lands away from this Sahā world. How, then, does Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara come to this Sahā world to carry out her work of traveling and transforming beings? On this point, we turn again to the Buddha’s kindness for further teaching!

“Sahā” is a Sanskrit term referring to the world we now inhabit. Translated into Chinese, its meaning is “able to endure.” From the perspective of ordinary sentient beings: we exist in this world, constantly plunged into an abyss of suffering, surrounded and assailed by layer upon layer of pain. Yet no matter what agony we’re pressed by, we can bear it. This is what “able to endure” means: the capacity to withstand the countless pains the real world inflicts on our bodies and minds. We don’t just endure suffering, either—we even grow attached to it, and so have no wish to leave this world behind. From the perspective of a Bodhisattva: a Bodhisattva could easily abide peacefully in a pure land, enjoying every kind of ease and happiness. But to save the world’s sentient beings, they come to this world to teach and transform. In the course of this work, they face resentment, jealousy, and endless hardship; they endure every kind of setback, and the work of saving beings is deeply taxing. Yet Bodhisattvas can bear this toil and all manner of affliction, hence the name “able to endure.”

Her journey from the Land of Ultimate Bliss to this Sahā world reveals the activity of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva’s Body-Wheel. From a worldly perspective, the Guanyin of the Land of Ultimate Bliss traveling and transforming in this Sahā world certainly seems to mean the Bodhisattva has come to this world. But from the standpoint of the Dharma, the Bodhisattva never stirs from her peaceful abode in the Land of Ultimate Bliss, not even a fraction. This is what is meant by “coming without coming.” This principle is very profound, and requires an analogy to explain: the Guanyin who abides in the Land of Ultimate Bliss is like the moon in the heavens. The Guanyin who responds to conditions and transforms in Sahā and across the ten directions is like the moon’s reflection in water. The moon in the sky is only one, and has never descended to earth, yet wherever there is water on earth, the moon’s reflection appears. As the saying goes, “A thousand rivers with water, a thousand moons reflected” — precisely this is meant. Though the Bodhisattva never leaves the Land of Ultimate Bliss, wherever the conditions of sentient beings ripen, she manifests in that place to save and transform them. Even as Avalokiteśvara may appear across the ten directions, the Bodhisattva still remains at the side of Amitābha Buddha, assisting him in transforming sentient beings. This not stirring from the original ground, yet coming to travel through Sahā and the ten directions, is the unfathomable transformative power of the Bodhisattva’s Body-Wheel.

Her coming to this Sahā world to preach the Dharma to sentient beings reveals the activity of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva’s Speech-Wheel. Since the Bodhisattva has come to this world to travel and transform beings, of course she teaches the various Dharma gates suited to sentient beings. Ordinary observers may think the Bodhisattva is truly giving teachings, but in fact this is “preaching without preaching.” The ultimate truth of all dharmas is beyond the realm of language and cannot be expressed in words. As this sutra says, “The characteristic of the quiescent extinction of all dharmas cannot be proclaimed in words” — this line points directly to that intent. Yet if the Bodhisattva said not a single word, how could sentient beings ever come to understand the truth? To meet sentient beings where they are, she expounds the full range of Dharma gates — great and small, provisional and real, partial and perfect, sudden and gradual — within the context of wordless truth, so that beings may use language as a doorway to enter into the reality of suchness. Though she preaches many different Dharma gates, in reality there is nothing she teaches at all. This “preaching without preaching” is the unfathomable transformative power of the Bodhisattva’s Speech-Wheel.

Her use of diverse expedient means in preaching the Dharma reveals the activity of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva’s Mind-Wheel. Teaching the Dharma to save beings is no simple task; it absolutely requires expedient means. Without appropriate, skillful expedient means, the work of saving beings would be very difficult to carry out. “Expedient means,” in modern language, means adaptation. Saving beings cannot be rigid and inflexible, with fixed ways of doing things. One must be able to adapt to the times, adapt to the environment, and adapt to the capacities of sentient beings. Then, when carrying out teaching and transformation, one can achieve twice the result with half the effort. Since times and environments differ, and since the capacities of sentient beings differ, if one does not employ expedient means to respond flexibly — appearing according to conditions and teaching in a way suited to each person’s capacity — sentient beings will not be easily led to transform. When you go to save beings, you must observe the actual circumstances of the moment, and use whichever method is most fitting and effective for the people in front of you. This is the unfathomable transformative power of the Bodhisattva’s Mind-Wheel.

Body, speech, and mind are called the three karmas in the state of ordinary sentient beings, for through the activity of these three, we create all kinds of wholesome and unwholesome tainted karma. But in the state of Buddhahood and Bodhisattvahood, they are called the three wheels, for by using these three to save beings, one can eradicate the afflictions in sentient beings’ minds, leading them to leave suffering behind, attain happiness, transcend the ordinary state, and enter the ranks of the wise. But when Buddhas and Bodhisattvas wield these three wheels, the magnificent power they display is beyond what ordinary beings can conceive or describe. For this reason, they are called the unfathomable transformative activity of the three wheels.

Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva travels and transforms throughout measureless, boundless worlds, appearing in countless different identities. Though we have shared many examples above, we may now offer another instance to prove that the Bodhisattva indeed widely saves sentient beings right here in this world.

Long ago, in Xiuwen County, Guizhou Province, China, there was a place called Baishan Cave, from which mercury flowed continuously. Local villagers often gathered at the cave to extract mercury for sale. As the number of people working the mine grew day by day, they built houses near the cave for convenience, formed families, and settled there, until over time a small village of several hundred households took shape. After some years, the large volume of mercury extracted had loosened the soil and rock of the mountain, putting it at constant risk of collapse. The villagers working the mine were completely unaware of the danger. If the mountain had collapsed, the entire village would have been crushed, and all its residents would have perished miserably.

Out of compassion, Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva manifested as a beautiful woman bathing naked in the stream in front of the cave to rescue them. In those ancient times, social mores were far more conservative; a woman bathing naked in public caused an instant sensation across the whole village. All several hundred households — men, women, old and young alike — rushed out at once out of curiosity to look. The second all the villagers had left their homes to see the sight, a loud rumble split the air, like heaven collapsing and earth cracking open. Everyone turned to look back and saw the entire village already buried under a tide of loose rock. They all felt immensely fortunate to have escaped with their lives. When they turned to look for the woman in the stream again, she had already vanished.

Know that this was one of the methods Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva used to manifest and save beings. At the time of the mountain collapse, one man in the village was asleep in his home and could not escape in time. He was trapped in a crevice between the mountain rocks. He could not move, and had no way to get out, but he was not crushed to death. When hunger set in, he earnestly recited the holy name of Avalokiteśvara. Suddenly he saw a white mouse with eyes that shone like lightning, illuminating a stone. The words of the Universal Gate Chapter appeared on the surface of the stone. The white mouse licked and ate the words on the stone, and the trapped man did the same, licking the characters off the rock, and his hunger faded. He spent nearly three years in the dark stone crevice this way, never seeing the light of day.

One day, a man went up the mountain to gather medicinal herbs and heard the sound of moaning. He followed the sound and found a person trapped and pinned in a stone crevice. When he asked what had happened, he learned the man had been stuck there since the mountain collapse three years earlier. He asked how he had not starved to death in that time, and the man told him he licked the characters off the stone every day to stave off hunger. There were still two or three lines of characters left on the stone that he had not yet licked away. Looking closely, the characters were unmistakably passages from the Universal Gate Chapter.

The white mouse and the Universal Gate Chapter that appeared on the stone were both manifestations of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, come to rescue him. The compassion of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva truly manifests everywhere, without fail.

C2. The Thus Come One Fully Reveals Responses D1. Extensive Manifestation of Responsive Transformations Across Lands E1. Clarifying Responsive Manifestations F1.

Able to Respond to the Three Holy Ones

The Buddha told Bodhisattva Infinite Intent: "Good son! If there are sentient beings in a land who should be liberated through encountering a Buddha-body, Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva will immediately manifest a Buddha-body and preach the Dharma for them. If there are those who should be liberated through a Pratyekabuddha-body, he will manifest a Pratyekabuddha-body and preach the Dharma for them. If there are those who should be liberated through a Shravaka-body, he will manifest a Shravaka-body and preach the Dharma for them."

The question had been asked, and now the Buddha answered. So the "Buddha" once more "told" "Bodhisattva Infinite Intent": "Good son! Would you like to know the skillful means by which Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva travels and teaches? Very well, I shall explain them for you now, one by one.

"'If there are' 'sentient beings' in a certain 'land': A 'land,' in the language of the Dharma, is called the conditioned environment (yibao); 'sentient beings' are called the primary body (zhengbao). The conditioned environment is the place on which the primary body depends. A human life, for instance, is the primary body; the earth humans inhabit is the conditioned environment. The primary body refers to the living being who directly experiences the fruits of suffering and joy. But to speak truthfully, there is an intimate, mutual relationship between the two: without the conditioned environment, the land and so forth, the primary body would have nowhere to dwell; without the primary body, the life-form, the conditioned environment would have nothing through which to manifest itself. If the primary body possesses merit, the produce of the conditioned environment will naturally be abundant; but if the primary body lacks merit and virtue, the conditioned environment it meets will be extraordinarily harsh, and what it enjoys will feel impoverished.

The Buddha Dharma speaks of ten Dharma realms within the primary body: hell beings, hungry ghosts, animals, asuras, humans, heavenly beings, Shravakas, Pratyekabuddhas, Bodhisattvas, and Buddhas. Sentient beings of each realm have their own conditioned environment, so the lands themselves vary widely. Broadly speaking, they fall into four kinds:

1. The Land Shared by the Five Vehicles — the world shared with the mundane realm, containing both ordinary beings and sages. The Tiantai school calls this the "Land of Common Residence of Ordinary Beings and Sages." This Sahā world, for example, though inhabited by worldly beings with defiled karma, is also traversed and taught by great Bodhisattvas such as the greatly compassionate Avalokiteshvara, the greatly wise Mañjuśrī, the greatly practicing Samantabhadra, and the greatly vowed Kṣitigarbha. Hence the name.

2. The Land Shared by the Three Vehicles — spoken of in common by the Mahāyāna and Hīnayāna. Tiantai calls it the "Land of Expedient Means with Residue." The world inhabited by the sages of the Two Vehicles, for instance, is said to be pure and adorned, but the afflictions they have cut off and the birth-and-death they have understood are only partial; they have not attained the ultimate. Residual defilements and suffering remain, belonging solely to the path of expedient means, and so it bears this name.

3. The Unshared Land of the Mahāyāna — existing only within the Mahāyāna. It is unshared not only with ordinary beings, but also with the Two Vehicles. Tiantai calls it the "Land of True Reward and Adornment." "It is the dwelling of Bodhisattvas who have broken through ignorance. With true causes, they bring forth true fruits; with true conditions, they bring forth true retributions. Form and mind, conditioned environment and primary body, are extraordinarily adorned and wondrous. Because Bodhisattvas are beings of the great-vehicle resolve, giving rise to vast vows to liberate sentient beings, accumulating merit and virtue, planting vast stores of merit, they attain unobstructed freedom. The small can manifest as the great; the one can appear as the many; the primary can serve as the conditioned, the conditioned as the primary. So it is said that 'within a single hair-tip, a jeweled king of worlds and oceans of lands can be revealed; within a single speck of dust, the great Dharma-wheel turns.' A single hair can swallow the great ocean; a mustard seed can contain Mount Sumeru. Form and mind are perfectly interfused; conditioned environment and primary body are unobstructed." All of this is adorned by the Bodhisattva's cultivation of the six pāramitās and the myriad practices during the causal stage, and therefore it is called the Land of True Reward and Adornment.

4. The Unshared Land of the Buddha-Fruit — the land inhabited only by Buddha with Buddha. It is unshared not only with ordinary beings and the Two Vehicles, but also with Bodhisattvas who have brought forth the mind of enlightenment. Tiantai calls it the "Pure Land of Permanently Still Luminous Light." "The Buddha is the unsurpassed sentient being. Because the Buddha has ultimately resolved birth-and-death, none surpass him, hence the title unsurpassed. Stillness is the great sea of nirvāṇa—unborn, undying, profoundly tranquil and eternally constant—the virtue of liberation. Light is the great treasury of luminous brilliance, clearly illuminating—the virtue of prajñā. Permanence is the non-duality of stillness and luminosity, the Dharma-body virtue that spans past and present. What is called the Land of Still Luminous Light is the mysterious treasury of the three virtues. Only upon reaching here is the land ultimate; the land is the body, the body is the land. Conditioned environment and primary body interpenetrate; body and land are non-dual. It is nothing other than the single, pure treasury of the Dharma-realm mind." Therefore it is called the Pure Land of Permanently Still Luminous Light.

In summary, the conditioned environment encompasses the four lands, and the primary body contains sentient beings of the ten Dharma realms. Apart from the highest, most supreme Buddha—who has no need to manifest for the sake of saving—all sentient beings, high and low, require salvation. But because their faculties and dispositions vary widely, the Bodhisattva must manifest different identities to meet them. If sentient beings in a certain land cannot be taught even by a Bodhisattva-body or a Shravaka-body, and only "those who should be liberated through encountering a Buddha-body" can accept the teaching, then in such a case the "Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva," in his great compassion, "manifests a Buddha-body and preaches the Dharma" to liberate them, so that they may hear the Dharma-door of attaining Buddhahood, earnestly apply themselves to cultivation, cut off the afflictions that should be cut, and attain the true liberation of body and mind.

Here, someone might raise this doubt: since Avalokiteshvara is called a Bodhisattva, how can a Bodhisattva manifest a Buddha-body? This can be explained in two ways. As we have noted more than once, the present Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva is only a manifested appearance. In truth, in past lives he long ago became a Buddha, named the Tathāgata Right Dharma Brightness (Zhengfa Ming). Since this is so, his present manifestation of a Buddha-body is merely revealing his original face—how could he not be able to manifest a Buddha-body? Another explanation is that Bodhisattvas from the first ground and above can emanate bodies to act as Buddhas. A first-ground Bodhisattva, for example, can emanate bodies to act as Buddhas in a hundred worlds; a second-ground Bodhisattva, in a thousand worlds. Avalokiteshvara is the Bodhisattva who succeeds as the next Buddha in the Land of Ultimate Bliss, so his ability to manifest various Buddha-bodies to preach the Dharma for sentient beings is, of course, absolutely not in question.

When sentient beings require seeing a Buddha-body in order to accept transformation, this shows that they aspire to attain Buddhahood. If they seek Buddhahood and one does not manifest a Buddha-body to preach for them, how could that be proper? Knowing that sentient beings have such a request, the greatly compassionate Avalokiteshvara manifests the thirty-two marks, the eighty excellent characteristics, and the perfectly adorned Buddha-body, preaching the Dharma-door of how to attain Buddhahood, and pointing out that sentient beings should cultivate the six pāramitās and myriad practices to attain unexcelled perfect enlightenment.

The four holy Dharma realms among the ten are: Shravaka, Pratyekabuddha, Bodhisattva, and Buddha. Earlier we spoke of manifesting the Buddha-body to preach for sentient beings. If we follow the sequence of the four sages, the next should be speaking of manifesting the Bodhisattva-body. Yet after speaking of the Buddha-body, the sutra text passes on to the Pratyekabuddha-body and the Shravaka-body, and does not mention the Bodhisattva-body. What is the reason for this? Understand that the body Avalokiteshvara presently manifests is itself the Bodhisattva-body. The Bodhisattva identity has already been clearly indicated, so there is no need to repeat the words: "If there should be those who need liberation through encountering the Bodhisattva-body, he would immediately manifest the Bodhisattva-body and preach the Dharma."

If in a certain land there are sentient beings of such a type, "those who should be liberated through encountering a Pratyekabuddha-body," then Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, in his great compassion, "manifests a Pratyekabuddha-body and preaches the Dharma." Pratyekabuddha is an Indian term; translated into Chinese, it is sometimes called yuanjue (conditioned-enlightenment) or dujue (solitary-enlightenment), though the two have distinctions.

Conditioned-Enlightenment sages, as traditionally explained, appear in an age when there is a Buddha. They receive the Buddha's teachings of causes and conditions, and through them awaken and gain liberation. When the Buddha, for example, preaches the teaching of the Twelve Links of Dependent Origination, such sentient beings, hearing this, observe the links in forward and reverse order. From the arising-and-ceasing of dependent origination, they awaken to the unarisen-and-unceasing principle of true emptiness, and therefore are called Conditioned-Enlightenment ones.

The Twelve Links of Dependent Origination are commonly stated as: "Ignorance conditions volitional formations; volitional formations condition consciousness; consciousness conditions name-and-form; name-and-form condition the six sense faculties; the six sense faculties condition contact; contact conditions feeling; feeling conditions craving; craving conditions grasping; grasping conditions becoming; becoming conditions birth; birth conditions aging, death, sorrow, grief, and suffering." Following these twelve links in the forward direction—"Because this exists, that exists; because this arises, that arises"—one wanders in the sea of birth, death, and suffering. Reversing the twelve links—"Because this does not exist, that does not exist; because this ceases, that ceases"—one severs birth and death and returns to nirvāṇa. Although dependent origination has twelve branches, in reality there are only three: defilement, karma, and suffering. Before resolving birth-and-death, these three, like a ring without end, cause us constantly to generate defilement, create karma, and undergo suffering, endlessly cycling around. Only the Conditioned-Enlightenment one can break through the chains of dependent origination and attain liberation.

Solitary-Enlightenment ones appear in an age without a Buddha. For example, now Śākyamuni Buddha has entered nirvāṇa, and Maitreya Buddha has not yet descended into the human world; indeed, when Śākyamuni's proper Dharma age has come to an end, sentient beings with solitary-enlightenment faculties are born into the world. Through observing how in spring the hundred flowers bloom in competition, and in autumn yellow leaves flutter and fall with the wind, they awaken. For ordinary beings, seeing spring flowers bloom and autumn leaves fall produces no particular feeling; if there is any reaction, it is only a sense of seasonal change. But the Solitary-Enlightenment sage, watching spring flowers bloom and autumn leaves fall, awakens to the truth that all worldly phenomena are undergoing impermanent transformation, and not a single dharma can be preserved permanently. As the saying goes: "Fine flowers do not bloom forever." Even when they bloom, they cannot remain unwithered. Examining this closely, one realizes the truth of impermanence, and thus attains the fruit of Pratyekabuddhahood.

Since there are such sentient beings in the world, Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, of course, conceals his Bodhisattva identity and manifests a Pratyekabuddha-body for them, proclaiming the Dharma of the Twelve Links of Dependent Origination, instructing them to cultivate according to the law of dependent origination—from the arising-and-ceasing of dependent origination, to awaken to the unarisen-and-unceasing—and thereby to attain the fruit of Pratyekabuddhahood.

If in a certain land there are sentient beings of such a type, "those who should be liberated through encountering a Shravaka-body, he immediately manifests a Shravaka-body and preaches the Dharma." Shravakas mostly appear in the age of a Buddha. They are those who, hearing the Buddha's verbal teaching of the Four Noble Truths, awaken and attain liberation—hence the name "Shravaka" (hearer). Sentient beings with this kind of faculty must have the Dharma preached to them in the identity of a Shravaka before they can accept the teaching. Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, in his great compassion, follows the request of sentient beings, adapts to their faculties, and manifests the Shravaka-body to preach the Four Holy Truths for them.

The Four Holy Truths are the foundational topic and comprehensive outline of the Buddha Dharma. When the Buddha first turned the Dharma wheel at the Deer Park, he taught the truth of the Four Holy Truths. The first, the Truth of Suffering, refers to the fruit of suffering—the various pains endured in present life. Life is suffering; this is a fact of the world that no one can deny, but the one who most clearly understood the nature of suffering was none other than the Buddha himself. The Buddha left home because of observing suffering, and he also revealed the truth of suffering for sentient beings. The second, the Truth of the Origin of Suffering, refers to the cause of suffering, the driving force that brings forth the fruit of suffering. Broadly speaking, it is afflictions and karma. Specifically, craving is the root of suffering: under the pressure of infinite thirst and pursuit, beings create all kinds of karmic causes, which then bring about the fruit of life's suffering. So the two truths of Suffering and Origin constitute one layer of cause and effect in the mundane world. Origin is the mundane cause; suffering is the mundane fruit. The third, the Truth of Cessation, refers to the fruit of bliss—the fruit of nirvāṇa obtained by transcending birth and death. The fourth, the Truth of the Path, refers to the cause of bliss, the factors that can certify the attainment of the nirvāṇa fruit. Although the paths to cultivate are many, the principal one is the Noble Eightfold Path. Cultivating according to this path, one will surely certify the fruit of nirvāṇa. So the two truths of Cessation and Path constitute one layer of cause and effect in the supramundane. Path is the supramundane cause; Cessation is the supramundane fruit. Combining the four truths, they are actually two layers of cause and effect, mundane and supramundane: the mundane cause and effect are to be cut off; the supramundane cause and effect are what one seeks to certify. The Bodhisattva preaches the Four Truths Dharma for sentient beings of the Shravaka faculty, intending to cause them to know suffering, cut off the origin, aspire to cessation, cultivate the path, and certify the Shravaka holy fruit. Among these, knowing suffering is most essential, because only by knowing suffering does one cut off the origin; only by knowing suffering does one aspire to cessation and cultivate the path. So knowing suffering is the initial gateway to entering the path.

There was once an old monk who solely practiced the dhūta observances. Once, while traveling to visit a teacher, he felt extremely hungry and went to the home of a laywoman practitioner to beg for food. This laywoman was devout in her Buddhist faith. Seeing a great virtuous one arrive at her home, in her joy of offering she bowed reverently and requested his teaching. But this dhūta practitioner, though diligent and courageous in cultivation, had no real understanding of Buddhist teachings. Suddenly asked to teach, what Buddhist teaching could he possibly speak? Under the pressure of the moment, he unconsciously sighed out a single word: "Suffering." The old monk sighed "suffering" only because he himself knew no Dharma. But when the laywoman heard this word "suffering," she was struck with an unusual feeling. She reflected that before her own cultivation, in childhood she had suffered the restraint of her parents; after marriage, the reproach of her husband; with children, the suffering of family entanglements. Throughout life, there was no moment free from suffering; she had never truly tasted the joy of life. Unable to contain herself, she burst into tears.

The old dhūta practitioner, seeing her so sorrowful but not knowing the reason, took his leave without eating. But the laywoman, reflecting on suffering to the utmost, unexpectedly forgot her emotions and entered the samādhi of the truth of suffering; she did not even notice that the old monk had gone. After several hours, she arose and said: "You have given us the teaching of a single word, 'suffering'—its benefit is inexhaustible." So-called "knowing suffering"—only such knowing of suffering can be called the truth of suffering. Ordinary people of the world roll in suffering all day long, yet have they truly known suffering? Precisely because they have not truly known suffering, they have no way to escape it. If one truly knows suffering, one cannot fail to escape it. The Buddha's revelation that life is suffering and the world is suffering is spoken from genuine realization. To relieve life's suffering, one must apply the proper means of liberation to this present life. Practicing according to the Four Holy Truths, one can reach the goal of liberation.

