The Praises of Amida/Chapter 3
III.
The Voice of Amida Speaking to the Heart.
Hōjō,[1] having meditated for five Kalpas (aeons or ages) conceived the desire for the turning of the heart of the Children to their Father and of the Father to the Children, and when, as Amida, ten kalpas later, he manifested his Enlightment, he created the power whereby the Father and his Children receive one another. Ever since then, in accordance with his gracious forty-eight-fold-vow[2] he has been calling for his lost children; but throughout the whole twenty-five forms of existence, there was no answer to his call. We may imagine how grieved must have been his Heart which thus yearned with affection over his children.
But now we have recollected the home from whence we came, and have begun to call upon the Name of our Father. Surely it must be a great joy to Him when he hears the cry of Namu Amida Butsu.
1. Nicholas II. Emperor of Russia, began his reign by inaugurating the International Peace Conference at the Hague, and then ended up by being the spark which kindled the war between Russia and Japan. The world formed its own conclusions on this glaring inconsistency, and severely criticized His Majesty as a hypocrite. I will not say that some of the recent (1905) criticisms were not deserved: only, when we allow ourselves to make criticisms of this kind, we must not forget that possibly the cap may fit our own heads also.
2. I get up early in the morning, open my window, and look out. The sky is one expanse of clear sapphire blue, without a cloud to be seen anywhere. The light of early day spreads along the horizon like a rain-bow beam against the purple sky, the whole world seems to be tranquilly resting, and a solemn feeling of peace broods over the whole scene. You would never think, at a first glance, that the wind could ever blow, or the rain-storms descend, on such a peaceful world. You could not imagine that, over such a beautiful, peaceful, sky, thunder-clouds could ever roll and crash, or lightnings dart and play. And yet, in an instant of time, the weather will change, clouds will rise as it were from nothing, here one and there another, the sky becomes overcast before your very eyes, the storm growls on all sides, thunders roll and lightnings flash. The winds are like angry devils, the rain covers the road axle-deep in floods. An hour or two ago the world looked fresh and sweet, as though it had just come from the hands of its Maker: it now looks as the world will look on the eve of the Day of Mundane Destruction, when all its elements shall be for ever dissolved.
We are asked, whence came this terrible change over the face of the earth, and what shall we reply? We can but say that it came from the calm weather of a few hours ago, that the quiet peaceful sky, which we admired just now, held within itself the seeds of that terrible tempest which frightened us so much. We cannot guess at the underlying causes of the weather. Motion lies hidden in the womb of rest, confusion lurks behind clearness, clouds are born from cloudless skies, hateful forms lie concealed in the beautiful expanse of the firmament. All things lie hidden in the womb of the Great Complex, and who knows when that which lies hidden shall not come forth?
3. There is a distinction between the Heart and Nature, yet we find one and the same law at work in both. When there is no special seed to produce Suffering, and when the blue sky of the Heart is clear and calm, we look at it with admiration, and ask if any where in the world we can find anything else that is so beautiful, and our hearts tell us that we can not. The Heart loves peace, and meditates up on righteousness, the clouds of perverted thought cannot arise if they would,—at least that is our thought,—all is placid, and still, and translucent as a well-cut diamond. But it is not long ere the serpent that lurks in the waters comes to trouble the quiet pool: clouds of perverse thought steal suddenly over the heart, till, one by one, they have covered it all, and the man's hand rising on the horizon has become a great overshadowing storm which blackens the whole heart till its beautiful nature is entirely lost to sight. In the meanwhile, the thunders of lust begin to roar, the lightnings of anger begin to play; envy, hatred, estrangement, violence, effeminacy, meanness, a quarrelsome disposition, a mind that hates justice,—all the blasts and tempests of perverse thoughts,—come bursting across our spiritual sky, Winds such as do not usually come from the bags of the Wind-God, rains such as are not ordinarily stored in the cisterns of our firmament, come sweeping over us. We see a man, and at once we despise him without reason, saying that the fellow is always like that, or the boastful feeling arises within us that at any rate we are not like him. It is hard to describe this disposition, some people use the world jūga for it, but that does not quite express the underlying idea. The idea includes the heart which is like a wolf, which is like a fox, a baboon, a wild dog, the heart that hates light like an owl, that loves filth like a maggot, the heart that is crooked as a serpent, poisonous as a viper,—all these foul ideas come trooping together. The mind becomes like a dancing-floor of devils and evil spirits, and when their dance shall cease we cannot tell. We should like to stop their revels but we cannot: to restrain them, but they refuse to slacken their speed; and we learn then, by sad experience, that the pool of sin and wickedness is a bottomless one, that its dimensions defy measurement, and that, however proud we may be in our self-conceit, we are yet stupendously ignorant in our shallow views of things.
