《上清靈寶大法(二)》Vol. 23

I, a humble servant holding an office in the registers and rites of the Shangqing and Lingbao traditions, approach in reverent fear. I bow my head and prostrate myself twice as I submit this memorial:

On a certain day of this month, at a certain place in a certain prefecture, district, or county, I held a Supreme Yellow Register Great Retreat for a certain person. It continued for a certain number of days and nights, to deliver the deceased, including so-and-so. I also report together all the deceased men and women for whom deliverance was sought, along with the solitary spirits who received food offerings at the ritual measure, by which the dead and wandering spirits are fed and universally delivered.

I have heard that the four seasons revolve without ceasing: this is how Heaven and Earth transform and nurture the myriad things. The deliverance of living beings, likewise, has no end; this is the vow to spread compassion. I presume to rely on the divine spirits’ generous forbearance and to present the sincere intentions of an ordinary person. I approach in reverent fear. I bow my head and prostrate myself twice.

I believe that death is a great turning point in human life, for every person has a beginning and an end. The karmic causes formed by good and evil deeds in life determine whether a departed soul rises or falls. Moreover, after death, the deceased pass through a dark realm: their souls enter the long night, forever cut off from the world of the living, sunk in silence and unable to escape the underworld. Their hope lies in the compassionate master, the Heavenly Worthy Who Relieves Suffering, who universally guides the souls sunk in the netherworld to deliverance.

I am ignorant and unenlightened, and do not understand the utmost true Dao. Yet, by mistake, I hold the office of reading aloud and copying documents. I vow to serve diligently and wholeheartedly in relieving living beings. Therefore I have set down these words of earnest supplication and respectfully submit them above, requesting that the highest divinities extend their deliverance.

I respectfully entreat the Compassionate Taiyi, Heavenly Worthy Who Relieves Suffering, of the Eastern Pole’s Azure Palace: Your Dao and De are as vast as Heaven and Earth, and Your grace extends throughout the netherworld and the human realm. You open the utmost true gate that receives and guides departed souls, and proclaim the teachings that transform and nurture living beings. Your radiance shines throughout the nine layers of the earth, bringing peace to the netherworld; Your wondrous, mysterious grace reaches in all directions, bringing light and tranquility to every place.

I humbly hope that You will bestow Your grace upon Fengdu, the netherworld, and protect the Terrace of Springs, where departed souls dwell. May You specially dispatch the flying heavenly spirits and command the youths who relieve suffering to descend with the divine mandate of the Nine-Dragon River talisman and open the gates to the netherworld of the Six Paths. May the spirits of all beings in the netherworld, and the departed souls lingering in the Three Evil Paths—hell beings, hungry ghosts, and animals—receive Your special grace and ascend together to the immortal realms. Deliver these departed souls for whom intercession has been made, freeing them from the obstacles accumulated over many lifetimes, transforming and refining them, and granting them everlasting freedom.

I respectfully present this memorial and submit it for Your consideration. I approach in reverent fear. I bow my head and prostrate myself twice. I respectfully submit this memorial.

On a certain day of a certain month in a certain year, I, so-and-so, holding a certain office, submit this memorial.

Memorial for the Refinement and Deliverance of the Yin-Yang Correct Qi

I bow my head to the ground once more in salute.

Your servant submits this memorial: On a certain day this month, for a faithful devotee, an official of a certain prefecture, department, or district, named So-and-so, I established the Supreme Yellow Register Great Retreat, a major Daoist Zhaijiao (purification ritual). Tonight I will perform a refining-and-deliverance rite, using the ritual arts of Zhaijiao to save departed spirits. I will deliver the souls of all the deceased connected with this assembly, as well as all solitary spirits among the Three Destinies—the hells, hungry ghosts, and animals—and among the myriad kinds of beings. On a certain night, I also performed a refining-and-deliverance rite for a certain person’s soul.

I have heard that human life takes its origin from primordial Qi (vital energy), from which the body is formed. Once people lose this root and stray from their true nature, their offenses bring retribution upon them. To escape the realms of suffering, they must rely on virtuous deeds and merit. For this reason, I take the liberty of expressing my urgent concern and presumptuously submitting it to Heaven.

Your servant is filled with awe and fear, and bows twice. I privately reflect that when the body is destroyed and consciousness departs, the Hun-soul disperses and the Po-soul sinks. Once they have entered the dark realm beneath the Great Yin, I fear they remain entangled in a net of suffering. Without the aid of true and upright Qi, the spirits of the dead, lost in darkness and confusion, cannot be delivered. My knowledge and abilities are meager, yet I have been appointed to lead the ritual office. I fear that, lacking understanding of the mysterious principles, I can hardly hope to commune with the spirits.