Shravakas and Pratyekabuddhas have long been referred to in the Buddha Dharma as the Two Vehicles, or the Hīnayāna (Lesser Vehicle). But the sutras sometimes say it this way: Shravakas are the Lesser Vehicle, Pratyekabuddhas are the Middle Vehicle, and Bodhisattvas are the Great Vehicle. From this we can see that there are still some differences between Shravakas and Pratyekabuddhas. In other words, Pratyekabuddhas are superior to Shravakas, because Shravakas only sever the primary defilements of view-delusions and thought-delusions, and have not removed the habitual tendencies in the slightest; Pratyekabuddhas, however, not only sever the two defilements of view and thought, but also partially erode the habitual tendencies of these two. Although they have not, like the Buddha, cut off all habitual tendencies, they have already surpassed the Arhat. So Shravakas are called the Lesser Vehicle, and Pratyekabuddhas the Middle Vehicle. Although there is this distinction, both take self-benefit as their purpose. They have no active interest in promoting the work of benefiting others, and so they are collectively called the Two Vehicles.

己二

For those to be liberated by means of a Brahma King’s body, [Guanyin] immediately manifests a Brahma King’s body and teaches the Dharma; for those to be liberated by means of an Indra body, [Guanyin] manifests an Indra body and teaches the Dharma; for those to be liberated by means of a Paranirmitavasavartin Deva body, [Guanyin] manifests that body and teaches the Dharma; for those to be liberated by means of a Maheśvara body, [Guanyin] manifests that body and teaches the Dharma; for those to be liberated by means of a Heavenly General’s body, [Guanyin] manifests that body and teaches the Dharma; for those to be liberated by means of a Vaiśravaṇa body, [Guanyin] manifests that body and teaches the Dharma.

This passage describes the Bodhisattva’s ability to respond to beings across these six heavens, though these are not the six heavens of the Desire Realm as the term is usually understood. Among the six heavenly manifestations referenced here, both Desire Realm and Form Realm heavens are included. As for the Formless Realm heavens, they have no material form, nor any physical shape that can be displayed, so the sutra does not mention them. Any body that is manifested must be a living being uniting material and spiritual elements. Formless Realm beings consist purely of mental activity, so no physical manifestation is possible for them.

If in any land there are beings who can only be liberated through the body of a Brahma King, Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, out of great compassion, immediately manifests a Brahma King body to teach them the Dharma. The Brahma King here is the Great Brahma Lord of the first dhyāna heaven in the Form Realm. The first dhyāna has three heavens: the Brahma Assembly Heaven, the Brahma Minister Heaven, and the Great Brahma Heaven. The Brahma Assembly Heaven is home to ordinary Brahma denizens of the Great Brahma Heaven; the Brahma Minister Heaven is for the ministers and attendants who assist the Great Brahma Lord. Since there are devas under his rule, there are naturally ministerial attendants who help the Brahma King govern the heavenly realm. The Brahma King is the lord of the Great Brahma Heaven, the Brahma deity revered in Indian Brahmanism — the same figure worshipped as God in modern Christianity and Catholicism. Brahmanical thought holds that all humans and sentient beings in our world, along with mountains, rivers, land, flowers, plants, and trees, were created by the Great Brahma Lord. For this reason, Brahmanism regards the Great Brahma as the creator of the human universe. The Brahma deity himself is beginningless and endless, eternal and unchanging, with the power to govern and preside over all of humanity. He holds a supremely high position in Indian Brahmanism.

From a Buddhist perspective, however, the Brahma deity is the object of worship in monotheistic faiths. His greed and craving are extremely weak: all the material and sexual desires of the Desire Realm have been temporarily cut off, and anger never arises at all. For this reason, all monotheistic followers consider the creator god to be supremely benevolent. But Buddhism teaches that while anger indeed does not arise and craving is very faint, pride and flattery still frequently cause trouble! The scriptures record an incident from the Buddha’s time: the Buddha’s disciple Aśvajit once visited the Brahma King’s palace and found the Brahma King addressing his subjects, speaking with great pride: “I am the lord of the world, the creator of humanity, the ultimate and absolute being, the supreme embodiment of bliss. You are my subjects, and you can never reach the station I hold.” He was speaking with great enthusiasm when he suddenly spotted Aśvajit standing before him. He stopped mid-sentence, led Aśvajit to a secluded spot, and whispered to him: “Please do not take seriously what I just said to my subjects, and do not expose my little performance in front of them.” This reveals the Brahma King’s two afflictions: he displays pride before his subjects, but flattery before Aśvajit. Afflictions still cling to him even at this high station.

To be born in the Desire Realm heavens, one need only observe the five precepts and practice the ten wholesome actions. To be born in the upper two realms, one must also cultivate meditative concentration. But even this only qualifies one to become a minister or citizen of the first dhyāna heaven. To become the Great Brahma King, one must further cultivate the four immeasurable minds of loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity. Becoming the Great Brahma King is thus no small achievement. While this position is considered supremely exalted in Brahmanism, Buddhism views it as merely that of a heavenly king — one who has not transcended the three realms, nor escaped birth and death. Though the Brahma King believes himself to be the creator of the universe and humanity, he has no power to save this suffering, troubled world. When the Buddha appeared in the world and attained full awakening, he initially intended not to teach the Dharma. It was only at the Great Brahma King’s request that he began to teach humanity. This alone proves that only the Buddha can truly save the world. If the Brahma King had the power to save the world, why would he need to beg the Buddha to teach? For this reason, the Brahma King took refuge in the Buddha and became a Dharma protector in the Buddhist tradition.

In ordinary temples and Buddha halls, you will find that Mahāyāna temples often place statues of the two great bodhisattvas Mañjuśrī and Samantabhadra beside the Buddha image, while Hīnayāna temples place statues of the two great elders Mahākāśyapa and Ānanda beside the Buddha image. Some temples are an exception, however: beside the Buddha image, they enshrine statues of the Great Brahma King and Indra. This is because the Brahma King and Indra are powerful protectors of the Buddhist Dharma. Avalokiteśvara knows that beings of this type cannot be liberated through any other form, so he manifests the body of the Great Brahma King to teach them the Dharma of abandoning attachment and cutting off craving, as well as the Dharma of the four immeasurable minds. He enables them to practice these teachings and ultimately attain liberation of body and mind. This heaven is called the Brahma Heaven because its inhabitants are free of desire and thus have pure, refined physical forms.

Next, we turn to the manifestation of Indra’s body. Indra is a deva of the Desire Realm. The six Desire Realm heavens are divided into two categories: earth-dwelling heavens and sky-dwelling heavens. There are two earth-dwelling heavens: the Four Heavenly Kings’ Heaven and Trāyastriṃśa Heaven. Indra is the lord of Trāyastriṃśa, who dwells at the peak of Mount Sumeru. Trāyastriṃśa is also called the Thirty-Three Heavens: there are eight heavens in each of the four cardinal directions, totaling thirty-two, plus Indra’s heaven at the center, making thirty-three in all. The Thirty-Three Heavens have a karmic backstory in the Buddhist tradition: long ago, during the semblance Dharma period of Kāśyapa Buddha, a poor woman encountered a statue of Kāśyapa Buddha whose gold leaf had peeled away, and thought it lacked dignity. She resolved to gild the statue, but had barely enough to get by, so she went door to door begging, saving up small sums to buy gold. Once she had the gold, she hired thirty-two craftsmen to apply it. Moved by her devotion, the craftsmen all offered to complete the work for free. Due to the merit of this good deed, after they died, they were reborn in Trāyastriṃśa Heaven: the thirty-two craftsmen became the rulers of the thirty-two subordinate heavens, and the poor woman became the lord of the Thirty-Three Heavens.

Indra is a shortened name; his full title is Śakra, lord of the devas, which translates to “capable heavenly lord.” He is also a Dharma-protecting deity in Buddhism, often compared to the Jade Emperor of Chinese tradition. For this reason, some people use the Jade Emperor as an analogy for Indra. As a Dharma protector, Indra often comes to the human world to hear the Buddha teach. When he is present for the teachings, he can deeply grasp the Buddha’s words on the impermanence of the world. But as soon as he returns to heaven, he is seduced by celestial pleasures and forgets all about impermanence, of course unable to practice the Dharma accordingly. The scriptures record another incident to illustrate this: once, after Indra came to the human world to hear the Dharma, he promised he would practice diligently when he returned to his heavenly palace. After he went back, the Buddha’s foremost disciple in supernatural powers, the elder Maudgalyāyana, wanted to test whether Indra would keep his word, so he followed Indra back to Trāyastriṃśa Palace. There he found Indra spending the entire day indulging in the five sense pleasures, having completely forgotten his vow to practice. To awaken Indra, Maudgalyāyana used his supernatural powers to make the palace tremble. Startled, Indra looked up and saw Maudgalyāyana, and said earnestly: “Venerable Sir! Why would you play such a cruel joke on me? You’ve shaken my entire palace to its foundations!” The elder replied: “You just came from the Buddha, heard the Dharma, and promised to practice accordingly. How could you forget everything the moment you returned to heaven, and only think of enjoying sensual pleasures? The tremor is a warning that all things in the world are impermanent, that sensual pleasures cannot be clung to and are ultimately unreliable. Why are you so obsessed with these pleasures?”

If there are beings in any land who can only be liberated through the body of Indra, Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, out of great compassion, immediately manifests Indra’s body to teach them the Dharma. What Dharma does he teach? He teaches the truth of impermanence, of arising and ceasing, so they may awaken to the impermanence of the world, practice the Dharma, and attain liberation.

The third of the six heavenly manifestations is the body of the Paranirmitavasavartin Deva, often called the Freedom Heaven Deva for short. This is the highest heaven of the Desire Realm, also known as the Heaven of Others’ Transformations. The name means that all the pleasures of this heaven are not created by the devas themselves: other devas transform and create all manner of sense pleasures for them to enjoy freely and without obstruction. This is the fruit of the devas’ past merit. The Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom, Volume 9, states: “This heaven seizes the transformations of others for its own enjoyment, hence it is called Paranirmitavasavartin.” The Verses of the Abhidharmakośa, “World Section,” Volume 1, says: “The Paranirmitavasavartin Heaven attains freedom through the transformations of others.”

In Buddhist teaching, both this Desire Realm Paranirmitavasavartin Deva and the Form Realm Maheśvara (Great Self-Being Deva) are demon-kings who oppose the true Dharma. The “heavenly demon” commonly spoken of refers to these beings. When a Buddhist disciple cultivates the path and attains realization, the demon king will descend to disturb them, causing the practitioner great difficulty. For example, before the Buddha attained enlightenment under the Bodhi tree, he was beset by the demon king’s disturbance. The demon king uses two methods to disturb practitioners: soft and hard. The soft method lures with sense pleasures: the seduction of demon women, offers of kingship, gifts of wealth and profit. The hard method uses intimidation: demon soldiers and generals attack with swords, spears, and halberds. But the Buddha paid no mind to any of this, and was not moved by it. He truly accomplished the Confucian ideal of “not being swayed by wealth and honor, not being shifted by poverty and lowliness, not being bent by power and force.” Thus he was able to subdue the demons and attain full awakening. Subduing the demons means subduing the demon king of the Paranirmitavasavartin Heaven.

The demon king disturbs practitioners, so ordinary people say he is evil, that we should avoid demons entirely, neither cooperating with them nor associating with them. But Mahāyāna Buddhism also seeks to transform the demon king: he dwells in darkness, so we guide him toward light; his behavior leads downward to ruin, so we encourage him to rise upward; his thoughts tend toward evil, so we find ways to turn him from wrongdoing to goodness. Therefore, if there are beings in the world who can only be liberated through the body of the Paranirmitavasartin Deva, Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, out of great compassion, immediately manifests that body to teach them the Dharma. He does not teach the demon king’s teachings, but the Tathāgata’s true Dharma, leading them from darkness to light, from degeneration to elevation, from evil to pure goodness, turning them from error to the right path, and ultimately to liberation.

The demon king is opposed to the Buddha. If he sees the Buddha manifest a body to transform him, he will not only reject the transformation, but may become even more hostile to the Buddha. If he sees a bodhisattva manifest a body to transform him, he will also think you are trying to win over his followers, and likewise reject the bodhisattva’s teaching. In such cases, the only option is to manifest the same identity as him, first building common ground. After some time, the bodhisattva then uses the Buddhist Dharma to counsel him, turning him from error to the right path, helping him become a good person, and eventually guiding him into the Buddhist path. Only by using such skillful means can one transform the demon king of the Paranirmitavasavartin Heaven. Thus Mahāyāna Buddhism does not reject or hate demons; it extends deep sympathy and compassion to them, transforming them through the Dharma — this is the true spirit of Buddhism. If we were to immediately flee at the first sign of a demon, ignoring them entirely, then the demons and evil people of the world would never have a chance to be transformed, to turn from error to the right path. For this reason, bodhisattvas do not abandon any being in their work of liberation — even heavenly demons must be transformed through personal manifestation. The greatness of Mahāyāna Buddhism lies precisely in this.

The fourth of the six heavenly manifestations is the body of Maheśvara, called the Great Self-Being Deva in Chinese. In India, it is known as the Maheśvara Heaven, also called the Great Demon King Heaven, located in the Fourth Dhyāna’s Bṛhatphala Heaven of the Form Realm. Like the aforementioned Paranirmitavasavartin Deva, it is also a demon that disturbs practitioners, for the same reasons explained earlier. The “three-eyed, eight-armed figure riding a white horse and holding a white whisk” described in the Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom is the Great Self-Being Deva worshipped by non-Buddhist traditions. If there are beings in any land who can only be liberated through the body of the Great Self-Being Deva, Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, out of great compassion, immediately manifests that body to teach them the Dharma, enabling them to attain freedom and liberation of body and mind through the study and practice of Buddhism.

At this point, some may ask: why must the Bodhisattva manifest a demon king’s body to teach the Dharma? The Vimalakirti Sutra, “Inconceivable Qualities” chapter, addresses this directly: “At that time, Vimalakirti said to Mahākāśyapa: ‘Reverend Mahākāśyapa! In the innumerable worlds of the ten directions, those who appear as demon kings are mostly bodhisattvas abiding in Inconceivable Liberation, who use their skillful means to teach and transform sentient beings by manifesting as demon kings.’” Bodhisattvas who manifest as demon kings are not only unafflicted by the demon hordes, but can also teach and transform those hordes in accordance with the Dharma. Since only by manifesting as a demon king can they reach these beings, they have no choice but to use this skillful means. But this cannot be discerned by ordinary eyes. We should not assume all demon kings are truly evil; some are actually bodhisattvas in disguise, as proven by the very fact of bodhisattvas manifesting as demon kings.

The fifth of the six heavenly manifestations is the body of a Heavenly General. This Heavenly General is a household general of Indra, who regularly protects him, and is also a deva of the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven in the Desire Realm. To ordinary perception, Indra is constantly immersed in pleasure far beyond anything experienced in the human world. But Indra is also frequently threatened by war, as the asuras often challenge him, leading to fierce battles. Whenever Indra goes to war with the asuras, the Heavenly General is the first to charge into the fray. The sutra sometimes calls him General Nārāyaṇa, or the Firm Hero, or the Vajra Hero. The “Heng and Ha” generals commonly depicted at the entrances of Buddhist temples are these same figures: the left figure is the Firm Hero Nārāyaṇa, the right is the Vajra Hero Guhyapāda, collectively known as Heavenly Generals. That the Heavenly General is a manifestation of a bodhisattva is best proven by the verse in praise of Skanda: “Skanda the Heavenly General, incarnation of the bodhisattva.” Skanda, the bodhisattva incarnation, is a Dharma-protecting deity in Buddhism. He wields a vajra pestle to subdue demons, guards the temple gate, and protects the Dharma. The Heavenly General body manifested by the Bodhisattva is not tied to a single specific bodhisattva: sometimes it is Mañjuśrī or Samantabhadra, sometimes Avalokiteśvara or Mahāsthāmaprāpta.

Now this sutra states: if there are beings in any land who can only be liberated through the body of a Heavenly General, Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, out of great compassion, immediately manifests a Heavenly General body to teach them the Dharma, transforming and liberating them. He enables them to gradually walk the great path to liberation through the protection of the Buddhist Dharma, and even to attain supreme, unexcelled bodhi.

The sixth and final of the six heavenly manifestations is the body of Vaiśravaṇa. Vaiśravaṇa is a Heavenly King, the northern King of Many Hearings among the Four Heavenly Kings. The Four Heavenly Kings’ Heaven is the first earth-dwelling heaven of the Desire Realm, located halfway up Mount Sumeru. The eastern king is Dhṛtarāṣṭra, the Upholder of the Realm; the southern king is Virūḍhaka, the Cause of Growth; the western king is Virūpākṣa, the Broad Vision King; the northern king is Vaiśravaṇa, the Many Hearings King. “Many Hearings” is the meaning translation of Vaiśravaṇa; it is also translated as “All-Hearing” or “Universal Hearing,” though “Many Hearings” is the most common rendering. In Brahmanism, he is revered as a wealth deity, a god who guards treasures and riches. In large Buddhist temples, the four Great Vajras standing at the mountain gate are these Four Heavenly Kings, all of whom are Dharma-protecting deities of Buddhism. Those who observe the five precepts and practice the ten wholesome actions can be reborn in the Four Heavenly Kings’ Heaven. If there are beings in the world who cannot be transformed through any other form, and can only be liberated through the body of Vaiśravaṇa, Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, out of great compassion, immediately manifests Vaiśravaṇa’s body to teach them the Dharma. What Dharma does he teach? He teaches them to be good Dharma protectors, and also teaches them the Dharma of the five precepts and ten wholesome actions for rebirth in the heavens, using this as a stepping stone to gradually advance toward the path of liberation, and attain liberation of body and mind. This shows that for the Dharma to flourish in the world, there must be not only those who teach the Dharma, but also those who protect it. For example, kings, ministers, and lay men and women who practice Buddhism at home are all supporters and protectors of the Dharma. The Buddha once solemnly entrusted the responsibility of protecting the Dharma to lay practitioners.

As for heavenly Dharma protectors, one example comes to mind: traditionally, Buddhist monastic precepts for bhikṣus and bhikṣuṇīs are not permitted to be read by laypeople, and laypeople are not allowed to listen when the precepts are recited. During the Buddha’s time, once when the bhikṣus were conducting their fortnightly precepts recitation, someone was standing outside the door secretly listening. But when the Dharma-protecting deity saw this, he immediately struck the secret listener on the head with a vajra pestle, forcing him to leave. This proves that there are heavenly beings who guard and protect the Buddhist Dharma.

The heavenly bodies manifested by Avalokiteśvara, as explained above, are only the six types of the Desire and Form Realms. Within the Desire Realm, the two earth-dwelling heavens and the sky-dwelling Paranirmitavasavartin Heaven are mentioned, but the Yāma, Tuṣita, and Nirmāṇarati heavens are not. Within the Form Realm, the Brahma Heaven of the first dhyāna and the Maheśvara Heaven of the highest fourth dhyāna are mentioned, but other heavens are not. Among the earth-dwelling Four Heavenly Kings’ Heaven, only the northern Many Hearings King is mentioned; the eastern, southern, and western kings are not. What is the reason for this? Does it mean the Bodhisattva does not manifest the bodies of the other heavens? No! The Bodhisattva can manifest the body of any heaven. These are not mentioned only to give one example that stands for all the rest, so the sutra text does not become overly tedious.

己三

Those who should be saved through the body of a minor king are immediately manifested as a minor king and taught the Dharma. Those who should be saved through the body of an elder are manifested as an elder. Those who should be saved through the body of a householder are manifested as a householder. Those who should be saved through the body of an official are manifested as an official. Those who should be saved through the body of a Brahmin are manifested as a Brahmin—all to teach the Dharma accordingly.

This clarifies the five types of beings to whom Guanyin Bodhisattva responds. These five are not ordinary people, but those who bear leadership responsibilities in the nation or hold positions of considerable standing. They may not originally have been Buddhist disciples, yet once the Bodhisattva manifests in their identity, they can gradually be transformed to take faith in the Buddha, becoming powerful external protectors of the Dharma. This allows the Dharma to spread more widely in the world, influencing more people to come to faith in the Buddha—something of great consequence.

Among these five, the body of the minor king is mentioned first. In monarchical times, the king was sovereign of the nation, ruling the entire country with supreme authority. In ancient China, as everyone knows, the ruler of a great kingdom was called the great king (dà wáng), while the ruler of a small kingdom was called the minor king (xiǎo wáng); thus "minor king" is relative to "great king."

In India, however, tradition speaks of wheel-turning sage kings (cakravartin-rāja) capable of unifying the world. The iron-wheel king could unify Jambudvīpa; the copper-wheel king could unify two continents; the silver-wheel king could unify three continents; and the golden-wheel king could unify all four great continents. Such a wheel-turning king who ruled the entire world was called the great king, while ordinary rulers of small kingdoms were called minor kings. Kings of small kingdoms were numerous. In both ancient China and India, there were many small-state rulers. Buddhist scriptures call them sū-sǎn wáng (粟散王)—millet-scattered kings, meaning that minor kings were as numerous as grains of millet scattered across the land.

Whether great or small, a king is the supreme ruler. In modern terms, he is the nation's president, head of state, or chairman. He bears responsibility for protecting and caring for all his people—safeguarding their lives and property. Hence, whether a country was well or poorly governed in those autocratic times depended largely on the supreme ruler who held concentrated power. If the king were a tyrant or a fool, the people would be plunged into deep suffering, enduring endless misery and living lives no better than beasts of burden. If the king were a sage or enlightened monarch—cherishing the people, concerned for their welfare, prioritizing their benefit, avoiding excessive taxes, and refraining from unjust killings—then the people could live in peace and contentment, enjoying stability and happiness.

Thus a king's influence on the people is immense. If the supreme ruler of a nation has faith in the Buddha-Dharma and uses the Five Precepts and Ten Virtues to educate and guide the people, so that all citizens come to faith and practice accordingly, then that nation will surely know peace and stability.

Therefore, when a Bodhisattva walking the Bodhisattva path manifests as a king, it is not because he wishes to rule the people, but to transform and save them. If there are beings in the land who need the body of a minor king to be saved, Guanyin Bodhisattva, out of great compassion, responds to their needs and appears as a minor king to teach the Dharma. The Dharma taught is naturally the Five Precepts and Ten Virtues, so that the people, following these precepts and virtues, may be law-abiding, harmonious, and mutually supportive. If they truly practice thus, they will not only gain the benefits of the Buddha-Dharma but also enjoy favorable weather, peace, and prosperity!

Human beings generally look upward. When the supreme ruler of a nation truly reveres the Buddha-Dharma and uses it to transform the people, a beneficial influence naturally flows downward—the common people spontaneously come to faith in the Buddha-Dharma. Thus the Buddha entrusted the great responsibility of protecting the Dharma to kings.

For example, about a hundred years after the Buddha's parinirvana, there arose in India the famous Emperor Ashoka, who unified all of India and became the Dharma's most powerful patron. Before his conversion, he was a violent monarch who frequently killed with his own hands, shocking the entire nation. The people gave him the terrible nickname "The Wicked Ashoka," also known as "Black Ashoka." Later, transformed by a monk, he renounced his former cruelty, embraced the Buddha-Dharma, built countless stupas, made offerings to the Buddha's relics, and greatly expanded the propagation of the Dharma. He established Buddhism as the state religion, making India a Buddhist nation. Ashoka himself became a benevolent, kind ruler who cared for his people. The brutal methods he once used disappeared. The former "Wicked Ashoka" was no more; in his place was "The Compassionate Ashoka," also called "White Ashoka." Black represents cruelty and violence, hence evil karma is called black karma; white represents benevolence and goodness, hence virtuous karma is called white karma.