Nor where did this prodigious mass of sin and wickedness come from? We can only say that it came from that human heart of ours which but a short while ago was so clear and bright. We can no more foretel the changes of the weather than we can those of the heart. The heart which looks like a calm and placid pool, is in reality the abode of countless and terrible poisonous dragons that dwell beneath its surface: it expands itself like the bright sapphire vault of Heaven, yet it is but the reservoir in which are stored the rains and winds of perverse thoughts. We cannot tell when the poisonous dragons will come to the surface, nor when the floodgates will be opened, and the reservoir discharge its foul contents. We say in Buddhism that a single thought contains in it all Laws and all Nature, and this is no mere verbiage. It is a weighty sentence, teaching us the true depths of the human heart.
4. It cannot therefore suffice to dismiss Nicholas II with contempt, as having been first the originator of the Peace Conference, and then the author of the War with Japan. At the time when he issued invitations to the Hague Conference, the demon, which afterwards drove him to make a declaration of war, was lying low, hidden at the bottom of his heart. Conversely, when he become the instigator of the Russo-Japanese conflict, the light which had turned his mind to peace, was similarly concealed in the same place. Hence, if Nicholas II was a dissembler when, in the first case, he advocated peace, he was equally a dissembler in the latter case, when he instigated war; for in neither case did he lay bare the whole of his heart in all its depths. But if we make allowances for him in the first case, should we not equally make allowances in the second?
Nay, rather, are not we ourselves guilty of the same sin of dissembling? For the moment, it may be, the sky is clear,—that is, heart, mouth, and body may all be righteous and pure. But the germ of all evil lies within us, and so weak are we that we cannot tell when the evil will break out, nor what form it will take. Nay, if we look back on ourselves, we shall see that sin is not only a possibility but an actuality, and that in some degree at least we have been guilty of all sins. Why, then, should we be so proudly contemptuous of Nicholas II?
We call him a liar. Could we live without telling a lie,—once a mouth, say, or once a fortnight,...or even once a day? We call him a hypocrite. Are we never double-faced ourselves,—dissemblers with many faces? The Sadducees and Pharisees were not the only brood of vipers. We ourselves are,—let the truth be spoken,—the generation of vipers, the serpent's brood.
Therefore we cannot but recognize the fact that we cannot rely upon ourselves, at any time, to say nothing of our being unreliable when the storms of evil thoughts are harrassing us. But even when the sky of our mind is, as it were, entirely clear and perfectly cloudless, we can not depend upon ourselves in the least degree. There are some people who, trusting to their own intellect, declare that they are trying to cultivate their own moral natures; others give out that they are courageously struggling for the advancement of their spiritual nature, basing their work upon their own virtue. But they forget the fact that a dark shadow is always lurking in the corner of our intellect, however clear it may be. They are unaware that the seed of corruption is conceived in the womb of our moral nature, however pure and unspotted it may be. There is no absolute purity in this world, nor is there absolute light. For in purity, and at the bottom of light, lies hidden some darkness. These two are constantly struggling, one against the other: there is no end of the strife. Humanity is the fencing ground of opposing rivals. Sometimes the one party wins, but at others the adversary gains the upper hand. The opposing principles turn round and round like a wheeling lantern. How can we rely upon such a fallacy, and set our minds at peace?
6. If this is the case when our minds are pure and enlightened, how can we rely upon them when they are in fact as muddy as the stream of a river in May, or as cloudy as the sky in the same month? To-day, especially, we are growing more muddy and cloudy, so much so that we can hardly manage our own personal affairs. All over the country the war is causing a great deal of noise, tears of sorrow are mixed with the songs of triumph. How can we get the Great Peace, if we are relying upon these selves of ours, and upon this humanity? We must look for something above ourselves which we can rest in. The storm of sin is blowing great blasts against us. The rain of delusion is falling fiercely. The darkness of doubt is growing thicker. Where can we find a refuge such as we have seen we need?
7. And then, what happiness it is for us, at such times, to hear the Sacred Name of the Tathāgata, Namu Amida Butsu! It is the Name of the Hotoke which we have heard from our childhood, and yet we have perhaps never known its meaning. If we are to accept the teachings and explanations of teachers of olden times, this Name is something more than a mere name. The word Namu, we are told, contains an invitation "believe" and to "trust": Amida, which implies Boundless Life and Light, contains the notions of Direction, Help, Salvation. Put these meanings together, and you will see that the Name implies that we must put our confidence in It, as It reveals to us the Boundless Life and the Promise of the Tathāgata Who desires to save us. As Zendō Daishi has well remarked, the Sacred Name is as it were an invitation bidding us come straight to Amida with a simple heart, for that He will protect us. The Sacred Formula is, therefore, something more than just the Name of the Tathāgata: it is His Voice calling to us. The Tathāgata saw that we could find no haven of rest, and that we were constantly beset by the storms of sin and evil, and, thanks be to His Mercy, He has given us His Name and His Call to save us. What an inexpressible happiness this is for us! Here we find nothing but persons that vex us and things that give us pain: if then, in the whole Universe, and more especially in that Afterworld to which we must all soon go, there were no Voice to speak to us, how black it would all be! And how joyful it all becomes, when we hear the Voice bidding us fear nothing, for that He sees us. It is not, moreover, as though, in calling us, He bade us do some impossible task or fulfil some impossible conditions. On the contrary, He has had regard to our weakness and has imposed on us no conditions. "Trust me," He says, "Only come, and I will protect you." How can we help following that gracious Voice, when once we understand its loving import? We follow it once, and lo! we find that we have gained a place of refuge, and an aim for our spiritual life. Our feet stand on a firm foundation of rock: how can we help being conscious of a great feeling of restfulness?
