中論 觀五陰品第四

“The sūtra teaches five aggregates. How is this to be understood?” The questioner comes holding the sūtra. The respondent does not debate the sūtra. He takes only the coarsest aggregate, form, turns it over and dismantles it before him, and at the end says simply: the other four aggregates are the same.

The Name “Cause” Is Given by the Fruit

“If one departs from the cause of form, form cannot be found; if one departs from form, the cause of form cannot be found.”

Qingmu uses cloth as an analogy: “Remove the threads and there is no cloth; remove the cloth and there are no threads.”

The first sentence is easy to understand; the second requires closer thought. The threads are still in one’s hand—how can they be said not to exist? Because “threads” here means the cause of cloth. If the cloth is not made, they are simply threads. The name cause is attached only in relation to a fruit.

Form Present Will Not Work; Form Absent Will Not Work Either

If form exists apart from its cause, it has no provenance—“The world contains no dharma that exists without a cause.” Conversely, if a cause exists apart from its fruit, whose cause is it? “It is in relation to a fruit that something is called a cause. If there is no fruit, how can it be called a cause?”

This presses the argument into the next verse: “If form already existed, it would have no need of a cause of form; if form did not exist, it likewise would have no need of a cause of form.” Put the fruit in, and the cause is superfluous; take the fruit out, and the cause hangs empty.

As for simply declaring it uncaused, Qingmu disposes of that in one sentence: even what has a cause cannot be found, much less what has none.

Likeness and Unlikeness Both Close In

To say that fruit resembles cause fails: “The cause is fine and the fruit coarse,” and “the threads are many while the cloth is one.” To say that they do not resemble each other also fails: “Hemp threads cannot make silk, and coarse threads cannot produce fine cloth.”

Erase the difference and cloth cannot be cloth; sever the relation and on what grounds was this cloth woven from this bundle of threads?

Only after Clinging Do We Begin to Argue

“‘Discrimination’ refers to ordinary people: through ignorance and the defilement of craving they covet and cling to form, then through wrong views produce discriminative proliferation, claiming that the fruit exists in the cause, that it does not exist in the cause, and so forth.”

See the sequence clearly: first we do not understand; then we stick to something; only at the end do we devise a theory of cause and fruit for the place where we are stuck. Thus, at the close of the refutation, the words turn toward the person.

Not Grasping the Mark of Emptiness

The last two verses do not discuss the five aggregates but question and answer themselves. Someone says a jar is impermanent. Asked why, he answers, “Because it arises from an impermanent cause.” Qingmu says this does not count as an answer, because “Within the cause and condition there is still doubt: it is not known whether it is permanent or impermanent.” The doubt has merely been moved back one step.

A challenge is the same: “You use impermanence to refute my permanence; I too can use permanence to refute your impermanence.” The positions have merely changed hands.

If so, does relying on emptiness not itself amount to a reliance? The respondent says: “If one relies on emptiness to refute permanence, there is no fault. Why? Because this person does not grasp the mark of emptiness.”

The difference is not what has been picked up, but whether the hand has closed around it. The final sentence carries this to its end: “Thus, if one wishes to conduct questions and answers, one should rely on the dharma of emptiness—how much more one who wishes to seek the mark of freedom from suffering and quiescent cessation?”

Nāgārjuna Bodhisattva, author; the Brahmin Qingmu, commentator; Tripiṭaka Master Kumārajīva of the Yao Qin, translator. Treatise on the Middle, Scroll One, “Examination of the Five Aggregates, Chapter Four,” Taishō T30n1564. Paragraph-openers 〔T30 …〕 are page-column-line anchors in the Taishō canon.

I. Question: The Sūtra Teaches Five Aggregates—How Is This to Be Understood?

〔T30 0006b19〕The questioner says: The sūtra teaches that five aggregates exist. What exactly does this mean?

The respondent answers with the following verse.

