百論 捨罪福品第一

The Hundred Treatise opens as a face-to-face exchange: on one side, “the outsider says”; on the other, “the insider says.” Where the interlinear note reads “sūtra” lies Deva’s bone; the extended prose that follows is the flesh supplied by the adept Vasu.

Only Two Criteria

Who is a World-Honored One? The answer: “The Buddha knows the true mark of all dharmas clearly and without obstruction and can also teach profound, pure Dharma”—one criterion is knowing, the other is teaching. The outsider raises practices such as scorching the body with five fires, starving oneself, plunging into a chasm, and observing the discipline of cattle. The treatise author does not refute them one by one but points to a prior level: “All these are wrong views. Because they obscure right view, they cannot teach profound, pure Dharma.” The fiercer the practice, the farther it strays when view is obscured.

Stopping Evil and Practicing Good

“The Dharma consists in stopping evil and practicing good”: “Bringing every evil to rest is called the mark of stopping; cultivating every good is called the mark of practice.” Stopping is not merely happening not to act—“Whether the resolve arises in the mind, is spoken aloud, or is undertaken as a precept—from this day until the end of life one does not perform it again. This is called stopping.” It is a decision made once and sustained over time. Thus, even when the mind of one who has undertaken precepts is unwholesome or indeterminate, “at that time, because evil has been stopped, there is still merit”; whereas “giving is the practice of good, not the stopping of evil.” “The mark of stopping is cessation; the mark of practice is activity. Their natures and marks are opposed,” so neither can swallow the other.

Dismantling the Thing Supposed to Stand on Its Own

The outsider says a scripture must begin auspiciously, “because when the beginning is auspicious, the middle and end are auspicious too.” The treatise author answers that cutting off wrong view is itself auspicious, and moreover that “no auspiciousness exists”: “The same thing is taken here as auspicious and there as inauspicious.” What is unfixed has no independent auspiciousness. He next refutes self, other, and both: “Arising dharmas have three possibilities: self, other, and both,” yet “sought among these three, it cannot be obtained; therefore no auspicious thing exists.” The salt simile fails because “the mark of salt abides in salt”; the lamp simile because “it is called illuminating because it destroys darkness; where there is no darkness to destroy, it does not illuminate”; the claim about spells working at a distance because “why does a lamp lit in India not destroy the darkness in China?”; and the elephant’s hand because neither identity nor difference can be established. Almost half the chapter is spent dismantling a single word.

Sequence and the Threefold Pure and Impure

“A practitioner must first know evil and only then can stop it”; “first remove coarse stains, then remove subtle stains,” “as when washing clothes: first remove the grime, and only then can they be dyed.” In accord with beings’ intentions, the Buddha distinguishes giving, precepts, and wisdom among persons of lower, middling, and higher capacities, yet each has pure and impure forms. Giving “for the sake of recompense is impure, because it resembles market exchange.” In precepts, “keeping precepts in quest of pleasant reward is for the sake of sensual desire, like a disguised appearance,” whereas pure precepts give rise, step by step, from “a mind free of regret” all the way to nirvāṇa. Wisdom is impure “because it binds one to the world, like an enemy who comes as a friend.” What distinguishes lower, middling, and higher is not the three practices themselves, but the direction in which the mind is moving.

Relinquishing Both Demerit and Merit, Resting on the Signless

“Taking up merit and relinquishing evil is a dharma of continued course”; “relinquishing means that the mind does not cling. When the mind does not cling to merit, it no longer comes and goes among the five destinies. This is called a dharma of no continued course.” Merit should be relinquished because “when merit is exhausted, there is suffering,” and because it has two marks—“like rice mixed with poison: delicious while being eaten, painful when it comes time to digest it.” The claim that a horse sacrifice yields perpetual merit is also refuted: “The karmic causes and conditions of a horse sacrifice are measurable”; a finite cause cannot make an infinite fruit. If merit must be relinquished, why produce it at all? The answer: “Like soiled clothes that must first be washed clean before they can be dyed, the washing is not in vain.” On what does the relinquishment of merit depend? “The signless is supreme”—“because all dharmas lack intrinsic nature, there is nothing on which to depend.” The outsider asks for firmer ground; the treatise author gives groundlessness.

Hundred Treatise, fascicle one, “Relinquishing Demerit and Merit,” composed by the Bodhisattva Deva, explained by the adept Vasu, and translated by Tripiṭaka Master Kumārajīva of the Later Qin · Taishō T30n1569. Markers such as 〔T30 …〕 at the beginnings of passages give Taishō page, register, and line anchors.

1. Homage to the Buddha, Dharma, and Saṅgha

〔T30 0168a23〕I bow at the Buddha’s feet—to the World-Honored One who feels compassion for the world, who for immeasurable aeons bore the suffering of sentient beings, whose afflictions have been extinguished and even the lingering traces of affliction completely removed, and whom Brahmā, Śakra, dragons, and spirits all revere.

I also bow to the unsurpassed Dharma that illuminates the world, washes away flaws, stains, and defilement, and brings all conceptual proliferation to rest—the Dharma taught by the buddhas, the World-Honored Ones. And I bow to the Saṅgha of the eight classes of noble persons.

2. Who Is a World-Honored One?

The outsider asks: The verse refers to what the World-Honored One taught. What kind of person counts as a World-Honored One?

The treatise author asks in return: Why has this doubt arisen in you?

The outsider says: The world gives many different accounts of the marks of a World-Honored One, and therefore I doubt. Some say the god Viṣṇu—called the All-Surpassing God in the language of Qin—is a World-Honored One. Others say the god Maheśvara—called the Great Sovereign God in the language of Qin—is a World-Honored One. Still others say that such seers as Kapila, Ulūka, and Ṛṣabha are all World-Honored Ones. Why do you alone say the Buddha is the World-Honored One? This is why I doubt.

The treatise author answers: The Buddha knows the true mark of all dharmas clearly and without obstruction and can also teach the profound, pure Dharma. For this reason, the Buddha alone is called the World-Honored One.

3. The Various “Good Dharmas” Proposed by Non-Buddhists

The outsider says: Other teachers too can discern the marks of the dharmas clearly and teach profound, pure Dharma. The disciples of Kapila, for example, recite the Sāṃkhya Sūtra. They teach the general and specific marks of various good dharmas and say that, among the twenty-five principles, the portion of purified awareness is good Dharma. Ulūka’s disciples recite the Vaiśeṣika Sūtra. They say that among the six principles, the portion of self produced within the principle of qualities through bathing three times each day, making offerings, and the conjunction of fire and other elements is good Dharma. Ṛṣabha’s disciples recite the Nirgrantha Sūtra. They call such painful practices as scorching the body with the five fires and plucking out the hair good Dharma. Other teachers practice starving themselves, throwing themselves into chasms or fire, casting themselves down from high cliffs, maintaining silence, standing for long periods, or observing the discipline of cattle; they too call these good Dharma. All of these are profound, pure Dharma. Why say that only the Buddha can teach it?

