Okay, here is the translation following your instructions: Buddha Buddha, Tao Tao -- A Series of Books on Cultural Topics

Author: Chen Pingyuan
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2005-05-01
Features:
1. To discuss the religious consciousness of the Chinese people, it is naturally necessary to mention both Buddhism and Taoism. Interestingly, in twentieth-century China, there were many essays and short pieces on Buddhism, while those on Taoism were extremely scarce. Even when broadening the scope, very few were found. Apart from those who propagated the religion, there were several good articles about Buddhist followers, such as those recalling the Eight-Fingered Monk, Master Manchu, and Master Hongyi. However, there was nothing substantial on Taoist followers. How could twentieth-century Chinese literati be so partial to Buddhism and so indifferent to Taoism!
Perhaps this can be traced back to the revival of Buddhist studies in the late Qing Dynasty. What truly influenced the entire intellectual and cultural circles were not the teachings of Buddhist scholars like Yang Wenhui, but the "advancement or retreat of Buddhism according to their own judgment" by political figures like Kang Youwei, Liang Qichao, Tan Sitong, and Zhang Taiyan. Promoting Buddhism was to "remove the fear of death," "remove the gold-worshiping mentality," create a "self-sacrificing, vigorous, and fierce new people," and seek self-liberation and great liberation, great freedom, and absolute freedom. In summary, as Zhang Taiyan put it: "Religion should be used to inspire faith and enhance the morality of the people." The Buddhist theory of saving the nation had a great influence on the May Fourth writers. Lu Xun, Zhou Zuoren, and others criticized Confucianism and Taoism, but they did not criticize Buddhism, and even had a fondness for reading Buddhist scriptures. On one hand, Buddhism was used to counter the orthodox, and on the other hand, it was used to understand Western thought (such as freedom, equality, and fraternity). Although many political figures and writers later claimed to have found new and more effective ideological weapons, they still had a deep affection for Buddhism.
In contrast, the fate of Taoism was much worse. In the intellectual and cultural circles of twentieth-century China, Taoism never really made a name for itself. In the 1920s and 1930s, Lu Xun, Xu Deshan, and Zhou Zuoren discussed the profound influence of Taoism on the character of the Chinese people and the development trend of Chinese culture from the perspectives of intellectual history, religious history, and literary history, but they did so with a critical attitude. Lu Xun's passage in "Minor Random Thoughts" is often quoted by researchers: "People often resent monks, nuns, followers of Islam, and followers of Christianity, but they do not resent Taoists. Those who understand this understand half of China." As to why the Chinese do not resent Taoists but resent other religious followers, Lu Xun did not elaborate, but from the scattered remarks of writers in the 1920s and 1930s, one can roughly guess the mystery. First, Taoism is truly a native Chinese product and has a greater influence on the common people than Buddhism. Ordinary people often do not distinguish between Buddhism and Taoism, explaining Buddhism with Taoism, and many folk gods, taboos, and customs are related to Taoism. Second, both Buddhism and Christianity have relatively complete and rigorous theoretical systems, while the theory of Taoism appears fragmented and incomplete, with more elements of superstition. Third, Buddhist followers emphasize fasting, ascetic practices, and abstinence from women, while Taoist followers, while also emphasizing emptiness and tranquility, place greater emphasis on "harvesting yin to replenish yang" and achieving immortality. Such a theory that does not emphasize ascetic practices is naturally more appealing to the general Chinese populace. Finally, Buddhism emphasizes "sacrificing the body to seek the Dharma" and "saving all sentient beings," while Taoism emphasizes "ascending to heaven in the daytime" and pursuing personal immortality, which seems to place more emphasis on practical benefits. Such a distinction between Buddhism and Taoism may not be precise, but for writers of this generation who exposed the shortcomings of the Chinese people and sought to transform their souls, focusing on Taoism was indeed a deliberate effort.
As a result, Taoism had little to do with the essays and short pieces of twentieth-century China, which was a pity. In the 1920s and 1930s, there were serious academic papers on Taoism, as well as satirical and mocking short writings, but there was a lack of elegant and natural essays. After the 1950s, religion became a "plague" that people avoided at all costs, and writers had no leisure to discuss Buddhism and Taoism. Strangely, in recent years, as academia has "rehabilitated" religion, why do writers still talk more about Buddhism and less about Taoism? Perhaps with the resurgence of qigong, Taoism will return to the literary stage, but in this selected collection, Taoism is clearly at a disadvantage.