II. Verse: Form and the Cause of Form Cannot Be Found Apart from Each Other

If one departs from the cause of form, form cannot be found;

if one departs from form, the cause of form cannot be found either.

III. Explanation: Cloth and Threads

The cause of form is like the threads that cause cloth: remove the threads and there is no cloth; remove the cloth and there are no threads. Cloth is like form, and threads are like its cause.

IV. Question and Answer: Form Apart from Its Cause Would Be an Uncaused Dharma

The questioner says: If form existed apart from the cause of form, what fault would there be?

The respondent says in verse:

If form existed apart from the cause of form, that form would be without a cause;

that a dharma should exist without a cause does not make sense.

It would be like cloth existing apart from threads: the cloth would have no cause. The world has never contained a dharma that exists without a cause.

V. Question and Answer: Are There Uncaused Dharmas in the World?

The questioner says: Buddhism, non-Buddhist teachings, and worldly teachings all contain uncaused dharmas. Buddhism has three unconditioned dharmas; because the unconditioned is permanent, it is uncaused. Non-Buddhist teachings have space, time, direction, spirit, atoms, nirvāṇa, and so forth. Worldly teachings have space, time, direction, and so forth. These three kinds of dharma are found everywhere and are therefore called permanent; because they are permanent, they are uncaused. On what grounds do you say that the world contains no uncaused dharma?

The respondent says: These uncaused dharmas exist only as things said. Once examined and distinguished in thought, none has any footing. If a dharma exists through causes and conditions, it should not be called uncaused; if it truly has no causes and conditions, then it is precisely as I have said.

The questioner says: There are two kinds of cause: an operative cause and a cause in speech. Although these uncaused dharmas have no operative cause, they still have a cause in speech, because such a cause enables people to know them.

The respondent says: Even if there is a cause in speech, the claim still does not stand. Space is refuted later among the six elements, and the other items will each be refuted in what follows. Moreover, even things visibly present before us can be refuted; how much more so atoms and other dharmas that cannot be seen at all? Thus, the world contains no uncaused dharma.

VI. Question, Answer, and Verse: A Cause of Form Apart from Form Would Be a Fruitless Cause

The questioner says: If the cause of form existed apart from form, what fault would there be?

The respondent says in verse:

If a cause existed apart from form, it would be a cause without a fruit;

to claim a cause without a fruit makes no sense.

If one removes form as the fruit and leaves only a cause of form, it is a cause without a fruit.

The questioner says: What fault is there in a cause existing without a fruit?

The respondent says: The world has never contained a cause without a fruit. Why? It is in relation to a fruit that something is called a cause. If there is no fruit, how can it still be called a cause? Moreover, if the cause contains no fruit at all, why should a thing not arise from what is not its cause? This principle was explained in “Examination of Conditions.” Thus, there is no cause without a fruit.

Again:

If form already existed, it would have no need of a cause of form;

if form did not exist at all, it likewise would have no need of a cause of form.

In neither case can a cause of form be established. If form already exists within the cause, it is not called the cause of form; if form does not yet exist within the cause, it is likewise not called the cause of form.

VII. Question, Answer, and Verse: Uncaused Form Ultimately Cannot Stand

The questioner says: If neither of those cases can stand, what fault would there be in accepting only an uncaused form?

The respondent says in verse:

That form should exist without a cause ultimately cannot stand.

Therefore, a person of wisdom should not discriminate form.

Neither a fruit existing in its cause nor a fruit not existing in its cause can be found—how much less form without a cause? Thus it is said: that form should exist without a cause ultimately cannot stand; therefore, a person of wisdom should not discriminate form. “Discrimination” refers to ordinary people: through ignorance and the defilement of craving they covet and cling to form, then through wrong views produce all kinds of discriminative proliferation, claiming that the fruit exists in the cause, that it does not exist in the cause, and so forth. Here, form is sought but cannot be found. Therefore, a person of wisdom should not discriminate.

