《太上老君说报父母恩重经》

At that time, the Supreme Lord Lao was on Mount Yuli in the Jade Kingdom of Xina, elucidating the Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power), proclaiming the precepts, and broadly expounding the matters of causes and conditions to living beings of the ten directions. Fifty thousand people accompanied the Supreme Lord Lao. Fortunate to take part in this assembly, they raised their hands and pressed their palms together, paying reverence to the various honored ones. When the greetings were finished, a Zhenren (Perfected Person) among the assembly, named Haikong Zhizang, stepped out from the ranks, knelt for a long while, and addressed the Supreme Lord Lao: “The hair, skin, and body we bear were all received from our parents. Our parents’ kindness is profound, yet we have no means to repay it. We earnestly beg the greatly compassionate Supreme Lord Lao to take pity on living beings and open instruction for us; if we may obtain guidance, we shall also receive this grace within the cycle of birth and death.”

“Zhenren” is a title in Daoism for one who has succeeded in cultivation; “hair and skin” refers to the body, and also carries the sense that the body is received from one’s parents.

At this point the Most High Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun, a revered deity of Daoism) remained silent for a long while in compassion, and only then said to Haikong Zhizang: “You have asked well. You have touched what is most essential and most profound. Listen carefully, and I shall explain it for you.

“When a person’s body is upright, the shadow is naturally upright; when the body leans askew, the shadow leans askew as well. When the voice is clear and bright, the echo is clear; when the voice is turbid, the echo is muddled too. Filial and unfilial conduct follow the same principle.

“Those who honor their parents and love their brothers bring peace and happiness to young and old in the household, and they also win the respect of heavenly beings and the protection of the gods and spirits. Generation after generation, their descendants pass on a spirit of filial devotion and kindness, and thus they draw filial children to themselves. By contrast, in the homes of the unfilial, resentment accumulates from generation to generation, and parents and children become like enemies. Such people draw to themselves children who commit the Five Heinous Crimes (the five gravest offenses in Buddhist and Daoist scriptures). Fathers and sons, and brothers, each hide their money and eat apart. Though they clearly live in the same garden and till the same fields, they divide the vegetables and the grain; they hide the good food and eat as furtively as thieves. Such people have human form, yet they are worse than birds and beasts: the gods and spirits do not shelter them, and the people of the world despise and slight them. Much of what they do in life is inauspicious. After death they fall into hell and suffer the full bitterness of retribution. When that punishment is exhausted, they are reborn as shrikes; once the young they hatch have learned to fly, the chicks actually peck and devour the mother bird. Only after passing through a hundred kalpas are they born again as human beings, yet once more they gather the karmic conditions of the Five Heinous Crimes and of unfilial conduct, become father and son to one another, harm one another, and suffer anxiety and bitterness through life and death, cycling without end. Of all the sufferings in the world, none is deeper than this.

“In human life, none are closer than one’s parents. Without a father, there is no life; without a mother, there is no nurturing. For ten months the mother carries the child, her body bearing a heavy burden, unable to sit or lie at ease. As the time of birth approaches, she worries whether she herself will survive, and her heart is filled with fear and sorrow. In labor, pain strikes violently both within the body and without; she cannot help crying out, endures extreme distress, and trembles all over with fright.

“After the child is born, the mother strokes his head and lays him on the grass. The child wails, and she settles him in the bedding, lying on her side to watch over him for three months, constantly fearing harm from evil spirits. When the child is hungry, he depends on his mother for food; when thirsty, he depends on her milk. According to the scripture (Jing), the mother’s milk the child drinks amounts to eight hu and four sheng (ancient measures of capacity). She must also carry and tend him for more than a thousand days, shielding him from dust and wiping away filth, giving the dry place to the child while she herself endures the damp, keeping what is bitter for herself and giving what is sweet to the child. The child cannot leave the mother, and the mother nurtures the child day and night.