After taking faith in the Buddha, Ashoka was not only the first Buddhist missionary emperor but also the first monarch to recognize that propagation is essential to governance. He came to view royal authority not as power, but as an instrument for establishing peace, goodwill, and compassion. Nor was he content with propagating the Dharma within his own borders; he sent Buddhist emissaries to distant lands—Syria, Egypt, Macedonia—to teach Buddhism. His most successful mission was to Ceylon.

Today we often hear the slogan "World Buddhist Movement." In modern times, this slogan was first raised by Master Taixu, but in ancient India, Ashoka was surely the first to advance the world Buddhist movement. It is therefore not impossible to say that Ashoka was a manifestation of Guanyin Bodhisattva.

After Ashoka, about four hundred years after the Buddha's parinirvana, there appeared another king, Kanishka, who likewise protected Buddhism powerfully and made great contributions to it. In China, kings like Tang Taizong, Sui Yangdi, Liang Wudi, and Ming Taizu also made great efforts to promote the Buddha-Dharma. China traditionally regards the Sui and Tang as the golden age of Buddhism. This was due not only to the many great monks who vigorously propagated the Dharma, but also to the patronage and promotion of the kings of those times. These too may be regarded as manifestations of Guanyin.

Second among the five is the elder. In China, this corresponds to what is called the gentry or shishen. According to Buddhist scriptures, a true elder possesses ten virtues: noble lineage, high status, great wealth, commanding dignity, advanced age, profound wisdom, pure conduct, complete propriety, praise from superiors, and the allegiance of inferiors. The first five concern external, physical aspects; the latter five concern internal, mental qualities. Simply put, an elder is one whose virtue and prestige are abundant, whose character is lofty, whose conduct is exemplary, whose wealth is ample, whose knowledge is broad, whose years are venerable, and whose trustworthiness commands public confidence.

Wherever an elder appears, he receives the respect of the masses. Whatever he does or whatever problem he handles, he does so with fairness and uprightness. In rural areas, disputes often drag on for years without resolution; but when an elder steps forward to speak a word of justice, a great matter is reduced to a small one, and a small matter dissolves entirely, so that everyone accepts the mediation with conviction. Such is the elder's influence.

If he has faith in the Buddha-Dharma, those who already respect him will naturally follow and practice the Dharma. Guanyin Bodhisattva understands this deeply. For beings who can only be saved through the body of an elder, he appears as an elder and teaches the Dharma, exhorting them to be upright, fair, sincere, and plain in their ways. When ordinary people hear an elder speak thus, they gladly accept his words and faithfully put them into practice. Thus an elder who believes in the Dharma also has tremendous power to transform others.

That said, if an elder fails to cultivate body and mind through the Buddha-Dharma, and cannot use the Dharma to transform others, his qualification as an elder becomes questionable.

Third among the five is the householder. Today the term generally refers to lay Buddhist practitioners—male and female householders—as if it applied only to Buddhists. In India, however, it was not exclusively a Buddhist term. Among the four varṇas, the third—the Vaiśya class—included a stratum called householders, referring to wealthy people engaged in agriculture, industry, and commerce.

Nevertheless, to be a true householder requires four great virtues: First, one does not pursue worldly fame or office—one does not covet glory and wealth, but holds high aspirations and refuses to serve lords and princes. Second, one regards worldly pleasures with indifference, never pursuing them frivolously, truly achieving a pure mind and few desires, while harboring lofty virtue within. Third, though not pursuing wealth, one possesses it, and without placing excessive importance on it, uses one's wealth to benefit the many. Fourth, one finds joy in the Way itself—taking delight in the path of cultivation.

In short: "Whoever does not covet fame or profit, does not yearn for wealth or honor, remains composed and self-disciplined, lives in honest seclusion, conducts himself with prudence, possesses lofty character, has taken the Three Refuges or observes the Five Precepts, cultivates himself in purity, is not bound by afflictions, bears labor and reproach without complaint, and sets an example through personal conduct—such a one is called a householder."

Ancient Chinese recluses who cultivated mind and nature in the mountains and forests may be called householders. Such persons have a dignified presence, an elegant and carefree bearing, and move freely at ease. If a monk approaches them to discuss the Buddha-Dharma, it may not resonate; but if one appears in a similar station and draws near, gradually winning their trust, one may then guide them into the Buddha-Dharma.

Therefore, for beings who can only be saved through the body of a householder, Guanyin Bodhisattva appears as a householder and teaches the Dharma.

There have been many instances in Chinese Buddhism of the Bodhisattva manifesting as a householder. The ancient Pang Yun householder and the modern Yang Renshan householder both exerted great influence and made tremendous contributions in transforming intellectuals and cultural figures. Those who walk the Bodhisattva path, unlike rigid śrāvakas, can manifest in various identities to transform beings. Thus lay householders who study the Buddha-Dharma can also propagate the Dharma and save beings. The question is whether the householder himself acts in accordance with the Dharma, whether he transforms others according to the Buddha's correct Dharma. If so, since householders encounter many people, they can, through their bodily and verbal conduct, guide and transform others to take refuge in the Buddha-Dharma. This is the householder's inescapable responsibility.

Fourth among the five is the official. The term broadly refers to civil and military officials in government who assist the head of state in administering the nation. In ancient times, besides the king, the most important officials were the chancellors, prime ministers, or premiers who assisted the king; all others serving in government were called officials. In modern terms, they are public servants: the premier, heads of the various branches of government, ministers of the various departments, and down to provincial governors, county and city mayors, and township and village heads—all are encompassed within the term "official."

The highest officials—chancellors, premiers, or heads of the executive branch—stand above ten thousand and beneath only one, bearing enormous administrative responsibility. Even lower officials, such as the ancient county magistrate known as the "father-and-mother official," wielded considerable influence over the common people.

If an official has faith in the Buddha, the people will follow. If there are beings who can only be saved through the body of an official, Guanyin Bodhisattva, in his compassion, appears as an official and teaches the Dharma.

Throughout the ages, there have been many officials who have revered and protected the Buddha-Dharma. That Chinese Buddhism has continued until today and still spreads without interruption owes much to the faith of officials in the Buddha and their protection of the Dharma. When a high official takes faith, his subordinates and the people naturally become influenced and take faith in the Buddha-Dharma.

A good official, looking upward, must devote his full loyalty to the supreme head of state; looking downward, he must cherish and care for the people under his governance. If he truly does so, his reverence for the Buddha-Dharma will naturally generate great power in propagating it.

Moreover, one may also use the official's body to transform other officials. Military and political leaders, regional magnates—these are not people ordinary individuals can convert. Hence Guanyin Bodhisattva, responding to the capacities of sentient beings, manifests as an official to expound the Dharma and offer guidance, freeing them physically and mentally.

Fifth among the five is the body of a Brahmin. Those who frequently hear the Buddha-Dharma know that India had four varṇas, or social classes: Brahmin, Kṣatriya, Vaiśya, and Śūdra. Among these four, inequality was extreme, and the Brahmin was regarded as the highest.

According to the Manusmṛti, Brahmins were born from the mouth of Brahmā; their earthly duty was to serve as priests presiding over sacrifices. Their status was especially exalted, and they possessed extraordinary powers surpassing even kings; apart from performing sacrificial rites, they did no other work. The Kṣatriyas were born from Brahmā's shoulders; their duty was to command armies and administer governance—kings and warriors belonged to this class. Though not as noble and sacred as the Brahmins, their status was still very high. The Vaiśyas were born from Brahmā's thighs. They held no particular social position, since the Brahmin and Kṣatriya classes depended on them for their necessities. They included farmers, merchants, and artisans. The Śūdras were born from Brahmā's feet; they formed the lowest class, performing menial work, toiling like oxen and horses all their lives, and enduring unjust punishments!

These four classes were not only unequal in social standing but also in religious matters. Socially, a Śūdra was not even permitted contact with members of other classes. If a Śūdra walking on the road stepped on the shadow cast by a Brahmin, he could pay with his life.

The Manusmṛti also lays down such a rule: "If a Śūdra so much as touches a Brahmin's body with a blade of grass, he shall be put to death." From this we can see how rigid the social hierarchy was. In religious terms, the Śūdras were considered a "non-twice-born" caste, while the other three varṇas were "twice-born." To be "twice-born" meant that after death one could be reborn as a human, because in life one had the right to recite and study the Vedic scriptures. To be "non-twice-born" meant that death was final—one had no chance of returning to the human realm, because in life one had no right to recite the Vedas. So the four Indian varṇas formed a class system whose inequality was plain and strict.

If there are beings in the world who can only be saved "by appearing as a Brahmin," then Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, in great compassion, "immediately appears as a Brahmin to preach the Dharma for them." What does he teach? He teaches the Dharma of equality, to make clear that all human beings are born equal, with no distinction of superior or inferior. No one should be arrogant and consider themselves a "child of heaven," or—as the Israelites say—"the chosen people of God," or believe that one's own race is the finest nation on earth. The Indian Brahmins regarded themselves as the most distinguished and noble of peoples and constantly sought to tread upon the other castes, controlling them, commanding them, compelling them to submit. Now Guanyin Bodhisattva manifests in the very identity of a Brahmin, demonstrating the spirit of equality through his own conduct, in order to transform the Brahmins and break down their rigid class ideas. He leads them to accept the truth that human beings and all sentient beings are fundamentally equal, and, practicing in accord with this truth, they gradually attain ultimate liberation.

(5) Able to Respond to the Fourfold Assembly

"If there are those who should be saved by appearing as a bhikṣu, bhikṣuṇī, upāsaka, or upāsikā, he immediately appears as a bhikṣu, bhikṣuṇī, upāsaka, or upāsikā to preach the Dharma for them." This passage shows that he is able to respond to the fourfold assembly—the four kinds of disciples within the Buddhadharma. Before going further, let's read it section by section: "If there are those who should be saved by the form of a bhikṣu, he immediately appears as a bhikṣu to preach the Dharma for them; if by the form of a bhikṣuṇī, he immediately appears as a bhikṣuṇī to preach for them; if by the form of an upāsaka, he immediately appears as an upāsaka to preach for them; if by the form of an upāsikā, he immediately appears as an upāsikā to preach for them."

Bhikṣu is a Sanskrit term, translated into Chinese with three meanings: almsman, destroyer of evil, and one who frightens Māra. "Almsman" comes from "begging"—one who begs. There is an old saying: "Outwardly, one begs for food to nourish the body; inwardly, one begs for the Dharma to sustain the life of wisdom"—that is the meaning of almsman. Because one must live in this world, one has to accept food and drink to stay alive, and so one must beg from the laity. If a renunciant only begs for food and never seeks the Tathāgata's proper Dharma, he is no different from an ordinary beggar. So the Buddha laid down a rule: within a radius of forty li, if someone is lecturing on the scriptures, the two orders of renunciants who fail to attend are in violation of the precepts. "Destroyer of evil" means that since renunciants have left the household, they should practice in accord with the Buddhadharma and destroy the various kinds of evil. If a renunciant cannot destroy evil, he is no different from a layperson. "One who frightens Māra" means that when renunciants ascend the bhikṣu platform and receive the bhikṣu precepts through the four-proclamation rite, the Dharma-protecting deities all come to safeguard them. A messenger is dispatched to the earth-wandering yakṣas, who report to the sky-wandering yakṣas, and the news is passed up to the palace of Māra. The demon king is then seized with great terror. What Māra loves most is to have many demon sons and grandsons, so that every being within the three realms stays in his grasp; he certainly doesn't want to see a single being escape. When a renunciant resolves to receive the precepts and practice accordingly, departing from the three realms, Māra is naturally terrified—hence the name.

The nī in bhikṣuṇī marks the feminine form, meaning a female renunciant.

Here's an example of Guanyin Bodhisattva manifesting as a bhikṣu: Bodhidharma, the First Patriarch of the Chan school in China, after attaining the treasury of the true Dharma eye, came east to China to propagate the teachings. He first arrived in Nanjing and met Emperor Wu of the Liang dynasty, but the two could not see eye to eye. So he went on to the Shaolin Temple on Mount Song in Henan, where he faced the wall for nine years. Later he accepted the Second Patriarch Huike as a disciple and transmitted to him the mind-seal of the Buddhadharma. Before long, Patriarch Bodhidharma passed into nirvāṇa and was buried on Mount Xiong'er. Two years later, though, the Northern Wei envoy Song Yun met Bodhidharma at the Congling pass, walking alone and carrying a single shoe. When Song Yun asked where he was going, Bodhidharma said he was returning to the Western Heaven. Song Yun returned to Wei territory and spread the news; at first no one believed him. Later, when the coffin was opened and examined, it was empty—nothing inside but a single shoe. Because Bodhidharma returned to the West with only a sandal, later generations in the Buddhist world have regarded him as an incarnation of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva.

And here's an example of Guanyin manifesting as a bhikṣuṇī: the Records of Bhikṣuṇīs mention a bhikṣuṇī named Sengduan, who lived during the Liu Song dynasty. Her family had believed in the Buddhadharma for generations, and she and her sister vowed to leave home. Sengduan was famously beautiful, and many wealthy families came to her mother and brother to seek her hand. Her mother and brother agreed to one family's proposal. Three days before the wedding, Sengduan, unwilling to marry, hid in a Buddhist temple and wholeheartedly recited the Universal Gate chapter. After three days, while making prostrations, she suddenly saw the Buddha say to her: "Your future husband's life is about to end; you need only cultivate diligently and courageously, and need not worry over this." Later her fiancé was indeed killed by a goring ox, while she, through her practice within the Buddhadharma, gained great benefit. So she too can be said to be an incarnation of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva.

Upāsaka is a Sanskrit term, translated into Chinese as "layman who draws near" or "pure faithful man"; upāsikā is also Sanskrit, translated as "laywoman who draws near" or "pure faithful woman." Together they form the two lay orders of Buddhist practitioners—devotees who draw near to the Three Jewels and attend upon them. That Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva manifests as upāsakas and upāsikās in China is something one can say is abundantly recorded in the Records of Guanyin's Spiritual Responsiveness; there's no need for more examples. Take the fourfold assembly seated here right now: which of them might be a manifestation of the Bodhisattva? We ordinary beings, with our fleshly eyes, naturally cannot tell. But just because we can't see doesn't mean the Bodhisattva isn't manifesting. So Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, in his great compassion, if there are beings in this world who can only be freed through one of these four identities, he immediately takes on the appropriate form and preaches for each the Dharma they need, so that they may practice accordingly and attain liberation of body and mind.

(6) Able to Respond to Various Women

"If there are those who should be saved by appearing as the wife of an elder, a householder, a government official, or a Brahmin, he immediately appears as a woman to preach the Dharma for them." This shows that he is able to respond to women of every kind. The "various women" here doesn't mean one class of women—it means women of all kinds, specifically married women who have become the heads of their households. They occupy a special position in the family, because the family is centered on husband and wife. If the wife resolves to study the Buddhadharma, she can readily help bring about a Buddhist family. A Buddhist family is the foundation of a Buddhist society, and if we want society to become Buddhist, we have to start by making the family Buddhist. In this sense, the wife naturally becomes a key figure. The passage can be read in four parts: "If there are those who should be saved by the wife of an elder, he immediately appears as the wife of an elder to preach the Dharma for them; if by the wife of a householder, he immediately appears as the wife of a householder to preach for them; if by the wife of a government official, he immediately appears as the wife of a government official to preach for them; if by the wife of a Brahmin, he immediately appears as the wife of a Brahmin to preach for them."

Within the Indian caste system, elders and householders belonged to the Vaiśya clan; government officials, who bore heavy responsibilities of state and military affairs, belonged to the Kṣatriya clan; Brahmins were the most noble of the four varṇas. The Śūdras, the lowest caste, aren't mentioned here. Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva appears as a woman, and therefore appears only as women of the three twice-born varṇas—not as Śūdra women—because the Śūdra caste was held in such deep contempt at the time. If he were to appear as a Śūdra woman, the Dharma he preached would not be believed or accepted, and naturally would have no effect. So he doesn't appear as a Śūdra woman.

Elders and householders hold a lofty position in society; government officials wield considerable power in political affairs; Brahmins occupy a special place in the religious world. So the Bodhisattva appears as women of these three classes, to serve as virtuous helpmates to elders, householders, officials, and Brahmins, and to promote the Buddhadharma. The effect, naturally, is very great. This shows that the Bodhisattva's appearances are not aimless—they're meant to use the Dharma to guide and transform people. Wherever a social class can exert the greatest transforming influence, that's where the Bodhisattva will appear, in order to achieve the goal of transforming the world through the Dharma.

At this point, someone might ask: among the women of a nation, the highest in status is surely the queen, and her influence far surpasses that of any other woman—why doesn't the sūtra mention appearing as a queen? The queen has high status and a strong power of appeal, and would seem the best to promote the Buddhadharma! According to the ancient masters, in the era of monarchy queens generally lived deep within the palace and seldom ventured outside its gates, unlike other wives who could come into contact with the broad masses. So this sūtra doesn't mention appearing as a queen. However, the Śūraṅgama Sūtra also says the Bodhisattva appears as queens to preach the Dharma. It says: "If there are women who govern the inner affairs, establishing their conduct in order to cultivate the family and the nation, then I appear before them as a queen, a noble lady, an official's wife, or a matriarch of a great family, to preach the Dharma and enable them to attain accomplishment." The point is that a queen within the palace can still transform the members of her own household. As for the modern First Lady, the Bodhisattva can of course also appear in that form to teach and transform.

Women do occupy a position of considerable importance in family and society. From the standpoint of religion, in any faith, proportionally speaking, female believers outnumber male ones. And generally speaking, women's wisdom and ability are in no way inferior to men's; in some cases, women's wisdom far surpasses men's. So once a woman takes faith in a religion, she not only continually pursues that religion's truth, but her faith is also the most sincere and genuine. Look at the gatherings of any religion: the audience is mostly women. That alone shows how devout women are in matters of religion. Given this, it's of course extremely important that every woman cultivate a heart of religious faith, because whether or not a woman has religious faith makes a great difference—both to her own life and to society as a whole.

Someone has put it this way: a woman in the family has three great duties—raising children, preparing meals, and religious devotion. I'll set aside the first two and speak of the third. If the wife of the household has religious faith, she can influence her in-laws above, her children below, and her husband in the middle. In this way the whole family is bathed in a religious atmosphere, and naturally lives in harmony and joy, enjoying a happy family life. As for the children: if a mother is truly a devout religious believer, her children are daily influenced and transformed through what they see and hear, and naturally follow her in faith. For example, a Buddhist mother can often take her children to temples and Buddhist halls, letting them be gradually nurtured in the atmosphere of the Dharma; deep religious impressions naturally take root. When conditions ripen, they'll come to believe in and practice Buddhism. So Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, for those beings who can only attain liberation by the appearance of the wife of an elder, a householder, a government official, or a Brahmin, takes on various forms of woman to suit them and preaches the Dharma, guiding them in how to be a virtuous wife and good mother within the family, in order to seek liberation of body and mind.

Responding to Boys and Girls

"If there are beings who should be saved by appearing in the body of a boy or girl, [the Bodhisattva] immediately appears in the body of a boy or girl and speaks the Dharma for them." This passage explains the response to boys and girls. In common understanding, boys and girls refer to children between seven or eight and eleven or twelve years old. Here, however, we should broaden the scope: regardless of age, anyone who is unmarried or has chosen to remain single can be included in this category.

One defining quality of boys and girls is their innocence and purity. When adults see children, they often describe them as carefree, lively, and utterly without pretense. And this is genuinely so — children have not yet been exposed to society's various corrupting influences, so their hearts remain truly innocent and pure. When adults spend time with children, they easily reconnect with their own childlike nature. Even someone weathered by life's hardships and deeply steeped in worldly sophistication can, in the company of children, recover something of that original, unspoiled heart.

The book Young Buddhism and Buddhist Youth states: "Buddhism also praises childhood — not only for its sincerity and purity, but especially for its gentle kindness, its inner vision of boundless light, and its willingness to sacrifice everything in pursuit of truth." Boys and girls are truly precious!

During the years of childhood, a person is like a blank sheet of paper. Shape them one way, and they take that form — paint it red and it becomes red; paint it black and it becomes black. Guidance and instruction during this period are therefore both the easiest and the most important work imaginable. A Chinese proverb says: "Bend the mulberry branch while it is still young." Once a mulberry tree has grown tall and large, it is extremely difficult to bend. Only while its branches are still tender and its leaves small can it be shaped. This metaphor tells us that guiding children should begin around age seven or eight, with proper and effective teaching, so they can become well-behaved children and, in time, good citizens. If children fall into bad habits early or are led astray by harmful influences — the delinquents known in Taiwan as taibao and taimei, in Hong Kong as feizai and feinv, or in Singapore as afei — not only is their own future destroyed, but social stability suffers as well. The fact that law enforcement officials everywhere struggle with juvenile delinquency is the best proof of this. For all these reasons, guiding and educating boys and girls is of paramount importance.

Recently in Buddhist circles there has been talk of "Buddhist education for children" — applying Buddhist teachings to guide children so that their thoughts and behavior remain on the right path. When Guanyin Bodhisattva sees beings in the world who can only be saved by appearing "in the body of a boy or girl," she "immediately appears in the body of a boy or girl and speaks the Dharma," teaching them to become people of complete character who contribute to society.

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Section Seven: Responding to the Eight Classes of Beings

"If there are beings who should be saved by appearing in the body of a god (deva), dragon (nāga), yakṣa, gandharva, asura, garuḍa, kiṃnara, mahoraga, human, or non-human, [the Bodhisattva] appears in each such body and speaks the Dharma for them."

This describes the response to the eight classes — commonly known as the devas and nāgas of the eight classes (tianlong babu) — who serve as Dharma protectors. If we take them one by one, as before, each should be read as a separate passage: "If there are beings who should be saved by appearing in the body of a deva, immediately appear in the body of a deva and speak the Dharma; if there are beings who should be saved by appearing in the body of a nāga, immediately appear in the body of a nāga and speak the Dharma; if there are beings who should be saved by appearing in the body of a yakṣa, immediately appear in the body of a yakṣa and speak the Dharma; if there are beings who should be saved by appearing in the body of a gandharva, immediately appear in the body of a gandharva and speak the Dharma; if there are beings who should be saved by appearing in the body of an asura, immediately appear in the body of an asura and speak the Dharma; if there are beings who should be saved by appearing in the body of a garuḍa, immediately appear in the body of a garuḍa and speak the Dharma; if there are beings who should be saved by appearing in the body of a kiṃnara, immediately appear in the body of a kiṃnara and speak the Dharma; if there are beings who should be saved by appearing in the body of a mahoraga, immediately appear in the body of a mahoraga and speak the Dharma."

Devá (tian): In Sanskrit, deva; in Chinese, tian, meaning "heavenly being." It is commonly said that the three realms contain twenty-eight heavens, but the devas referred to here are primarily those of the desire realm's earth-dwelling heavens — namely the Heaven of the Four Heavenly Kings and the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven. If there are beings in the world who can only be saved by appearing in the body of a deva, Guanyin Bodhisattva immediately appears in that body and speaks the Dharma for them. The Śūraṅgama Sūtra says: "If there are devas who wish to transcend their kind, I appear before them in the body of a deva and speak the Dharma, enabling them to fulfill their aspiration." This is the same principle. In the earlier passages on responding to the six classes of devas, six different deva bodies were described individually; here they are gathered together under the single term deva, which is why the treatment differs.