Again:

VIII. Verse and Explanation: Fruit Like the Cause and Fruit Unlike the Cause Both Fail

〔T30 0007a05〕If the fruit resembles the cause, that cannot stand;

if the fruit does not resemble the cause, that cannot stand either.

To say that fruit resembles cause cannot stand, because the cause is fine while the fruit is coarse. Cause and fruit differ in color, efficacy, and so forth: if cloth really were just like its threads, it could not be called cloth, for the threads are many while the cloth is a single whole. Thus, cause and fruit cannot be said to resemble one another.

To say that cause and fruit do not resemble one another also cannot stand. Hemp threads cannot be woven into silk, and coarse threads cannot produce fine cloth. Thus, neither can cause and fruit be said not to resemble one another. Since both positions fail, there is neither form nor a cause of form.

IX. Verse and Explanation: The Other Four Aggregates and All Dharmas Are Like the Form Aggregate

The aggregate of feeling, together with the aggregates of perception, formations, and consciousness,

and all other dharmas are the same as the aggregate of form.

The other four aggregates and all dharmas should likewise be contemplated and refuted in this way.

X. Verse: Questions and Answers Apart from Emptiness Remain Equal to the Original Doubt

Now the treatise author, wishing to praise the meaning of emptiness, speaks further in verse:

If someone asks a question and one tries to answer apart from emptiness,

it does not constitute an answer but remains caught in the very same doubt.

If someone poses a challenge and one states another’s fault apart from emptiness,

it does not constitute a challenge but remains caught in the very same doubt.

XI. Explanation: The Example of the Jar’s Impermanence

When people debate, each holds to a position. If their questions and answers depart from the meaning of emptiness, they do not constitute questions or answers, and both sides remain caught in the same doubt. Suppose someone says, “A jar is impermanent.” The questioner asks, “On what grounds do you call it impermanent?” The answer is, “Because it arises from an impermanent cause.” That does not count as an answer. Why? Because the cause and condition itself remains in doubt: it is not known whether it is permanent or impermanent. This is called remaining equal to the other person’s doubt.

If the questioner tries to point out the other person’s fault but, without relying on emptiness, declares all dharmas impermanent, that also does not count as a challenge. Why? You use impermanence to refute my permanence, but I can use permanence to refute your impermanence. Moreover, if impermanence really existed, karmic retribution would be impossible; the eyes, ears, and other dharmas would perish moment after moment; and no discrimination could be spoken of. With these and many other faults, the challenge cannot stand and remains equal to the other person’s doubt.

If permanence is refuted by relying on emptiness, there is no fault. Why? Because this person does not grasp the mark of emptiness. Thus it is said: even one who wishes to conduct questions and answers should rely on the dharma of emptiness—how much more one who wishes to seek the mark of freedom from suffering and quiescent cessation?

The questioner opens with a single sentence: “The sūtra teaches five aggregates. How is this to be understood?”

We need to see the weight of this sentence clearly. He is not putting forward a non-Buddhist thesis; he is citing the sūtra. The sūtra unmistakably speaks of form, feeling, perception, formations, and consciousness. Since the Buddha himself spoke in this way, surely the five aggregates must be five real things?

The respondent does not debate the sūtra. From among the five aggregates he takes the coarsest, the one that looks most truly existent—form—and turns it over and dismantles it before you. Only after he is finished does he say: the other four aggregates are the same.

Yet what finally settles at the end of the chapter is not form, but a passage teaching people how to ask and how to answer.

The Opening Verse Closes Both Ends

“If one departs from the cause of form, form cannot be found; if one departs from form, the cause of form cannot be found.”

The two lines point in precisely opposite directions. The first says: pull away the cause and form cannot be found. The second says: pull away form and that so-called “cause” cannot be found either.

Most people nod when they hear the first line—without material, where could the thing come from? But the second does not sit so easily: the material is plainly right there; how could it disappear just because the finished object is gone?

That second line is exactly what matters. It does not say that this bundle of threads has vanished. It says that the identity “cause of cloth” has vanished.