Now the faithful devotee So-and-so and the officials and people at the altar have devoutly established a pure ritual ground and reverently laid out the ritual seats. They pray to Heaven and Earth, set out images of the gods, perform the rites, and give voice to their grief, sincerely offering resources for the deliverance of the dead. Thinking of the departed spirits lingering beneath the Nine Springs, unaware of the source of their original nature, they hope that through this small karmic connection the spirits may understand their past lives and destiny.

I respectfully beseech the White Jade Tortoise Terrace’s Ninefold-Spirited, Supreme True Golden Mother Primordial Sovereign, and the Eastern Florescence Wood Lord, High Minister and Azure Youth Daoist Lord: Ancestors of the Two Qi and source of the myriad things, you established the laws of the pre-Heaven realm, bestowed auspicious blessings, nurtured all beings, and deliver living creatures according to their circumstances. I implore you to look with favor upon this plea and extend your compassion and forgiveness. May the souls, consciousness, and spirits of the dead receive the radiance of the gods of Metal and Wood, return to their original source, and recover the proper nature inherent in Yin-Yang. May they no longer be held captive in the Ninefold Darkness, and may all kinds of beings find peace.

Your servant earnestly implores your grace and respectfully submits this memorial. Filled with awe and fear, I bow twice and submit this report.

On a certain day of a certain month in a certain year, your appointed servant So-and-so submits this memorial.

Memorial to the Nine Heavens’ Supreme Emperor

Your servant So-and-so, appointed to a position in the Shangqing Lingbao registers, is filled with awe and fear and bows twice.

Your servant submits this memorial: On a certain day this month, for an official named So-and-so from a certain prefecture, department, or district, I established the Supreme Yellow Register Great Retreat and conducted deliverance rites over a number of days and nights. I delivered each person’s deceased ancestors and relatives, so that they might ascend together to a blessed realm, and broadly aided the myriad beings of the Nine Provinces…

I have heard that when primordial Qi first came into being, the clear and turbid energies gathered and formed Heaven and Earth. Nine kinds of numinous Qi joined together to take shape, enabling the myriad things to grow, each with its own nature and life. If one cannot return to the source, how can one restore one’s nature and gather the true spirit? I presume to hold this ritual, respectfully setting forth the wishes in my heart. I know full well that I have overstepped my station, and I am deeply troubled and afraid.

Your servant is sincerely fearful and anxious, and bows twice with his head to the ground. I reflect that I am merely an ordinary person amid the dust of the mundane world, with dim and shallow understanding. I do not understand the movements of Yin-Yang and Qi, yet I have been entrusted with the divine office of delivering living beings from suffering. I am also unfamiliar with the rules and institutions, but have rashly taken charge of the numinous altar. After death, people become ghosts; only through tempering and refinement can they regain life. Only after ghosts have been delivered can they become human again. Without refinement, how could their forms be remade? This is like wood that reveals its luster through polishing, or metal that grows brighter through finishing: both depend on the efficacy of Yin and Yang energies joining together. When Yin reaches its utmost, Yang begins to return. For life to appear anew, it must also rely on the protection of the divine spirits.

I respectfully beseech Your Majesty, the Lord of the Nine Heavens. You assist the Three Realms—the three tiers of Heaven spoken of in Daoism—and dwell high above the nine heavens. Through Wuwei (non-action), all things flourish of themselves; without uttering a word, your beneficence reaches the ten directions. You take pity on the deceased spirits sunk in suffering, and especially bestow the grace that nurtures life. You grant vitality to the nine regions, so that a fetus may be formed over ten months of gestation. You bestow the refined Qi of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water), enabling the body to be endowed with the hundred spirits. I beseech you to bend down and deliver the spirits of the underworld, raising them directly to realms of light. May all the souls detained in the Three Paths—the realms of hell, hungry ghosts, and beasts—be spared the toil of punishment and forced service; may every kind of lonely spirit rejoice in receiving life anew.

Your servant earnestly and fervently begs for your grace, and respectfully presents this memorial for your consideration. Your servant is sincerely fearful and anxious, bows with his head to the ground, and bows twice. I respectfully submit this petition.

On a certain year, month, and day, your servant So-and-so, holding the rank of So-and-so, submits this memorial.