Nāga (long): In China, dragons have long been counted among the four spiritually potent creatures — wondrous beings skilled in transformation. According to Buddhist teachings, there are many kinds of nāgas: celestial nāgas that guard heavenly palaces, sea nāgas that guard ocean palaces, treasure nāgas that guard hoards of wealth, and rain nāgas that bring precipitation. Whatever the type, no one has ever actually seen one. Yet since both ancient China and ancient India have always had dragon legends, we cannot simply dismiss their existence. Though nāgas possess great blessings, their karmic obstacles are equally heavy, and they cannot enjoy their fortune in peace. According to Buddhist legend, the great golden-winged garuḍa bird delights in eating nāgas. Because a nāga's body is long, the garuḍa consumes them the way people eat noodles — and so nāga beings live under constant threat, terrified of the golden-winged bird.

Once, while the Buddha sat in meditation by the great ocean, a nāga once again faced the threat of a garuḍa and came before the Buddha seeking help, hoping to escape being carried off and devoured. In his compassion, the Buddha tore strips from his own kaṣāya robe and told the nāga king to drape them over the bodies of his children and grandchildren. This would protect them, for when the garuḍa saw the Buddha's robe, it dared not approach. Thus the lives of the nāgas were safeguarded — a testament to the awe-inspiring power of the kaṣāya.

If there are beings who can only be saved by appearing in the body of a nāga, Guanyin Bodhisattva takes on that form and goes to the nāga palace to teach the nāgas, urging them to relinquish their hatred. One might object: the nāga palace is at the bottom of the sea — how could anyone go there to teach? It is not impossible. The extant Sūtra of the Ten Good Actions Spoken by the Buddha (Fo Shuo Shi Shan Ye Dao Jing) was, after all, spoken by the Buddha in the nāga palace for the nāga king. By the same logic, the Bodhisattva can certainly manifest a nāga body and enter the palace to teach.

Yakṣa: As mentioned earlier, these are the "swift spirits," also called "fierce spirits." They come in both good and evil varieties: evil yakṣas devour humans, while good yakṣas protect the Dharma. When monks and nuns ascend the ordination platform to receive the precepts and the formal karma procedure is recited four times, the earth-dwelling yakṣas joyfully relay the news to the sky-dwelling yakṣas, who in turn pass it up to the Heaven of the Four Heavenly Kings, and so the message echoes upward, eventually reaching the palace of Māra in the Paranirmitavaśavartin Heaven — striking terror into the hearts of the māras! Virtuous yakṣas can protect practitioners and safeguard the Dharma. If there are beings who can only be saved by appearing in the body of a yakṣa, Guanyin Bodhisattva, in her great compassion, appears in that form and speaks the Dharma. The well-known figure Ran, the "Burning-Face Great Being," is in fact a manifestation of Guanyin herself.

Gandharva: Translated into Chinese as "fragrance-seeker," "fragrance-sniffer," "fragrance-eater," or simply "fragrance spirit." This is the celestial musician who plays before Śakra, lord of the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven. Since Śakra is still attached to the five desires, he naturally enjoys music. Whenever he wishes to hear a performance, he has no need to send someone to summon the musicians — he simply lights a stick of incense before him, and the gandharvas, drawn by the scent, appear and play until Śakra is satisfied. These musician spirits dwell in the Vajra Cave on the southern face of Mount Sumeru and are capable of flying through the air. If there are beings who can only be saved by appearing in the body of a gandharva, Guanyin Bodhisattva, in her great compassion, appears in that form and speaks the Dharma. The Śūraṅgama Sūtra says: "If there are gandharvas who wish to transcend their kind, I appear before them in the body of a gandharva and speak the Dharma, enabling them to fulfill their aspiration" — the same principle.

Asura: The name carries three Chinese renderings. First, "non-deva" (feitian): asuras possess the blessings of devas but not their virtue. Second, "without beauty" (wuduanzheng): according to the sūtras, asura women are extraordinarily beautiful, while asura men are exceedingly ugly, without the slightest pleasing feature. Third, "without wine" (wujiu): legend has it that asuras once loved to drink, but at one point could find no wine at all. Rather than go without, they resolved to give it up entirely — hence the name.

The most defining trait of asuras is their profound suspicion. No matter the matter, they refuse to trust others lightly. This deep-seated paranoia breeds aggressive competitiveness and an overwhelming need to win. Asuras love nothing more than to wage war against Śakra — and there is a reason for this, as the following story illustrates.

Legend has it that the asura king had a daughter named Śaci (Shèzhī), whose beauty was said to be so extraordinary that few in the world could compare. When Śakra, lord of the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven, learned of her, he — being an earth-dwelling deva who had not yet severed worldly desire — took her as his wife, thereby entering into a bond with the asura king. Their relations were cordial at first.

Not long after the marriage, Śakra invited his father-in-law to visit the heavenly palace as a gesture of respect, receiving him with generous hospitality. When the asura king had thoroughly enjoyed himself and was about to depart, Śakra arranged a grand farewell — lining up his celestial guards as an honor escort on both sides. But instead of appreciating the gesture, the asura king suspected that Śakra was deliberately flexing military might to intimidate him, and left feeling deeply offended.

Though Śakra is the lord of the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven, he frequently comes to the human realm to hear teachings — when a Buddha is present, he listens to the Dharma; when no Buddha is present, he listens to sages. One day, Śakra was about to descend to hear a sage speak. His wife Śaci, suspecting her husband of having an affair in the human world, confronted him. Śakra explained the truth, but Śaci refused to believe a word of it. She insisted on accompanying him to investigate. Śakra, feeling that as a woman she was not suited to go down to the human realm, tried to stop her — which only deepened her suspicions. She was determined to follow.

When Śakra boarded his celestial chariot to descend, Śaci used her magical powers to make herself invisible and hid behind the chariot. Upon arriving in the human realm, Śakra stepped down — and Śaci emerged as well. Seeing her, Śakra scolded her and struck her a few times with a flower stalk. Śaci flew into a rage, refusing to settle until Śakra apologized. Unfortunately, the sage, upon hearing her sweet voice, lost his spiritual powers. Śakra was furious, and Śaci nursed an even deeper grudge, convinced her husband had humiliated her beyond endurance.

She went home and wept to her father about everything that had happened. The asura king's anger erupted: "First he paraded his soldiers before me, and now he mistreats my daughter! If this can be tolerated, what cannot?" He marshaled vast armies of asura warriors and declared war on Śakra, launching a direct assault on the heavenly palace. With their modest supernatural powers, the asuras were able to plant their feet on the ocean floor and shake the celestial palace itself. Śakra suffered a crushing defeat and fled. From that war onward, Śakra and the asuras fought constantly. Though victories went both ways, Śakra lost more often than not and was frequently plagued by distress.

When the Buddha appeared in the world, Śakra came to him for help. The Buddha told him that to achieve victory, he and his troops must recite "Mahāprajñāpāramitā" when doing battle with the asuras. Śakra ordered his celestial armies to chant accordingly, and they won a decisive victory. The asuras, utterly defeated, fled into the pores of lotus roots and dared not challenge Śakra again!

Given that suspicion and anger are the hallmarks of asuras, a person in the human realm who is chronically distrustful, quick-tempered, and relentlessly competitive — always fighting to save face — will, after death, fall into the asura realm. Such people during their human lives may well have performed many good deeds, including generous charity. But because their competitive spirit was so strong, they planted the causes for rebirth as an asura. If there are beings who can only be saved by appearing in the body of an asura, Guanyin Bodhisattva takes on that form and speaks the Dharma, helping them relinquish suspicion and anger and attain liberation of body and mind. The Śūraṅgama Sūtra says: "If there are asuras who wish to transcend their kind, I appear before them in the body of an asura and speak the Dharma, enabling them to fulfill their aspiration" — the same principle.

Garuḍa (jialouluo): Translated into Chinese as "wonder-winged bird" or "golden-winged bird," also known as the great golden-winged garuḍa. It dwells among the great iron trees north of Mount Sumeru. According to the Buddhist sūtras, this bird's wingspan stretches 3.6 million li. When it hunts for nāgas, it beats the ocean with its massive wings, parting the waters to reveal the sea floor and the nāga palace below. It then seizes the nāgas and devours them as effortlessly as a person eats noodles.

As mentioned earlier, the Buddha used his kaṣāya to save the nāgas, which left the garuḍa without its food supply. The bird came before the Buddha and protested: "You, in your compassion, saved the nāgas — fine, they are saved. But I am starving, with nothing to eat. I will die of hunger. Would you, O Buddha, stand by and watch me perish?" The Buddha instructed the bird: "If you take refuge in the Three Jewels and uphold the precept against killing, vowing never again to eat nāgas, I shall have my disciples, when they offer food to the Buddha, set aside seven grains of rice or porridge as an offering to you — and to the spirits of the wilderness, the rākṣasas, and the rākṣasī mother Hārītī — so that all of you may be sustained and never again suffer hunger."

This is why the Buddhist practice of offering food (chusheng) carries genuine significance — it is no mere formality. When making this offering, one should recite the verse: "To the great golden-winged garuḍa, to the multitudes of wilderness spirits, to the rākṣasī mother and her children — may this nectar fill you all." This must never be done carelessly.

The garuḍa bears a cintāmaṇi — a wish-fulfilling jewel — upon its head. Whoever obtains it can have whatever they desire. The garuḍa can also breathe fire from its mouth, which is why it is sometimes called "Garuḍa Flame" (jialouluoyan). If there are beings who can only be saved by appearing in the body of a garuḍa, Guanyin Bodhisattva takes on that form and speaks to them of kindness and reverence for all living things, guiding them to put these teachings into practice and attain liberation of body and mind.

Kiṃnara (jinnaluo): Translated into Chinese as "doubtful being" or "doubtful spirit." These beings have a single horn on their heads, and at a glance, one cannot tell whether they are human or not — hence the name.

亦为帝释天的奏乐神，与前乾闼婆奏乐神所不同者：乾闼婆奏的是普通世俗音乐，紧那罗奏的则是法乐。也可以说，前者奏的是世间音乐，后者奏的是出世间法乐。若有众生须以紧那罗身才能得度，观世音菩萨便现紧那罗身，为他宣说如来正法，使其依法修行，身心解脱，脱离紧那罗的鬼神生活。

"摩侯罗伽"：汉译为大蟒蛇神，又译作地龙，相传是人形蛇首的样子。若有众生须以摩侯罗伽身才能得度，观世音菩萨便现摩侯罗伽身，为他宣说忍辱修慈、柔和修慧之法，使其依法修行，身心解脱！

"人非人等身得度者"，这是对上面八部的总结。所谓"人非人"，一说似人身而非人身，故称人非人；一说八部鬼神本来不是人，但化作人形来到佛前，故称人非人；又说人指四大部洲的人类，非人指八部鬼众等。说法虽有多种，我以为第一种较为合理。观音菩萨大慈大悲，为救度天龙等八部众生，便随顺他们各自的机缘，应以何身得度，即现何身而为说法，所以说"即皆现之而为说法"。

己八

能应力士应以执金刚神得度者，即现执金刚神而为说法。此明能应力士——在三十三应身中，这是最后一应身。执金刚神是佛法的护法神，因他手中常执金刚宝杵，故得此名。佛教以慈悲为本，与人无争，可世人往往抓住这一点，常想破坏佛法。佛弟子既不愿有违慈悲，便由护法神手执金刚宝杵，降伏那些破坏佛法的恶人，使他们不致造下毁法的重罪。所以站在佛法的立场，对于世间众生，应当慈悲的当然要慈悲摄受，应当折伏的也要以威猛折伏，威德并用，才能普救群生。

佛教的护法金刚神，也有一段来历：相传过去有转轮圣王出世，娶两位夫人，第一夫人生了一千王子，第二夫人仅生两位王子。第一夫人所生的一千王子，自接触佛法后，都发起大菩提心，广行菩萨道，成为名副其实的菩萨，将来当然都会成佛——可是谁先成佛呢？父王为了弄清这一点，特令已发菩提心的王子拈阄，以定成佛的先后。结果，最初是拘留孙佛，最后是楼至如来，释尊排在第四。所以要定次第，因为同一世界中，不能有二佛同时出世。第二夫人的两位王子，见兄长们都发菩提心、将来都要成佛，于是大太子发愿作大梵天王，在诸兄成佛时请佛转妙法轮；第二太子发愿作护法神，在诸兄成佛后护持佛法。这位执金刚神，就是转轮圣王第二夫人的第二太子。释尊于千子中排第四位成佛，所以释尊出世时，先有大梵天王请转法轮，后有执金刚神护持佛法。

世间若有一类众生，"应以执金刚神"度化才能"得度"，观世音菩萨便"现执金刚神身"，宣"说"护持如来正"法"的教法，使其依法奉行，做个佛教的有力护法者。

戊二 结德劝供

"无尽意！这位观世音菩萨，成就了如是功德，以种种形游诸国土，度脱众生。所以你们应当一心供养观世音菩萨。"

观音菩萨以三十三应身在此娑婆世界游化，这不过是举一个概略的数字，形容观音菩萨以不同身份游行教化众生的工作。事实上，正如其他大菩萨一样，观音菩萨能化千百万亿身形，于种种世界度化众生。为此，释尊特再总结观音种种功德，以劝无尽意及诸天人发心供养。

"无尽意！"释尊这样称呼当机者的法名后说："这位观世音菩萨，成就了如是功德。"所谓"如是"，指观音救七难、离三毒、应二求，乃至现种种不同身形在世间教化众生的一切功德——这一切功德，观音菩萨都已圆满成就。正因观音成就了这许多功德，所以能"以种种形游诸国土，度脱众生"。以种种形，是说现种种不同的身形，显观音所现身形之多；游诸国土，是说观音不仅在此娑婆世界频频示现，同时也于十方无量国土中现种种身教化众生，形容菩萨游化世界之广；度脱众生，意思是菩萨以种种不同身份游化一切国土，并不是像一般人那样游山玩水，也不是像现代人那样到处观光游览，而是为了度脱众生。要知道，娑婆世界的众生固然痛苦，需要菩萨的教化和度脱；其他世界的众生也同样有或多或少、或大或小的痛苦，需要菩萨去化度令得解脱——这正显示了观音所教化众生之众。

这里有特别说明的必要：观音菩萨本是极乐世界的补处大士，当他游化诸国时，并不是我们想像的那样——今天游化娑婆世界，明天游化净琉璃世界，后天又游化另一世界。假若如此，观音菩萨真要忙得席不暇暖了！所以严格说来，观音游化诸国，是在同一时间之内，而且本来的观音，从未离开极乐世界一步！

前面说过，天上月亮只有一个，但千江有水千江月，万江有水万江月。不论千江月还是万江月，都在同一时间显现，而真月依然高悬天际，从未下到江水中去。因此有四句话说：

"一月普印一切水，一切水月一月摄，月不下降水不升，水清月明法自尔。"

通理法师说："虽曰以种种形，唯是一真；虽曰游诸国土，不离当处。"这正是同一意思的彻底透露。

这里还有一点更须了解：观音菩萨大慈大悲，到十方世界度脱众生，经过相当长久的时间，照理苦恼众生应已被度脱，为什么十方世界中现在仍有这么多苦恼众生？别说其他国土，单以娑婆世界而言，就仍有无数沉于苦海中的众生，受着种种痛苦的折磨而未能解脱，这是什么道理？

依经中所说，这并不是观音度生不够努力，也不是菩萨在度生时存有分别心——这个我度、那个不度。问题在于众生是否愿意接受菩萨的化度，或者说，这众生与观音菩萨是否有缘。有的众生与观音无缘，因而观音化度不了的，自然要由其他菩萨来教化才能得度。所以佛菩萨只能化度有缘的众生，假若无缘，便无法化度。正因如此，观音菩萨虽以种种形游诸国土度化众生，现今仍有很多众生沉沦苦海而不能解脱。问题不在菩萨身上，而在众生身上。所以要想得到观音菩萨的救度，首先须与菩萨结下法缘，否则是不能得到菩萨度脱的！

观音菩萨成就了这许多功德，以种种形游化诸国，既然是为了度脱众生，那么菩萨对众生的恩德当然很大，"所以你们应当一心供养观世音菩萨"。讲到供养，通常说有"事供养"与"理供养"两种。如四事供养、六供养、十供养，都叫事供养；契合其理而证入诸法法性，与佛菩萨同一鼻孔出气，便是理供养。经中又说："诸供养中，法供养最。"什么叫法供养？就是如法实行，是最上的供养。像"身业供养是礼拜，口业供养是称赞，意业供养是观想相好"，都可称为法供养。不论什么供养，最要紧的是一心一意、恭敬至诚，所以说"一心供养"。

丁一 正答游于娑婆

戊一 显示妙德

己一 能施无畏

"这位观世音菩萨摩诃萨，于怖畏急难之中，能施无畏，所以此娑婆世界，都称他为施无畏者。"

此明观音能施众生无畏，因而另有"施无畏者"之号。佛劝无尽意发心供养观音后，接着又对无尽意说："这位观世音菩萨摩诃萨，于怖畏急难之中，能施众生无畏。"菩萨摩诃萨，意为菩萨中的大菩萨；同样名为菩萨，却有初发心菩萨与久修大行菩萨之别。观音是位大菩萨，即将继承阿弥陀佛在极乐世界成佛，当然不是一般初发心菩萨，所以称为菩萨摩诃萨。

怖是恐怖，畏是畏惧，就是通常说的害怕。急难，是突如其来，使人措手不及、无法预防、无法应付的灾难。有福慧的人面对急难，固然可以随机应变予以克服；但若智慧缺乏，不能应付急难，于内心生起恐怖畏惧之时，观音菩萨便以大慈大悲之力，或隐或显地出现在你面前，施予你无畏，解救你的急难，"所以此娑婆世界，都称他为施无畏者"。

《楞严经》说："其形其咒，能以无畏施诸众生，是故十方微尘国土，皆名我为施无畏者。"与此义同。

于怖畏急难中能施无畏，不妨举一实例说明：晋朝时，有一高僧名释达开。一次上山采甘草，不料竟被羌人捉住，关在木栅之中，而在他之前被关进栅内的已有十余人。羌人凶暴野蛮，每天将关押的人加以烹煮，到最后只剩达开一人。达开知道明日便要轮到自己，当然不免生起怖畏，可是怖畏又有何用？只好诚恳默诵《观音普门品》，将自己的生命托付给观音菩萨。到了天快亮时，忽有一只大虎跑来；守卫木栅的羌人见老虎来了，纷纷四散逃命。老虎不但不走，还将木栅咬出一个洞。达开心想：虽然逃脱了羌人的杀害，却必定逃不出虎口。于是，一边害怕不已，一边虔诚念诵观音圣号；等到栅栏被老虎咬穿时，虎竟不吃达开，立刻转身离栅而去。到这时，达开知道是观音驱虎前来相救，于是得脱羌人之难！这正是菩萨能施无畏的明证！

又如一人独自上山采药，忽遇猛虎迎面扑来。不用说，此时此人心中必定相当怖畏，可就在这当口，忽然一位老婆婆出来大吼一声，那凶猛可畏的老虎竟然掉头而去。采药者惊魂甫定，再仔细一看，老婆婆已渺然不见。要知道，这位老婆婆就是观音菩萨的示现，是为救众生急难而来施予无畏的！

世间怖畏急难固然很多，但最大的怖畏与最大的急难，无过于生死——因为一切怖畏皆由生死而来，假若没有轮转生死的生命体，哪里会有各种怖畏急难现前？所以生死才是最大的怖畏！

众生若真感到生死可畏，想要跳出生死轮回，观音菩萨便会随顺我们的要求，无论你想要以怎样的身形得度，便立即以怎样的身形示现在你面前，为你演说离生死之法，使你不再感到生死可畏，施予你修行了生死的方法——这才是真正的施无畏者。

佛法通常说有财施、法施、无畏施三种，一般以为财施很重要，岂知法施与无畏施更为重要！观音以无畏施于众生，所以称为施无畏者。

己二

Nenggan Gongyang The Bodhisattva Akṣayamati (Wujinyi), who was capable of responding with offerings, addressed the Buddha, saying: “World-Honored One! I will now make offerings to the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara.” He then unfastened a necklace strung with many precious gems from around his neck—worth a hundred thousand taels of gold—and offered it. He said: “Noble One! Please accept this Dharma offering of this jeweled necklace!” At this, the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara refused to accept it. Akṣayamati spoke to him again: “Noble One! Out of compassion for us, please accept this necklace.” This passage illustrates the principle of responding to the Buddha’s exhortation with offerings.

The World-Honored One urged the great assembly to offer to Avalokiteśvara with single-minded devotion. Akṣayamati was a great bodhisattva who deeply understood the importance of making offerings. Upon hearing the Buddha’s encouragement to give, he immediately addressed the Buddha: “World-Honored One, our venerable teacher, you have asked us to offer single-mindedly to Guanyin. We will now obey your compassionate command and make offerings to the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara.” After speaking, he immediately unfastened the many-jeweled necklace hanging from his neck. The necklace was worth roughly a hundred thousand taels of gold, a sum that underscores just how precious it was. He offered this valuable necklace to the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara, saying: “Noble One! Please accept this Dharma offering of this jeweled necklace.” The term “Noble One” (rénzhě) is a standard form of address used between bodhisattvas, referring to a person of benevolence and virtue. Even so, Avalokiteśvara refused to accept his offering. On the surface, this passage is straightforward, but the principles it conveys run deep—we should not gloss over them.

A yīngluò (necklace) is a type of ornament originating in India. The piece worn around the neck is called a yīng, while the piece wrapped around the body is called a luò. The value of a yīngluò varies depending on the wearer’s social status and means. For example, modern people often wear flower garlands or beaded strings around their necks as decoration; both of these count as forms of yīngluò. The yīngluò Akṣayamati offered was strung with many precious gems. When the text refers only to “precious pearls,” it is speaking of maṇi pearls; when it says “many precious pearls,” it refers to all manner of jewels and gems, the same “seven treasures” mentioned earlier. Because this necklace was strung with so many precious gems, it was especially valuable, worth a hundred thousand taels of gold.

One line in this passage deserves special attention: “Please accept this Dharma offering of this jeweled necklace.” What Akṣayamati offered was clearly material wealth, which would ordinarily be called a wealth offering (cáishī). Why, then, is it called a Dharma offering (fǎshī)? A wealth offering consists of tangible, material goods, while a Dharma offering consists of intangible truth—these two are entirely distinct. We might ask: was the jeweled necklace Akṣayamati unfastened from his neck ultimately a material possession? Or was it something else? In Buddhist scriptures, necklaces often symbolize merit and virtue. The jeweled necklace here, then, represents the countless merits and virtues he had accumulated. As Akṣayamati walked the bodhisattva path, he had amassed boundless Dharma treasures and merits, adorning the pure Dharma-body he had realized. In this context, the “neck” from which he unfastened the necklace symbolizes the true-suchness Dharma-body he had attained, adorned with all these pure merits and virtues. By removing the necklace from his neck, he signifies that even though he had realized the Dharma-body, he does not abide in it. Instead, he manifests a transformation body (huàshēn) from the Dharma-body, coming into the world to guide sentient beings. He now offers this inexhaustible store of merit single-mindedly to Avalokiteśvara, which is why this is called a Dharma offering rather than a wealth offering.