Cloth and Threads: An Example Anyone Can Touch

Qingmu immediately gives an example:

“The cause of form is like the threads that cause cloth: remove the threads and there is no cloth; remove the cloth and there are no threads. Cloth is like form, and threads are like its cause.”

Pull away the threads and there is no cloth—that direction is easy to understand. Pull away the cloth and there are no threads—this direction requires close thought. That bundle of thread is still in one’s hand. How can it be said not to exist?

Because the “threads” spoken of here are not threads in general; they are the cause of cloth. They are called a cause because they are spoken of in relation to a bolt of cloth. If no cloth is made, they are simply threads, not anyone’s cause. “Cause” is never a label carried on the body of a thing itself; it is a name attached only in relation to a fruit.

Thus, the verse does not say that cloth and threads are the same thing, nor that there is no cloth or thread in the world. It asks whether you can find one thing that “is fruit in itself” and another that “is cause in itself,” each standing on its own before the two are joined.

The answer is no. Each side must await the other before receiving its name.

Form Apart from Its Cause Would Be a Thing without a Provenance

The questioner first seizes on the first half and asks in return: What fault would there be if form existed apart from the cause of form?

The answering verse says:

“If form existed apart from the cause of form, that form would be without a cause; that a dharma should exist without a cause does not make sense.”

Qingmu again uses cloth: “It would be like cloth existing apart from threads: the cloth would have no cause. The world contains no dharma that exists without a cause.”

A bolt of cloth that exists without depending on threads has appeared from nowhere. For every thing in the world, ask where it came from and a succession can always be traced; the kind for which nothing can be traced has never actually been seen.

But the Opponent Immediately Produces a Host of “Uncaused Dharmas”

Here begins the longest dispute in the chapter. The questioner is unconvinced and lists three classes: Buddhism has three unconditioned dharmas; the unconditioned is permanent, and the permanent is therefore uncaused. Non-Buddhist teachings have space, time, direction, spirit, atoms, and nirvāṇa; worldly teachings also speak of space, time, and direction. The reasoning is orderly—these three are “found everywhere and therefore called permanent; because they are permanent, they are uncaused.” Since Buddhism itself accepts uncaused dharmas, on what grounds can you say that the world contains none?

The respondent’s reply is short:

“These uncaused dharmas exist only as things said. Once examined and distinguished in thought, none exists.”

There is only something said. Everyone speaks of space, time, and direction, but set the words down and investigate within them, and no thing can be traced. Being able to say a name and finding a real thing standing beneath that name are two different matters.

He then adds a sentence of exacting precision: “If a dharma exists through causes and conditions, it should not be called uncaused.” If you say that it comes through causes and conditions, it is not uncaused; if you say that it truly has no causes and conditions, it falls precisely on the side just denied. Both routes are closed.

The questioner retreats another step and adopts a more refined formulation: there are two kinds of cause, an operative cause and a cause in speech. Although these permanent dharmas have no operative cause, they do have a cause in speech, “because it enables people to know them.”

This is a clever move: he no longer insists that permanent dharmas have a cause that produces them, only a cause that enables people to know them—a name. But the respondent still does not accept it:

“Even if there is a cause in speech, the claim does not stand.”

The reason has two levels. First, he does not overstep: space will be refuted later among the six elements, while the remaining items will each be addressed in what follows. He does not pretend to have finished refuting them here. Only then comes the crux:

“Moreover, even things visibly present before us can all be refuted; how much more atoms and other dharmas that cannot be seen?”

Things everyone can see before them still cannot stand when investigated; could what no one can see somehow stand more firmly? Being unseen is not a safer place. People often imagine that if a thing is hidden where experience cannot reach it, it no longer needs to account for where it came from.

Now Look at the Other End: A Cause Apart from Its Fruit Is Whose Cause?

Once the first half has been addressed, the argument returns to the second.