The treatise author answers: All of these are wrong views. Because wrong view obscures right view, they cannot teach profound, pure Dharma. This matter will be explained in detail later.

4. Stopping Evil and Practicing Good

The outsider asks: What are the marks of the good Dharma taught by the Buddha?

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: The Dharma consists in stopping evil and practicing good.

The adept Vasu then explains: The Buddha briefly teaches two marks of good Dharma: the mark of stopping and the mark of practice. Bringing every evil to rest is called the mark of stopping; cultivating every good is called the mark of practice.

What is evil? Wrong conduct of body, speech, and mind. For the body it is killing, stealing, and sexual misconduct. For speech it is false speech, divisive speech, harsh speech, and frivolous speech. For the mind it is greed, anger and malice, and wrong view. There are also such acts as flogging, beating with staffs, binding, and imprisonment, which are not included within the ten unwholesome courses, as well as the various acts of wrongdoing that precede and follow those ten. All are called evil.

What is stopping? It is bringing evil to rest and no longer performing it. Whether the resolve arises in the mind, is spoken aloud, or is formally undertaken as a precept—one will not perform it again from this day until the end of one’s life. This is called stopping.

What is good? Right conduct of body, speech, and mind. Bodily good includes welcoming and seeing off others, joining the palms, and paying respect. Verbal good includes truthful, harmonious, gentle, and beneficial speech. Mental good includes loving-kindness, compassion, and right view. Such pure dharmas are called good Dharma.

What is practice? Trusting, accepting, and cultivating these good dharmas is called practice.

5. Must a Scripture Begin with an Auspicious Word?

The outsider says, in Deva’s root statement: Your scripture is faulty because its beginning is inauspicious.

The adept Vasu explains: The outsider means that when teachers compose scriptures and teachings, they all begin with words of auspiciousness. Their meaning and flavor are therefore easy to understand, and the sound of the Dharma can circulate. When wise people read, recite, recollect, and understand them, their lifespan, majesty, and the respect they receive from others increase. There is, for example, a scripture named Bṛhaspati—called the Scripture of the Broad Lord in the language of Qin. Scriptures such as this all begin with auspicious words. Because their beginning is auspicious, their middle and end are auspicious too. Your scripture begins instead with evil and is therefore inauspicious. Thus your scripture is faulty.

The treatise author answers: It is not so. This scripture is taught in order to eliminate wrong view—this is Deva’s root statement—and therefore it is precisely auspicious. Calling it inauspicious is merely a residue of wrong view; there is no fault.

Deva’s root statement continues: Because no auspiciousness exists. The adept Vasu explains: If even the slightest auspiciousness genuinely existed, a scripture ought to begin with it. But in fact no auspiciousness exists. Why? The very same thing is taken as auspicious here, inauspicious there, and elsewhere as neither auspicious nor inauspicious. Since the judgment is unfixed, no intrinsic auspiciousness exists. You foolish person lack skillful means. Forcing the pursuit of happiness, you produce imagined distinctions at random and call this auspicious and that inauspicious.

Deva’s root statement continues: Because it cannot be obtained from self, other, or both. The adept Vasu explains: This auspicious dharma does not arise from itself. Why? Because no dharma arises from itself. Self-arising also entails the fault of two marks: one that which is produced, the other that which produces. Nor does it arise from another, because if a mark of self does not exist, a mark of other does not exist either. It further entails an infinite regress, because that arising would require another arising. Nor does it arise from self and other together, because it would bear the faults of both sides. Arising dharmas have only three possibilities: arising from self, from another, or from both. Sought among these three, auspiciousness cannot be obtained. Therefore no such thing as auspiciousness exists.

6. The Simile of Salt

The outsider says, in Deva’s root statement: Auspiciousness arises from itself, like salt. The adept Vasu explains: Salt, for example, has a salty intrinsic nature and can make other things salty. Auspiciousness is the same: its intrinsic nature is auspicious and can make other things auspicious.

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: Because this was refuted before; and because the mark of salt abides within salt. The adept Vasu explains: I have already refuted the claim that any dharma arises from intrinsic nature. Moreover, you yourself hold that salt comes from causes and conditions; salt then cannot be salty by intrinsic nature. I do not accept your account, so I will now return your own words and use them to refute what you say. Although salt combines with another thing, that thing does not become salt, because the mark of salt abides only within salt—just as the mark of a cow does not become the mark of a horse.

7. The Simile of a Lamp

The outsider says, in Deva’s root statement: Like a lamp. The adept Vasu explains: A lamp illuminates both itself and other things. Auspiciousness is the same: it is itself auspicious and can make what is inauspicious auspicious.

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: Because there is no darkness either in the lamp itself or in the other. The adept Vasu explains: There is no darkness within the lamp itself. Why? Because light and darkness do not coexist. The lamp therefore has nothing it could illuminate. If it cannot illuminate, positing illumination also incurs the fault of two marks: first what illuminates, second what is illuminated. Thus a lamp does not illuminate itself. Nor is there darkness in the place illuminated by the lamp, so it cannot illuminate another either. The name “illumination” is established because darkness is broken. When there is no darkness to break, it is not called illumination.

〔T30 0169a02〕The outsider says, in Deva’s root statement: Because at the moment it first arises, it illuminates both. The adept Vasu explains: I do not say the lamp first arises and only afterward illuminates. At the very moment it first arises, it illuminates both itself and another.

The treatise author answers: It is not so. Deva’s root statement says: Because a single dharma possessing both the mark of existence and nonexistence cannot be obtained. The adept Vasu explains: At the moment of first arising, the lamp is said to be half arisen and half unarisen. The half already arisen cannot illuminate, for the reasons just given. How much less could the half not yet arisen illuminate anything? Moreover, how could one dharma possess both a mark of existence and a mark of nonexistence?

Deva’s root statement continues: Because it does not reach the darkness. The adept Vasu explains: Whether already arisen or not yet arisen, the lamp cannot reach the darkness because their natures and marks are opposed. If the lamp cannot reach the darkness, how can it break the darkness?