Akṣayamati had heard the Buddha describe Avalokiteśvara’s countless accomplishments, and he himself had also attained measureless, boundless merits. These two great bodhisattvas were already perfectly in tune with one another. The Buddha had asked Akṣayamati to offer single-mindedly, and knowing Avalokiteśvara had already accomplished all sorts of merits and had no need of material offerings, Akṣayamati drew on his own accumulated merits, offering with a single thought of reverence, sincerely and wholeheartedly. This is the highest, truest form of offering.

Another valid interpretation is this: even though the offering itself was a material object, at the moment of offering, one does not cling to it. One realizes the principle of the “threefold emptiness of giving” (sānlún tǐkōng): there is no true giver, no true recipient, and no true object being given. Even if one practices giving all day long, one does not claim any merit from it, seeing the act as simply one’s basic duty. In this way, a wealth offering is transformed into a Dharma offering. When we ordinary people resolve to give, a wealth offering stays a wealth offering. After we decide to give, we cling tightly to the act itself and cannot attain the state of threefold emptiness, so we cannot turn a wealth offering into a Dharma offering. This can also be explained another way: Akṣayamati’s offering of the jeweled necklace was not for his own personal gain of merit, but to seek blessings for all sentient beings. If he had offered to gain merit for himself, that merit would be defiled, and could not become the pure, undefiled merit of a bodhisattva. Because he sought blessings for sentient beings, he dedicated the merit of this offering to all beings across the Dharma realm, so that every being could share in its benefits. This is how he was able to transform a wealth offering into a Dharma offering.

We ordinary beings are different: no matter what merit we accumulate, we always see it as our own, unwilling to share its benefits with others, as though giving to others would leave us with less. This is why we cannot turn a wealth offering into a Dharma offering. The reason ordinary beings cannot practice non-attached giving or dedicate their merit to others is that they see all these things as inherently real, not realizing that doing so only generates even greater merit. Bodhisattvas understand this deeply, so they can give without attachment and still dedicate the merit to sentient beings. Akṣayamati was a great bodhisattva who fully understood that wealth giving and Dharma giving are no different, so he was able to turn a wealth offering into a Dharma offering.

Some interpret the necklace Akṣayamati offered as a symbol of wisdom, while the merits Avalokiteśvara has accomplished represent compassion. Both wisdom and compassion are shared by all bodhisattva practitioners, but scriptures often assign a particular virtue as a bodhisattva’s defining trait. For example, Avalokiteśvara is known for his compassion, while Akṣayamati is known for his wisdom. By offering his defining wisdom to Avalokiteśvara, who embodies great compassion, Akṣayamati enables Avalokiteśvara’s compassion and wisdom to merge seamlessly, allowing him to pursue Buddhahood above and guide sentient beings below with perfect ease. This is why it is called a Dharma offering.

Akṣayamati offered sincerely, yet Avalokiteśvara refused to accept. Why? From a worldly perspective, jewels are desirable to everyone. When we lack them, we will go to any length to acquire them; if someone offers us jewels, why would we refuse? Ordinary beings are driven by greed to constantly chase after material goods. The Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara has long since transcended greed and desire; he would never casually accept another’s offering of precious treasures. This is why he declined. From a Dharma perspective, Avalokiteśvara possesses Akṣayamati’s wisdom, and Akṣayamati possesses Avalokiteśvara’s compassion. Every great bodhisattva is fully endowed with both compassion and wisdom—what need is there for giving and receiving? The Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara understood this deeply, so even though Akṣayamati offered with complete sincerity, he politely declined the gift.

Seeing that Avalokiteśvara would not accept his necklace, the Bodhisattva Akṣayamati once again addressed him sincerely, saying: “Noble One! Our offering comes from the deepest sincerity. We beg you to take pity on us, who lack the merits needed to adorn ourselves, and accept this humble offering of a necklace out of compassion, so that we may plant even a small seed of merit!” From this repeated request, we can see that Akṣayamati’s offering was not for his own sake alone, but for all sentient beings. He saw that sentient beings suffer in the cycle of birth and death because they have not cultivated merit and blessings in their past lives. If you, Avalokiteśvara, do not compassionately accept our offering, will sentient beings not face even greater suffering in future lives? This is why he asked Avalokiteśvara to accept the gift. Only an offering made for the sake of sentient beings is a true offering.

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Third Subdivision

Cultivating the Offering

At that time, the Buddha said to the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara: “Out of compassion for this Bodhisattva Akṣayamati, as well as for the four assemblies, devas, nāgas, yakṣas, gandharvas, asuras, garuḍas, kiṁnaras, mahoragas, humans, non-humans, and others, please accept this necklace.” Immediately, the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara, moved by compassion for the four assemblies, devas, nāgas, humans, non-humans, and all the rest, accepted the necklace. He divided it into two portions: one he offered to Śākyamuni Buddha, and one he offered to the Stupa of Prabhūtaratna Buddha.

Akṣayamati had offered sincerely, and Avalokiteśvara had politely declined. In this situation, the person hoping to make an offering cannot do so, and would surely feel deeply disappointed. But there is another point we must keep in mind: the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara came to this Sahā world to teach and transform sentient beings purely for that purpose, with not the slightest ulterior motive, and would never expect offerings from others. Now that Akṣayamati had resolved to offer following the World-Honored One’s encouragement, Avalokiteśvara could not casually accept the gift before the Buddha had urged him to do so.

The World-Honored One understood Avalokiteśvara’s intentions deeply. So at that moment, the Buddha told the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara: “You should accept this necklace out of compassion for this Bodhisattva Akṣayamati, as well as for the four assemblies, devas, nāgas, yakṣas, gandharvas, asuras, garuḍas, kiṁnaras, mahoragas, humans, non-humans, and all others.” These sentient beings in the Sahā world are all deeply afflicted, for they have rarely planted roots of goodness or cultivated blessings in their past lives. Now Akṣayamati, acting on behalf of all sentient beings, has resolved to make this offering. It is as if the beings themselves lack the merit and roots of goodness to adorn themselves. If Avalokiteśvara refused to accept, would this not condemn sentient beings to remain forever in the long night of poverty and suffering, with no chance to cultivate merit and roots of goodness? To give sentient beings the opportunity to plant these seeds, the Buddha specifically asked Avalokiteśvara to accept the offering.

The moment he heard the Buddha’s compassionate exhortation, the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara, moved by compassion for the four assemblies, devas, nāgas, humans, non-humans, and all others, accepted the necklace Akṣayamati had offered on behalf of sentient beings.

There is one detail here that deserves special attention. Earlier, when the Buddha asked Avalokiteśvara to accept the necklace, he asked him to take pity not only on the four assemblies and the eight classes of celestial beings, but also on the Bodhisattva Akṣayamati. But when Avalokiteśvara expressed his acceptance, he mentioned taking pity only on the four assemblies and the eight classes of celestial beings, and said nothing of taking pity on Akṣayamati. Why is this? The Buddha stands one rank above the bodhisattvas, so from the Buddha’s perspective, it is entirely appropriate to say he takes pity on the Bodhisattva Akṣayamati. But Avalokiteśvara and Akṣayamati are both bodhisattvas one lifetime away from Buddhahood (yīshēng bǔchù), equal in status. From a bodhisattva’s perspective, Avalokiteśvara had to choose his words carefully; he could not claim to take pity on another bodhisattva of equal standing. For this reason, he mentioned only the four assemblies and the eight classes of celestial beings.

The Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara accepted the necklace to obey the Buddha’s exhortation and out of compassion for the four assemblies and celestial beings. But he did not keep it for himself. Immediately, he divided it into two portions: one he offered to Śākyamuni Buddha, and one he offered to the Stupa of Prabhūtaratna Buddha.

The scriptural narrative may end here, but there is a deeper meaning we must touch on briefly. Avalokiteśvara first refused the offering, then accepted it after the Buddha’s exhortation. This is “not accepting, yet accepting” (bùshòu ér shòu). In Buddhist terms, “not accepting” reveals the nature of emptiness, while “accepting” reveals dependent origination. So “not accepting yet accepting” expresses that the nature of emptiness is itself dependent origination. After accepting it, Avalokiteśvara immediately passed the offering on, as if he had never accepted it at all. This is “accepting yet not accepting” (shòu ér bùshòu). In Buddhist terms, “accepting” reveals dependent origination, while “not accepting” reveals the nature of emptiness. So “accepting yet not accepting” expresses that dependent origination is itself the nature of emptiness. This passage thus contains the profound principles of “emptiness as dependent origination” and “dependent origination as emptiness.” “Dependent origination as emptiness” is what is commonly called “wondrous existence is true emptiness,” which is what the Heart Sūtra means when it says “form is emptiness.” “Emptiness as dependent origination” is what is commonly called “true emptiness is wondrous existence,” which is what the Heart Sūtra means when it says “emptiness is form.” The Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara has entered into the ultimate emptiness of true nature, no longer clinging to the idea that all dharmas have an inherent, independent self-nature. This is why he immediately divided the necklace into two portions, offering one to the present Śākyamuni Buddha and one to the past Prabhūtaratna Buddha, while himself remaining unattached to the gift.

Śākyamuni Buddha is the teaching master of the Sahā world, the present Buddha, so of course he is worthy of offering—this goes without saying. But let us say a brief word about the meaning of the name “Śākyamuni.” Śākya is the name of his clan, translated as “Capable of Benevolence.” Muni is the title of a sage, translated as “Silent Quiescence.” “Capable of Benevolence” represents the Buddha’s compassion for benefiting others: he possesses the kindness to relieve suffering and bring joy, along with the active ability to act for the benefit of others, which is the meaning of “capable of benevolence.” “Silent Quiescence” represents the Buddha’s profound wisdom for his own benefit: he possesses vast, boundless wisdom that vanquishes afflictions and leads to self-liberation, which is the meaning of “silent quiescence.” Practicing benevolence shows the Buddha’s engagement with the world to guide sentient beings; serene silence and inner illumination show the Buddha’s transcendent, world-free nature. From the meaning of these four characters, we can see how the Buddha equally emphasizes both self-benefit and benefiting others, and how he unifies the worldly and the transcendent.

How did the past Buddha Prabhūtaratna appear at the Lotus Sūtra assembly? We must explain the circumstances briefly. As the Lotus Sūtra tells us: when the World-Honored One was preaching the Lotus Sūtra on Vulture Peak, and had finished the main doctrinal section, just as he was about to begin the section on the sūtra’s propagation, suddenly a precious stupa emerged from beneath the earth and floated in the sky. Inside the stupa were enshrined the relics of Prabhūtaratna Buddha, and a great voice issued from the stupa, praising the World-Honored One Śākyamuni’s preaching of the Lotus Sūtra as entirely true and without falsehood. As the “Seeing the Precious Stupa” chapter of that sūtra states: “At that time, before the Buddha there appeared a stupa of seven treasures, five hundred yojanas in height, two hundred fifty yojanas in width and breadth, rising up from the earth and remaining in the air, adorned with various precious substances...

. At that time, a great voice rang out from the precious stupa, exclaiming: “Excellent! Excellent! Śākyamuni World-Honored One, who teaches the bodhisattva path with the wisdom of equality. The sublime Lotus Sutra, guarded and cherished by the Buddhas, has been expounded to this great assembly. So it is! So it is! Śākyamuni World-Honored One, all you have said is true.” Then it spoke again: “At that time, the Buddha said to Bodhisattva Mahāpratisarvī: ‘Within this precious stupa lies the complete relic body of a Tathāgata. In the past, in the eastern direction, beyond countless thousands of millions of asaṃkhyeya worlds, there was a realm called Pure Jewel. In that land dwelt a Buddha named Prabhūtaratna (Many Treasures). When that Buddha practiced the bodhisattva path, he made a great vow: “If, after I attain Buddhahood and pass into parinirvāṇa, in any land of the ten directions where the Lotus Sutra is being expounded, may my stupa-shrine emerge before that assembly for the sake of hearing this sutra, to bear witness and praise, saying, ‘Excellent!’”’ By this causal condition, when the Buddha expounded the Lotus Sutra, Prabhūtaratna Buddha, to fulfill his great vow, caused his stupa to rise from the earth to bear witness for Śākyamuni Buddha. At that dharma assembly, both Prabhūtaratna Buddha of the past and Śākyamuni Buddha of the present were present, for all Buddhas share the same path. When Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva presented offerings, he could not offer to only one Buddha alone, so he divided the offerings into two portions: one for Śākyamuni Buddha, and one for the stupa of Prabhūtaratna Buddha.

戊二 答问结答 “Akṣayamati! Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva has such freedom and spiritual power, roaming in the Sahā world.”

Having concluded his answer, the Buddha called out once more to Akṣayamati: “Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva possesses the very freedom, spiritual penetration, and majestic power I just described, and roams the Sahā world to teach and transform sentient beings.”

Speaking of freedom (自在), there are references to four kinds, six kinds, and ten kinds of freedom, but the most central are the two great freedoms of body and mind. When the body can move forward and back without obstruction, this is called freedom of body; when the mind is free from bondage and perceives all things without obstruction, this is called freedom of mind. As the Introduction Chapter of the Lotus Sutra states, “Having cut through all the fetters of cyclic existence, the mind attains freedom” — this is the meaning of freedom of mind. The Commentary on the Hidden Meaning of Consciousness-Only notes, “Acting without obstruction is called freedom” — this is the meaning of freedom of body.

As for spiritual power, this refers to the power of supernatural abilities. One commentator explains the three characters as follows: 神 (shén, “spirit”) denotes wondrous functioning that cannot be fathomed; 通 (tōng, “penetration”) denotes flexible, unimpeded movement; 力 (lì, “power”) denotes force of function. Combined, the four characters of “freedom and spiritual power” describe a state free of contrived effort, spontaneously arising, and wondrously unfathomable. This “freedom and spiritual power” refers to what was described earlier: manifesting thirty-three response bodies, expounding the dharma in nineteen different ways, to teach, transform, save, and deliver all manner of sentient beings.

The phrase “roaming in the Sahā world” echoes the earlier mention of “roaming in various lands”: when we spoke earlier of the bodhisattva roaming in various lands, this did not mean he did not also manifest in this Sahā world; now when we speak of him roaming this Sahā world, this does not mean he does not also respond to beings in the ten directions. But Avalokiteśvara has a particularly deep karmic affinity with the sentient beings of the Sahā world, and because this world is mired in suffering and defilement, the bodhisattva’s great compassion draws him here to teach and transform beings again and again. For this reason, we should hold Avalokiteśvara in especially deep respect, reverence, and devotion.

甲二 偈颂合显

乙一 重问得名所以

At that time, Bodhisattva Akṣayamati asked in verse, saying:

The World-Honored One with complete wonderful marks, I now ask again about him: By what cause and condition, O Buddha-son, Is the name Avalokiteśvara?

We have now finished explaining the prose section of this chapter; next we will turn to its verses. Most sūtras spoken by the Buddha contain both prose and verse. For example, of the Lotus Sutra’s twenty-eight chapters, only the final Samantabhadra Bodhisattva Encouragement Chapter has no verses; all the rest include verse sections. That said, the Lotus Sutra translation by Kumārajīva (Master Zhu) did not include the verses of the Universal Gate Chapter. Later, the translator Jñānagupta rendered these verses into Chinese. Subsequent masters recognized these as part of the original Sanskrit text, so they appended these verses after the prose Universal Gate Chapter in Master Zhu’s translation, completing the full chapter. This is why all circulating editions of the Lotus Sutra’s Universal Gate Chapter now include these verses. We will offer a brief explanation based on this verse text.

Verses correspond to the prose sections that precede them, and come in three-character, four-character, five-character, six-character, seven-character, and eight-character line lengths. A full verse (偈) requires four lines. The Sanskrit term is gāthā, which is translated into Chinese as “responsive verse” (应颂); the combined Chinese-Sanskrit term is 偈颂 (verses). More specifically, there are two types: the first are standalone verses that expound dharma meanings, called gāthā in the Twelve Divisions of the Sūtra corpus, translated as “isolated verses” (孤起颂) or “non-repeating verses” (不重颂); the second restate and expand on the dharma meanings already given in prose, called geya in the Twelve Divisions of the Sūtra corpus, translated as “responsive verse” (应颂) or “repeating verses” (重颂). The verses in this chapter fall into the repeating verse category.

There are two reasons for this classification: first, so that those who joined the dharma assembly later could still hear a concise summary of the teachings given in the earlier prose; second, so that listeners who did not fully grasp the earlier teachings could gain clarity and more easily commit the meaning to memory.

The phrase “at that time” refers to the moment the Buddha finished delivering the prose teachings. At that same moment, Bodhisattva Akṣayamati addressed the Buddha in verse, saying:

“World-Honored One” is one of the Buddha’s ten universal titles, so named because he is revered by all ordinary and awakened beings of both the worldly and transcendental realms. A Buddha who has attained supreme perfect enlightenment is unlike ordinary beings: he bears the thirty-two major marks and eighty minor excellent characteristics, which is why he is called “one with complete wonderful marks.”

The teaching that the Buddha possesses all these wonderful marks is generally framed in terms of his response and transformation bodies. The Devadatta Chapter, however, describes the dharma body itself as possessing these marks, a point that warrants attention. Scholars have long debated whether the dharma body bears physical marks; we will not delve into this question in depth here, as it would take us too far afield.

The thirty-two major marks and eighty minor excellent characteristics are a vast, complex set of terms, so we need not list them all here. The most well-known include the thousand-spoked wheel mark on the soles of the feet, the svastika mark on the chest, the white curl between the brows, and the fleshy crown protuberance on the head. These marks and characteristics are not acquired by chance: they are the result of cultivating vast merit over many lifetimes. As the saying goes, “Through three great kalpas of cultivating merit and wisdom, one plants the seeds for marks and characteristics over a hundred kalpas.” Each individual mark or characteristic requires the accumulation of one hundred acts of merit to fully ripen — no small feat. If we wish to attain such marks ourselves, we need only practice the Dharma sincerely and cultivate virtue, for these qualities are cultivated, not innate.

“I” now ask you again: by what cause and condition does that Buddha-son receive the name Avalokiteśvara, Perceiver of the World’s Sounds?

The words “that” and “Buddha-son” in the verse both refer to Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva. “Buddha-son” is originally a general term for anyone who takes refuge in the Buddha and practices the path, encompassing all members of the four and seven assemblies of Buddhist practitioners. Here, however, it refers specifically to Avalokiteśvara. Strictly speaking, the Buddha regards all sentient beings as his own children, so it’s not inaccurate to call all beings in the dharma realm “Buddha-sons.” That said, there is also a distinction made between legitimate heirs and non-legitimate heirs. In Mahāyāna Buddhism, practitioners of the Two Vehicles are considered the Buddha’s non-legitimate heirs, ineligible to inherit the Tathāgata’s legacy; bodhisattvas of the Bodhisattva Vehicle are the Buddha’s legitimate heirs, who carry on the Buddha’s lineage and uphold the Tathāgata’s work. Only bodhisattvas who practice for their own benefit and the benefit of others, who spread the dharma and save beings, are truly worthy of being called the Buddha’s direct heirs. Avalokiteśvara is a great bodhisattva, so he fully qualifies to be called a Buddha-son.

The Buddha appeared in the world for one purpose alone: to spread the dharma and save sentient beings. This is his sole work; he has no other task to attend to. Now that we are Buddha-sons, we should follow the Buddha’s example: spread the dharma, save beings, and carry the same responsibility the Tathāgata carried, just as a child inherits and upholds their parents’ work. If we take up the identity of Buddhist disciples but fail to do the work of spreading the dharma, limiting ourselves to routine religious affairs for our entire lives, we are not only unfilial to the Buddha, but fail to live up to our identity as Buddha-sons. Especially in this present age, when humanity is in such desperate need of the dharma’s relief, we as Buddha-sons should take up the work of spreading the buddhadharma with even greater urgency, to prevent humanity from being annihilated by the destructive power of hydrogen bombs.

For this reason, I urge all true Buddha-sons who wish to carry on the Buddha’s lineage and keep it from being cut off: recognize the great weight of your responsibility, and join together to work for the sake of the buddhadharma, for humanity, and for all sentient beings.

乙二 合显得名游化

丙一 显得名所以

丁一 总标

The Honored One possessing complete wonderful marks, In verse replied to Akṣayamati: “You listen to Avalokiteśvara’s practices, Skillfully responding in all directions and places. Great vows deep as the ocean, Through kalpas inconceivable, Attending many thousands of millions of Buddhas, Vowing great pure vows.

I for you briefly explain: Hearing the name and seeing the body, Heart-mind recitation not in vain, Can extinguish the suffering of all existence.”

After Akṣayamati posed his question in verse, the Buddha, “the Honored One possessing complete wonderful marks,” replied to him in verse: “Listen, and I will briefly explain the practices Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva cultivates. They are not as simple as ordinary people imagine, but truly subtle and inconceivable.”

You may wonder why, when speaking of the dharma gates Avalokiteśvara practices and the merits he attains, the text uses the word “hear” rather than “observe” or “see.” We explained earlier that the bodhisattva is named “Avalokiteśvara, Perceiver of the World’s Sounds” because of his perfect mutual functioning of the six sense faculties, so we will not repeat that explanation here.

Because Avalokiteśvara has cultivated inconceivable practices and attained inconceivable majestic virtue and supernatural power, he is able to skillfully and universally respond in all directions and places. “All directions and places” here refers to the lands of the ten directions: Avalokiteśvara, through his thirty-three response bodies, manifests in every land, every corner of every world. The earlier phrase “no realm without his manifestation” serves as a perfect annotation to this line. Not only is there no world in space where he does not manifest, but there is no moment in time when he is not present.

Avalokiteśvara is able to reach this level of “no realm without his manifestation” because, when he first aroused the mind of enlightenment in the distant past, he made great vows as deep as the ocean. Hence the line “great vows deep as the ocean.” 弘 (hóng) means vast and all-encompassing; 誓 (shì) means self-restraint and commitment: it means to act in accordance with the great vows one has made, and never abandon the work one has vowed to do, no matter what difficulties or setbacks arise. As the Stages of the Dharma Realm (法界次第下) explains: “Conditions that are vast and universal are called 弘; restraining one’s own mind is called 誓; aspiring to complete fulfillment is therefore called a vow.”

A person who sets out to make a vow without first learning to restrain their mind will inevitably falter and fail. Only with an unyielding spirit, after making a solemn vow, can one press forward with single-minded focus, refusing to give up until the vow is fully fulfilled. What counts as a true great vow? In Buddhism, only the vow to save all sentient beings qualifies. And this does not mean saving one or two beings, or even a small handful: it means liberating every single sentient being without exception. As the Diamond Sutra says: “All types of sentient beings...

...I will lead them all into the remainderless nirvāṇa and liberate them." This represents a truly vast and mighty vow. When Avalokiteśvara first awakened bodhicitta as an ordinary being, he made twelve great vows, as it is said: "The great being Avalokiteśvara, universally known as Perfectly Penetrating, his twelve great vows extend boundlessly deep." This perfectly illustrates the fathomless depth of his vows, deep as the ocean. Therefore, a true practitioner of the bodhisattva path possesses not only the universal vows common to all bodhisattvas but also their own specific vows. Avalokiteśvara's twelve great vows are specific vows, just as Śākyamuni's five hundred vows, Amitābha's forty-eight vows, and Bhaiṣajyaguru's twelve vows are distinct to each of them.