2. The focus of literati studying Buddhism differs from that of monks. They are not blind believers who blindly follow "understanding leads to action, misunderstanding also leads to action," but rather enjoy digging deep to explore the truth. Simply mocking monks for breaking rules and acting foolishly does not reveal any significant issues. Regardless of when, where, or which sect, there are always "cheaters" who claim to be religious followers, not just in Buddhism. Moreover, Buddhists are quite aware of this, as the "Net of Indra Sutra" states: "Like a worm in a lion's body devouring the lion's flesh, it is not an external worm. Similarly, Buddhist followers break the Dharma on their own, not by external devils or demons." Buddhist followers vary in quality, but this does not hinder the Dharma from shining like the sun, illuminating the world. Since the Tang and Song dynasties, there have been many works in fiction and opera mocking monks, but the enthusiasm of literati for reading Buddhist scriptures has not faded, the reason being "believing in Buddhism but not believing in monks." This is not to criticize all monks, but to emphasize the independent value of Buddhism as a theoretical system. Only in this way can one see the greatness of Buddhism.
Xu Deshan expressed the fundamental spirit of Buddhism—compassion—in poetic language: "May you be like an endless jeweled canopy, able to shade all living beings in the world" ("May You"). Feng Zikai clearly expressed his disdain for those who do business with Buddha and rely on praying for personal happiness by reciting Buddhist scriptures, stating that "truly believing in Buddhism should understand the meaning of the Four Noble Truths and eliminate selfishness; should understand the oneness of all things and the vast compassion of Buddha and protect and love all living beings" ("Buddhism Has No Soul"). The "Great Wisdom Treatise" states: "Great compassion brings joy to all living beings, and great mercy alleviates the suffering of all living beings." This true spirit of Buddhism is not accepted by all scholars, at least those who criticize Buddhism as and escapist do not see it this way. In the eyes of Master Hongyi, Buddhism is "not only not, but the most active of the active," because all Mahayana Buddhist teachings emphasize both emptiness and non-emptiness. "Non-emptiness" is for saving the world, and "emptiness" is for forgetting oneself ("Brief Explanation of Ten Treatises on the Dharma"). The "Declaration Against Yuan Shikai" published by Master Manchu in 1913 to support the second revolution of the Revolutionary Party, and Master Hongyi's slogan during the War of Resistance Against Japan—"Chanting the Buddha's name must save the country, and saving the country must not forget chanting the Buddha's name"—can serve as examples of the "non-emptiness" of Buddhist followers. You may doubt the actual effect of "chanting the Buddha's name to save the country," but you should not criticize its " and escapist" nature. Of course, what Buddhist followers pursue is a spiritual value, and most of it is just to save the current world from moral decline. It is unlikely to have any immediate practical effect.
Among the common people, the most knowledgeable about Buddhist scriptures is Zhou Zuoren. Apart from his knowledge and insight, what is more important is a tolerant attitude and a desire for understanding. In the eyes of ordinary people, Buddhist precepts are undoubtedly tedious and boring, with detailed rules even for urination, defecation, and spitting; but Zhou Zuoren saw the great spirit of Buddhism in them: all the rules are in line with human nature and the laws of physics. The most illustrative of this is the six characters: "Do not let others be troubled" ("Reading the Precepts"). As for the easily misunderstood practice of fasting, Zhou Zuoren also drew inspiration from the "Net of Indra Sutra": "I think vegetarianism is to avoid eating meat, and not eating meat is to avoid killing, which is correct. But why not kill? Then this explanation is still more appropriate, as it is said that one should not cut off the seeds of great compassion and Buddha-nature, which is more fitting. Other explanations are fragmented" ("Eating Vegetables"). This view is very close to Feng Zikai's, although Feng himself was a layman who had made "Protecting Life Paintings" and ate vegetarianism for physiological reasons. "My purpose of protecting life is to protect the heart. Not killing ants is not to cherish the life of ants, but to protect my own heart from becoming cruel" ("Buddhism Has No Soul"). As long as one truly protects the heart, whether eating meat or vegetables is a small matter. If one goes to extremes and only eats eggs not fertilized by roosters or keeps cats that do not eat mice, not only will it be pedantic and laughable, but it will also lose the essence of Buddhist studies. Moreover, if one carries this to its logical conclusion, one will starve to death, as plants also have life. Cheng Shanzhi, a writer in the early years of the Republic, wrote a novel titled "Suicide," about a Buddhist follower who, after understanding that there are microorganisms everywhere in water, was forced to commit suicide to avoid killing.
When it comes to Buddhism, one naturally thinks of ancient temples and the sound of bells. Compared to monks, the sound of ancient temple bells seems closer to the essence of Buddhism. While literati may mock the big and small monks who rely solely on the Buddha for their livelihood, they cannot help but feel reverence for the sound of ancient temple bells that echoes for ten years and resonates throughout the world. Xu Zhimo was amazed: "What an extraordinary power! What profound revelations! It embraces all conflicting phenomena, expands the vision of a moment, and this simple sound is a spiritual cleansing for me" ("Notes from Tianmu Mountain"). If Xu's feelings seem too abstract, please read Wang Zengqi's "The Ghost Bell of Chengtian Temple." The Ghost Bell was struck specifically for women who died in childbirth or from hemorrhage. "The bell sound struck out a circle, a pale golden halo. The suffering ghosts in hell saw the light. Joy appeared on their faces." Not all bells are like the Ghost Bell of Chengtian Temple, the "female bell" or "mother bell," but the bell sound seems to connect the human world with hell, reality with illusion, life with transcendence, and is more moving than written scriptures.