“Sometimes the mother must labor among the neighbors, or go to hull rice and grind flour. When a government assignment or some urgent matter at home arises, she cannot return in time. Though her body is elsewhere, she knows the child is crying at home; mother and child are naturally close, their hearts in communion. Though their bodies are now separate, their blood and Qi (vital energy) were once joined, and their intimacy admits no gap. The moment the child thinks of the mother, her heart starts; she hurries home, and her milk wells forth with her.

“When the mother reaches the gate, she may find the child in the cradle, beside the door, in someone else’s arms, on the bed, or on the ground; sometimes sitting in filth and clutching earth and weeds, sometimes still crying, sometimes nearly ceasing to cry. The moment the child looks up and sees the mother, he both cries and laughs, shakes his head, and drags himself crawling toward her. The mother bends down, lifts the child, wipes away the filth with her hand, blows gently on his mouth, and then nurses him. The child takes the nipple and looks at his mother, babbling; the mother rejoices to see the child, and the child rejoices to see the mother. Their mutual concern and loving-kindness run so deep that no affection surpasses that between mother and child.

“Only at two or three years of age does the child begin to understand things and to walk. Of cold and warmth, and of the child’s bodily needs, none knows more clearly than the mother. When the child laughs, the mother is glad; when the child cries, she knows he is unwell. At that time the child thinks only of food and drink and worries about nothing else. When the parents go out on business, if they come upon a feast or obtain cakes and meat, they always bring some home for the child. Nine times out of ten the child is delighted; if once they bring nothing, the child sulks and cries. The scripture says that a child spoiled from youth easily grows unfilial, whereas a filial child understands kindness and gentle compliance.

“After the child grows up, he constantly keeps company with friends, craves amusement, combs his hair and dresses up, desires fine clothes, keeps the choice and exquisite things for himself, and leaves the coarse and worn-out for his parents to wear. Later he is eager to establish a household and rushes about seeking a wife; his thoughts turn toward his spouse, while his mother is gradually left in the cold. They shut the door to laugh and show affection, while the parents have no one to care for them.

“When the parents grow old and their strength gradually fails, the child does not come to see them from morning till night. They keep to an empty room alone, like outsiders, short of clothing and food, enduring hunger and cold. Thick calluses form on their hands and feet; they grow deaf and dim-sighted, and can only lie alone on the bed, feeling the days extraordinarily long. Their bodies grow thin and weak and are covered with lice; mosquitoes bite them, and all night they cannot sleep in peace. They sigh at length: ‘What crime have we committed, that we should have borne such an unfilial child?’ Leaning on their staffs, they call the child in a humble, lowered voice, wishing only to finish what remains unsaid and to express the feelings still unexpressed. The child glares at them in anger, abuses them loudly, and turns away. Supporting themselves against the wall, the parents return indoors, beat their breasts in self-reproach, weep until their eyes are red and swollen, and lament again and again: ‘Better to have died sooner.’

“The mother says to the child: ‘When you were small, if not for me, how could you have grown up? Food and drink, clothing and all you wore, were my care. I carried you for ten months, as if bearing a heavy load, panting as I hurried about, more exhausting than running. At times cold and heat came together; I could neither sit nor lie at ease. My belly felt as if it would split, my chest was swollen and full, my hair fell out, my body wasted away, and I could not even eat. In the month before birth I was often afraid, fearing a parting of life and death from you; sometimes there was a brief ease, and sometimes I fell ill and suffered again.

“‘On the day of birth, life seemed like a candle flame in the wind. The four limbs, the hundred vessels, and the five viscera felt as if stabbed by knives and torn by hooks—now hot as burning fire, now cold as ice water. The agony of that moment between life and death has no equal among the sufferings of the world; it simply cannot be put into words. After you were born, I felt both joy and fear, still enduring pain beyond bearing. For three years I held you, never leaving you day or night, tending to your eating and sleeping and to your bodily needs, while I myself often could not rest at the proper times. Every day I watched your expression, attentive to whether you were hungry or thirsty. When you fell ill, your parents’ hearts felt as if pierced by needles; hearing you suffer, I as your mother could not even eat, my mouth dry and my tongue parched.