“If a cause existed apart from form, it would be a cause without a fruit; if one speaks of a cause without a fruit, there is no place for it.”

Qingmu is economical: “If form as fruit is removed and only the cause of form remains, it is a cause without a fruit.”

The questioner still asks: What is wrong with a cause existing without a fruit?

The respondent gives two answers. The first is the same principle as the earlier “cause of cloth,” now stated more directly: “It is in relation to a fruit that something is called a cause. If there is no fruit, how can it be called a cause?”

The second cuts more sharply: “If the cause contains no fruit, why should a thing not arise from what is not its cause?” If you say that the fruit was never present within the cause, then it was equally absent within what is not its cause. Both sides share the same “absence.” On what grounds does the fruit emerge from one rather than the other? Qingmu points down a path in passing: “This matter was explained in ‘Examination of Conditions.’”

The question asks for a difference. If you are to call one thing a cause, you must be able to say how it differs from all the things that are not its cause; yet “the fruit is absent within it” is precisely what it shares with what is not the cause.

Form in the Cause, Form Not in the Cause: Neither Side Has Room

This presses the argument into the next verse:

“If form already existed, it would have no need of a cause of form; if form did not exist, it likewise would have no need of a cause of form.”

Qingmu explains: “If form already exists within the cause, it is not called the cause of form; if form does not exist within the cause, it is likewise not called the cause of form.”

If the bolt of cloth were already present in the threads, why weave it? What already exists need not be produced, so this “cause” has nothing to do. If the cloth were utterly absent from the threads, the threads would be no different from a heap of sand, which also lacks cloth; nothing would yet entitle them to be called the cause of cloth.

Presence does not work, and absence does not work. Put the fruit into the position of cause and the cause becomes superfluous; take the fruit out and the cause hangs empty.

Then Call It Uncaused—That Path Does Not Go Through Either

The questioner now takes a final step: since neither form present nor form absent can stand, may I simply say that there is an uncaused form?

The answering verse:

“That form should exist without a cause ultimately cannot stand. Therefore, a person of wisdom should not discriminate form.”

Qingmu replies with extreme brevity: “Neither a fruit existing in its cause nor a fruit not existing in its cause can be found—how much less form without a cause.” Even what has a cause cannot stand, so what has none needs no further discussion.

The second half of the verse deserves a pause. The verse abruptly stops speaking of form and begins speaking of the person. Qingmu explains “discrimination” very concretely:

“‘Discrimination’ refers to ordinary people: through ignorance and the defilement of craving they covet and cling to form, then through wrong views produce discriminative proliferation, claiming that the fruit exists in the cause, that it does not exist in the cause, and so forth.”

The sequence has three sections: first ignorance—not understanding; next the defilement of craving—the mind has stuck to form; only last come the assertions born of wrong views: that the fruit exists in the cause, that it does not exist in the cause, and all the other arguments.

See this sequence clearly: fixed claims about cause and fruit do not grow from nowhere. First there is a mind that has stuck fast; only then does it devise a theory for the place where it is stuck. Thus, at the end of the refutation, the respondent turns the words toward the person conducting the debate.

Nor does “should not discriminate” mean that one should not think—this entire chapter is thinking at its most exacting. It says that since “form is sought here but cannot be found,” one should not install a fixed claim upon form.

Does the Fruit Resemble the Cause, or Not?

One gate remains to be traversed.

〔T30 0007a05〕 “If the fruit resembles the cause, that cannot stand; if the fruit does not resemble the cause, that cannot stand either.”

First consider resemblance. Qingmu gives three differences: “the cause is fine and the fruit coarse”—threads are fine, cloth thick; “cause and fruit differ in color, efficacy, and so forth”; and the most interesting, “if cloth resembled threads it would not be called cloth, because the threads are many and the cloth one.” If cloth truly looked just like threads, it would no longer be called cloth. Moreover, there are many threads but one whole bolt of cloth—how are many and one alike?