Yunzhong says: The format of this memorial follows an ancient convention that has been used for a long time. In compiling the Yellow Register liturgies (large-scale Daoist rituals for delivering the dead), the use of five memorials is also an ancient ritual practice. The wording of the prayers and petitions still follows what was transmitted within the lineage. The single vermilion memorial used when closing the altar follows the format of Master Guangcheng, with only slight additions naming the divine officials and officers invited to the ritual.

As for submitting memorials to the Heavenly Emperor, this practice arose after the medieval period, and should therefore observe the rules of court ritual from both ancient and present times. The memorials for Deliverance from Suffering, Refinement and Deliverance, and the Lord of the Nine Heavens that Yunzhong has set out all follow the intentions of the lineage. Yunzhong himself has presumed to compose their wording and does not dare claim it is entirely appropriate. He has only sought to make it accord with the practical use of the Dongxuan Lingbao Refinement and Deliverance liturgy, without departing from it.

An adept Daoist may also recast the prayers known as qingci—petitions presented to the gods during Zhaijiao rituals—in bold and grand language, but must not depart from the rules set out in liturgical texts. If the Nine Heavens’ Supreme Emperors are addressed separately in nine memorials, the content will be especially detailed. The nine memorials must, however, be composed in the order of the Nine Qi (the nine primordial energies); that is the proper way. My learning is too shallow to prepare all of these one by one, so I can only leave them for later authors to complete as models for posterity.

Qingci

When a large Yellow Register retreat (Huanglu zhai) is conducted with dedicated divine stations and memorials presented through ritual prostrations, it is appropriate to use seven memorials, addressed respectively to the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing): the Venerable Gods of Jade Clarity, Highest Clarity, and Great Clarity. These three memorials are presented to the Great Dao. Next come the August Celestial Emperor and the Great Emperor of the North Pole, who correspond to the Three Qi of Heaven and rule the celestial realm; the Earth Deities are paired with the August Celestial Emperor. With these, the highest and most exalted divinities are all included.

For a smaller Zhaijiao ritual, with no dedicated divine stations and no memorials presented through ritual prostrations, the text is written in the format of a formal petition and classified under the “Ladder of the Great Dao.” In addition, Yellow Register rituals sometimes include memorials presented to the Great Emperor of the South Pole and the Celestial Worthy Who Relieves Suffering; each practice has its own basis. Since the transmission of teachings from master to disciple, the qingci used at court after the Sui and Tang dynasties have listed the names of the various holy gods, and the Song dynasty continued this practice. Here I copy a qingci from an inner-court Zhaijiao ritual during the Jingde era of Emperor Zhenzong, as a reference, and append the format of the verses now in common use.

Qingci for an Inner-Court Zhaijiao Ritual during the Reign of Emperor Zhenzong

In such-and-such a year, under the cyclical designation such-and-such; on such-and-such a month and day. The succeeding Son of Heaven, your servant so-and-so, respectfully dispatches so-and-so, an attendant of the Inner Palace, to establish an altar on his behalf in the Hall of Praying to the Origin within the imperial palace and commence a Yellow Register retreat lasting one month. On the day the retreat concludes, he respectfully establishes a grand Offering to the Net of Heaven (Luotian dajiao), a large Zhaijiao ritual honoring the gods of all the heavens, with a total of 2,400 divine stations. Your servant respectfully bows his head and submits this memorial:

To the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning, the Dao Lord Most High, the Supreme Lord Lao; the holy assembly of the Three Pure Ones, the Perfected of the Ten Directions, the Lords of the Northern Pole, the Lords of the Nine Luminaries, the Lords of the Northern and Southern Dippers, the Three Primordial Emperors of Heaven, Earth, and Water, the Great Dharma Master of the Mysterious Center, the officials of the Three Realms, and all the Perfected spirits:

I humbly reflect that Heaven is divided into three and Earth into two principles, together covering and sustaining the myriad things. Yin Qi gathers and Yang Qi unfolds, and all things grow and transform through them; the principles behind this are unfathomable. Multitudes of gods dwell high in the heavens, discerning the myriad things and watching over the world below. Those who accord with the Way of Heaven receive its luminous response and good fortune; those who go against it invite calamities and anomalies. For this reason, the former kings revered Heaven and Earth, and the sages of earlier times established laws on this foundation.

