Transgression Unobtainable, the Precept Unbreakable

4.2 Transgression Unobtainable, the Precept Unbreakable

The Larger Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra, speaking of the precept, used only one sentence:

"Because transgression and non-transgression are unobtainable, one should perfect the śīla-pāramitā."

Because transgression and non-transgression alike are unobtainable, therefore—one should perfect the pāramitā of keeping the precepts.

On first reading, the sentence seems bent on pushing you off a cliff: if even transgression is unobtainable, what precept is left to keep? Is this not a door opened to precept-breaking? Nāgārjuna, in the Dazhidu lun (the Mahāprajñāpāramitā Śāstra), spent two full fascicles unknotting this one sentence. His way of unknotting it is distinctive: first the story, then the reasoning. We will walk in the same order.

First, the name is established. Nāgārjuna says:

"Śīla—[in the Qin tongue, 'natural goodness']—is the disposition to delight in good conduct and to refrain from heedlessness; this is named śīla. Whether one cultivates the good through receiving the precepts or without receiving them, all is named śīla."

Śīla, rendered into Chinese, is "natural goodness"—delighting in the way of good conduct, refraining from heedlessness. Doing good having received the precepts is śīla; doing good without having received them is śīla too. Part One said the precept is an ability grown into the body, not a yoke clamped on from outside—Nāgārjuna rules in two words: natural goodness.

How, then, does śīla become a "pāramitā"? The treatise asks and answers itself: some say —

"The bodhisattva, keeping the precepts, would rather lose his own life than break the least precept—this is śīla-pāramitā."

Rather throw away one's life than break one minor precept. Then Nāgārjuna told the story.

A Poison-Dragon's One-Day Precepts

In a past life the bodhisattva was a poison-dragon of great strength. How fierce was the poison? Of the beings before him, the weak died at one look from him; the strong died at one touch of his breath—the poison of one body could overturn a kingdom as easily as turning a hand.

This dragon received the one-day precepts, left his lair in search of stillness, and entered the forest to meditate. After long sitting he grew weary and slept. Dragons have a trait: asleep, they show the form of a snake, the body patterned and glistening, mottled with the colors of the seven jewels.

A hunter saw him and was overjoyed: a skin this rare—flay it and present it to the king for his robes; what could be more fitting? He pressed the dragon's head down with a staff and flayed his skin with a knife.

The dragon woke. The treatise records the words in his heart:

"My strength is such that to overturn this kingdom is as easy as turning my hand; this small man—how could he trouble me? But because I am holding the precepts, I will not take account of this body; I shall accord with the Buddha's word."

One roll of my body and this whole kingdom would not stand—let alone these few small hunters. But today I am holding the precepts. And so "he endured it himself, closing his eyes and not looking, holding his breath without breathing; pitying this man, for the sake of keeping the precepts, he took the flaying with one mind, and no thought of regret arose." Eyes shut, breath held, pitying the very man who was flaying his skin, he took the flaying with one mind.

The skin was gone; the raw flesh lay on the ground. The sun was at its fiercest; he writhed in the dirt, trying to crawl toward the great water—and saw a swarm of small worms closing in, eating his flesh. For the sake of keeping the precepts, he dared not stir again. He made his last vow:

"Now I give this body to these worms—for the sake of the Buddha-path, I offer now this flesh to fill their bodies; when I become a Buddha in the future, I shall offer the Dharma to benefit their minds."

Today I give you flesh, to fill your bodies; the day I become a Buddha, I shall give you the Dharma, to benefit your minds. The vow finished, the body dried out, and the life was gone.

At its close the treatise reveals: that poison-dragon was a former body of Śākyamuni Buddha; those hunters were Devadatta and the six teachers—the man on Mount Gayā in Part Three who split the Saṅgha had, it turns out, been flaying His skin life after life. And the small worms that ate the flesh? They were the eighty thousand devas who attained the path when the Buddha first turned the wheel of the Dharma. The gift of flesh truly grew into the gift of the Dharma—to the letter, exactly as the vow had said.