The outsider says, in Deva’s root statement: Like a spell or a star. The adept Vasu explains: A spell recited from far away can distress a person at a distance; an abnormality among the stars in the heavens can make people inauspicious. A lamp is the same. Although it does not reach the darkness, it can break darkness.

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: Because this would extend much too far. The adept Vasu explains: If a lamp truly possessed the power to break darkness without reaching it, why would lighting a lamp in India not break the darkness in China? The power of spells and stars can reach distant places, but a lamp does not work this way. Your simile therefore fails.

8. Auspiciousness in One Small Part Cannot Make the Whole Auspicious

Deva’s root statement continues: If the beginning is auspicious, the remainder is inauspicious. The adept Vasu explains: If a scripture declares auspiciousness at its beginning, the remainder ought to be inauspicious. If the remainder is auspicious too, then your saying only that the beginning is auspicious becomes false speech.

The outsider says, in Deva’s root statement: Because the beginning is auspicious, the remainder is also auspicious. The adept Vasu explains: Through the power of the beginning’s auspiciousness, the remainder too becomes auspicious.

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: Because the inauspicious is greater, the auspicious becomes inauspicious. The adept Vasu explains: Your scripture states auspiciousness only at its beginning, leaving the inauspicious in the majority. Because the inauspicious is greater, it should instead make the auspicious inauspicious.

The outsider says, in Deva’s root statement: Like an elephant’s hand. The adept Vasu explains: An elephant is called “having a hand” because its trunk resembles a hand, yet it is not called “having eyes,” “having ears,” or “having a head” merely because it also has eyes, ears, a head, and so forth. In the same way, the power of auspiciousness in one small part can make the greater inauspicious part auspicious.

The treatise author answers: It is not so. Deva’s root statement says: Because this incurs the fault that no elephant exists. The adept Vasu explains: If the elephant and hand are different, then the head, feet, and other parts are each different as well, and no separate elephant remains to be spoken of. If a part contains the complete whole within it, why are the feet not present in the head? This is as explained in the refutation of difference. If the elephant and hand are not different, again no separate elephant remains. If whole and part are not different, the head should be the feet, because both are not different from the elephant. This is as explained in the refutation of unity. Thus auspiciousness cannot be obtained when sought through its various causes and conditions. How can you say the middle and end are auspicious because the beginning is auspicious?

9. Sequence: Know Evil First and Remove Coarse Stains First

The outsider asks: Stopping evil is most excellent. Why is stopping not placed first?

The treatise author answers: Practitioners must first know what evil is before they can stop it. Therefore evil is stated first and stopping afterward.

The outsider says, in Deva’s root statement: Practicing good should come first because it has excellent results. The adept Vasu explains: Various good dharmas have excellent results, and practitioners stop evil precisely because they wish to obtain those results. Practicing good should therefore be stated first and stopping evil afterward.

The treatise author answers: This Dharma follows a sequence. First coarse stains are removed, then subtle stains. If practitioners do not stop evil, they cannot cultivate good. Coarse stains are therefore removed first, and only afterward are they dyed with good dharmas. It is like washing a garment: first the dirt is removed, and only then can it be dyed.

10. Stopping Evil and Practicing Good Cannot Replace One Another

The outsider says: Since stopping evil has already been taught, practicing good need not be taught again.

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: Because giving and the like are good practices. The adept Vasu explains: Giving is a good practice; it is not stopping evil. Great bodhisattvas, for example, have already stopped evil. They practice the four immeasurable states, feel compassion for sentient beings, and protect the lives of others. This is practicing good, not stopping evil.

The outsider says: Giving is the Dharma that brings miserliness to rest, so giving should count as stopping evil.

The treatise author answers: It is not so. If not giving were evil, everyone who did not give would be guilty. Moreover, those whose contaminants are exhausted have already extinguished greed and miserliness; when they give, what evil are they stopping? There are also people who give without stopping a miserly mind. Even when giving can stop it, giving still has good practice as its basis. Giving is therefore good practice.

The outsider says: Since practicing good has already been taught, stopping evil need not be taught again. Why? Because stopping evil is itself practicing good.

The treatise author answers: Stopping has rest as its mark, while practice has action as its mark. Their natures and marks are opposed. Thus teaching good practice does not include stopping evil within it.

The outsider says: That is indeed so. I am not saying stopping evil and practicing good have the same mark, only that stopping evil is a good dharma. Since good practice has been taught, stopping evil therefore need not be taught again.

The treatise author answers: Stopping evil must be taught, and practicing good must be taught. Why? Stopping evil means bringing evils to rest when precepts are undertaken; practicing good means cultivating good dharmas. Suppose only the merit of good practice were taught and stopping evil were not. When someone undertook precepts and stopped evil while the mind was unwholesome or indeterminate, that person would not be practicing good at that moment and should therefore have no merit. Yet because evil is being stopped, there is still merit at that moment. Stopping evil and practicing good must therefore both be taught.

11. Giving, Precepts, and Wisdom for Persons of Lesser, Middling, and Higher Capacity

The Buddha distinguishes this Dharma of stopping evil and practicing good in three ways according to the faculties and intentions of sentient beings. Deva’s root statement says: Giving, precepts, and wisdom for lesser, middling, and higher persons.

The adept Vasu explains: Practitioners are of three kinds. Those of lesser wisdom are taught giving; those of middling wisdom are taught precepts; those of higher wisdom are taught wisdom. Giving means the volition corresponding to benefiting others and relinquishing possessions, together with the bodily and verbal karma it sets in motion. Precepts mean that, whether one speaks aloud, resolves inwardly, or formally undertakes precepts, from this day onward one no longer commits the three kinds of bodily misconduct or the four kinds of verbal misconduct. Wisdom means that the mind is concentrated and unmoving amid the marks of the dharmas.

Why are they called lesser, middling, and higher? Because their benefits differ in degree. The benefit brought by giving is small, and the giver is therefore called one of lesser wisdom. The benefit brought by precepts is middling, and their keeper is therefore called one of middling wisdom. The benefit brought by wisdom is supreme, and its practitioner is therefore called one of higher wisdom. Again, the result of giving is lesser, the result of precepts middling, and the result of wisdom higher. Thus they are called lesser, middling, and higher wisdom.

12. Pure and Impure Giving

The outsider asks: Are all who give persons of lesser wisdom?

The treatise author answers: It is not so. Why? Giving is of two kinds: one impure, the other a pure practice. Only impure giving is called the giving of a person of lesser wisdom.

The outsider asks: What is called impure giving?