Your servant has inherited the achievements of his ancestors and brings peace to countless people, all the while looking up to the vast heavens…

The rites we observe follow the institutions established by our ancestors and preserve the customs already in place. Why are the borders now peaceful and the harvest abundant year after year? I know my own virtue is shallow. To share in such blessings with everyone—how could I forget the caution required when governing, like handling rotten wood, or fail to remain alert as if standing at the edge of an abyss? We now hold a Zhaijiao (purification ritual) to repay the gods for their grace, reverently establishing an altar. We humbly pray that the gods grant blessings to the state and extend their benevolence to every plant and creature; that the two Qi of Yin and Yang be harmonized and epidemics cease; that warfare forever end in all eight directions of the realm; that the sun, moon, and stars follow their proper courses, and that peace reign across the Four Seas without storms arising. May the people all live in peace, and all living things dwell in harmony and safety; may the affairs of the court be orderly, and may the realm be spared the Three Calamities. Gazing up toward the wondrous spirits, I, your servant, bow earnestly with a sincere heart. I look up to the Way of Heaven and its sagely illumination, my feelings deeply sincere; I respectfully submit this petition.

Formal Petition for the Yellow Register Purification Ritual

In the year of [year name], under the cyclical sign [sexagenary year], on the [day] of the [month], a [sexagenary day]. [Official title and surname], a Daoist devotee residing in [place], [prefecture, province, or county], respectfully petitions [name], a ritual master of the scriptures and registers, to establish the supreme Yellow Register Great Retreat at [place], lasting [number] days and nights. This retreat prays for blessings upon the state, brings blessings universally to all beings, seeks the ascent of the departed souls of seven generations of ancestors, and broadly saves lonely souls in the Ninefold Darkness, the depths of the underworld. These good deeds and merits are gathered and dedicated specifically to the departed soul of [name], to help it ascend to a blessed realm. I respectfully bow and submit this petition.

At the golden steps of the Jade Palace, before the Most High, the Formless and Nameless, the Void, Natural, Utmost True, Great Dao, Supreme Origin Venerable One: I, your servant… [Here follows the set formula used in the petition’s format, meaning: “I look up to the sagely sovereign of the Way of Heaven; my heart is fervent and unsettled, and I respectfully submit this petition.”]

Formal Petition for the Conclusion of the Yellow Register Retreat and the Establishment of an Altar for the Concluding Rite

In the year of [year name], under the cyclical sign [sexagenary year], on the [day] of the [month], a [sexagenary day]. [Official title and surname], a Daoist devotee residing in [place], [prefecture, province, or county], respectfully petitions [name], a ritual master of the scriptures and registers, to establish the supreme Yellow Register Great Retreat at [place], lasting [number] days and nights. This retreat prays for blessings upon the state, brings blessings universally to all beings, seeks the ascent of the departed, and broadly saves lonely souls. These good deeds and merits are gathered and dedicated to the soul of [name], to help it ascend to a blessed realm. When the retreat is complete, I respectfully establish a pure rite for the exalted perfected beings of the Three Realms, in turn repaying the three hundred and sixty divine offices and returning Heaven’s grace. I respectfully bow and submit this petition.

At the golden steps of the Jade Palace, before the Most High, the Formless and Nameless, the Void, Natural, Utmost True, Great Dao, Supreme Origin Venerable One: I, your servant… [Here continues the set formula for the petition’s format; the original text is incomplete.]

Reverently, urgently, and with anxious care, I submit this memorial:

Since the sacred rank used in this document pays direct homage to the Great Dao, it is no longer a memorial addressed to the Celestial Worthies of the Three Heavens (the Jade Clarity, Highest Clarity, and Great Clarity Heavens). The Three Qi are the Three Heavens, and the Three Heavens are the Great Dao. This rank encompasses the Three Qi and governs the primal unity; nothing lies beyond its scope.

If one now performs rites of the Dongxuan Lingbao rank and practices the Lingbao method, yet uses the Great Clarity rank in the memorial text, that is an improper overreach and makes no sense in principle. For example, since the various memorials used by Zhengyi masters employ the Great Clarity rank, their petitions written on blue paper (documents presenting prayers to the deities during a Zhaijiao purification ritual) should use that same rank—or else the sacred ranks of the Celestial Worthies of the Three Heavens should be listed separately.