Nāgārjuna gathers it up: "The bodhisattva guards the precepts, not sparing body or life, resolved and without regret; such are the events. This is named śīla-pāramitā." The same fascicle also records King Sutasoma—captured, he feared not death but only the breaking of his word; released, he kept his pledge and returned, leaving one verse: "Truthful speech is the foremost precept; truthful speech is the ladder ascending to heaven; truthful speech, small in form, is great in substance; false speech enters the hells. I now hold to truthful speech; I would rather discard body and life—my heart has no regret." Not sparing body or life, that the precepts be kept whole.

How to Read "Unobtainable"

The story told, return to that perilous sentence. A precept one is willing to pay a life for, and "transgression is unobtainable"—how can they be the same fascicle of the same book?

Nāgārjuna built the bridge himself. The bodhisattva keeps the precepts, he says, not out of fear, not seeking the pleasures of this life or the next, not for renown and empty praise, nor to seize an early nirvāṇa for himself—"but for the sake of all sentient beings, for the sake of attaining the Buddha-path." Then one ruling:

"When the bodhisattva [knows] that transgression and non-transgression are unobtainable, that itself is named śīla-pāramitā."

And around the word "unobtainable" he at once set a guardrail:

"It is not a saying of 'unobtainable' from wrong views or coarse mind; rather, when one enters deeply into the marks of dharmas, practices the śūnyatā-samādhi, and sees with the eye of wisdom—therefore transgression is unobtainable."

"Unobtainable" is not a catchphrase of the coarse mind and wrong views—not "since there is no transgression anyway, why not run wild." It is what the eye of wisdom sees for itself after one has entered deeply into the real mark of dharmas and practiced the śūnyatā-samādhi: no "transgression" with a real own-nature is to be found, and so no "non-transgression" with a real own-nature either; even "the I that keeps the precept," "the precept that is kept," "the mark of purity" are set down together.

So "transgression unobtainable" and "death before breaking" are not two ends; they are the outside and the inside of one and the same work. Had the dragon still set up a solid, substantial "I" in his heart, he would have rolled over long since—it was because the "I" was set down that the precept could be kept unto death. Conversely, one who takes "unobtainable" as a license for heedlessness proves exactly that the "I" in his heart has not thinned by one part—what he has gotten is not emptiness but the coarse mind. The truer the emptiness, the steadier the keeping: this is the test prajñā gives the precept.

For anyone keeping precepts today, this chapter has one very plain word: when you hear "the nature of transgression is originally empty," look first at whether you are willing to take a loss for one minor precept. An emptiness that will take the loss is the true news; an emptiness that will not is a back door opened for yourself.

Śīla Gives Rise to Śīla-Pāramitā

At the very end, Nāgārjuna left one warm-hearted word, spoken for those still halfway on the road:

"Giving brings great wealth; keeping the precepts brings birth in good places; cultivating concentration brings liberation. If one practices śīla alone, one attains birth in good places; if concentration, wisdom, and compassion are joined together with it, one attains the path of the three vehicles… Having kept the precepts, one frames the great vow and reaches the Buddha-path—this is śīla giving rise to śīla-pāramitā."

Keeping the precepts alone brings birth in good places—already a real fruit. And the same precept, joined with concentration, with wisdom, with compassion, joined with the great vow "I will surely liberate beings," grows of itself—grows into a pāramitā. Śīla gives rise to śīla-pāramitā—precept giving rise to precept, like Part One's precept giving rise to concentration: the same way of growing, "this is the nature of things." No one need lose heart at not yet keeping to the poison-dragon's degree: keep the one precept in front of you well first, then make one vow; the rest of the road, the precept will walk by itself.

Prajñā empties the precept of its marks, and at the utmost of emptiness the precept stands steadiest of all. But the Mahāyāna had another column on the march, working by the opposite hand: not emptying the marks, but listing every mark of the bodhisattva precepts, cell by cell, complete—into a completed map.

The next chapter looks at that map.