“‘To seek blessings for you, we spent all our gold and silver, buying clothes and toys, hoping only that you would be safe and happy, and never grudging the cost. When you were small, wherever you went you followed me and would not leave me for a moment; at meals and at bedtime you had to stay close to me. If you did not see me for a day, you would eat nothing all day long; if I was absent for a night, you would cry until you could not sleep. How is it that, once grown, you have suddenly become an enemy? Now, though I have you, it would have been better never to have had you at all. I can only entrust everything to Heaven and to the gods and spirits of the unseen realm for judgment. I wish I might leave this world sooner and be parted from you—but what can be done?’”

At that time, the Most High Lord Lao finished relating the matter: once the child had grown up, he turned out to be a bitter enemy after all. Now, though the child was there, it would have been better never to have given birth to him; one could only deliver him over to Heaven for judgment and let the deities of the netherworld examine the case. “May I leave the world of the living soon and be parted from you—what am I to do!”

When the Most High Lord Lao had finished speaking, he at once displayed his supernatural powers, causing the great earth to shake all together. Amid the quaking, the assembly suddenly saw, in this hell, countless beings undergoing punishment: their feet trod mountains of knives, their hands were pierced by trees of swords, their tongues were pulled out and then run through with iron pillars. They wailed in agony; their bodies festered, blood streamed from every pore, and the filth of urine and excrement lay strewn about as they were dragged along the ground, suffering every torment.

Haikong Zhicang was so frightened that his whole body went cold and his hair stood on end. Weeping and choking with sobs, he addressed the Most High Lord Lao: “What crimes have these suffering souls committed, that they should fall into such a state?”

The Most High Lord Lao told Haikong Zhicang: “These are all guilty persons. While they lived they were neither compassionate nor filial; they abandoned their mothers, slandered the Three Treasures (Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha), and insulted and slighted those who had left the household life. The suffering they now endure has no end, the days of their retribution are still long, and there is truly nothing to be done.”

The Most High Lord Lao then spoke in verse:

Good deeds naturally bring good fruits; evil deeds in the end come down to evil retribution.

If in life one is neither compassionate nor filial, how after death can one receive grace and protection?

How pitiable, to be sunk in pain and poisonous harm, coming and going through the eighteen hells.

Were it not for meeting the three days each year when I grant pardon, how could they obtain even a temporary remission?

When the Most High Lord Lao had finished the verse, the great assembly raised a loud cry of grief, weeping and lamenting without cease. He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, and the crowd turned their faces to look toward the south, where the gates of the Heavenly Hall of the Southern Palace (the celestial palace spoken of in Daoism) appeared.

They further saw, within the Heavenly Hall of the Southern Palace, good men and faithful women, dignified in bearing and serene in manner, their features beautiful and outstanding. There were all manner of celestial foods and inexhaustible treasures, which everyone might freely enjoy, living in peace and delight.

Zhicang was overjoyed, and once more addressed the Most High Lord Lao: “I do not know by what merit and virtue these people are able to dwell in heaven, with clothing and food naturally abundant, and to enjoy such happiness.”

At this time, the Most High Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun) replied to Haikong Zhizang, saying: “When this person was alive, he was sincerely filial toward his parents, providing for them and treating them with reverence. He also paid homage to the Three Treasures (the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha), delighted in giving alms, observed the precepts, and honored those who had left the household life to cultivate the Way. Now he enjoys the reward of his merit, and the good fruits he has obtained are without end.”

The Most High Lord Lao then spoke a gatha (a teaching expressed in verse):

“In a former life he had the good affinity of filial piety and benevolence; he supported his parents, and in acts of ritual reverence he committed no lapse. He revered and trusted the Three Treasures, and blessings continually gathered. In heaven he dwells at ease and content, his merit lofty and profound. Now he enjoys endless joy—all of it brought by the felicity he accumulated in the past.”