If the rank of the Great Dao is now used throughout, there is no need to pay separate homage to the Celestial Worthies of the Three Heavens or to write separate documents in their honor. If the sacred ranks are to be listed separately, the Jade Clarity rank may be written as “The Heavenly Worthy of Primordial Beginning, of Void and Natural Spontaneity”; the Highest Clarity rank as “The Heavenly Worthy of the Dao Lord, Supreme and Uppermost, of the Dongxuan Lingbao”; and the Great Clarity rank as “The Heavenly Worthy of the Old Lord, Supreme and Uppermost, of the Dongshen De (Virtue/Power).”

Recently, some have placed the Emperor of the Void above the Heavenly Worthies. This is incorrect: the Emperor of the Void has a distinct rank of his own. To call the Dao Lord the “Emperor of Wondrous Being” and Primordial Beginning the “Emperor of Wondrous Nonbeing” is likewise the claim of those who do not understand the supreme Dao.

The Heavenly Worthy is Qi and is also the Dao. The One Qi divides and transforms into three, thereby becoming the Three Heavens; the Three Heavens all emerge from the One Qi. If we say they “exist,” no name can define them completely; if we say they “do not exist,” they cannot be erased. They all abide in the realm of wondrous nonbeing, and so the Three Heavens are, in essence, one. To say now that one honored deity is “wondrous being” and another “wondrous nonbeing” is to claim that being cannot become nonbeing and nonbeing cannot become being. Does this not stray far from the Dao?

These contrived claims of novelty, and the arrangements of the sacred ranks of the Celestial Worthies of the Three Heavens, all run counter to the accounts in ancient texts, and many also violate the established rules of liturgy. They were invented by people in eastern Zhejiang. Of all the places I have visited, I have traveled through many regions along the rivers and lakes; nowhere else have I found so many people drawn to bizarre claims.

The Great Clarity rank used in Zhengyi memorials is:

“Below the Jade Steps of Great Clarity: the Mysterious Origin, Supreme, Three Heavens, Boundless Great Dao; the Old Lord, Supreme and Uppermost; the Elder of Supreme Antiquity; the Lord of the Celestial Emperor; the Elder of the Celestial Emperor; the Lords of the Nine Elders and Immortal Capitals; the Elders of the Nine Qi; the countless layers of Dao Qi; and the twelve hundred officials and lords.”

This rank belongs exclusively to Great Clarity and falls entirely within the Dongshen section. If petitions written on blue paper for Zhengyi purification rituals use this rank, then they should…

Prayers to Jade Purity and Highest Purity, the two realms among Daoism’s Three Pure Ones, may be used separately. It is better, however, to compose a single prayer addressed to the Celestial Worthies of the Three Realms: Jade Purity, Highest Purity, and Great Purity. A prayer to Haotian, the High Heaven, should address “the Supreme Emperor of Heaven, Jade Emperor, who opened Heaven, holds the tallies, governs the calendar, embodies the True, and follows the Dao.” A prayer to the North Pole should address “the Great Emperor of the North Pole of Purple Tenuity in the Central Heaven”; one to the Celestial Emperor should address “the Great Celestial Emperor of the Gouchen Star Palace”; and one to the Earth Deity should address “the Sovereign Earth Deity, Empress Houtu, who bears Heaven’s mandate, models its ways, and embodies vast and radiant De.” Beyond these titles, words invented without textual authority must not be used to profane Heaven. Those who are not disciples of this tradition are not bound by this restriction.

According to ancient ritual, a Zhaijiao (purification ritual) requires various documents to be prepared from beginning to end, with each submitted in turn. The Gao Gong, the Daoist priest who presides over the ritual, is responsible for their wording. Only the Qingci, the prayer presented to the heavenly court during a Zhaijiao, expresses the intentions of the patron who sponsors the rite. It also serves as the basis on which the Gao Gong drafts memorials in accordance with the liturgy. The scriptures call this kind of document a “tengci.”

The Qingci is like an offering in which the patron lays open their liver and heart, using vermilion writing to symbolize drops of blood and convey the depth of their sincerity. Its language should therefore be concise and plain, without elaborate ornament. It should pour out the writer’s feelings, reveal their sincerity, and beseech the Supreme Emperor.

In recent times, those skilled in writing have often pursued empty embellishment, while the widely read delight in quoting old sources at length. Even in the Confucian civil service examinations, one may not cite historical events at will to prove the meaning of the Classics. How much less can one use historical records—which preserve only traces of the mundane world—as evidence before the Supreme Emperor, when the Great Dao preceded Heaven and Earth, before the undivided chaos had taken form? Recent poems and fu compositions often seize on allusions and show off their diction; some even weave riddles into Qingci, turning them into children’s games, yet dare to submit them to Heaven. It is truly deplorable.