Then consider unlikeness. “Hemp threads cannot make silk, and coarse threads cannot produce fine cloth.” Thread made of hemp cannot be woven into silk; coarse thread cannot be woven into fine cloth. If cause and fruit were wholly unrelated, any thread should be able to make any cloth, but this is not so.

The two sides close in: call them alike and the difference is erased, so cloth can no longer be cloth; call them unlike and the relation is severed, so on what grounds was this cloth woven from this bundle of threads? Qingmu concludes: “Since both positions fail, there is neither form nor a cause of form.”

In daily life, there is nothing wrong with saying, “Cloth is woven from threads.” The mistake is to assign that event of “weaving” to a fixed thing that must bear it, then ask whether that thing is ultimately like or unlike another.

The Other Four Aggregates Are to Be Seen in the Same Way

Once the gates examining the form aggregate have been traversed, Nāgārjuna passes over the others in a single verse:

“The aggregate of feeling and the aggregate of perception, formations, consciousness, and the rest— all other dharmas are the same as the aggregate of form.”

Qingmu likewise adds only one sentence: “The other four aggregates and all dharmas should likewise be contemplated and refuted in this way.”

The sentence seems light, but in fact it returns the work to the reader’s own hands. It does not say, “Feeling, perception, formations, and consciousness are also empty; simply remember that.” It says they “should likewise be contemplated”: walk through the preceding gates yourself—apart from cause, apart from fruit, fruit present or absent, resembling the cause or not resembling it—and try each gate with feeling, then with perception.

A conclusion can be heard from someone else; no one else can traverse those gates for you.

The Final Two Verses: The Treatise Author Teaches How to Ask and Answer

At this point the treatise has effectively finished. But Qingmu says, “Now the treatise author, wishing to praise the meaning of emptiness, speaks further in verse,” and adds two verses:

“If someone asks a question and one tries to answer apart from emptiness, it does not constitute an answer but remains caught in the very same doubt. If someone poses a challenge and one states another’s fault apart from emptiness, it does not constitute a challenge but remains caught in the very same doubt.”

These two verses do not discuss the five aggregates. They discuss question and answer themselves. It is as though the treatise author, on completing his work, turns back and says: you have just watched me question and answer all the way through; there is a rule within it.

Qingmu’s example could not be more ordinary. Someone says, “A jar is impermanent.” Another asks, “Why is it impermanent?” He answers, “Because it arises from an impermanent cause.”

Qingmu says this does not count as an answer. Why? “Within the cause and condition there is still doubt: it is not known whether it is permanent or impermanent.” The “impermanent cause” offered as an answer has not itself been settled as permanent or impermanent. You have only moved the doubt back one step; you have not dissolved it.

The challenging side is the same. “You use impermanence to refute my permanence; I too can use permanence to refute your impermanence.” You strike my grasped permanence with your grasped impermanence; I strike back with permanence. The positions keep changing hands, and neither person moves the other. Moreover, if there truly were a real impermanence, Qingmu says it would incur three faults: “If impermanence were real, there would be no karmic retribution; the eyes, ears, and other dharmas would perish moment after moment; and there would be no discrimination.” Karma could not connect with its fruit, the eyes and other faculties would break off at every moment, and even discrimination would have nowhere to be established.

Then does refuting by reliance on emptiness not pose the same problem—have you not made “emptiness” your foothold?

Here the respondent speaks the chapter’s most crucial sentence:

“If one relies on emptiness to refute permanence, there is no fault. Why? Because this person does not grasp the mark of emptiness.”

The difference is not which weapon has been picked up, but whether the hand closes around it. Permanence and impermanence are both grasped things, so they can strike at each other forever. Emptiness can refute without being refuted in return because the person who speaks emptiness does not clench emptiness into yet another thing.

The final sentence carries the matter to its end:

“Thus, if one wishes to conduct questions and answers, one should rely on the dharma of emptiness—how much more one who wishes to seek the mark of freedom from suffering and quiescent cessation?”