Having generated bodhicitta and established these vast vows, Avalokiteśvara did not accomplish them overnight. Rather, through inconceivable, dust-like kalpas of diligent and courageous practice, he arrived at his current station: one lifetime away from full Buddhahood. Hence the verse states: "Through inconceivable kalpas." In Sanskrit, the term kalpa stands in contrast to kṣaṇa. A kṣaṇa is the shortest possible unit of time, while a kalpa is the longest—an epoch so vast it cannot be measured by ordinary years, months, or days. The Mahāprajñāpāramitā Śāstra (Chapter 18) defines it simply: "A great time is called a kalpa." Traditionally, kalpas are divided into three categories: small, medium, and great.

The time Avalokiteśvara has spent cultivating himself and transforming others is not a matter of one or two, or even three or five kalpas—something our minds could easily fathom or our words express. It spans kalpas as numerous as dust motes, far beyond our comprehension. Because his practice has extended over such a vast stretch of time, he has served hundreds of thousands, millions, and billions of Buddhas. As the Diamond Sūtra notes: "You should know that such a person did not plant wholesome roots before just one Buddha, two Buddhas, three, four, or five Buddhas; rather, that person has already planted all kinds of wholesome roots before countless thousands of Buddhas." Thus, the verse says: "Serving myriads of billions of Buddhas."

When Buddhas appear in the world, bodhisattvas serve them for two reasons. First, bodhisattvas must constantly follow the Buddhas to learn. Although all Buddhas realize the same Dharma, each Buddha's skillful means for saving beings differ; thus, bodhisattvas must attend upon them to learn these methods. Second, bodhisattvas must assist the Buddhas in spreading the Dharma. Even with billions of Buddhas appearing, bodhisattvas must wait in the Buddhas' presence, ready to be dispatched to help propagate the teachings.

Having served so many Buddhas, his accumulated merit is naturally profound. Consequently, his vows aim solely upward toward attaining Buddhahood and downward toward liberating sentient beings, completely untainted by ulterior motives. This is the meaning of "making great, pure vows." If our vows are driven by personal ambition, our minds are already impure. Propelled by such motives, our outward actions will inevitably be tainted as well. A bodhisattva's motivation, however, looks upward toward Buddhahood and downward toward the salvation of all beings. Thus, the three karmas of body, speech, and mind remain free from the stains of affliction and wrongdoing. To be without fault in these three actions is true purity. Only such great, pure vows allow one to manifest response-bodies throughout all lands and universally deliver all beings.

Master Tōnglǐ notes: "The two lines on traversing kalpas reveal the excellence of one's own cultivation; meaning that during the bodhisattva's causal practice, the kalpas he has traversed are already inconceivable, and the Buddhas he has served already number in the billions. His practice may indeed be called supreme." Accordingly, "making great pure vows" naturally reveals the excellence of those vows. "Because his vows are vast, his practice profound, and his offerings to the Buddhas legion, his source is long, his current flows far, and his roots run deep. Thus he possesses universally manifested response-bodies, wielding great fearlessness and inconceivable wondrous power. As the saying goes, 'When the water rises, the boat floats higher; with abundant clay, the Buddha image grows larger.' This is the Buddha Śākyamuni praising Avalokiteśvara's inconceivable power."

Both Avalokiteśvara's practice and his vows are inconceivable and worthy of reverence. He doesn't act out of self-interest, but solely for the sake of sentient beings. Devoted entirely to teaching and liberating them, he has even postponed his own ultimate enlightenment to Buddhahood.

The Buddha then says to Infinite Intent: Although I have already explained Avalokiteśvara's practices and vows for self and others, I will now briefly speak of his work in transforming others. Avalokiteśvara is a bodhisattva of great compassion who cares for us constantly. Therefore, whether we "hear his name," "see his form," or simply "call him to mind," we will invoke his response, and our efforts will "not be in vain." Master Tōnglǐ explains: "Having heard the name, one chants it—using the karma of speech as the cause of response; having seen the form, one bows—using the karma of body; having him in mind, one contemplates—using the karma of mind. All three can invoke a response; therefore, one does not pass in vain." Some dismiss chanting, bowing, and contemplating as a meaningless waste of time with no real benefit. This is a grave error born of a lack of faith!

The phrase "able to extinguish all the sufferings of existence" reveals the supreme benefits of hearing his name, seeing his form, and calling him to mind. "Existence" (bhava), in brief, refers to the three realms of existence: the desire realm, the form realm, and the formless realm. More specifically, it refers to the nine grounds of existence. In detailed analysis, it refers to the twenty-five forms of existence across the three realms. From a worldly perspective, these twenty-five forms of life experience varying degrees of suffering and joy: heavens are blissful, hells are agonizing, and the human realm is a mix of both. Yet from the perspective of the Dharma, all beings in these twenty-five existences remain submerged in the sea of birth and death. None are exempt from the torment of suffering. By definition, suffering oppresses and afflicts us. While we generally speak of eight kinds of suffering, the Mahāprajñāpāramitā Śāstra (Chapter 12) outlines two basic types: internal suffering (the four hundred and four physical diseases, as well as psychological distress like sorrow and jealousy) and external suffering (harm from bandits or wild beasts, and disasters like storms and extreme temperatures). Whether facing internal or external suffering, if we harness our three karmas—single-mindedly chanting his name, bowing, and calling him to mind—we will invoke the bodhisattva's compassionate response, extinguishing the suffering and adversities of these existences to attain ultimate liberation.

Ding 1 Specifically Revealed, Wu 1 Able to Avert the Three Calamities

If malicious intent should arise, pushing one into a fiery pit; Recalling Avalokiteśvara's power, the fiery pit becomes a pool.

Or drifting upon the vast sea, encountering dragons, fish, and various demonic perils; Recalling Avalokiteśvara's power, the waves cannot drown one.

The following verses reiterate Avalokiteśvara's power to save beings from calamities. These two verses address the ability to avert the three disasters: fire, water, and wind.

If someone maliciously pushes you into a fiery pit seeking to end your life, you need not harbor ill will against them. Simply recall Avalokiteśvara's power by chanting his name. Through the bodhisattva's awe-inspiring response, the fiery pit will instantly transform into a cool pool, leaving you completely unharmed. The Avataṃsaka Sūtra states: "Mount Malaya produces sandalwood; if one applies it to the body and then enters a great fire, the fire cannot burn." If ordinary sandalwood possesses such power, how much more so the power of the bodhisattva's vows and practice?

According to the Biographies of Eminent Monks, during the Wei dynasty there was a Master Fǎlì who set out to solicit donations for building a pagoda. Having obtained a cartload of hemp, he traveled through a marsh when suddenly a wildfire broke out. Exhausted, Master Fǎlì had fallen asleep, only waking when the fire and smoke reached his side. He immediately began to chant the bodhisattva's name. He had barely pronounced the syllable guān (observe) before he could even say shì yīn (world's sound) when the wind shifted direction and the fire died out. This clearly demonstrates the efficacy of chanting Avalokiteśvara's name.

Fire can also symbolize the fire of anger. Metaphorically, the fiery pit represents the evil destinies. If someone has committed evil deeds, they are bound for the three lower realms at the moment of death. Yet, if they can single-mindedly chant Avalokiteśvara's name at that final instant, relying on the bodhisattva's compassionate power, they can immediately transcend these evil destinies, being reborn in a higher realm or even the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. To be pushed into a fire without retaliating requires genuine spiritual cultivation. Ordinary people, if their lives were threatened, would fight to the death; even if slightly crossed, they will seek revenge. This is why religious faith and practice are so essential.

If someone is crossing the ocean and their boat is suddenly capsized by violent storms, plunging them into the vast sea, the danger is extreme. The waters are too deep to escape, and dragons, fish, and rākṣasas pose further threats. Realistically, one will either drown or be devoured, with little chance of survival. At this critical juncture, if you recall Avalokiteśvara's power and chant his name, the bodhisattva's awe-inspiring strength will keep the waves from swallowing you. Metaphorically, this "vast sea" represents the boundless ocean of birth and death, while the "dragons, fish, and demons" represent the afflictions within our own minds. These afflictions stir up storms within us, keeping us adrift in the cycle of saṃsāra, unable to reach the shore of nirvāṇa.

To illustrate this with historical accounts: During the Shunzhi reign of the Qing dynasty, a man named Liu from Moling set out on a pilgrimage to Putuo Mountain. Aboard the ship, he vowed to see the Bodhisattva. Later, his boat encountered a storm and capsized, plunging him into the water. Yet, as he drifted, he saw nothing but red light surrounding him, and a monk appeared to guide him home. The moment they arrived, the monk vanished. This monk was Avalokiteśvara manifesting to rescue Mr. Liu. Similarly, the Biographies of Bhikṣuṇīs records that during the Jin dynasty, a nun named Lìngzōng from Jizhou escaped a bandit attack through chanting the sacred name. That night, she arrived at Mengjin with no boat to cross the river. She prayed earnestly again, and a white deer appeared, wading across the river. Lìngzōng followed the deer's path, miraculously remaining dry, and safely reached home. This white deer, too, was an manifestation of Avalokiteśvara coming to her aid.

Wu 2 Able to Escape the Eight Difficulties Ji 1

怨贼刑戮难

Or pushed from Mount Sumeru’s peak by another; Calling to mind the power of Avalokitesvara, One rests steady in space like the sun.

Or pursued by cruel men, cast down from Mount Vajra; Calling to mind the power of Avalokitesvara, Not a single hair is harmed.

Or surrounded by foes and bandits, each blade raised to harm; Calling to mind the power of Avalokitesvara, All are moved to compassion.

Or caught in the king’s terror, facing the executioner’s block at life’s end; Calling to mind the power of Avalokitesvara, The blade shatters piece by piece.

Mount Sumeru is also called Sumeru Tower, or Sumilu, which Chinese translators render as “Lofty Peak” (Miàogāo). It earns the name “mysterious” for being composed of the seven precious substances, and “lofty” for rising above the seven ring of golden mountains. Set in the great ocean atop the world’s golden wheel, it is the turning point of the sun and moon, and the home of the gods. Seven mountains and seven seas ring it in alternating bands. Each of its four sides has a distinct color: the eastern face is golden, the southern is lapis lazuli, the western is silver, and the northern is crystal. The waters lapping each face match the hue of the mountain itself. It rises 84,000 yojanas in total: 42,000 below the waterline, 42,000 above. It sits at the very center of the Sahā world. In truth, the Mount Sumeru described in the Buddhist scriptures is none other than the modern Himalayas, the single loftiest mountain range in the world.

The Buddha explains: Suppose a person stands on the very highest peak of Mount Sumeru, and someone suddenly pushes them over the edge. There is no question this person would be smashed to pieces, with no hope of survival at all. This is why the verse says, “pushed down by another.” But if, in that exact moment, the person being pushed sincerely calls to mind the sacred name of Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva, they receive the empowering power of Avalokitesvara and remain steady in empty space like the sun, without falling to their death. The one who pushes you is either a bitter enemy or a thief who kills for money; that the pushed person does not fall is entirely thanks to the might of Avalokitesvara’s power.

To illustrate deliverance from the calamity of enemies and thieves, Mount Sumeru is specifically chosen as an example. The Sublime Lofty Mountain King, with its summit scraping the sky and its base overlooking the vast ocean, is nearly impossible to rescue from. The fact that salvation can be attained even at its absolute peak makes clear that Avalokitesvara’s aid is available everywhere, without exception.

The Guangxin Prefecture Gazetteer records an incident from the Song dynasty: a man went into the mountains to mine copper, digging a tunnel so deep it seemed bottomless. The work destabilized the mountain, and it was on the verge of collapse. Just then, a woman appeared carrying a basket with a single goldfish for sale. The miners down in the pit heard her call out, and all rushed up to the surface, scrambling over one another to get out. The second the last worker stepped clear of the cave, the mountain collapsed behind them — and the woman selling fish was gone, no one knew where. When the men had finally calmed their racing hearts, they realized it had been Avalokitesvara come to save them.

Here, lofty Mount Sumeru is a metaphor for the towering mountain of self-conceit (ātman-māna). No one in the world is entirely free of arrogance and self-importance; you can see this clearly in the way some people presume to lord over others. Those with the tallest mountain of self-conceit look down on everyone around them, see no one as their equal, and believe themselves to be unparalleled. They will do anything to hold onto their supposed superior status. But the moment they feel slighted, the moment they are not shown the respect they expect, they fall into despair and willingly let themselves degenerate — just as if they had been pushed off the peak of Mount Sumeru. This is why we should not be self-aggrandizing, but instead cultivate humility. If we constantly call to mind Avalokitesvara, we can rest steady in our true place, undisturbed.

Or suppose a person is pursued by cruel, violent men with nowhere to run, driven to fall from the cliffs of Mount Vajra. This is an extremely dangerous situation, with little hope of survival. But at that critical juncture, if the pursued person acts with quick wit born of desperation and calls out to Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva with sincere, wholehearted devotion, they receive the empowering protection of her might, and not a single hair on their body is harmed.

Mount Vajra is the Chinese name for this mountain; in India it is called Vajra (Zhejialuo, the Chinese transliteration). According to the Qi Shi Jing (Sūtra on the Origin of the World), beyond all other great mountains and Mount Sumeru itself, there stands another great mountain called Vajra (also translated as the Iron Encompassing Mountain). It measures 6,800,000 yojanas in both height and breadth, is dense and solid, and is made entirely of vajra substance, making it nearly impossible to damage or destroy — hence its name. That said, any other material that comes into contact with vajra is quickly destroyed.

This supremely unbreakable Mount Vajra is not meant to be understood only as an external mountain. It is an analogy for the self-grasping (ātma-graha) that lies within us. From a Buddhist perspective, nothing is harder to break through than sentient beings’ self-grasping. While the discriminative form of self-grasping can be fully and instantly severed upon attaining the first bodhisattva ground, innate self-grasping arises spontaneously and is extremely subtle. Even upon first reaching the first ground, it cannot yet be eliminated. One must cultivate the wisdom that sees the emptiness of persons along the path of practice to gradually uproot it, which is why it is compared to vajra.

Because sentient beings’ self-grasping is so unyielding, the afflictions and negative forces that surround it constantly push us onto perilous, cliffside paths. Eventually, they cause us to tumble from the mountain of self-grasping down into the lower realms, where we endure every kind of suffering.

Or suppose a person in the world suddenly finds themselves surrounded by scores of enemies and bandits, ringed in so tightly there is no escape. Each one wields a blade, ready to strike. No matter what, this person has little hope of surviving. But at that very moment, if they call to mind the sacred name of Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva, they receive the compassionate power of her blessing. Not only do the attackers abandon all thoughts of killing, but they are immediately moved to compassion, their hearts turned entirely toward goodwill. This is why the verse says, “all are moved to compassion.”

Here is a true account: In the early years of the Republic of China, in Li Jiazhuang village in Shaobo, Yangzhou, there lived a highly virtuous man named Li Guoju. No matter what trouble arose in the area, if it was within his power to help, he would find a way to step in and work toward a fair resolution. One day, bandits broke into his home intending to rob him. When Mr. Li saw them enter, he remained completely calm and said, “I did not realize you were struggling to get by, and I regret I have not had the chance to be of help to you before. It is rare you come to my humble home — if there is anything you need, I will give you whatever I can. You must be tired from your journey, and it is late; you have not yet eaten, I am sure. Please, have a meal first — it is the least I can do.”

The bandits ate his food, but were too ashamed to ask for his money or belongings. Moved by the sincerity of his generosity, they gave up their life of crime and became upright, law-abiding people.

Above all, remember that the foes and thieves spoken of here are not external, just as the prose passage earlier noted. The afflictions that steal our store of merit and dharma are certainly internal thieves, as are the six sense faculties of sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, and thought. External thieves are easy to guard against, and even if they rob you, they only take what is outside of you. Internal thieves, however, are nearly impossible to guard against. They steal the accumulated treasure of the dharma, leaving us destitute and ignorant, adrift forever in the sea of birth and death. This is why, especially as Buddhist practitioners, we need not fear external thieves. With Mr. Li’s spirit, we will not only avoid harm from enemies and bandits, but may even transform them into good people. The only thief we truly need to fear is the one within our own hearts. This inner thief does not just make us wander through the sea of birth and death for eons; it also drives us onto the dangerous paths of the three lower realms.

Or suppose a person has broken the law of the land and must face legal punishment. In past autocratic eras, when the king was seen as the embodiment of the state, he held absolute authority to punish as he saw fit. This is why the verse speaks of “suffering the ordeal of the king.” When the king orders an executioner to behead you, and you stand on the executioner’s block waiting for your life to end, if you call to mind Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva with utmost sincerity, you receive the empowering power of her compassion. The blade in the executioner’s hand shatters into pieces instantly, unable to harm your body even slightly. This is why the verse says, “the blade shatters piece by piece.” The character xun (尋) in the verse means “immediately” here. To face execution and expect to die, only to be spared entirely — what is this if not the power of Avalokitesvara’s compassion?

The Fayuan Zhulin (Forest of Gems in the Garden of the Dharma), chapter 17, records two incidents that illustrate this truth, even though neither involves royal punishment. First, there was a Dharma Master named Daoji traveling in the western hills of Shouyang when he was captured by two bandits and tied to a tree. As the bandits prepared to kill him, he knew resistance was useless, so he single-mindedly invoked Avalokitesvara without stopping, even as they raised their blades. Though they hacked at him repeatedly, he remained completely unharmed. Terrified, the bandits fled, and Dharma Master Daoji was delivered.

Second, a Dharma Master named Fachan was walking on a mountain when he suddenly ran into a gang of violent bandits. Knowing he would not escape death, he immediately invoked Avalokitesvara with deep devotion. The bandits drew their bows and fired at him, but the arrows would not release no matter how hard they pulled the strings. They threw down their bows and ran off immediately, and Dharma Master Fachan came to no harm.

己二

枷锁毒药难或囚禁枷锁，手足被杻械；念彼观音力，释然得解脱。咒诅诸毒药，所欲害身者；念彼观音力，还著于本人。

Suppose someone—whether for breaking a law of the land or for being seized by bandits—ends up confined in a dark cell, made to wear cangue and shackles, and bound hand and foot with manacles and fetters until he is utterly deprived of freedom. Hence the verse, "hand and foot bound in manacles and fetters." What locks the wrist is called the manacle (杻); what locks the ankle is called the fetter (械). At such a moment, if you call upon and "mindfully recite" the holy name of Guanyin Bodhisattva, you can rely on the Bodhisattva's majestic "power" to bless and shield you, so that, invisibly, the bonds "release of themselves" and you "gain deliverance." Shiran (释然) means to come apart and open.

A story recorded in the Fayuan Zhulin (法苑珠林), volume seventeen, tells of a man from Henei named Dou Chuan (窦传) during the Jin dynasty. At that time the Governor of Bingzhou, Gao Chang, and the Governor of Jizhou, Lü Hu, each commanded their own armies and held themselves in high regard; the two were not on good terms. Dou Chuan served under Gao Chang and was sent with cavalry to raid Lü Hu, but was unfortunately captured. He was bound together with six or seven companions in the same prison, where cangues and shackles were imposed with great strictness and a date had been set for their execution. The śramaṇa Zhi Daoshan was in Lü Hu's camp and was acquainted with Dou Chuan. On hearing that Dou Chuan had been captured and was about to be put to the sword, he made a special trip to the prison to see him, and the two spoke through the door. Dou Chuan said: "I have fallen into such a peril—do you have any way to rescue me?" Zhi Daoshan replied: "I have no special method myself. But if you will single-mindedly recite the holy name of Guanyin, you are certain to receive the Bodhisattva's response." Dou Chuan had heard of Guanyin's great compassion in the past, and now, after Zhi Daoshan's words, he at once began reciting the holy name with undivided heart. After three full days and nights of wholehearted taking-refuge and recitation, he looked at the locks on his body and noticed they seemed somehow different from usual—a little looser. When he tried pushing them with his hand, they suddenly fell away. Dou Chuan then prayed again with single-minded devotion: "I have been blessed by the Bodhisattva's compassionate protection, and my shackles have already come loose of themselves. But there are still many others bound here with me, and I cannot bear to leave them behind. I earnestly beseech the Bodhisattva, in your great compassion, to save us all, so that those in the same prison may likewise be spared this calamity of imprisonment!" When he finished praying, he went to pull at the others; their cangues and shackles also came off one after another, as though someone were cutting them loose from the side. So they all opened the door and walked out together, without a single guard noticing, and escaped beyond the city walls, spared the calamity of cangues and shackles.

Cangues, shackles, manacles, and fetters were also explained in the prose section (长行) as referring metaphorically to the snares of fame and the chains of profit. Outwardly, some people in the world who have not been locked up may seem free to do as they please and bound by nothing at all—but this is far from true. Consider a person of reputation: to keep his good name, he spends the whole day in fear of losing it. Is he not bound by the shackles of reputation? Consider a person of wealth: to pile up still more, he spends the whole day scheming how to multiply his riches. Is he not bound by the chains of profit? Sentient beings living within the three realms are, at the root, imprisoned by the three realms themselves; they have never once gained true freedom. If only such a person will recite the holy name of Guanyin Bodhisattva, embody and reflect on Guanyin's great compassion, and stop chasing after fame and profit, he can release himself and gain deliverance.

Next, the text speaks of deliverance from the difficulty of poison. "Sorcery and curses" (咒诅) are the most illegitimate means of harming others. In India there was a class of heterodox practitioners who could chant evil mantras to curse to death the person they wished to kill—such as the mantra to raise corpse-demons, that is, the Vetāla mantra, which would cause ghosts to rise and kill people. Others drew talismans and burned them to curse those they disliked, or fashioned straw figures to shoot at in hopes of making an enemy die. All of these are called sorcery and cursing. "Poison" (毒药) refers to substances that, when taken, would cost one one's life; because there is more than one or two kinds, the text says "various poisons" (诸毒药). Whether by evil mantras or by poison, the aim is the same—to damage your body. Hence the verse, "those who wish to harm the body" (所欲害身者). At that very moment, if you sincerely call upon and "mindfully recite" the holy name of Guanyin Bodhisattva, you can rely on the Bodhisattva's majestic "power" to bless you, and the result will be that not only are you unharmed, but the harm "rebounds upon the originator himself" (还著于本人), so that he brings it upon himself.

Let us first relate a true account, then discuss the meaning of the sutra. There once lived a diviner named Lai Xinggan (赖省干), a man of thoroughly wicked mind. To make his divinations appear effective, he kept a demonic being in his home, and every year traveled to the Jiangsu and Zhejiang regions to kidnap young boys and girls, whom he would bring back to sacrifice to that demon. Once he lured a girl back and confined her in a room. The charlatan deceived her, telling her to bathe and change her clothes in preparation for the demon to come and eat her. But this girl, by virtue of past roots of goodness, had known how to recite the name of Guanyin Bodhisattva in her daily life. So now she did nothing but single-mindedly recite the name. Deep in the midnight, in her room, the skylight suddenly opened, and the two eyes of the demon—glaring like torches—entered through the window. Though she was terrified, she kept reciting. As she went on reciting, light suddenly issued from her mouth and shone upon the demon. The instant the light touched it, the demon fell from the window. The girl at once shouted for help. By chance a patrol officer was passing outside; hearing the cries, he came straight in to see what was happening. There lay a great venomous snake, stiff and dead beside the girl. The officer, upon investigation, found that Lai Xinggan was a great villain, arrested him, and sent him to the magistrate's office to receive the punishment he deserved for deceiving and harming others. This is what people commonly mean by "he who harms others harms himself," which is exactly what the sutra here calls "rebounds upon the originator himself." In this life, then, it is far better that we ourselves take the loss—we should never harbor the thought of harming others. Otherwise, even if we fail to harm them, we will be the first to bring disaster upon ourselves. What is the point of it?