Those who wish to cite Daoist scriptures must examine them with care. The texts preserved in the Daoist Canon have in recent times become so mixed with forgeries that they are difficult to distinguish. For example, Chongdao Abbey at Tongbai in Tiantai was founded by the Qian rulers of Wuyue in the late Five Dynasties period. The scriptures in its collection were copied to fill out the holdings by gathering Daoist novices, Buddhist monks, and religious mendicants to work together. The scrolls written on blue-green paper were the result of that effort. At the time, China was divided among regional regimes, and the Qian rulers, far from the centers of power, could use only the books available within their own territory. They hurried to meet the required number, so the collection contains countless errors and disorder. Some passages have missing characters and lines and are impossible to read; others use crude language and are plainly forged. Nearly three hundred years have now passed, and people of later generations, unaware of the collection’s history, may assume that Daoist scriptures originally contained such material.

Those who know the scriptures well and have broad learning can naturally distinguish what is right from what is wrong in them. Those with shallow knowledge, however, may mistake them for orthodox scriptures and even quote from them. Is that appropriate? The ritual texts I have encountered in various places are often mixed with other material, though not all are like this. Besides, there are still many places I have never visited and books I have never seen. In Daoist temples and palaces in remote prefectures, it is common for scriptures to fall short of proper standards. Those who study the Dao should examine them carefully and should not adopt them all indiscriminately.

For example, among the various unofficial scriptures circulating in the world, some people copy entire passages into ritual memorials—texts submitted to the gods during Daoist purification rituals. Some of these words plainly go against reason. When ordinary people perform rites to deliver the dead, they often praise the deceased’s virtues at length and describe in detail how hard they worked during life. Is this truly the purpose of presenting a petition to Heaven and asking for leniency? What son or daughter does not love their parents? If they wish to commend the deceased’s character, they should ask a skilled writer to compose an epitaph, biography, sacrificial address, elegy, or the like, and describe it fully there. A ritual memorial is not meant for this. Are they trying to boast of the dead person’s merits and display them to the world? Or do they think Heaven does not know what the deceased did?

Ritual memorials seeking recovery from illness or relief from calamity should not blame Heaven and others while showing no remorse or self-reflection. Nor should they pluck phrases from the classics and histories to use as words for seeking blessings, or single-mindedly seek rank and salary and hope by sheer luck for long life and good fortune, making every effort to embellish their requests while showing no humility or willingness to yield. What, exactly, do they take Heaven to be?

Many Green Writs—petitions presented to the gods during Daoist purification rituals—have been published in ancient and modern times. Many are grand and ornate in their language, but few truly conform to the standards of ritual liturgy. Daoist priests who presided over purification rituals in earlier times would obtain the Green Writ beforehand and review it word by word to ensure that it met ritual requirements. Only then would they make a clean copy and formally present it. The Daoist masters of the Central Plains whom I have known were mostly well versed in both ancient and modern learning, upright, and principled. Even when people of high rank requested a purification ritual, they would check whether the Green Writ conformed to the rules; they never simply copied and presented it to accommodate worldly custom. Were they afraid of offending the sponsors of the ritual?

When literati and other educated people of standing submit writing that does not accord with Daoist conventions, priests can explain the principles and discuss revisions with them. But if ignorant people of the world casually make crude and shallow demands, how can priests simply comply and write them into ritual memorials? The customs of recent times have grown exceedingly frivolous, yet priests who preside over purification rituals merely cater to prevailing tastes. They have nearly abandoned all sense of shame and decency, fearing only that the sponsors might not hire them. How could they still care whether the content of a ritual memorial is appropriate? Some among them are unfamiliar with the teachings and methods of ritual liturgy and do not understand its principles, yet they take charge of rites recklessly…

There was no need to blame these people on the assumption that their memorials might not reach the Heavenly Court; the Perfected Ones of Heaven should also make allowances for their ignorance. The ancients said, “In the Spring and Autumn period, blame was reserved for the worthy.” Those who understand the ritual codes and institutions know that a practice is wrong, yet still bend to private feelings and cater to popular opinion. They do not fear scrutiny or punishment, but meekly follow the arrangements of ordinary people, record their vulgar words, and submit them to the Heavenly Court. How should such conduct be dealt with?