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: Giving for recompense is impure, like trade in a marketplace. The adept Vasu explains: Recompense is of two kinds: recompense in the present life and recompense in a later life. Present recompense means fame, respect, affection, and the like; later recompense means wealth and rank in a future life. This is called impure giving. Why? Because one still wishes to obtain something. A merchant who travels far to another land, for example, carries many kinds of goods and benefits many people, yet he does so not from compassion for sentient beings but to seek profit for himself. His business is therefore impure. Giving while seeking a result is the same.

The outsider asks: What is called pure giving?

The treatise author answers: When someone gives out of love, respect, and a wish to benefit others, seeking recompense neither in this life nor in a later one—like the pure giving practiced by bodhisattvas and other superior persons—this is called pure giving.

13. Pure and Impure Precepts

The outsider asks: Are all who keep precepts persons of middling wisdom?

The treatise author answers: It is not so. Why? Keeping precepts is of two kinds: one impure, the other pure. Only impure observance is called that of a person of middling wisdom.

The outsider asks: What is called impure observance of precepts?

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: Keeping precepts while seeking pleasant recompense is for the sake of sexual desire, like a disguised appearance. The adept Vasu explains: Pleasant recompense is of two kinds: birth in the heavens and wealth and rank among humans. One keeps precepts in order to be born in heaven and sport with heavenly women or to enjoy the five desires among humans. Why? For the sake of sexual desire. “Like a disguised appearance” means inwardly desiring another’s body while outwardly pretending affection and friendliness. This is called impure observance of precepts.

It is like the passage Ānanda spoke to Nanda: rams about to butt one another first draw back before surging forward. Your keeping precepts for the sake of desire is just the same. Although the body can keep the precepts, the mind is pulled by desire. Such karma is impure—what use are these precepts?

The outsider asks: What is called pure observance of precepts?

The treatise author answers: A practitioner reflects as follows. All good dharmas have precepts as their root. One who keeps precepts has no remorse; without remorse, one rejoices; rejoicing, the mind is happy; when the mind is happy, it becomes unified; when unified, it gives rise to true wisdom; when true wisdom arises, one becomes disenchanted; through disenchantment one becomes dispassionate; through dispassion one attains liberation; through liberation one attains nirvāṇa. This is called pure observance of precepts.

14. Pure and Impure Wisdom

〔T30 0170a04〕The outsider says, in Deva’s root statement: If the wise are highest, Udraka and the others are highest. The adept Vasu explains: If those who cultivate wisdom are called persons of higher wisdom, then non-Buddhists such as Udraka and Ārāḍa should now be persons of higher wisdom.

The treatise author answers: It is not so. Why? Wisdom too is of two kinds: one impure, the other pure.

The outsider asks: What is called impure wisdom?

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: It is impure because it binds one to the world, like an enemy who comes as a friend. The adept Vasu explains: Worldly wisdom can increase birth and death. Why? Because this wisdom turns back and binds a person. It is like an enemy who at first pretends intimacy and attachment but, after a long time, forms the intention to harm. Worldly wisdom is the same.

15. The Dharma of Continued Course and the Dharma of No Continued Course

The outsider asks: Does only this wisdom increase birth and death? Are giving and keeping precepts the same?

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: Grasping merit and relinquishing evil is a dharma of continued course. The adept Vasu explains: “Merit” means meritorious recompense.

The outsider asks: If merit means meritorious recompense, why does the root sūtra state only the one word “merit”?

The treatise author answers: Merit is the cause and meritorious recompense the effect. Sometimes a cause is spoken of as an effect, and sometimes an effect as a cause. Here the cause is spoken of as the effect. One says, for example, “He ate a thousand ounces of gold.” Gold cannot be eaten, but because gold obtained food, one says he ate gold. Or on seeing a painting one says, “Those are good hands.” The painting was obtained through hands, and so one speaks of good hands. “Grasping” means attachment. Attachment to meritorious recompense and attachment to evil were explained above. “Course” means carrying a person onward in constant passage through birth and death.

The outsider asks: What is a dharma of no continued course?

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: Relinquishing both. The adept Vasu explains: “Both” means the recompense of merit and the recompense of demerit; “relinquishing” means the mind does not cling. When the mind does not cling to merit, it no longer goes back and forth among the five destinies. This is called a dharma of no continued course.

16. Why Merit Must Be Relinquished

The outsider says, in Deva’s root statement: Merit should not be relinquished because its recompense is excellent, and you have given no reason. The adept Vasu explains: The recompense of meritorious acts is excellent, and all sentient beings continually seek excellent results. How could it be relinquished? Moreover, the Buddha said: Bhikṣus, do not fear merit. You have now given no reason, so merit should not be relinquished.

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: When merit ceases, there is suffering. The adept Vasu explains: “Merit” means meritorious recompense, and “ceases” means decays and is lost. When meritorious recompense decays and ceases, one is separated from what one enjoyed and great grief and suffering arise. As the Buddha taught: pleasant feeling is pleasure when it arises, pleasure while it abides, and suffering when it decays. Merit should therefore be relinquished. As for your citation of the Buddha saying not to fear merit, that is because merit assists the path and should be practiced. As the Buddha said: even merit should be relinquished, how much more demerit.

The outsider says: Demerit and merit are opposed. You say that when merit decays there is suffering; demerit should therefore be pleasure while arising and abiding.

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: While demerit abides, there is suffering. The adept Vasu explains: “Demerit” means demeritorious recompense. Its recompense is already suffering when it arises; how much more while it abides. As the Buddha taught: painful feeling is suffering when it arises, suffering while it abides, and pleasure when it ceases. You argue that because demerit and merit are opposed, the arising of demerit should be pleasure. I answer: why not instead say that because merit and demerit are opposed, the cessation of demerit is pleasure, while its arising and abiding are suffering?

17. The Permanent Merit of a Horse Sacrifice Cannot Be Established

The outsider says, in Deva’s root statement: Permanent merit has no condition for relinquishment and therefore should not be relinquished. The adept Vasu explains: You say merit should be relinquished because suffering occurs when its causes and conditions decay. The recompense of permanent merit that I now propose contains no suffering of decay and therefore should not be relinquished. As the scripture says, one who can perform a horse sacrifice crosses beyond aging and death; the meritorious recompense is permanent, and the place of rebirth is permanent. Merit of this kind should not be relinquished.