The Apocryphal Sutra of Parables (譬喻经) tells a similar true story. There was a lay Buddhist who, at first, undertook and observed the five precepts, but later, in his old age, often forgot and failed to keep them. At that time, a thirsty brahmin in the mountains asked the layman for fresh water; but because the layman was busy with his farmwork, he could not supply it at once, and the brahmin went off in anger. This brahmin was no ordinary person—he could raise corpses and command ghosts. So he summoned a killing-ghost and said: "That pure-faith layman has insulted me. Go and kill him for me." An arhat in the mountains, knowing of this, hurried to the farmer's home and said to the layman: "Tonight, light your lamp early, with diligent and courageous devotion take refuge in the Three Jewels, recite the verse on guarding the mouth and not transgressing, and lovingly remember all sentient beings—then you will gain safety and peace." The layman, having received the arhat's instruction, spent the whole night reciting the Buddha's name and the precepts. As a result, the ghost could not harm him. But the law among ghosts is this: when a person orders a ghost to kill, the ghost goes at once; yet if the one to be killed possesses a virtue by which he cannot be killed, the law demands that the ghost instead turn and kill the one who sent him. So the ghost grew angry and wished to kill the brahmin. The arhat, knowing of this, went and concealed the brahmin so that the ghost could not find him. Because of this, the layman, through this experience, awakened to the Way, and the brahmin, through this experience, kept his life. Had it not been for the arhat, would this not have added yet another wronged ghost?

The Tushu Jicheng: Shenyi Dian (图书集成神异典), volume 106, quotes Su Dongpo (the Layman of the Eastern Slope) as saying: "Guanyin is the Bodhisattva of compassion. Now, when a person today encounters sorcery and curses and recites the power of Guanyin, causing it to rebound upon the originator himself—how could this be the heart-mind of Guanyin? I would therefore amend it to read: 'Sorcery and curses, various poisons, those who wish to harm the body; mindfully recite the power of Guanyin, and both parties will be entirely unharmed'!" A rejoinder to this criticism runs: "Dongpo says that 'rebounding upon him' loses the meaning of compassion, and that it should be 'both parties are entirely unharmed.' I did not expect that Su Dongpo, so brilliant as he was, should utter such a coarse and vulgar remark. The word 'rebound' (还著) has both a phenomenal and a principled meaning. On the phenomenal level, the heterodox cannot overcome the orthodox, and compassion can subdue violence. When one rightly recites Guanyin, the rebound happens naturally. It is like spitting blood toward the sky, only to have the spittle fall back upon one's own face; or like striking one's head against fire, only to scorch one's own forehead. It happens of itself—it is not that the Bodhisattva inflicts punishment upon the other, nor that the practitioner arouses the wish that the curse rebound upon the other."

己三 罗刹恶兽难或遇恶罗刹，毒龙诸鬼等；念彼观音力，时悉不敢害。若恶兽围绕，利牙爪可怖；念彼观音力，疾走无边方。

Suppose someone suddenly "encounters" ferocious "rakṣasas," poisonous "dragons," and all manner of malevolent "ghosts and the like," who wish to come and harm you, to bring your life to an end. At that very moment, if you single-mindedly "mindfully recite" the holy name of Guanyin Bodhisattva and rely on the Bodhisattva's majestic "power" to bless and shield you, at once they will all not dare to come and harm you. Hence the verse, "at that time, none of them dare to harm" (时悉不敢害). The term "rakṣasa" was explained in the prose section (长行) and need not be repeated here.

It is said that there once was a person who liked to ask everyone he met questions. One day, walking along a road, he met a rakṣasa and knew his life was in danger. But being of a curious nature, he did not let danger stop him from asking questions, so he called out: "Hey, friend—why is your chest white and your back black?" The rakṣasa replied: "What I fear most is sunlight. Because I walk with my back to the light, my back is black and my chest is white." On hearing this, the man at once took courage, grabbed the rakṣasa, and dragged him toward the sunlight. The rakṣasa, fearing the light, fled of his own accord, and the man thereby escaped the calamity. This illustrates the point: whether rakṣasas or evil ghosts, they can only act in darkness; they are terrified of light, and never dare to operate in brightness. So long as a person single-mindedly recites the holy name and relies on the compassionate light of Guanyin Bodhisattva, rakṣasas and evil ghosts will not dare to come and harm him. We can also read it this way: within every person's mind there is a "ghost of greed" that endlessly craves, and a "ghost of ignorance" wrapped in layer upon layer of darkness. Inner ghosts give rise to outer ghosts, and so ghosts are forever causing trouble. If, as a person, one is upright and open, fair and impartial, with no deviant thought arising, then no rakṣasa or strange being will come and harm one.

In deep mountain gorges, or in desolate wilds and jungles, fierce and savage beasts such as jackals, wolves, tigers, and leopards often appear. Suppose someone suddenly encounters many "savage beasts" that "surround" him, baring their terrifying "sharp fangs" and gleaming "claws," filling him with boundless dread. At that very moment, if you devoutly "mindfully recite" the holy name of Guanyin Bodhisattva, you can rely on the Bodhisattva's majestic "power" to bless you, and these beasts surrounding you on all four sides swiftly "flee" far away, escaping to directions without "boundary" or limit. Savage beasts and venomous snakes are things that truly exist in the world. In ancient times, many people were hurt by such creatures every year; even today we still often hear of people being bitten by wild beasts or wounded by venomous snakes. As for tigers, when they frequently appear to cause trouble, our country has the saying "to turn pale at the mere mention of a tiger" (谈虎色变). For this reason the Buddha in the sutras often brings up the terror of venomous snakes and savage beasts to make us know what to be on guard against. What human beings care about most is the preservation of life; if one's survival is not threatened, fear does not arise. The Buddha, knowing well the psychology of sentient beings, repeatedly cited such examples to teach the Dharma for their sake.

The Fayuan Zhulin records that during the Song dynasty, in the first year of Yuanjia, there was a śramaṇa of the Yellow Dragon tradition named Tan Wujie (昙无竭), a practitioner of pure cultivation and ascetic discipline who constantly recited the Avalokiteśvara Sūtra. Once he set out with twenty-five disciples to seek the Buddha-realm, enduring many hardships along the way. On the road to Śrāvastī (舍卫国) in India, they encountered a herd of wild elephants, which was in itself very dangerous. But Tan Wujie held up the sūtra and recited: "With single mind I take refuge in the Great Compassionate Avalokiteśvara!" At that moment a lion suddenly emerged from the forest; the elephants, seeing it, immediately fled in panic and did not harm Tan Wujie or his group. But not long after, another herd of wild oxen came bellowing toward them, about to harm them. Tan Wujie, as before, took refuge and single-mindedly recited the holy name. At that very moment a great vulture flew in, causing all the wild oxen to scatter in fright, and Tan Wujie and his group were spared harm. From this we can see that reciting the holy name of Guanyin will indeed bring forth the Bodhisattva's responsive blessing.

The Nanhai Cihang (南海慈航) records: In the Ming dynasty, a man from southern Fujian named Lei Fazhen (雷法震) made his living as a charcoal-burner. At home he had a piece of duck-coop wood whose grain was extremely fine, and he wished to carve an image of the Great Bodhisattva (Avalokiteśvara) for worship, but he was too busy to carry it out at once. One day he went into the mountains to burn charcoal, when suddenly a tiger emerged from the thick brush, bared its fangs, brandished its claws, and lunged at him. Lei Fazhen felt the extremity of terror. Just at that critical moment, a beautiful woman suddenly appeared, pointed at the tiger, and rebuked it; the tiger, subdued by her, bowed its head, wagged its tail, and departed. Lei Fazhen, grateful to her for his rescue, bowed and asked her name so he might requite her. The woman replied: "I am the duck-coop wood at your home." Saying this, she disappeared from sight. Lei Fazhen, seeing this, knew it was Guanyin Bodhisattva who had come to save him. He thereupon chose an auspicious day to carve a holy image of Guanyin, and from then on observed lifelong vegetarian practice and reverent prostration. Truly, how vast are Guanyin's responsive blessings.

己四

Lecture Notes on the Universal Gateway Chapter of Guanyin Bodhisattva

Venomous snakes, vipers, and scorpions in the torrential rain—
their poisonous breath burns like fire and smoke.
Call upon the power of Guanyin, and they will turn back of their own accord,
drawn by the sound of your voice.
Clouds roll, thunder drums, lightning rends the sky;
hail falls, heavy rain pours down.
Call upon the power of Guanyin, and all will disperse in an instant.

In this world, there are many poisonous snakes and insects of the kind referred to as yuán snakes, fù vipers, and scorpions. The toxic fumes they exhale burn like flames and smoke, which is why the text says “their breath is poisonous, burning like fire and smoke.” Anyone who comes into contact with such fumes will lose their life. Should someone encounter this situation and immediately call upon the holy name of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, they will receive the awesome power of the Bodhisattva’s blessing. The creatures will, drawn by the sound of your voice, naturally turn aside and go away on their own, no longer spewing their venom to harm you. How swiftly the Bodhisattva’s compassionate response comes!

Some say the yuán snake and the fù viper are one and the same, what people commonly call the earth viper (tú huī shé). The huǐ is a poisonous snake; larger ones grow to roughly eight or nine feet long, with flat heads, large eyes, and soil-colored scales. When it sees a person, it raises its head and gives chase. Its nature is extremely venomous, and anyone bitten has no chance of survival. The fù is also a species of poisonous snake, most often found in damp areas, roughly a foot or so in length. Its head is very large, triangular in shape, with a slender neck. Its venomous fangs are tubular; its body is dull gray with brown mottling, and its tail tapers abruptly to a short point. Its venom is extremely potent, and a single bite is likewise fatal.

It is said that during the Shaoxing era of the Southern Song dynasty, a woman surnamed Zhou from Yuhang was walking along a road when she came across three large snakes coiled in the middle of the path. Unable to go around them, she gathered her courage and stepped over the snakes. The snakes, unwilling to be outdone, immediately flew into a rage, chased her, and coiled themselves around her, knocking her to the ground. Just then, a villager named Gong Lichen came upon the scene while hurrying along the same road. With no other way to save the woman, he pressed his palms together and loudly chanted the holy name of Avalokiteśvara along with the Great Compassion Mantra. Miraculously, upon hearing the sound of Avalokiteśvara’s holy name, the snakes released the woman and slithered away on their own. This is the most vivid, concrete proof of the line “they turn back of their own accord at the sound.”

As for the scorpion (xiē, often written with the character 蝎 in common usage), it falls under the spider order. It is roughly three inches long, bluish-black in color, with a pair of antennae on its neck resembling crab pincers. Its head and thorax are both very short, and its abdomen has thirteen segments; the rear large segment tapers like a tail, ending in a poisonous stinger. When it meets an enemy, it bends the stinger upward and injects venom. If a person is touched by the venom, they may lose their life. Scorpions usually prey on spiders and small insects, and they also sting people. The venom it spews from its mouth to harm people is a metaphor for the toxic harm caused by human evil speech, abusive words, and sowing discord. Harsh words and abuse can leave a person so distressed they find no peace, and can even cause them to die of rage in an instant—this is a common truth of the world. Hence the old saying: “Hearing a single harsh word feels like three hundred spears stabbing the heart.” This is exactly what it means. Not a corner of modern society goes a day without someone trading curses and vicious words. Do not dismiss this as trivial: enmity between individuals, even war between nations, often springs from a single unforgiven word. As for sowing discord—stirring up suspicion between two parties until it erupts into violent conflict—this harms both sides just the same. As you move through the world, you cannot be too careful with the karma of speech. Above all, avoid the two faults of harsh speech and divisive speech.

When a clear sky suddenly darkens with thick clouds, thunder rumbles and shakes the air like the beat of a drum, and lightning flashes and darts across the sky as if being dragged and torn—this is why the text says “clouds and thunder drum, lightning rends.” Or when hard hail falls, or sheets of pouring rain come down—this is “hail descends and heavy rain pours.” When you encounter these terrifying natural phenomena, if you can devoutly call upon the holy name of Avalokiteśvara, you may rely on the awesome power of the Bodhisattva, and at once the clouds will scatter, the rain will cease, the thunder will stop, and the hail will end—this is why the text says “they will be dispelled in an instant.”

Clouds drift across the sky, ever-shifting as the old saying goes: “white clouds turn to gray dogs”—a thousand forms in constant change. But how are clouds formed? Water vapor mixed in the air is originally formless and without shape, but once it condenses into water droplets or freezes into ice crystals, it becomes a visible cloud. When clouds darken to inky rain clouds that fill the sky, that is the prelude to rain. “Thunder drum” refers to the enormous sound produced when lightning discharges within the clouds, which sounds like the beating of a drum—hence the name. In earlier times, when people’s understanding of the world was still limited, they called thunder the Thunder God, saying the Thunder Lord carried a great drum on his back, which he struck with his hands to make the sound—this is the origin of the term “thunder drum.” Lightning is a form of energy inherent in matter; it can be used as motive power, and its light and heat can be harnessed, as we see in bolts of sky lightning. Thunder and lightning are almost always mentioned together: people see the flash of lightning first, then hear the roll of thunder, so it’s commonly thought they happen one after the other. In fact they occur at the same time; we only see lightning first because light waves travel far faster than sound waves, so the sound of thunder reaches us later.

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Summary of Beings in Distress

Sentient beings are bound by countless hardships,
pressed by immeasurable suffering in body and mind;
Guanyin’s wondrous wisdom and power
can save all the world from pain.

“Beings” in this world may fall into poverty, or face danger and crisis—this is what the text means by “bound by hardship”: “bound” here means “subject to.” When this happens, immeasurable suffering bears down on body and mind, leaving them no peace at all. But the great compassionate Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara, who hears the cries of the suffering and comes to their rescue, possesses inconceivable, perfected wisdom-power. Beholding beings trapped in hardship and oppressed by every kind of suffering, he is moved by his compassionate heart to come and free sentient beings from their woes. As the Heart Sutra says: “When the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara practices the profound perfection of wisdom, he sees that the five aggregates are empty, and thus liberates all beings from suffering.” This is why the text says he “can save the world from suffering.” It is precisely this quality that gives the Bodhisattva his name, Avalokiteśvara—“the one who hears the cries of the world.” With this, the first major section explaining the significance of the Bodhisattva’s name comes to a close.

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Section 2: Manifesting the Methods of Wandering to Teach Subsection 1: Extensively Displaying the Transformation Bodies in All Lands Subsection 1: Body-Action Universally Responding with Complete Spiritual Power

Complete in spiritual power, he broadly cultivates wisdom and skillful means;
in every land of the ten directions, there is no realm where he does not appear.
In all the various evil destinies—hells, hungry ghosts, and animals—
and in the suffering of birth, old age, sickness, and death, he gradually leads all to cessation.

Avalokiteśvara is a high Bodhisattva who has long practiced the great path. From the perfectly realized essence of his enlightenment, he brings forth the most supreme and wondrous activity, which is why the text says he “possesses complete spiritual power.” Shén (spirit) means his wondrous activity is unfathomable; tōng (penetration) means he moves freely without obstruction. All great Bodhisattvas possess spiritual powers, but these are traditionally divided into two categories: those accompanied by outflows (yǒulòu), and those free from outflows (wúlòu).

Spiritual powers accompanied by outflows are held not only by celestial beings, but by ghosts and spirits as well. Yet the spiritual powers of ghosts and spirits are “retributively attained”: their function is limited, and they can only perceive a small fraction of the human and ghost realms. Celestial beings possess the five spiritual powers: the heavenly eye, heavenly ear, knowledge of others’ minds, knowledge of past lives, and the spiritual foot. Though their function is far vaster than that of ghosts and spirits, it is still very limited. What is more, their afflictions remain completely unextinguished; they have not attained the most important of the six Buddhist spiritual powers: the “power of the extinction of outflows.” For this reason, if a murderous thought arises in them and they wield their spiritual powers, the evil karma they create is immense.

The world-transcending saints of the Two Vehicles (śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas) not only possess the five ordinary spiritual powers, but also attain the power of the extinction of outflows. The function of their powers surpasses the outflow-accompanied spiritual powers of celestial beings by hundreds of thousands of times. Yet because they have not reached ultimate realization, their heavenly eye can only see this single three-thousand-great-thousand-world; their heavenly ear can only hear sounds within this same world; their spiritual foot can only move freely within this single world; their power of knowing past lives can only comprehend events within eighty thousand kalpas; and their power of knowing others’ minds can only fathom the thoughts of beings in the six ordinary destinies.

Bodhisattvas who have attained the grounds have cut off one grade of fundamental ignorance. For this reason, their heavenly eye and heavenly ear can not only see and hear one three-thousand-great-thousand-world, but a hundred such worlds. The function of their spiritual powers is a hundred times greater than that of the Two Vehicles, but this still cannot be called “complete spiritual power.” The Buddha’s heavenly eye can see measureless, countless, inexhaustible three-thousand-great-thousand-worlds; his heavenly ear can hear measureless, countless, inexhaustible such worlds; his power of knowing past lives perceives events of countless kalpas ago as clearly as if they were happening today. Penetrating to the very source of all dharmas, his spiritual powers are perfectly and completely fulfilled.

As we have mentioned before, Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva is the Thus Come One of Proper Dharma Brightness, who attained Buddhahood eons ago. He has already realized the perfectly penetrating wondrous essence of enlightenment, which sets him apart from Bodhisattvas who have only just embarked on the path. For this reason, he possesses inconceivable, immense spiritual power. As the manifestation of the Thus Come One of Proper Dharma Brightness, Avalokiteśvara possesses not only the wondrous function of spiritual power, but also “broadly cultivates” both great wisdom and great skillful means. Great wisdom refers to the wisdom of ultimate truth: its sole function is to realize the truth of the empty nature of all dharmas. Great skillful means refers to the wisdom of worldly convention: its sole function is to adapt to the capacities of sentient beings and teach the Dharma accordingly. When these two wisdoms work in tandem, nothing is lacking—this is what is meant by “broad cultivation.” Without the wisdom of ultimate truth, one cannot realize the ultimate truth; without the wisdom of worldly convention, one cannot save the deluded masses. From the Bodhisattva’s standpoint, these two wisdoms are indispensable, and only when one has realized the wisdom of ultimate truth can one bring forth the expedient, skillful wisdom of worldly convention.

Because the great compassionate Avalokiteśvara possesses both spiritual power and the wisdom of skillful means, he can manifest in every possible form across all the “ten-direction” worlds and “every land”—there is no realm where he does not appear, so that he may save and transform beings of all different kinds. The Sanskrit term for a “realm” is kshetra (刹摩, chà), translated into Chinese as “field” or “land”; in the sutras it is also called “country” or “realm,” all with the same meaning. A Buddha’s kshetra refers to the world a Buddha teaches and transforms. “Manifesting bodies” means Buddhas and Bodhisattvas can take on any number of different forms. As the prose section of this sutra notes, Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva manifests thirty-three response-bodies—this is the meaning of the term. “Response” means responding to the call of sentient beings: as beings call out to him, he naturally appears. From this we can see: Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, whose fundamental vow is the salvation of all beings, is not, as ordinary people imagine, merely an object of veneration in temples and meditation halls. He is fully alive, appearing throughout the ten directions to teach the Dharma everywhere.

So where, exactly, does the Bodhisattva who appears in every realm manifest? In all the “various evil destinies.” The evil destinies most often refer to the three lower realms: hell beings, hungry ghosts, and animals. Sometimes the asura realm is added to these three, making four evil destinies. They are called “evil” because sentient beings fall into them due to their own unwholesome karma, moving toward states of suffering—hence the name. Sometimes human and heavenly beings (with asuras often grouped among them) are added to the three lower realms, making five evil destinies; this is why the text says “various evil destinies.” Humans and heavenly beings are counted as evil destinies from the perspective of the cycle of birth and death. From a Buddhist, world-transcending standpoint, any being who has not escaped the three realms can be said to dwell in an evil destiny.

As for the hell realms: Sentient beings fallen into hell—whether the eight cold hells, eight hot hells, or any of the many other hell realms—are tormented by every kind of suffering. When Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva sees hell beings suffering and cannot bear to leave them trapped in layer upon layer of pain, his heart is stirred by the great vow: “If I do not enter hell, who will?” He manifests the form of a hell being, descends into the hells to teach and transform them, and leads them to escape the agony of hell and attain liberation of body and mind.

As for hungry ghosts: Though there are distinctions among them—the ghost with no possessions, the ghost with little, and the ghost with much (such as the blood-eating deities)—all take their name from the agony of hunger and thirst, and are commonly called hungry ghosts. Beings fallen into the hungry ghost realm may pass hundreds of thousands of years without even hearing the names of water or gruel, let alone tasting any food or drink. To be reborn as a hungry ghost is extraordinarily painful. When Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva sees hungry ghost beings suffering, he specially manifests the Great Being Miantian (大面然), the Ghost King, through whom the Buddha taught the Flaming Mouth rite to liberate all hungry ghosts. This is an example of him manifesting a hungry ghost body to teach the Dharma and bring liberation.

As for animals: We can see this plainly in the world around us: birds in the sky, beasts on the land, and scaled and furred creatures in the water. Sentient beings reborn in the animal realm have come either to repay old debts or to pay for past lives taken, and they constantly endure unbearable pain. When Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva sees animal-realm beings suffering, he manifests all manner of animal forms to teach and transform them, leading them to leave behind the karmic retribution of the animal realm and attain liberation of body and mind.

As for human beings: The four great sufferings of birth, old age, sickness, and death spare no one—rich or poor, high status or low. Not only humans, but even celestial beings cannot escape them. As the ancient masters said: “The four marks of suffering are unavoidable among humans; in the heavens, who can escape the five signs of decline?” When Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva sees humans and celestial beings suffering, he likewise manifests human or heavenly forms to teach the Dharma for us, that we may leave suffering behind and find joy.

In short, for any sentient being within the three realms, no matter which destiny they inhabit, so long as they suffer, if they call the Bodhisattva’s name single-mindedly, Avalokiteśvara will appear before them in his great compassion and teach the true Dharma they are able to receive. If they practice in accord with that true Dharma, their suffering will gradually be extinguished—this is why the text says “he gradually causes them all to cease.” This is explained in full detail in the earlier prose section on the thirty-three response-bodies. The two eight-line verses above are a summary verse on the Bodhisattva’s manifestation of bodies, and are therefore classified under the “body-action universally responding” section.

Subsection 2—

意业普观 真观清净观，广大智慧观，悲观及慈观，常愿常瞻仰。无垢清净光，慧日破诸闇，能伏灾风火，普明照世间。

These verses lay out the universal observation of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva’s mental karmic activity. Observation here takes five forms: true observation, pure observation, vast wisdom observation, compassionate observation, and loving-kindness observation. These five observations reveal the core principle of liberating sentient beings. As we discussed earlier, the first three observations serve self-cultivation, while the final two serve the welfare of others—so the five observations encompass both core aims: benefiting oneself and benefiting others. If we frame these five observations as the supreme skillful means for responding to sentient beings’ needs and guiding their transformation, they fall firmly in the realm of benefiting others. Looking ahead to what comes next in the text, which explains how to gradually ease the suffering of sentient beings, we can see these five observations are the method for doing exactly that. After all, the outline of this section focuses on the skillful means of wandering and transforming to save beings, so these five observations are precisely the tool used to deliver beings from suffering.