A petition written in green ink (qingci, a prayer addressed to the Heavenly Court during a Daoist purification ritual) begins, “In the [year] of the reign of [country name].” This is a long-established format, used from ancient times to the present. Recently, some have claimed that the character “wei” (“in”) offends the Heavenly Emperor’s personal taboo and have proposed replacing it with “shi” (“at the time of”). The character “shi” is normally used in inscriptions, records, or prefaces written on roof beams or walls to mark the year and month of composition, so that later generations will know when the text was written. Qingci, however, is written at the ritual altar and immediately burned as a memorial; it is not put to use only after a year or a generation has passed. What sense, then, is there in putting “shi” at the beginning?

The Lady of Purple Tenuity, a female immortal in Daoist tradition, said that the writings of the celestial realms are not worldly, defiling things. The hidden names and taboos of the heavens are themselves celestial writing, which people in the world cannot read. When scriptures were transmitted to the human world over time, they were translated into worldly language, and only then did ordinary writing come into being. If the names of the heavens and the personal taboos of the Perfected Ones may be listed before the supremely exalted Dao, there is no reason to avoid them. Besides, the Dao originally has no name. The so-called hidden names of the heavens arose only after Heaven and Earth took shape, and the scriptures, too, appeared only after descending into the human world. To claim that the worldly character “wei” offends the name of the Great Dao, then, is not a practice that should be followed, even if scriptural passages are cited in support.

From the Tang dynasty onward, successive dynasties bestowed honorific titles on the Heavenly Emperor, and the jade books on which these titles were inscribed all began, “In the [year] of [reign].” For more than a hundred years, from the Chen and Sui dynasties onward, the character “wei” was used throughout. Why, only recently, has it been said that this is taboo in the celestial realm? Court documents omit the character “huang” (“august”) because it conveys supreme honor, and the Son of Heaven, when addressing Heaven, should call himself its subject rather than claim such eminence. Court documents also omit the country’s name because the Song emperor’s title appears later in the text, making repetition unnecessary. When subjects memorialize the emperor, they write, “In the [year] of the August Emperor.” This format has been used from ancient times to the present. Occasional claims in stone inscriptions that the character “wei” offends the Heavenly Emperor’s name are no reliable evidence.

Here, first, is a copy of a qingci from the Jingde era. The Licheng yi, a model text for ritual use compiled by the Jiang family, also includes a Tang-dynasty qingci; the formats at the beginning and end of both are similar. As for the court, it gives a general list of the sage rulers of successive dynasties…

The placement of spirit tablets during worship should follow the ancient rites. If people set up separate tablets and present prayer texts—words offered during worship—each of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing, the three highest deities revered in Daoism) should have one document, as should Haotian, the North Pole, the Celestial Emperor, and Houtu, for a total of seven. In the Jiangdong region, ordinary purification rituals sometimes focus solely on Haotian and use one document, since the matter being prayed for falls within the jurisdiction of the heavenly sovereign. If the three celestial realms are named collectively and all are placed under the rank of the Great Dao of the Most High, then only one document is used.

A prayer text expresses earnest sincerity. The court’s blue petitions, presented to the heavenly realm during Daoist purification rituals, address the Supreme Emperor and the officials of the Three Realms in order to pray broadly. For this reason, a blue petition is also presented during a Northern Dipper ritual. Its wording, however, should distinguish between matters of greater and lesser importance; it must not be called a “memorial.” Some deceivers falsely claim that a blue petition, when presented to the Heavenly Emperor, ranks above the documents used for the Dipper stars, which may be written on white or yellow paper. They say that a blue petition can rank its contents on paper, yet call it a “memorial,” claiming that it stands on equal terms with Heaven. How absurd! They do not understand that expressions such as “blue paper,” “white paper,” and “vermilion writing” merely convey the meaning of cutting open the liver, pouring out the blood, and giving one’s whole heart in sincerity. A document presented to the heavenly realm is called an “offering” or a “memorial”; one presented to the gathered perfected immortals is simply called a “report” or a “submission.” The wording of a blue petition must be considered with care; one must not presume to place oneself on a level with Heaven.

The opening of a blue petition already gives the writer’s native place and name, where the ritual is being held, what kind of purification rite it is, and its purpose. The body need only describe the plea and petition. If it also itemizes the construction of the altar, the ritual observances, the burning of incense, and the lighting of lamps, the text becomes repetitive. Its language should be earnest and concise. As soon as a thought arises in the heart, the myriad spirits have already perceived it in the heavens. Yet the prayer must still be written down to express the sincerity of one’s supplication. Must one really fill the whole page with elaborate wording to move Heaven?

