筆者於今年六月十四日回大陸探望父母，其間的一些見聞留給我很深的感觸，在此略向讀者介紹，以便對大陸有所瞭解。
西園寺的少年比丘
自上海下飛機後，當晚被朋友接到蘇州市。第二天我們走訪了市內著名的「西園寺」。雖然處於市區，西園寺卻很安靜。除大殿外，寺內還有一個很大的羅漢堂，裡面供奉著當年跟隨佛陀的那些大阿羅漢。此外寺內還有一個內花園，環境幽靜，利於靜行。
在大雄寶殿內，我與一位少年比丘交談了片刻。據他說，西園寺原先是禪宗道場，現在以淨土為修行法門。他說國內佛教界對萬佛聖城也有所瞭解，對宣公上人很尊重。臨別時，我問：「按第一義諦修，是否應當把第二義諦的形式棄掉？」他想了想說：「都需要，無礙嘛！」的確如此。雖然按第一義，修行應當「離言掃相」，但也可以「遇境不住，處相不著」地融合第二義的形式。心中對這位少年比丘的佛學知見很是佩服。
次日，又走訪了印光大師的道場——靈巖山。那裡的比丘持戒嚴謹，給我留下了深刻的印象。
母親修行的道場
回到故鄉杭州後，一日母親要我跟她去道場共修。早上來到中天竺廟裡，這所廟正在重修大雄寶殿。早課在觀音殿裡進行，出家眾與在家居士是分開做功課的。我與母親參加在家居士的早課。殿內約有五十餘人，女眾佔絕大多數。大家身著海青，顯得我的牛仔褲不倫不類。
這裡的早課與聖城的很相似，唱誦中帶著江浙一帶的越劇調子。聽說我從聖城來的，維那給我敬香的榮譽。這裡的敬香是由幾位居士輪流進行。大家非常嚴肅虔誠。修行以淨土為宗，強調一門深入。
近午時，在與居士們的交談中，發現這裡信眾的佛學知識有相當的水平。當我提起在聖城唱華嚴字母的感受時，有一位居士就輕聲唱起來，發音與聖城的完全一樣。午齋的素食非常簡單，氣氛很好，大家相處得非常和諧。廟上還有可供居士修行的住處。對母親能有這樣的環境修行，我很感欣慰。
靈隱寺新貌
靈隱寺是江南名剎，對那裡我是非常熟悉的。我從小就在隔街的靈隱小學讀書。幾天後約朋友上寺內禮佛，進寺後發現有許多變化。原先在大雄寶殿後的小藏經樓已不見了，代之而起的是一座雄偉的藥師殿。兩旁還增加了寮房，加上前邊的彌勒殿，看起來莊嚴而不華麗，整個寺廟比以前寬敞多了。大陸近年來佛教事業的復興，有著明顯的進展。
漫步在右廂房時，見到一則廣告，稱這裡的素食得到海外某大師的讚賞。定力薄弱的我，無法抗拒這超級誘惑。進去品嚐之後，大失所望。這位大師在誇獎時，怕是鼓勵多於讚美吧！
鄉情與法喜
最後幾天，我代替父親去祖籍安徽省無為縣祭掃祖墳，看望親人。許多親人都已二十幾年未見。他們早已得知我信佛，又住進廟裡。這次知道我回來，都趕來見我，想知道為什麼。我的堂姐對佛法很有興趣，在聽我母親介紹佛法道理後，脾氣大改。這次她帶女兒特地從省城趕來，要我講解道理。
大家聚在一起敘述離別後的經歷，然後我給他們講了佛教的兩大支柱——大智與大悲，以及因果關係。雖然他們一時不能全部領會，但可以看得出，這些道理已打動了他們的心。
這次能有機會給家鄉親人講些佛法道理，確是個意外的收穫，心中法喜充滿。看來佛教在中國大陸復興，現在是時候了。
中國人的大乘根基
在大陸期間，我發現國人藝術作品中，其思考方式與海外有明顯的差別。海外的藝術作品以表現個人情感為主，而大陸的作品，卻更多地表現了生活與集體精神。這樣的差別，使我感覺到了中國人的大乘傾向。但是為什麼會有這種差別，我百思不得其解。
從無為縣回杭州，汽車要在長江的防洪大堤上走近兩個小時。幾年前鬧特大洪水時，無為縣的鄉人曾破開大堤，將洪水引向自己的家園，以保護其他人口密集的城市。那天在路上，我從車內向外邊眺望，似乎要尋找那破口之處。突然心中一動，我似乎明白了。
就在這裡，就是這長江，這大堤；這幾千里的大堤，不是幾個人或幾個團體能夠建立起來的。數千年來，在與洪水的搏鬥中，中國人懂得了「相扶相助，相依相存」的道理。大禹治水，三過家門而不入。一次次的洪水，造就了一批批憂國憂民的有識之士。他們「先天下之憂而憂，後天下之樂而樂。」漸漸地，「道義」與「公益」，在中華民族的心中，紮下了根。想到這裡，心中十分悲愴。
汽車在二壩鎮上了輪渡過長江。我走出汽車，站在船頭，面對濤濤東去的長江水，心中思緒萬千。中華民族幾千年的文明史，頓時湧上心頭，不由得熱淚滾滾。想起這大江與祖先對我們的孕育，真感到無以為報。在這極端主義漸漸被清除的大地上，不正是我們以「春蠶到死絲方盡」的精神，來奉獻的時候嗎？
註：此文完稿時，筆者得知長江又鬧洪水，傷害生靈。洪水無情，我們的業障更無情，能不警惕？ |
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On June 14, 1998, I returned to mainland China to visit my parents. I was quite stirred by some of the things I saw and heard, which I shall share here with the hope of bringing about a better understanding of mainland China.
A Young Bhikshu at Western Garden Monastery
