Handing It Over

4.1 Handing It Over

Roots of good have a kind of gravity—they settle.

When a person does good and gathers merit, its most natural destination is an entry under his own name: "so much merit amassed," "so much reward to come." Let the roots of good sink with that gravity, and they become a private fund of blessing awaiting collection. For one who seeks the rewards of gods and men, no fault in that; but for the bodhisattva, here exactly lies the danger. The book's opening fixed it: the aim of the bodhisattva path is not taking realization or taking fruit, but non-abiding—accumulation for the liberation of beings. If the good amassed so densely at the practice-position settles by gravity into one's own ledger of blessings, then the thicker the accumulation, the further from the path's own heart. Accumulation needs an outlet—a mechanism that keeps it from settling into self-fruit.

The canon's outlet is called "dedication" (迴向). Hui: to turn. Xiang: that toward which. Dedication is "turning toward"—taking the accumulated good and actively turning it away from its natural settling place (one's own fruit of blessing) toward other consignees. In the Chapter on the Ten Dedications, the bodhisattva Vajra-Banner, sustained by the Buddha's power, lists the ten:

Sons of the Buddha! The bodhisattva-mahāsattva's dedications are ten, which the buddhas of the three times proclaim in common. What are the ten? First, the dedication of rescuing all beings while free of the mark of beings; second, the indestructible dedication; third, the dedication equal to all buddhas; fourth, the dedication reaching all places; fifth, the dedication of the inexhaustible treasury of merit; sixth, the dedication entering all even roots of good; seventh, the dedication evenly according with all beings; eighth, the dedication of the mark of suchness; ninth, the dedication of unbound, unattached liberation; tenth, the dedication entering the measureless dharma-realm.

Like the Ten Abodes and the Ten Practices—"proclaimed in common by the buddhas of the three times"—a fixed series taught by all the buddhas. The ten names need not be parsed one by one yet; look only at the destinations showing through them. The first: "rescuing all beings while free of the mark of beings"—toward beings. The third: "equal to all buddhas"—toward the buddhas, toward the fruit of buddhahood. The eighth: "the mark of suchness"—toward suchness, toward the real. Beings, awakening, the real: three destinations, already scattered through the ten names. The doctrinal masters of later ages gathered these destinations into a threefold scheme called the "threefold dedication": to beings, to bodhi, to the real. One honest note is owed: the "threefold" scheme is a later synthesis—nowhere in the chapter does a sentence say in so many words "the dedications have three destinations"; but each of the three directions is shown, positively, in the chapter's own expositions. Take one passage for each.

Dedicated to beings. In the sixth dedication, the bodhisattva turns over to beings the very roots of good his giving has earned: "The bodhisattva-mahāsattva dedicates to beings all the roots of good of this giving: may all beings be purified and tamed; may all beings extinguish the afflictions ... teaching and transforming beings toward omniscience." The good is not kept; its destination is beings entire—the downward reach, the dimension of compassion.

Dedicated to bodhi. In the third dedication, "equal to all buddhas," the bodhisattva, upon gaining ease and joy, does not consume it himself: "he further arouses the mind and dedicates it to the buddhas, reflecting: may the roots of good I have now planted make the joy of the buddhas increase yet further." The good planted is offered up toward the fruit of buddhahood—the upward reach, the dimension of vow and wisdom.

Dedicated to the real. In the eighth, the dedication of the mark of suchness: "all the roots of good therein ... are dedicated entire to omniscience, one and not two," all roots of good "dedicated in accord with the mark of suchness." The good is joined into suchness itself, the two sides of dedicator and dedicated wiped away—the deep reach, the dimension of emptiness-wisdom.

Three Destinations, One Lamp

Beings, bodhi, the real—these three are not three separate undertakings, still less three options to choose among; they are three dimensions of one and the same dedication. A comparison: a lamp lit in a room. Its light at once falls on the people at one's feet (downward—beings), shows the way overhead (upward—bodhi), and, having no nature of its own and choosing no side, shines everywhere unobstructed (deep—suchness). Not three lamps; not a choice of which side to light. One lamp's light, with three reaches of necessity.

And the three interpenetrate. The passage on dedicating to beings wishes beings "toward omniscience"—within the dedication to beings, the direction of bodhi is already contained. The dedication to bodhi delights the buddhas whose joy is the liberating of beings—within it, beings are never left out. The dedication to the real, according with suchness, "one and not two," washes the first two clean of the grasp of giver and receiver, rescuer and rescued. And here the riddle of the first dedication's name comes open: "rescuing all beings, free of the mark of beings"—rescuing all beings is the compassion of dedicating to beings; free of the mark of beings is the wisdom of dedicating to the real; one name, compassion and emptiness-wisdom in a single motion. The eye of "non-attainment" from the end of the last part has looked straight through into the dedication: give the good over to beings, and take no hold of the mark of beings.

The three reaches gather up the whole of where good can go—down, up, deep—and there is exactly one direction missing: inward, to oneself.

The Earmark

What, then, is dedication in its working? It is not a new practice cultivated alongside the good already done; it is a change of address on the good already done.