Even an everyday debate must rely on this if it is not to become an exchange of stones. What, then, of someone truly seeking freedom from suffering and seeking cessation?

A chapter that begins by asking about the five aggregates ends by teaching one how to speak. This ending does not stray from the subject: the five aggregates are established as truly existent precisely through one question and answer after another.

What Can a Reader Carry Away from This Chapter?

First, remember the two directions. “Remove the threads and there is no cloth; remove the cloth and there are no threads.” We habitually trace downward toward causes but rarely turn around to see that what is called a cause receives its identity from the fruit. Cause and fruit do not first stand separately and then become connected; the two names arise together.

Second, notice whether you began arguing only after you had already stuck to something. Qingmu gives the sequence clearly: ignorance and the defilement of craving come first; discriminative proliferation follows. Beneath a fiercely contested argument there is often something the mind cannot bear to release.

Third, learn to distinguish an answer from a displacement. An answer such as “because it arises from an impermanent cause” sounds complete, but merely pushes the unsettled matter back one step. Ask yourself: has the thing I am using as my answer itself been settled?

Fourth, emptiness is for releasing the hand, not closing it. “Because this person does not grasp the mark of emptiness”—these words are the most important sentence at the chapter’s close.

Carried Forward: Jizang’s Mirror

The preceding is the meaning of the chapter itself. What follows lets the Sui–Tang Three Treatises tradition illuminate it from the side. The mirror is not the treatise; it offers another way to read the same verses.

Jizang’s Commentary on the Treatise on the Middle divides the chapter’s nine verses into two parts: the first seven seek the ultimate emptiness of the five aggregates; the final two praise ultimate emptiness. He further places the six verses examining form under three gates: first, cause and fruit cannot be separated; second, cause and no cause; and last, resemblance and non-resemblance. This classification returns the long sequence of questions and answers in the chapter’s middle to their places and makes its shape easier to see.

On the line “a person of wisdom should not discriminate form,” he connects what is discriminated back to the preceding claims—cause and fruit separate or not separate, caused or uncaused, and so forth—and rebukes them together. He explains the section on ignorance and the defilement of craving as craving arising from delusion, which is affliction; later, using wrong views to discriminate existence and nonexistence in the three times is a new affliction arising on top of the old delusion. This layered interpretation renders Qingmu’s threefold sequence in still finer detail.

As for whether relying on emptiness becomes another dependence, Jizang frames and answers the question: if one says that emptiness is relied upon to refute permanence, does this not posit an emptiness on which to rely, leaving one vulnerable to refutation by the non-Buddhists? His answer is that one does not grasp the mark of emptiness or any of the four alternatives; the mind has nothing on which it relies. He also says that even worldly questions and answers must rely on emptiness—how much more should someone seeking the highest path not retain an existent thing?

This mirror joins the chapter to the Three Treatises tradition’s framework of doctrinal classification and disclosing the right by releasing views. Its divisions and layered judgments are Jizang’s additions, not the words of Nāgārjuna’s verses or Qingmu’s long commentary. The readings are recorded side by side without adjudication, each returned to its own place.

Two other alternative commentaries also transmit this chapter. At the opening verse, the Bhāviveka-line Prajñā Lamp Commentary identifies the four great elements—earth and the rest—as the cause of form, saying that within the ultimate meaning form cannot be found apart from them, while conventionally form is provisionally established in reliance on the four elements as causes. At the chapter’s beginning, the Sthiramati-line Mahāyāna Commentary on the Middle Contemplation first distinguishes levels: another school establishes the twelve sense fields as truly existent in the ultimate because they are included within the aggregates; the commentator grants their inclusion in conventional truth but not in the ultimate. At the close, it says that because nothing departs from emptiness, everything is accomplished, and conventional acts and attainments do not fall into annihilation. The wording transmitted by the three lineages differs; on the mutual dependence of the names cause and fruit, their meaning converges.