The evening I arrived in Shanghai and got off the plane, a friend picked me up and took me to the city of Suzhou. The following day we visited the famous Xiyuan (Western Garden) Monastery. Although it was in the city, it was very tranquil inside. In addition to the Main Hall, there was a large Hall of Arhats, in which there were statues of the Buddha's great Arhat disciples. There was also a garden in the courtyard of the monastery. The atmosphere was peaceful and conducive to cultivation.
Inside the Main Hall, I conversed briefly with a young Bhikshu. He said that the monastery had originally specialized in Chan meditation, but now the emphasis was on the Pure Land Practice. He also told me that Buddhists in China know about the City of Ten Thousand Buddhas and hold the Venerable Master Hua in great esteem. Before saying goodbye, I asked him, "If we cultivate according to the supreme truth, does that mean we should do away with the forms of secondary truth?" He thought it over and then replied, "Both are necessary; they're not mutually exclusive." True indeed! Although the supreme truth says that cultivation is apart from language and appearances, we can still "encounter states, yet not cling to them; dwell within appearances without attachment," thereby incorporating the forms of secondary truth. I very much admired the young monk's insight into the Buddhadharma.
The following day, we visited Lingyanshan--Great Master Yinguang's Way-place. I was impressed by the stern observance of precepts of the Bhikshus there.
The Monastery Where My Mother Practices
After I returned to Hangzhou, my hometown, one day my mother asked me to accompany her to a temple. We went in the morning to Zhongtianzhu (Central India) Monastery. Since the Main Hall was being renovated, Morning Recitation was held in Guanyin Hall. The monks and laypeople did their ceremonies separately. My mother and I joined the Morning Recitation for the laity. There were about fifty people in the hall, mostly women. Everyone wore the black robe, making me feel rather out-of-place in my jeans.
The Morning Recitation there was quite similar to the one at the City of Ten Thousand Buddhas (CTTB), but the melodies carried the lilt of the local opera of Zhejiang Province and Jiangsu Province. Hearing that I was from CTTB, the cantor gave me the honor of offering incense. Usually the laypeople took turns offering incense. Everyone was solemn and sincere. They concentrated on the Pure Land practice, deeply entering that one Dharma door.