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: Merit should be relinquished because it has two marks. The adept Vasu explains: Merit has two marks: it can give pleasure and it can give suffering. It is like food mixed with poison—delicious while being eaten but painful when it is about to be digested. Merit is the same. Again, a certain meritorious recompense is a cause of pleasure, yet when experienced to excess it becomes a cause of suffering. It is like drawing near a fire: stopping the cold is pleasant, but moving closer until one’s body burns is suffering. Merit thus has two marks. Because it has two marks, it is impermanent; because it is impermanent, it should be relinquished.

Moreover, your claim that the meritorious recompense of the horse sacrifice is permanent consists only of words. Deva’s root statement says: Because it has no reason. The adept Vasu explains: The recompense of a horse sacrifice is in fact impermanent. Why? Because the causes and conditions of the sacrificial action have a measure. When a worldly cause has a measure, its effect has a measure as well. A small lump of clay, for example, produces a small jar. Since the sacrificial action has a measure, it is impermanent. Moreover, we hear that your gods still become angry, fight one another, and cause one another distress; they therefore cannot be permanent. Again, actions such as horse sacrifice arise from causes and conditions and are therefore all impermanent.

Deva’s root statement continues: Since even pure, contaminated merit is impermanent and should be relinquished, how much more merit mixed with demerit. The adept Vasu explains: This is because the action of horse sacrifice includes such wrongs as killing. Furthermore, the Sāṃkhya Sūtra itself says that sacrificial practices are impure and impermanent and have the marks of victory and defeat. They should therefore be relinquished.

18. If It Must Be Relinquished, Why Produce It in the First Place?

The outsider says, in Deva’s root statement: If merit is to be relinquished, it should not be produced. The adept Vasu explains: If merit must certainly be relinquished, it should never have been produced. What wise person would undertake painful labor for nothing? It is like a potter making a vessel only to break it after it has been completed.

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: The Dharma of the path of birth follows a sequence, like washing and dyeing a soiled garment. The adept Vasu explains: A dirty garment is first washed; only after it is clean is it dyed. The cleaning was not wasted. Why? Because dyeing follows a sequence, and a dirty garment cannot take the dye. In the same way, one first removes the stain of demerit, next perfumes the ground of mind with merit, and only then receives the dye of the path to nirvāṇa.

19. The Signless Is Supreme

The outsider asks, in Deva’s root statement: On what does the relinquishment of merit rely? The adept Vasu explains: One can rely on merit to relinquish evil; on what does one rely to relinquish merit?

The treatise author answers with Deva’s root statement: The signless is supreme. The adept Vasu explains: Those who grasp merit are born among humans and gods; those who grasp demerit are born in the three bad destinies. Signless wisdom is therefore supreme. “Signless” means not recollecting any mark, leaving every appropriation behind, and clinging in mind to no dharma of the past, future, or present. Because all dharmas lack intrinsic nature, there is no place upon which to rely. This is called the signless. Through this skillful means, merit can be relinquished.

Why? Apart from the three gateways to liberation, the highest benefit cannot be obtained. As the Buddha told the bhikṣus: Suppose someone says, “Without using emptiness, the signless, or the wishless, I wish to know and see and yet be free of overweening pride.” That person speaks empty words without real meaning.

The Hundred Treatise opens with four lines of homage: reverence to the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha of the eight classes of noble persons. The homage has barely ended when another voice breaks in.

The form of this treatise differs from the Treatise on the Middle. That work largely consists of verses followed by Qingmu’s extended explanation. The Hundred Treatise is a face-to-face exchange: one side marked “the outsider says,” the other “the insider says,” across thirty-three rounds. Whenever Deva’s root statement appears, the received text inserts a small note, “sūtra,” beneath it. This is the bone Deva established; the following prose is the flesh with which the adept Vasu unfolds it.

Two things must be known before reading this chapter. First, one must distinguish bone from flesh. Second, the outsider is no fool: every time he speaks, he offers a reason and supplies a simile. The treatise author does not prevail by force of tone. Only after dismantling each position does he speak his own final line: “The signless is supreme.” The chapter travels from its opening word “evil” to that signless conclusion.

1. What Kind of Person Counts as a World-Honored One?

The homage contains the words “taught by the buddhas, the World-Honored Ones.” The outsider seizes on that title and asks: who is a World-Honored One? Some apply the title to Viṣṇu, others to Maheśvara, and others to such seers as Kapila, Ulūka, and Ṛṣabha. “Why do you alone call the Buddha the World-Honored One?” At the time, “World-Honored One” was a title used by many schools. The outsider wants a criterion.

The treatise author gives only two: “The Buddha knows the true mark of all dharmas clearly and without obstruction and can also teach profound, pure Dharma. Therefore the Buddha alone is called the World-Honored One.” One is knowing, the other teaching. Everything disputed afterward must be tested by asking whether what is known accords with reality and whether what is taught is profound and pure.

The outsider counters on the basis of that criterion. Other teachers too can “understand the marks of all dharmas” and “teach profound, pure Dharma.” He presents evidence school by school. Sāṃkhya calls the purified-awareness portion among its twenty-five principles good Dharma. Vaiśeṣika calls the portion of self produced among its six principles, in the principle of qualities, through bathing three times a day, making offerings, and the conjunction of fire and other elements good Dharma. The Nirgranthas call “scorching the body with five fires, plucking out the hair, and other painful practices” good Dharma. Others starve themselves, leap into chasms, enter fire, cast themselves from high cliffs, keep silence, stand for long periods, or observe the discipline of cattle. These are acts people paid for with their own bodies. He asks: “All these are profound, pure Dharma. Why say that only the Buddha can teach it?” The treatise author gives one sentence in answer: “All these are wrong views. Because they obscure right view, they cannot teach profound, pure Dharma.”

He does not rebut each austerity one by one but points to a level prior to them. Their failure to be profound and pure does not lie in insufficient severity; it lies in view being obscured. Once right view is covered, the more violently one practices, the farther away one goes. The passage closes with a promise: “This matter will be explained in detail later.”

2. Stopping Evil and Practicing Good: The First Bone

The outsider changes the question: “What are the marks of the good Dharma taught by the Buddha?” The treatise author answers with the first root statement: “The Dharma consists in stopping evil and practicing good.”