At that time, after the Most High Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun) had finished speaking this verse, he sighed for a long while and said to Haikong Zhizang: “The kindness of one’s parents is profound and vast, boundless as the azure heavens. Alas, a loving mother—how is such kindness to be repaid?

“I recall that in a former life I was conceived in the womb of Mother Hong, and within the Palace of the Jade Embryo I gathered my Shen (spirit) and was nurtured for three thousand seven hundred years. Later, in the age of the Supreme Sovereign, I was again conceived as the child of Mother Li, and only after passing through the transformations of Yin-Yang for a full eighty-one years was I born. I have always wished to repay my mother’s kindness, and even now, after passing through many kalpas, I still fear that I have not repaid it fully. How much more, then, must you ordinary people not fail to repay the kindness of your parents.

“Even if one exhausts heart and strength, it is still hard to honor one’s parents with complete propriety—let alone do what offends one’s elders or goes against filial piety. Among all the teachings and precepts, there is not one that teaches people not to repay their parents’ kindness, nor is any such saying found in the thirty-six divisions of the Jing (scriptures) of the Dao (the Way). Of the sages and worthies of every age, who has not followed filial piety? How much more, since you are studying the Dao, ought you to repay the kindness of your parents.

“You should make your resolve firm: outwardly, support your parents with all your heart; inwardly, harbor a vast heart of compassion. Even if one’s body were ground to dust and one’s bones shattered, it would still be hard to repay in full the kindness of one’s parents.

“If someone is willing, for the sake of their parents, to copy this Jing, recite and uphold it, burn incense, and pay homage; and if, on Zhongyuan Day (the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month, an important day when Daoism holds Zhaijiao, purification rituals, and memorial rites for ancestors), they establish a Zhaijiao (a rite of setting up an altar, performing the ritual, praying for blessings, and offering deliverance), prepare renowned incense, gather mountain flowers, and present all manner of pure offerings, sincerely praying morning and evening for blessings and gracious protection and delivering their ancestors—this is called repaying the kindness of parents in bearing and raising one, and it can also eliminate the sins of the Five Rebellions and the Ten Evils (grave offenses that seriously violate ethics and the precepts).

“If one can, at noon on the first day of each month, observe the fast, burn incense, practice the Dao and perform worship, and recite this Jing, one can also eliminate transgressions; this too is called repaying the kindness of parents in bearing and raising one.

“On this day one should also invite an eminent Daoist master of pure virtue to expound this Jing, clarify its wondrous meaning, and exhort all beings to give rise to a heart of loving their parents and revering them with filial piety. Such merit is supreme and inconceivable. Even ten million kinds of merit cannot compare with urging others to lecture on, study, and recite this Jing of Repaying Kindness.

“Whoever hears this Jing and suddenly gives rise to a filial heart, and begins to support their parents, obtains immeasurable merit and blessed virtue: above, they can move and reach the holy hosts of the various heavens; in the middle, they can move and reach the numinous consciousnesses in the dark realms; and below, they can cause their descendants in later generations to be filial and reverent, generation after generation, without interruption.”

At this time, the assembly present, together with the Perfected One Haikong Zhizang and the others, having heard the Most High Lord Lao finish expounding this Jing (scripture) on repaying the profound kindness of one’s parents, were all moved to tears. After receiving the teaching, they came to feel even more deeply the sincerity of filial reverence toward their parents; they kept these words firmly in their hearts and reverently and solemnly complied with them, then each returned to his own country and carried out the rites in practice.

In the original text, the passage “各还本……” contains repetition, and the words that follow “各还本”—“空智藏真人等”—do not cohere in meaning; here, in accordance with the sense of the text, this is understood as “各还本国” (each returned to his own country).