Some explain it this way: When Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva awakens the wisdom of true observation, they see that beings’ deluded karma is empty by nature, with no inherent essence to be found. When they awaken the wisdom of pure observation, they see that beings’ original nature is free of defilement, never stained by mixed impurities. When they awaken the wisdom of great wisdom observation, they shatter beings’ ignorance and darkness, revealing their inherent luminosity. When they awaken the wisdom of great compassion observation, they lift beings out of immeasurable suffering, freeing them from the oppression of all pain. When they awaken the wisdom of great loving-kindness observation, they grant all beings happiness and ease, letting them live in freedom and spontaneity forever. Under this reading, the first three observations target the destruction of beings’ afflictions and karmic hindrances, while the final two focus on relieving suffering and granting joy to beings. All five, then, are acts of benefiting others. For this reason, we do not find it necessary for earlier teachers to map the three observations of truth, purity, and wisdom onto the Tiantai threefold contemplation of emptiness, provisional existence, and the middle way.

Since Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva uses these five observations to liberate beings, we should “always wish” for the Bodhisattva’s compassion to rescue us, that we may truly leave suffering behind and attain joy. At the same time, we should “always gaze upward in reverence” at the Bodhisattva’s wondrous, majestic form, bowing in homage and looking up, hoping to receive their illumination. The phrase “gazing upward in reverence” means to look up with a heart of respect. The Lotus Sutra’s Expedient Means chapter records: “Gazing up at the Two-Footed Honored One.” The Vimalakīrti Sutra says: “Gazing upon the honored countenance, never taking one’s eyes away for even a moment.” Both express this same intent.

These four verses above sum up and reveal the wisdom of observation. They show that because the Bodhisattva’s observation responds directly to the needs of beings, there are these five distinct modes of observation. Each of the five observations the Bodhisattva uses to respond to beings is pure and stainless. From this pure, untainted observation arises the light of great wisdom, so it is called “the stainless pure light.” This great wisdom light shines bright enough to illuminate and break through all the darkness of affliction, just as the sun hangs high in a clear sky, scattering all the darkness of the earth. Hence the verse says: “The sun of wisdom shatters all darkness.” The Sutra of Immeasurable Life states: “The sun of wisdom illuminates the world, clearing away the clouds of birth and death,” and the Lotus Sutra’s Expedient Means chapter says: “The sun of wisdom, the greatly honored sage”—both convey this same meaning. The ignorance of beings is what is called “the various darknesses.” The light of pure wisdom can illuminate the blindness of the world, which is why it is likened to the sun of wisdom. As the Lotus Sutra’s chapter on the Past Deeds of the Medicine King Bodhisattva says: “Again, as the sun-god can dispel all darkness, so too this sutra can shatter all the darkness of unwholesomeness.”

The light of the wisdom sun doesn’t only shatter all darkness—it also “can subdue the disasters of wind and fire.” Disaster covers every kind of hardship and distress, but wind and fire are the most severe of all disasters. If the great disasters of wind and fire can be subdued, all other disasters are naturally no threat. Strictly speaking, the reason beings experience disasters like wind and fire is not that these harms are imposed on them from outside; they are brought on by beings’ own afflictions. Once the darkness of affliction is shattered, all kinds of disasters can naturally be subdued. This brilliance of the wisdom sun, which subdues disaster and shatters darkness, lights up the world just like the sun, shining universally and brightly—hence the verse says: “Universally bright, illuminating the world.”

戊三

口业普益

悲体戒雷震，慈意妙大云，澍甘露法雨，灭除烦恼焰。

This verse describes the universal benefit of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva’s verbal karma—that is, the act of praising the way the Bodhisattva teaches the Dharma to beings. Though it speaks specifically of the benefit of verbal karma, it actually encompasses the activity of all three karmas, revealing Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva’s inconceivable transformation through the three wheels.

“Compassion-body”: compassion is defined by its function of lifting beings out of suffering. The compassion of all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas is immeasurably vast, so it is called great compassion. Since Buddhas and Bodhisattvas take great compassion as their very essence, this is called the compassion-body. As the texts say: “The Buddha’s mind is none other than great compassion.” “Bodhisattvas are born only from great compassion, not from other wholesome roots”—both of these passages explain the meaning of the compassion-body. This compassion-body can also be understood as the Dharma body of great loving-kindness and compassion, which is realized through upholding the precepts; this is why precepts and compassion are so deeply intertwined. For example, the precept against killing not only spares all sentient beings the pain of being killed, but also gives all beings a sense of safety. Going further, it asks us to cherish the lives of all sentient beings. Are the precepts not, then, the very practice of compassion?

Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva wields this great compassion–precept body, manifesting spiritual powers through the body wheel to display the thirty-three responsive forms. The wondrous effect of these powers startles the world like thunder shaking the great chiliocosm, rousing people from their dreamlike delusion—hence it is called “the precept-thunder’s reverberation.” The ancient master Deqing explains: “The Dharma body has no fixed form of its own; it takes compassion as its form. The precepts are the teachings that flow forth from the Dharma body. So before expounding the Dharma, one first uses the reverberation of thunder to startle and awaken the capacities of all beings, then rises with loving-kindness to spread the vast Dharma-cloud.”

“Loving-kindness intent, wondrous great cloud” points to the Bodhisattva’s mental karma. The Bodhisattva doesn’t only use compassion to lift beings out of suffering; they also use loving-kindness to grant joy to beings. When one wishes to bring joy to beings, this is called loving-kindness intent. In Buddhism, any Dharma that is beyond ordinary conception and cannot be equaled or surpassed is called “wondrous.” As it is said: “Wondrous means there is nothing comparable to it, nothing that exceeds it.” The great loving-kindness of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas extends to all sentient beings across the entire Dharma realm, just as a great cloud shades all things universally—hence it is called the wondrous great cloud.

“Pouring the sweet-dew Dharma rain” directly reveals the Bodhisattva’s verbal karma of teaching the Dharma. The Words and Phrases of the Lotus Sutra states: “Sweet dew is the deathless medicine of the gods; those who eat it live long, have peaceful bodies, great strength, and luminous complexions.” The seventh fascicle of the Vimalakīrti Sutra commentary records: “Kumārajīva says: The gods place various precious medicines into the sea, grind them with jeweled mountains, and transform them into sweet dew. Eating it grants immortality, so it is called the deathless medicine. Master Sheng says: Heavenly food has the taste of sweet dew; eating it brings longevity, hence it is called the deathless medicine.” The Buddha often uses sweet dew as a metaphor for the wondrous Dharma of non-arising and non-ceasing. Because this wondrous Dharma nourishes sentient beings, it is likened to rain. The Sutra of Immeasurable Life says: “Pouring the Dharma rain, performing the act of Dharma giving.” The Lotus Sutra’s Introduction chapter says: “Raining the great Dharma rain, blowing the great Dharma conch.” The second fascicle of the Nirvāṇa Sutra says: “The supreme Dharma rain falls on the field of your body, causing Dharma shoots to grow.” It also says: “We only hope for the Thus Come One’s sweet-dew Dharma rain.” All of these use sweet-dew Dharma rain as a metaphor for the Thus Come One’s teachings.

Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva teaches this wondrous Dharma to beings, letting all beings receive its universal benefit—hence it is called “pouring the sweet-dew Dharma rain.” What benefit do beings gain from this? All beings have afflictions, which burn fiercely like great flames. Nothing else can extinguish the flames of beings’ afflictions; only the Bodhisattva’s sweet-dew Dharma rain can help all beings put out the flames of affliction and reach the pure ground of non-arising and non-ceasing. Hence the verse says: “Extinguishing the flames of afflictions.”

丁二

正显游于娑婆

诤讼经官处，怖畏军阵中；念彼观音力，众怨悉退散。妙音观世音，梵音海潮音，胜彼世间音，是故须常念。念念勿生疑，观世音净圣，于苦恼死厄，能为作依怙！具一切功德，慈眼视众生，福聚海无量，是故应顶礼！

This is the final section of the verses, which clearly shows Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva wandering in the Sahā world, closing out the explanation of the Bodhisattva’s skillful means of roaming and transforming to save beings. The beings of the Sahā world, especially humans, have been deeply mired in conflict since ancient times, and struggle to live in harmony. Trivial matters often spark unnecessary disputes that escalate into lawsuits. It is not just ordinary people who quarrel and take each other to court—even husbands and wives, fathers and sons, brothers and sisters end up facing each other in legal proceedings all the time.

If someone is drawn into a dispute that ends up in court, the fear of losing the case is unavoidable when they face the opposing side in tribunal. To be frank, litigation is rarely worth the cost: no matter if you are in the right or wrong, it always ends up working against you in the end. If someone is terrified of “dispute and legal proceedings,” and they are able to recite the holy name of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, they can receive the empowerment of the Bodhisattva’s mighty power. The two parties will peacefully resolve their disputes, reconcile, and never have to meet in court again. In this way, long-held grievances between the two sides vanish in an instant, and they become the closest of friends.

This conflict is not limited to individuals—nations war with one another endlessly, which is why our world has never known a single day of true peace. Some say that human history is a history of war, and that is no exaggeration. In war, opposing armies line up their ranks, each side holding their position and waiting for the other. When the two forces formally clash, casualties are inevitable. Thinking of vibrant, living people falling one by one, anyone would feel a sense of terror. Hence the verse says: “In terror amidst the battle lines.” At this terrifying, dangerous moment of military disaster and war, if you can “recite Avalokiteśvara” Bodhisattva’s holy name and rely on the Bodhisattva’s compassionate power to support you, “all enmities” will “retreat and disperse,” turning weapons of war into gifts of jade and silk, and letting everyone live in peace. The “all enmities” in this verse refers not only to opposing armies, but also to the grievances born of litigation. When we recite Avalokiteśvara’s name, we are touched by the sage’s transformative power, and each person repents of their former grievances—so all enmities fade away.

Earlier, in the section on the universal observation of mental karma, we discussed Avalokiteśvara’s five observations; now, in this passage about wandering and transforming in the Sahā world, we encounter the Bodhisattva’s five sounds. The five observations are the Bodhisattva’s faculty of wisdom for perceiving beings; the five sounds are partly the objects of the Bodhisattva’s observation, and partly the sound of the Bodhisattva’s own Dharma teaching. By bringing these two sets of five together, the text explains why the Bodhisattva is named “Avalokiteśvara.” Some say these five sounds all describe the purity and beauty of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva’s Dharma teaching, but this is not entirely accurate.

Take “wondrous sound” first: it doesn’t need any extra interpretation. It specifically refers to the sound of reciting “Namo Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva.” The sound of reciting the Bodhisattva’s holy name is itself subtle and inconceivable, so it is called the wondrous sound.

“Avalokiteśvara” refers to the act of observing all the sounds in the world of those who hold the name and cry out for rescue, manifesting in every land without exception to seek out these sounds and come to their aid—hence the name Avalokiteśvara.

“Brahmic sound”: “brahmic” means pure and untainted. Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva’s worldly and supramundane teachings are both pure, free of all defilement and stain. The Lotus Sutra’s Introduction chapter says: “Avalokiteśvara’s subtle wonder delights all who hear it.” The Avataṃsaka Sutra states: “Producing pure, subtle, wondrous brahmic sounds, proclaiming the supreme, unsurpassed correct Dharma; those who hear it rejoice and attain the pure, wondrous path.” The Words and Phrases of the Lotus Sutra says: “The Buddha’s reward-body pure voice is most wondrous, and is called the brahmic sound.”

“Ocean-tide sound” uses the tide of the ocean as a metaphor for vast, far-reaching sound. When the tide is full, the sound it makes is mighty and surging. What is more, the tide arrives at a fixed time, never early or late. As the Changshui Yishu commentary says: “The heavenly drum acts without intention, yet responds to people’s calls; the ocean tide acts without intention, yet never misses its time.” This is a metaphor for the Bodhisattva’s timely teaching of the Dharma, never missing the right moment: whenever beings are ready to be liberated, the Bodhisattva teaches them at that time; whatever Dharma will liberate them, that is the Dharma the Bodhisattva teaches. Just as the tide never misses its appointed time, this is called the ocean-tide sound.

As for “surpassing all worldly sounds”: some hold that the sound of reciting “Namo Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva” is like brahmic sound, like ocean-tide sound, and surpasses all sounds in the world. “Therefore” as disciples of the Buddha, we must “constantly recite” the name to truly receive its benefit. Others say that the great master Avalokiteśvara, responding to the capacities of beings across the ten dharma realms, teaches the distinct Dharma of each of the ten realms, and their voice is so pure that no worldly sound can compare—so we should also recite constantly. The first reading interprets the “sound” as the sound of beings reciting the great master’s holy name; the second interprets it as the sound of the great master teaching the Dharma to beings. Both readings are valid, but I find the first more reasonable.

The Buddha, with great compassion, repeatedly exhorts us beings to constantly recite Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva’s holy name. But when you recite, in the flow of one thought after another of “constant recitation,” never “give rise to a single thought of doubt,” thinking that reciting Avalokiteśvara’s name is of no benefit. You should know that doubt is the great enemy of faith. Once a doubt arises, you can’t focus single-mindedly on your recitation; if you can’t recite with the utmost sincerity, it’s naturally difficult to receive the Bodhisattva’s spiritual response. If you wish to receive this response and have your suffering relieved, you must recite straight ahead, without letting a single doubting thought arise! You should know that Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva is a bodhisattva of the next bhūmi, poised to become a Buddha—all their afflictions and defilements have been completely cut off, unlike other bodhisattvas who haven’t yet exhausted ignorance and affliction. They are honored as the “Pure Saint,” that is, a saint free of all defilement.

What is more, no matter what kind of “distress” we encounter in the midst of our suffering through birth and death, if you can chant the name single-mindedly, Avalokiteśvara the Pure Saint will “become” our “reliance”—a compassionate father, a “protector” who is a compassionate mother. In other words, for any being in this world who encounters disaster, Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva is our strong, unwavering refuge.

Furthermore, Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva “possesses all” immeasurable “meritorious virtues.” The ninth chapter of the Great Meaning of the Mahāyāna explains: “Merit refers to function: wholesome actions have the function of nourishing and benefiting others, so they are called merit. This merit is the virtue that comes from the family of wholesome conduct, so it is called merit and virtue.” The upper volume of the Tiantai commentary on the Renwang Sutra says: “Giving to others is called merit; what returns to oneself is called virtue.” The upper volume of the Jewel Cavern commentary on the Śrīmālādevī Simhanāda Sutra says: “The exhaustion of evil is called merit; the full accomplishment of goodness is called virtue. Virtue also means ‘attainment’: it is the gain that comes from cultivating merit, so it is called merit and virtue.”

Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, who possesses all merit and virtue, always regards all beings with a pair of “compassionate eyes,” equally and without distinction, just as parents cherish their children without favoritism. When children have difficulties, parents are their sole refuge. Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva has accumulated immeasurable merit and virtue; their “accumulated merit” is as vast as the “immeasurable” “sea.” For this reason, “therefore” all beings “should bow in homage” and make offerings to Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva. Bowing in homage means pressing the five limbs (the two hands, two knees, and head) to the ground. As the texts say: “Bowing one’s head and face at the feet,” or “bowing in homage at the Buddha’s feet,” and so on. Of all parts of the human body, the head is the most noble, and the feet the most humble. To take one’s most noble head to bow to another’s most humble feet is, in modern terms, the highest expression of respect.

甲三

闻品获益

乙一

The Earth-Holding Bodhisattva Praises the Universal Gateway

The Bodhisattva Earth-Holder rose from his seat, stepped forward before the Buddha, and spoke: "World-Honored One! Should any beings hear this chapter on Guanyin Bodhisattva (Avalokiteśvara)—the chapter of her unconstrained, inconceivable acts of liberation, her Universal Gateway that manifests everywhere, and her transcendent powers that lift all from suffering—you should know such a person has accrued no small merit."

This phrase "at that time" marks the moment the Buddha finished reciting the preceding verses. To unpack the passage line by line: at this moment, the Bodhisattva Earth-Holder "rose from his seat," walked to the Buddha’s presence, and addressed him: "World-Honored One! In this world, should there be beings with the right causes and conditions to "hear this chapter on Guanyin Bodhisattva (Avalokiteśvara)"—coming to understand the Bodhisattva of Compassion's "unconstrained" and inconceivable "deeds of rescue," her "Universal Gateway" that manifests without bound, and her "transcendent powers" that free beings from all suffering—you should know that any person who has heard this Universal Gateway Chapter has, in truth, accumulated "no small" amount of merit.

This makes clear that we too accrue great merit from hearing the Universal Gateway Chapter of Guanyin Bodhisattva. Still, if you set your mind to listen to this chapter, it is best to hear it through from start to finish without breaks. Listening once, pausing, then listening again is not without merit, but the merit gained will be far smaller.

According to the account in the Śūraṅgama Sūtra, during the time the Thus Come One Pūrgabha (Pǔguāng) appeared in the world, the Bodhisattva Earth-Holder left home and ordained as a bhikṣu. He was a man of humble circumstances with little formal learning. Though his aspiration to benefit others was deeply earnest, and he readily undertook all kinds of charitable work to broadly support society and its people, even willing to sacrifice his own interests for others with a true bodhisattva’s heart—sadly, he had never heard the Buddha’s Dharma, and had little grasp of its principles. All the good he did for society arose from his innate nature alone, quietly aligned with the conduct of a bodhisattva, though he did not realize it.

"Born strong and sturdy, he spent his days by bridges and roadsides. Whenever he met someone bearing a heavy load on shoulder or pole, he would always take it up and carry it across the bridge for them. If a cart could not make it up a slope, he would push or pull it for them, accepting neither payment nor thanks. Seeing uneven stretches of road, he would level high spots and fill in low ones, and build or repair bridges wherever he was able. Everyone called him Earth-Holder. Though he labored everywhere with single-minded devotion and a kind heart, no visible results came of his efforts."

"He kept up this diligent work throughout the appearance of immeasurable Buddhas in the world." Later, he encountered the Buddha Viśvabhū (Píshěfú). The Bodhisattva Earth-Holder accompanied the Buddha as he went to the king’s court to receive alms. Viśvabhū Buddha gently placed his hand on the Earth-Holder’s crown and said to him: "You have done a great deal of public welfare and charitable work, relieving countless suffering people—this is indeed rare and wonderful. But if you only act on the material level, without putting effort into cultivating your mind-ground, you will never see true results. Know that the unevenness of the outer world arises from the unevenness of your inner mind. If you wish to level the outer earth, you must first level your own mind. When your mind-ground is level, the entire world and all the earth will be level."

Hearing this teaching from Viśvabhū Buddha, the Bodhisattva Earth-Holder’s mind opened in an instant. He saw that the tiny particles making up his own body and all the particles composing the world were entirely equal, without any distinction between them—and thus he became the Bodhisattva Earth-Holder.

Section 2: The Assembly Generates the Resolve

When Śākyamuni Buddha "finished speaking this Universal Gateway Chapter," it was not only the Bodhisattva Earth-Holder who obtained no small merit—among the "great assembly" listening to the teaching, there were also "eighty-four thousand beings" who, upon hearing it, immediately "all generated the mind of unsurpassed, equal, and perfect awakening (anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi)."

The number eighty-four thousand signals a vast multitude. As the traditional commentaries note, "In the lands of the West, this figure is often used to express a very great number." For example, the Lotus Sūtra’s "Wonderful Voice Bodhisattva Chapter" states: "Those who came together with Bodhisattva Wonderful Voice numbered eighty-four thousand people." It also says: "Surrounded by eighty-four thousand bodhisattvas." And again: "These eighty-four thousand bodhisattvas attained the samādhi of manifesting all physical forms." The same sūtra’s "Seeing the Jeweled Stupa Chapter" likewise records: "Possessing the treasury of eighty-four thousand dharma-doors and the twelve categories of scriptures, he expounded them for people." Its "Medicine King Chapter" also states: "After the fire was extinguished, the relics were gathered, and eighty-four thousand precious vases were made, with which to erect eighty-four thousand stūpas." The Sūtra of Immeasurable Life uses the number in layered repetition: "The Buddha of Immeasurable Life possesses eighty-four thousand marks; each mark has eighty-four thousand subsidiary features; each feature in turn has eighty-four thousand rays of light; each ray of light illumines the worlds of the ten directions throughout." The Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom states: "The Prajñāpāramitā can eradicate the fundamental sources of eighty-four thousand diseases." It also says: "Eighty-four thousand officials and attendants each attained the Way." References to eighty-four thousand appear countless times across sūtras and treatises. We can understand it simply as an expression for a very large number; it does not mean the count is exactly eighty-four thousand.

The term "unsurpassed, equal" (wu dengdeng) refers to the Buddha as the highest, most supreme being, with none equal to him. At the same time, all Buddhas share the same awakened Way and are equal to one another; this is why the term is "unsurpassed, equal." Sengzhao’s commentary on the Vimalakīrti Sūtra (Volume 1) explains: "The Buddhas are called 'unsurpassed'; being equal with all Buddhas, it is therefore named 'unsurpassed, equal.'" The Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom (Chapter 40) states the same: "'Unsurpassed, equal'—the Buddhas are called 'unsurpassed'; being equal with all Buddhas, it is therefore named 'unsurpassed, equal.'" The Jingying Commentary notes: "Compared with other beings, the Buddha is unsurpassed, hence called 'unsurpassed'; yet the Way of all Buddhas is equal, therefore the word 'equal' is added." The Jiaxiang Commentary on the Lotus Sūtra (Volume 12) adds: "The Buddha’s Way is unsurpassed; only a Buddha is equal with a Buddha, therefore this Way is named 'unsurpassed, equal.'" From all these explanations, we can see that only a Buddha bears the name "unsurpassed, equal."

Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi is a Sanskrit term, translated into Chinese as "unsurpassed, perfectly universal knowing," "unsurpassed, perfectly equal awakening," or "unsurpassed, perfectly equal, perfectly awakened." Broken down, anuttarā translates as "unsurpassed," while samyak-saṃbodhi translates as "perfectly universal knowing." To awaken to and know all truths in their true equality is the function of this unsurpassed wisdom. As the Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom states: "Only the wisdom of one person—the Buddha—is anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi."

"Perfect awakening" distinguishes this state from ordinary beings, who remain deluded and unaware; "perfectly equal" distinguishes it from the Two Vehicles, whose awakening is not universal; "unsurpassed" distinguishes it from bodhisattvas, whose awakening is not yet fully complete.

Generating the mind of "unsurpassed, equal" anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi, in short, is what we call generating bodhicitta. It means taking as your goal the great awakening and great liberation perfected by the union of compassion and wisdom, and aspiring to realize that full awakening yourself. This is the very meaning of generating bodhicitta. Buddhahood is a state any person can attain; the only question is whether we generate that bodhicitta. If we give rise to the great bodhicitta, we will surely realize the unsurpassed great awakening. Guanyin is a bodhisattva who has already given rise to this great resolve. If you truly wish to receive her aid, you must generate the same resolve that aligns with her compassionate vows.