Vasu opens this into a paragraph. First he gives the two marks: “Bringing all evil to rest is called the mark of stopping; cultivating all good is called the mark of practice.” Then he makes them concrete. Evil is the three kinds of wrong conduct of body, speech, and mind; it is not limited to the ten unwholesome courses but includes “flogging, beating, binding, imprisonment, and the rest not included among the ten,” together with the wrongs preceding and following them. Good likewise consists of three forms of right conduct: speech such as “truthful speech, harmonious speech, gentle speech, beneficial speech,” and mind such as loving-kindness, compassion, and right view. The definition of “stopping” deserves to be read slowly: “Whether the resolve arises in the mind, is spoken aloud, or is undertaken as a precept—from this day until the end of life one does not perform it again. This is called stopping.” Stopping is not merely happening not to act. A resolve is formed inwardly, stated aloud, or formally undertaken, and a boundary is drawn from this day to one’s last breath. Stopping is a decision that is made and then sustained, not an empty interval.

3. The Dispute over a Scripture’s Opening: Does “Auspicious” Have Intrinsic Nature?

The second attack looks petty: “Your scripture is faulty because its beginning is inauspicious.” The reason is the convention of the day. If a text opens with an auspicious phrase, “its meaning and flavor are easily understood and the sound of its Dharma circulates,” and “because the beginning is auspicious, the middle and end are auspicious too.” Your text instead begins with evil.

To dismiss this as superstition would miss the argument. The outsider’s actual claim is that auspiciousness is a quality that can flow from one place into another. Whether such a quality exists is the core of the exchange. The treatise author answers on three levels. First he addresses the particular case: “This scripture is taught to eliminate wrong view.” What eliminates wrong view is auspicious. Judging the mention of evil inauspicious is itself “the residue of wrong view.”

The second level removes the root: “Because no auspiciousness exists.” The reason is that “the same thing is taken as auspicious here, inauspicious there, and elsewhere as neither auspicious nor inauspicious. Because it is unfixed, no auspiciousness exists.” Since judgments shift with the people judging, there is no auspiciousness independent of them. Vasu adds a severe line: “You foolish person lack skillful means. Forcing the pursuit of happiness, you produce imagined distinctions at random.” Beneath the labels placed on events is the desire for happiness without knowledge of the way to it.

Only on the third level does the proper Dharma eye appear: “Because it cannot be obtained from self, other, or both.” Auspiciousness does not arise from itself, for no dharma arises from itself, and a self-arising account places “what is produced” and “what produces” as two marks within one dharma. It does not arise from another, for “when the mark of self does not exist, the mark of other does not exist either.” Nor can it arise without end, “because an arising would need another arising.” It does not arise from both, for it would bear both faults together. “Arising dharmas have three possibilities: self, other, and both. Sought among these three, auspiciousness cannot be obtained. Therefore no auspicious thing exists.”

What the treatise author refutes is not the use of an auspicious word. It is an auspiciousness assumed to possess intrinsic nature and radiate by its own power. Once this refutation stands, every later simile offered by the outsider becomes a borrowed leg for that assumption.

4. Salt and Lamp: Two Borrowed Legs

The first leg is salt: “Auspiciousness arises from itself, like salt.” Salt is salty by intrinsic nature and makes other things salty; auspiciousness works the same way.

The treatise author answers in two movements. First, “it was already refuted.” Second, he returns the outsider’s own words: “I do not accept your account; I will now return your words and use them to refute what you say.” If you admit salt comes from causes and conditions, it is not salty by intrinsic nature. The direct reason is that “the mark of salt abides in salt.” Though salt combines with another thing, that thing does not become salt, “just as the mark of a cow does not become the mark of a horse.” What can be transmitted is not an intrinsic nature.

The second leg is the lamp: “Like a lamp,” which illuminates itself and another. First self-illumination is refuted: “There is no darkness either in the lamp itself or in the other.” There is no darkness in the lamp, because “light and darkness do not coexist.” Without darkness to break, no act of illumination occurs. Insisting on self-illumination creates two marks within one lamp: “first what illuminates, second what is illuminated.” Then illumination of another is refuted. There is no darkness in the illuminated place either. “It is called illumination because it breaks darkness; when there is no darkness to break, it is not illumination.” The name illumination is borrowed from the breaking of darkness and has nowhere to rest when darkness is absent.

The outsider retreats: “At the moment it first arises, it illuminates both.” The treatise author answers: “A single dharma possessing both existent and nonexistent marks cannot be obtained.” First arising is said to be “half arisen, half unarisen.” The arisen half cannot illuminate, for the reason already given; still less can the unarisen half illuminate. Besides, “how can one dharma possess both an existent and a nonexistent mark?” He presses again: “Because it does not reach the darkness.” Whether arisen or unarisen, the lamp cannot reach darkness because “their natures and marks are opposed.” If it cannot reach it, how can it break it?

The outsider introduces another example: “Like a spell or a star.” A spell spoken at a distance can trouble someone far away, and a change among the stars can cause misfortune. Contact is therefore unnecessary. The treatise author answers: “Because the consequence would extend much too far.” “If a lamp had the power to break darkness without reaching it, why would lighting a lamp in India not break the darkness in China?” A simile cannot borrow only the side that resembles the claim; it must withstand being followed to its end.

5. The Elephant’s Hand: Can One Small Part Govern the Whole?

The treatise author returns to proportion: “If the beginning is auspicious, the remainder is inauspicious.” If the opening is auspicious, the rest ought to be inauspicious. If the rest is auspicious too, singling out the opening as auspicious becomes false speech. The outsider replies, “Because the beginning is auspicious, the remainder is also auspicious.” The author turns the outsider’s weapon around: “Because the inauspicious is greater, the auspicious becomes inauspicious.”

The outsider now offers the chapter’s best simile: “Like an elephant’s hand.” An elephant is called “having a hand” because its trunk resembles a hand, yet it is not called “having eyes,” “having ears,” or “having a head” simply because it has those parts. Ordinary speech already lets one part supply a name for the whole.

The treatise author forces elephant and hand into only two alternatives. If they differ, then head, foot, and each other part also differ from elephant, and “there is thus no separate elephant.” Moreover, “if the whole is fully present within a part, why are the feet not present in the head?” This path is “as explained in the refutation of difference.” If elephant and hand do not differ, again “there is no separate elephant.” And “if whole and part do not differ, the head should be the feet,” because neither differs from the elephant. This is “as explained in the refutation of unity.”

When both identity and difference are exhausted, the “whole” supposedly represented by the part was never established. “Thus auspiciousness cannot be obtained when sought through various causes and conditions. How can you say the middle and end are auspicious because the beginning is auspicious?” Nearly half the chapter is spent dismantling one word.

6. Sequence: Evil First, Washing Before Dyeing

The outsider changes to a question of composition: “Stopping evil is excellent; why is stopping not placed first?” The treatise author answers with extreme economy: “Practitioners must first know evil and only afterward can stop it; therefore evil comes first and stopping afterward.” Someone who does not know what evil is has nothing to stop. The disturbing word “evil” stands exactly where it belongs.