As it was nearing noontime, I conversed with the laypeople and found that they were quite knowledgeable in Buddhism. When I was describing my feeling of chanting the Avatamsaka Syllabary at CTTB, one layperson started singing it with exactly the same pronunciation as at the City. The vegetarian lunch was very simple, but the atmosphere was great. Everyone was very amiable. The monastery also had some quarters for laypeople. I was pleased that my mother had such a fine environment to cultivate in.
The New Look of Lingyin Monastery
Lingyin Monastery is a famous temple in south China. I am very familiar with it, for as a child I studied at Lingyin Elementary School across the street. A few days after I came back, I went with friends to pay homage at Lingyin Monastery. I noticed various changes. Standing where a small Tripitaka Tower had been behind the Main Hall was now an impressive Medicine Master Hall. New dormitories had been added on both sides too. Together with the Maitreya Hall, the entire monastery looks adorned but not extravagant, and much more spacious than before. In recent years, there has been noticeable progress in the revival of Buddhism in mainland China. As I was strolling in one of the rooms, I noticed an advertisement saying that the temple's vegetarian cuisine had won the praises of a certain great master. Being weak in samadhi power, I could not resist going in to try the food out. It turned out to be a disappointment. The great master's praise must have been meant to encourage the cooks.
Reunion and the Joy of Dharma
In the last few days of my visit, I went in my father's stead to our hometown in Wuwei County, Anhui Province, to make offerings to and sweep the ancestral graves and visit relatives. I hadn't seen some of them for over twenty years. They had long since known that I had become a Buddhist and was living at a monastery. Hearing that I had come back, they came to see me and ask me why. My cousin was keenly interested in Buddhism. After hearing my mother explain the Dharma, she had gotten rid of her temper. She and her daughter made a special trip from the provincial capital in order to hear me explain the principles. Everyone got together and recounted what they had been doing all these years, and then I spoke to them about the two pillars of Buddhism—great wisdom and great compassion—as well as the relationship between cause and effect. Although not everyone could understand it all, I could see that they were moved by these principles.
It was an unexpected surprise to have the opportunity to explain the Buddhadharma to my relatives and people from my hometown. I was filled with Dharma joy. It seems that the time for Buddhism to revive in mainland China has arrived.
The Propensity of the Chinese People for Mahayana Buddhism
While in China, I noticed that the focus of my countrymen's thoughts as expressed through art is very different from that of other cultures. Overseas works of art primarily express individual sentiments, whereas works from mainland China depict the spirit of communal life. This difference indicated to me the propensity of Chinese people for the Great Vehicle. But I could not understand why there should be such a difference.
On the way from Wuwei County to Hangzhou City, one must drive for nearly two hours on the dike along the Yangtze River. A few years ago during a huge flood, the villagers of Wuwei County broke the dike in order to let the water flow toward their own homes, thereby protecting other, more densely populated towns. As I gazed out from the car that day, as if trying to spot the area where they had broken the dike, a sudden insight flashed through my mind and I seemed to understand.
It was right there, on the Yangtze River, on the dike. This dike of several thousand li (one li is about one-third of an English mile) was not built by a few people or groups of people. Over several thousand years of struggling with floods, Chinese people have learned to help one another and rely upon one another for survival. The Great Yu, in working to prevent floods, was so dedicated that he passed his own home three times without going in. The never-ending floods have produced generations of men of foresight who care for the country, who are the first to be concerned about the people's troubles, and who do not enjoy pleasures until everyone else enjoys them as well. Gradually, righteousness and public spirit have sent down their roots in the hearts of Chinese people. These reflections put me in a melancholy mood.
At the town of Erba, the car was taken across the Yangtze River by a ferry. I got off the car and stood at the ferry's prow, facing the oncoming waves, my mind in turmoil. The several-thousand-year civilization of China suddenly came to my mind. Tears welled up in my eyes. It seemed impossible to repay the Yangtze River and my ancestors for their nurturing care. As the traces of extremism start to vanish from the land, is this not just the time for us to devote ourselves and give all we can to our country? Should we not be like the proverbial silkworm in the spring, which stops spinning silk only upon death?
Postscript: After I finished this essay, I learned that the Yangtze River had flooded again and many lives had been lost. Floods show no mercy, and our karma is even more relentless. How can we fail to heed the signs? |