8. When the Voice makes itself heard, the winds do not at once cease, nor the rain clear off, nor does the black sky forthwith become bright again. The darkness lingers on for a little longer, and the wind and rain still vex us as they did before. Our eyes, moreover, are still holden, and we cannot see nor worship the Form of Him from Whom the Voice came, much less behold the Country wherein He dwells. All we can do is to hear His Voice, and hearing it, our hearts are at peace, and we can make progress.
It is not for us, poor creatures, to behold the Form of the Tathāgata, nor the Paradise He has prepared: and, precisely for that reason, He invites us by means of His Name, which is something that can we see and know. We have, therefore, everything that we want in the Sacred Name. It is the Voice of Our Father: it is the Invitation wherewith the Tathāgata summons us, and our warrant for coming into His Presence. It is the condition upon which He is willing to save us. We hold the warrant in our hands, we have fulfilled the conditions, why do we hesitate to go forward? Sin, evil, and lust, may for the present rule us with rods of iron, but we know that it will not be long ere the rods are broken, and so we make no complaint. We have nothing to do but simply to put our trust in the Sacred Name and go right forward; for the Sacred Name is the one direct path leading us to the Bright Land where Our Father is waiting for us. The path is a broad one, all the roads that might lead us back to Suffering have been closed by the Mercy of the Tathāgata, and moreover the divine Strength of His Love is over us to guide us, so that we cannot fail to reach the Holy Country. We have the words of the Great Sutra[3] for this. "There is a cross-wise cutting of the paths of evil, which are spontaneously closed against us; when we enter the Way there remains no obstacle before us. Though the travellers be few in number, yet the Pure Land never fails. It draws us to itself spontaneously." Though all creation should desert the Buddha, Buddha will never forsake His own, though but few walk along the Way, yet the Pure Land will never fail them. When once a man has set his foot on that road, his salvation will work itself out spontaneously, and the Buddha will draw him unto Himself. All things work themselves out for us spontaneously,—the Road, the Divine Strength, the closing of the Paths of Evil, the guiding of our footsteps to the Gates of Light.
9. In days of old we were told of persons who forsook Buddhism, on the ground that, in spite of its thousands of Precepts, it taught that there were defiled hearts as well as pure ones, and they feared, therefore, that just as a pure body might come from a defiled one, so contrariwise a defiled body might also come from a pure one. We may certainly be free from this fear. For even supposing that in ourselves there is a defiled heart or a pure one, yet we put our trust in neither of these: our whole trust has been placed in that which is higher than our hearts, whether defiled or pure,—that is in the Sacred Name. The waves of sin and evil may rage as they will in our defiled hearts: we fear them not, for we trust only in the Name of the Tathāgata. The clear sunshine of purity may be spread abroad in the cloudless firmament of our hearts. It will not lull us to a false security; for our sole ground of confidence is the Mighty Name of the Tathāgata. Be the weather fair or foul, those who have once embarked on the ship are free from anxiety: so likewise, be our hearts fair or foul, let us sail straight on to our destination, trusting to the Divine Name, and being guided and protected by it.
10. The gales of mistrust and unbelief are raging to-day in the world; for the majority of men are ignorant of the Sacred Name, and treat it with contumely. We, on the contrary, foolish and faulty though we are, contrive to pass through these storms with the help of the divine Name,—and, pray, how is it that so great a happiness has fallen to our lot? "Often does the heart of belief arise within us, and we rejoice from afar in our distant home of rest." Truly we cannot avoid a feeling of the deepest gratitude when we think of the great mercies vouchsafed to us. A woman will adorn her body to please her lover: a samurai will sacrifice his life for his friend; shall we not take these bodies of ours and consecrate them to the service of the Divine Name? The Divine Name has given us life and an abundance of all good things. Shall, we not make an offering in return of all our good things to the Service of the Divine Name? This will be acting as good disciples, as true followers of Buddhism.
- ↑ Hōjō is the name of Amida before he attained to perfection and received the Name above every Name. It means "the fulfiller of Righteousness." The fact that five kalpas, and the ten kalpas are mentioned shows that Hōjō cannot be intended to be historical. Fifteen million years is a long span for human life. But Buddhism loves to deal with immense numbers, in a meaningless fashion. The book Fushi Sōgō has never been translated into any European language and exists only in a Chinese Version. The title means "Father and Son sending for one another."
- ↑ For the details of Amida's Vow, see the valuable paper by Mr. J. Troup On the Tenets of the Shinshū in vol XIV of the Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan.
- ↑ The Great Sūtra (Dai Kyō) is the name given to the Greater Sukhāvati Vyūha.