The outsider tries again: “Practicing good should come first because it has excellent results.” The author answers: “Because Dharma follows a sequence, coarse stains are removed first and subtle stains afterward. If practitioners do not stop evil, they cannot cultivate good. Coarse stains are therefore removed first, and only afterward are they dyed with good Dharma. It is like washing a garment: first remove the stain, and then it can be dyed.”

The point of the simile is not that washing is more important than dyeing, but that taking dye requires a condition. If the stain remains, the color will not take.

7. Stopping and Practicing Cannot Swallow One Another

The outsider attacks three times, each time trying to merge stopping and practicing. First: once stopping evil has been taught, there is no need to teach practicing good. The author gives a counterexample: “Giving is good practice, not stopping evil.” He also points to great bodhisattvas who “have already stopped evil, practice the four immeasurable states, feel compassion for sentient beings, and protect the lives of others.” The outsider replies that giving stops miserliness. The author answers on three levels: “If not giving were evil, all who do not give would be guilty”; “those whose contaminants are exhausted have already extinguished greed and miserliness—what evil are they stopping when they give?”; and “some people give without their miserly mind stopping.” Even where it does stop, “good practice remains the basis.”

Second: once practicing good has been taught, stopping evil need not be taught, because stopping evil is good practice. The author answers: “Stopping has rest as its mark; practice has action as its mark. Their natures and marks oppose one another.” One cannot swallow the other.

Third, the outsider retreats to a finer claim. The two do not have the same mark, but stopping evil is a good dharma. The author responds with the chapter’s most skillful example. If only the merit of good practice were taught and not stopping evil, then when “someone undertakes precepts and stops evil while the mind is unwholesome or indeterminate, that person is not practicing good at that moment and should possess no merit; yet because evil is being stopped, there is still merit.” On an account counting only good practices, no merit should exist; in fact the continuing stop still has merit. Good practices are individually performed; stopping evil is established once and then sustained over time.

8. Giving, Precepts, and Wisdom: Three Classes and Three Purities

“The Buddha distinguishes this Dharma of stopping evil and practicing good in three ways according to the intentions of sentient beings.” The root statement reads: “Giving, precepts, and wisdom for lesser, middling, and higher persons.” Those of lesser wisdom are taught giving, those of middling wisdom precepts, and those of higher wisdom wisdom, because “their benefits differ in degree” and because “the result of giving is lesser, the result of precepts middling, and the result of wisdom higher.” If one stops here, the conclusion is crude. The outsider reads it precisely that way: “Are all who give persons of lesser wisdom?” The author says no and cuts through all three categories again.

Giving is twofold. Impure giving is “giving for recompense, impure like trade in a marketplace.” Present recompense is fame, respect, and affection; future recompense is wealth and rank in a later life. The root of the trouble lies in one line: “because one still wishes to obtain.” The simile is a traveling merchant who, “though carrying many goods and benefiting many people, does so not from compassion for sentient beings but to seek profit for himself; therefore his business is impure.” The impurity lies only in the motive. Pure giving is performed “out of love, respect, and a wish to benefit others, without seeking recompense in this life or the next.”

Precepts are twofold. Impure keeping of precepts is “keeping precepts for pleasant recompense, for the sake of sexual desire, like a disguised appearance.” One seeks birth in heaven or wealth among humans. “A disguised appearance” means “inwardly desiring another’s body and outwardly pretending affection and friendliness.” Here the text cites Ānanda’s words to Nanda:

　　“Like rams butting one another, they draw back before surging forward;
　　you keep precepts for the sake of desire, and your action is just the same.
　　Though the body can keep precepts, the mind is pulled by desire;
　　this karma is not pure—what use are such precepts?”

A ram preparing to strike first draws back. Its retreat is for the sake of the blow. For someone keeping precepts for the sake of desire, the more impressive the observance, the more fully desire is being stored. The verse therefore presses to the end: the body holds the precepts, the mind is led by desire—what are those precepts for?

Pure precepts form a long chain: “All good dharmas have precepts as their root. One who keeps precepts has no remorse; without remorse there is joy; with joy the mind is happy; with happiness the mind becomes unified; from unification arises true wisdom; with true wisdom comes disenchantment; with disenchantment, dispassion; with dispassion, liberation; with liberation, nirvāṇa.” Each link naturally gives rise to the next, and the starting point is simply “no remorse.” The difference between purity and impurity lies not in the rule but in where the rule leads.

Wisdom is likewise twofold. The outsider names people publicly recognized as lofty: “If the wise are highest, Udraka and the others are highest.” The author answers, “Wisdom too is of two kinds: impure and pure.” Impure wisdom is “impure because it binds one to the world, like an enemy who comes as a friend,” for “this wisdom turns back and binds.” An enemy “first pretends intimacy and attachment, then after a long time forms the wish to harm.”

It is never giving, precepts, or wisdom themselves that determine lesser, middling, and higher. It is the direction in which the mind practicing them moves.

9. The Dharma of Continued Course and the Dharma of No Continued Course

The outsider asks whether only wisdom increases birth and death, or whether giving and precepts do so as well. The author’s root statement answers: “Grasping merit and relinquishing evil is a dharma of continued course.” Vasu glosses the wording: “merit means meritorious recompense.” When the outsider asks why the root sūtra has only one word, merit, the author explains: “Merit names the cause and meritorious recompense the effect. Sometimes the cause is spoken of as the effect, and sometimes the effect as the cause; here the cause is spoken of as the effect.” He supplies two ordinary expressions: “He ate a thousand ounces of gold”—gold itself is not eaten, but food is obtained through it; and, on seeing a painting, “Those are good hands”—the painting was obtained through the hands. He then explains the other words: “grasping means attachment,” and “course means carrying a person constantly through birth and death.” The dharma of continued course is now complete in meaning. Merit is grasped, evil relinquished; good remains good, but the person continues walking among the five destinies.

Asked for the dharma of no continued course, the author answers: “Relinquishing both.” The explanation reads: “‘Both’ means meritorious and demeritorious recompense; ‘relinquishing’ means the mind does not cling. When the mind does not cling to merit, it no longer goes back and forth among the five destinies. This is a dharma of no continued course.” Only here does the chapter title “Relinquishing Demerit and Merit” fully land. The mode of relinquishment is “the mind does not cling.” Merit is not destroyed; it is no longer taken as something one can own.