3. Monks vary in quality, some are respectable, and some are not. The "monks who rely solely on the Buddha for their livelihood" criticized by the public are not that bad. It all depends on how one understands religious followers. Su Manshu's "neither monk nor layman, yet both monk and layman" is still admired by people today, not just for his romantic nature, poetic talent, but also for his special understanding of religion. As for "Master Long," such a "bald-headed layman" described by Lu Xun does not seem vulgar but rather endearing because of his human touch ("My th Master"). When writing about monks, if one does not highlight the concept of the color of emptiness, but instead emphasizes their secular interests (first as a person, then as a religious follower), this creative tendency runs through a series of novels by Fei Ming, Lao She, and Wang Zengqi. The appearance of ordinary monks who are neither great monks nor bad monks has allowed twentieth-century Chinese writers to gain a deeper understanding of human nature and the essence of religion. Unfortunately, many writers later turned to Freud and devoted themselves to uncovering the sexual abnormalities of monks, which was rather superficial.
Interestingly, around the great monk Master Hongyi, a group of excellent essays emerged. Generally speaking, it is difficult to write about great monks, either because of excessive admiration that turns them into deities, or because of a lack of understanding that leads to scratching the wrong spot. As a pioneer of modern theatrical movement and art education, Master Hongyi had many friends in the literary world before he shaved his head and entered the mountain, and the distance between his secular and sacred life had not completely cut off their connections. Master Hongyi can be said to be the most understood monk by Chinese literati in the twentieth century, which is no wonder why there have been countless commemorative articles about Master Hongyi over the past few decades, and many of them are quite readable.
Among the May Fourth New Literature writers, those with a "reclusiveness" were not just a few like Fei Ming, Xu Deshan, Xia Mazu, and Feng Zikai. The large number of "monks" who emerged after Zhou Zuoren's self-complimenting poem at the age of fifty were not just for the occasion. In Yu Pingbo's "Dream of an Ancient Locust Tree," there is a wonderful line: "One must have the desire to become a monk, but one must not actually become a monk." The attitude of being both in and out, both monk and layman, is both admired and mocked by Chinese literati—mocked for its obvious affectation. In 1936, Yu Dafu, after visiting Master Hongyi, wrote a poem expressing his conflicting feelings: "In middle age, I also have the desire to escape into seclusion, but I cannot cut off both paths." Compared to his novels, Yu Dafu was not lying. According to Feng Zikai, Xia Mazu greatly admired Li Shuchun (Master Hongyi) for his great man's actions, but because of various worldly ties, he could not follow in his footsteps, and his lifelong sorrow and distress stemmed from this ("In Memory of Master Xia Mazu"). In other words, Master Hongyi, with his consistent serious and resolute attitude, pushed the reclusiveness hidden in the hearts of literati to the extreme, abandoned the game of being neither monk nor layman, and completely severed worldly ties to embrace Buddhism. Just as Yu Pingbo said, "If one truly wants to become a monk, one must be more of a monk than a monk" ("Dream of an Ancient Locust Tree"). This aspect shocked and ashamed the writers. Therefore, whether they believe in Buddhism or not, they respected and revered the passion and belief of Master Hongyi in learning Buddhism. Even Liu Yazi, a revolutionary poet who thought that "closing himself off from the world and shutting out the net of dust" was "too," could not help but be moved by his "sacrificing himself for the cause and shedding blood."
It is not necessarily that writers truly understand Master Hongyi's Buddhist attainments or truly believe in the value of his promotion of the precepts. They mainly regarded him as a "true person" and a friend who studied Buddhism. The reason Master Hongyi is respected is not because he can save suffering or help those in need, but because he found a way of life for himself and tasted a different kind of life. Xia Mazu opposed the idea that Master Hongyi underwent ascetic practices for some lofty purpose. "Others say he is suffering, but I say he is enjoying himself." In his eyes, there was almost nothing in the world that was bad, as long as one could appreciate it. "Regarding all things, not bound by conventional prejudices, returning them to their original form and observing them truthfully, this is true liberation and true enjoyment" ("Preface to Zikai Comics"). From another perspective, Ye Shengtao understood Master Hongyi's natural tranquility as a "small tree on a spring field." Regardless of whether one believes in religion or not, doesn't life just hope to reach the state of "spring full" and "moon round"? Master Hongyi "lived a good life all his life and died a good death, happy and content, with no regrets" ("On the of Master Hongyi"). Without real achievements or magnificent writings, just the phrase "branches of flowers are full, the sky's heart is round," which seems too great in the eyes of the world, but this is the Buddhist realm of life. Only by reaching this level through learning Buddhism can one live up to the "intersection of joy and sorrow" for decades.