A comparison: the earmark. A payment arrives; most naturally it sits in one's own current account, available for one's own spending—that is the good root settling into self-fruit. But one can also, the moment it arrives, earmark it—transfer it whole into a designated fund, say a charitable trust. Once earmarked, the money is still money that passed through your hands; but it is no longer "balance available for your own withdrawal": its address has changed. Dedication is the earmarking of roots of good. The good once dedicated to beings, to bodhi, to suchness is no longer "my blessing awaiting collection"; the same good that was about to land in the private ledger has been consigned away.

And this is precisely the structural redemption of the last part's "hoping for no reward." The Practice of Joy spoke of the mind in the moment of giving—no hope of return, no wish for name. The dedication-position raises it into a standing operation: whatever good is amassed, none is retained as self-fruit; all is turned over in total. The one is a thought in the act; the other is a total disbursement of everything accumulated.

Burning the Boats: Practice-Non-Regress Stands Here

Now the question the transition carried in can be answered: the second of the three non-regresses—practice-non-regress—what does it lock, and on what does it stand?

The text first. The chapter says of the bodhisattva at this position: "his right mindfulness clear, his mind firmly abiding, far from confusion; intent on practice, his deep mind unmoving; accomplishing indestructible deeds, bound for omniscience, in the end never regressing." And as early as the first dedication, the bodhisattva is said to arouse "the non-regressing mind," gathering through measureless eons the rare jewel of the mind. The whole position wears "never regressing" as its mark. (The usual honest note: the scripture's words are "in the end never regressing," "the non-regressing mind"; naming this position "practice-non-regress" and ranking it the close of the three worthy ranks is the stational classification of the Keyūra, the Renwang, the Cheng weishi lun and their kin—and the treatises differ among themselves on whether practice-non-regress is set at the dedications or the first ground. This book argues within its adopted framework, remembering that it is a classification, not a sentence of the Avataṃsaka.)

Then by what right does dedication make the practice non-regressing? The answer hides inside the earmark: with no self-fruit to retreat into, the practice does not retreat.

Picture one who does good but still books the good to his own account of blessings. His practice has a line of retreat: the day the practice turns bitter and the benefiting of others goes badly, he can fall back at any moment into the private fruit of "I have stored up plenty—enough," and rest there; the practice has retreated. Now picture the bodhisattva who has dedicated every accumulated good to beings, to bodhi, to suchness, retaining nothing: he has no "enough—time to rest" to fall back into. The good no longer stands on his own books, so there is no balance of his own to retreat behind. The retreat cut off, the practice stands.

It is the burning of the boats. An army crosses the river and then scuttles its boats and smashes its cauldrons—every line of retreat destroyed. Why does this make it fight without retreating? Precisely because there is nowhere to retreat to. Keep the boats and cauldrons (the self-fruit), and the moment the campaign turns hard, the thought and the road of "pull back" are both at hand; boats and cauldrons gone (the good dedicated entire), nothing remains but forward. The bodhisattva's dedication is the burning of the boats upon his roots of good: all consigned to the three places, none retained, and the practice of benefit is left no private fruit to stand back upon. The sūtra says "accomplishing indestructible deeds, in the end never regressing"—the deeds are indestructible, the regress impossible, exactly because the deeds have been dedicated whole, with not one entry left to retreat into.

Stack the first two non-regresses and the layers come clear. Position-non-regress (the Ten Abodes) guards who one is—the standing of a son of the Buddha, no falling to the two vehicles, no reverting to the ordinary. Practice-non-regress (the Ten Dedications) guards what one is doing—the practice of benefit, no shrinking back into practice for oneself. From position to practice, layer locked upon layer; the third, mindfulness-non-regress, waits far ahead at the eighth ground, and Part Five will reach it.

Not Thrown Away—Made Great

Last, the most common misunderstanding to set right: is dedication "giving the merit away and losing it"?

No. Dedication is not loss; it is redirection. To dedicate the roots of good to the three places is not to annihilate them but to change their address and their place of ripening—dedicated to beings, the good is not lost, and beings are blessed; dedicated to bodhi, the good is not lost, and becomes provision on the way to buddhahood; dedicated to the real, the good is not lost, and joins the non-attainment of suchness. The second of the ten bears the name in its own right: the indestructible dedication—the name is its own testimony that dedicated good does not perish. And the truth runs past mere indestructibility: a good that, settling into self-fruit, would have ended in the small rewards of gods and men is, once dedicated, converted into the great good bound for omniscience. What is given out is the petty dividend of "mine"; what is gained is provision on the road to buddhahood. To measure dedication by the world's arithmetic of "given away is less" is to reckon on the wrong ledger.

The Daily Turn

Dedication is no recondite ritual; it is a turn that daily life can perform. The practitioner should learn two things. First, let no good settle into a private ledger: at the close of every good done—a gift, a precept kept, a session of sitting—dedicate it on the spot: may this good go to all beings, tend toward unsurpassed awakening, accord with suchness and the real. This is no polite formula appended after the fact; it is the turn that cuts the grip of self-fruit and makes the practice non-regressing. Second, count dedication no loss: the good does not diminish by being dedicated—it is made great by it. One who can dedicate thought after thought in daily life, retaining no self-fruit, will find the practice of benefit standing firm of itself: practice-non-regress, begun right here on level ground.

And with this, the three worthy ranks come to their close. The abodes made the person solid; the practices put the person to work; the dedications handed the good over—the worthies' curriculum is done. Ahead stands a threshold of another order altogether: the border of the worthy and the noble, the first of the Ten Grounds.