10. Why Merit Must Be Relinquished

The outsider defends merit in four successive rounds. First: “Merit should not be relinquished because its recompense is excellent, and no reason has been given.” He cites the Buddha: “Bhikṣus, do not fear merit.” The author answers: “When merit ceases, there is suffering.” “When meritorious recompense decays, separation from what is enjoyed produces great grief and suffering.” The Buddha also taught that “pleasant feeling is pleasant when it arises and while it abides, but suffering when it ceases.” As for not fearing merit, the author accepts the citation directly: merit “assists the path and should be practiced,” while another saying states, “Even merit should be relinquished, how much more demerit.” This is the chapter’s pivot. The same merit should be practiced while assisting the path and relinquished when appropriated as one’s possession.

Second, the outsider invokes symmetry: if the cessation of merit is suffering, the arising and abiding of demerit should be pleasure. The author answers, “While demerit abides, there is suffering.” Demeritorious recompense is “suffering when it arises, how much more while it abides.” The Buddha taught, “Painful feeling is suffering when it arises, suffering while it abides, and pleasure when it ceases.” The author returns the symmetry: “Why not say that because merit and demerit oppose one another, the cessation of demerit is pleasure while its arising and abiding are suffering?”

Third, the outsider produces permanent merit: “Permanent merit has no condition for relinquishment and therefore should not be relinquished.” He offers horse sacrifice as proof: “One who can perform the horse sacrifice crosses aging and death; the meritorious recompense and place of birth are permanent.” The author answers: “Merit should be relinquished because it has two marks.” First come the two marks. Merit “can give pleasure and can give suffering.” It is “like food mixed with poison, delicious when eaten and painful when digestion begins.” The poison is already within the delicious bite. Or it is “like drawing near a fire: stopping the cold is pleasure, moving still closer until the body burns is suffering.” The fire has not changed; only the distance has. The same thing can give pleasure and suffering. That is called two marks; because it has two marks, it is impermanent; because impermanent, it should be relinquished. Permanent recompense from horse sacrifice is then refuted. It “consists only of words and has no reason.” “The causes and conditions of the sacrificial action have a measure. When a worldly cause has a measure, the effect also has a measure. A small lump of clay makes a small jar.” A finite cause cannot produce an infinite effect. Two points are added: your gods still become angry, struggle, and distress one another, so they are not permanent; and sacrificial action “arises from causes and conditions and is therefore wholly impermanent.” The passage finally widens: “Since even pure contaminated merit is impermanent and should be relinquished, how much more merit mixed with demerit”—especially sacrifice containing killing. It also records that the Sāṃkhya scripture itself calls sacrificial practice “impure, impermanent, and marked by victory and defeat.”

Fourth, the outsider retreats to the final defense and asks an excellent question: “If merit is to be relinquished, it should not be produced.” “What wise person would perform painful labor for nothing? It is like a potter making a vessel and then breaking it.” The real question is whether practice has any meaning.

The author returns to the soiled garment: “The path of birth follows a sequence, like washing and dyeing a soiled garment.” “A soiled garment is washed first and dyed only after it is clean; its cleaning was not wasted,” because “dyeing has a sequence and a dirty garment cannot take dye.” The three movements then align: “first remove the stain of demerit, next perfume the mind with merit, and only afterward receive the dye of the path to nirvāṇa.” The potter’s simile mistakes production and destruction for two ends of the same act. Washing and dyeing show instead that the earlier step conditions the later. The merit later relinquished must first have perfumed the mind so the dye of the path to nirvāṇa can take.

11. The Signless Is Supreme

The final question is exact: “On what does the relinquishment of merit rely?” “One relies on merit to relinquish evil; on what does one rely to relinquish merit?” The outsider has finally grasped the shape of the path. Relinquishing evil has a ladder; where does the foot stand when relinquishing merit? The treatise author gives his final root statement: “The signless is supreme.”

The explanation has three movements. First it orders the destinations: “Those who grasp merit are born among humans and gods; those who grasp demerit are born in the three bad destinies; therefore signless wisdom is supreme.” Grasping either still remains within birth. Next it defines the signless: “The signless means not recollecting any mark, leaving every appropriation behind, and clinging in mind to no dharma of past, future, or present.” Finally it explains how the signless can serve as reliance: “Because all dharmas lack intrinsic nature, there is no place upon which to rely. This is called the signless. Through this skillful means, merit can be relinquished.”

The outsider asks for firmer footing, but the author gives nonreliance. If one must still rely on something else in order to relinquish merit, one has merely exchanged merit for another object of grasping.

The chapter closes with the Buddha’s words: “Apart from the three gateways to liberation, the highest benefit cannot be obtained.” It then cites the Buddha addressing the bhikṣus: “If someone says, ‘Without using emptiness, the signless, or the wishless, I wish to know and see and yet be free of overweening pride,’ that person speaks empty words without reality.”

The chapter begins with homage, passes through the long dispute over auspicious and inauspicious, distinguishes stopping from practicing, cuts giving, precepts, and wisdom into pure and impure, and follows four defenses of merit before landing here. The outsider first wanted an ‘auspiciousness’ that established itself and spread outward. The author gives him a ‘signless’ that appropriates nothing at all.

12. What Can a Reader Carry Away from This Chapter?

First, distinguish stopping from practicing: “Stopping has rest as its mark; practice has action as its mark. Their natures and marks oppose one another.” Refraining from harm cannot replace doing good, and much good cannot cover harm that has never stopped.

Second, see where your own mind is headed. “Like trade in a marketplace,” “like a disguised appearance,” and “like an enemy who comes as a friend” each pose the same question: does the wisdom being learned loosen bonds, or does it “turn back and bind”?

Carried Forward

This is the first of the Hundred Treatise’s ten chapters, and three places within it point beyond the chapter itself. When judging non-Buddhist austerities, the text says “this matter will be explained in detail later,” establishing a judgment without closing the case. While refuting the elephant’s hand, it twice says “as explained in the refutation of difference” and “as explained in the refutation of unity.” Those refutations do not occur in this chapter; only their conclusions are used here. This chapter is not an isolated debate but the entrance to the whole treatise.

The chapter is titled “Relinquishing Demerit and Merit,” yet more than half teaches stopping evil, practicing good, and purifying giving, precepts, and wisdom. There is no contradiction. What is relinquished is grasping, not practice: “relinquishing means the mind does not cling.” The soiled garment must still be washed, and merit must still perfume the mind. “The cleaning was not wasted.” But when the time comes to receive the dye of the path to nirvāṇa, one cannot keep clutching the achievement of having washed the garment.