Yunzhong did not ordinarily take charge in advance when attending routine purification rituals. Yet scholar friends often asked him to compose blue petitions, and he presumptuously agreed on many occasions. But his learning is shallow, and his writing is not fit to endure through the ages, so he does not wish to include these texts in a ritual manual. Here he merely offers a brief account of the faults in common practice. Composing such documents depends entirely on the presiding ritual master’s command of both ancient and contemporary traditions and thorough knowledge of liturgical texts. Copies prepared for presentation must also be handled with rigorous care. If anything is violated or done improperly, the ritual officials are not without blame, and the presiding master’s punishment is doubled. How could one fail to take warning and proceed with caution?

Yunzhong often serves at the ritual altar in the leading position. Since he bears responsibility for directing the proceedings, the blue petition should not be written by him personally… The original text ends here unfinished.

In the Qingci I write—prayers presented to the gods during Daoist Zhaijiao rituals—even if I find the slightest impropriety, I always inform the ritual supervisor and ask him to revise or remove it before use. The scholar-officials have always been willing to heed my advice as well. I never copy and submit wording that is wholly at odds with the prescribed ritual standards. As for the poverty or prominence that has fallen to Yunzhing (the author’s self-reference) over the course of his life, both are determined by fate. Why flatter and fawn for the sake of a small profit? This is indeed the teaching of my revered master. Yunzhing is naturally of this disposition, and would never dare to curry favor with the ritual officiants or show disrespect to the Lord on High.

When a Huanglu Zhai is held—a Daoist purification ritual for purposes such as delivering the dead and praying for blessings—it is usual to wait until the rite is nearly over and the altar is being dismantled before performing a Jiao, an offering ceremony to the gods, in gratitude for their favor. This Jiao is held in conjunction with the Zhai: during the ritual, the altar precinct is established and guarded, and sincerity is conveyed to the gods; once the ritual work is complete and its purpose accomplished, a Jiao is performed to thank the perfected spirits. This differs in purpose from the forty-two types of Jiao held as standalone ceremonies. Accordingly, the Qingci used in a Zhai asks for compassion and pardon, and states the prayers offered through the ritual. The Qingci of thanksgiving used in a Jiao, by contrast, describes shortcomings in the ritual observance, asks the gods to bestow their favor, and offers thanks.

For example, a text says: “The Zhai has been brought to completion, yet we fear there may have been errors in the observance; the departed spirit has been delivered and received a boundless depth of grace.” This is the meaning that a Qingci in a thanksgiving Jiao should convey.

Ritual supervisors do not always write the prayers themselves; they often commission someone else to do so. Scholars, preoccupied with their careers and absorbed in preparing for the civil service examinations, often accept such assignments without admitting that they are unskilled at composing prayers. As a result, they commission one Qingci for the Zhai and another for the Jiao. Even those skilled in writing often do no more than describe the Zhai and Jiao. How could they understand the Daoist purpose of holding a Jiao after the Zhai?

Those who study the classics often write Qingci as though they were composing an opening proposition for an explanation of a classic’s meaning. Those skilled in literary composition, meanwhile, tend to make them sound like secular memorials to the throne. For instance, in a prayer for one’s parents, someone might quote the line “They bore me and labored hard for me.” This is a line from the Book of Songs that may be quoted in ordinary settings; it was not originally addressed to a ruler. How can one use it without considering the context, and address Heaven directly as “I”? Others write, “Mother, you cherished me,” which raises the same problem.

When scholar-officials write Qingci about themselves, some say, “Since passing the age of knowing Heaven’s Mandate, I have repeatedly failed in my duties as an inspector.” Confucius’s words “At fifty, I understood Heaven’s Mandate” were his own account of himself. They may be used in conversation between people; but if someone has merely turned fifty and uses “knowing the Mandate” as an allusive phrase in a Qingci addressed to Heaven, is that appropriate?

In Qingci for the deliverance of the dead, some write, “The days and months pass; how can grief ever end?” This means, “Day after day passes, and the moon waxes and wanes month after month...”

To write “the sun and moon hasten on” sounds like a worn-out cliché. But if “sun and moon” are omitted and one says only “ju zhu,” what does that refer to, and what does it mean?

Likewise, “Who could have expected that one would not return from a single dream? Suddenly, one sees the beginning of the eightieth year.” Using “a single dream” as a metaphor for death may be acceptable in a memorial poem or an informal essay. But if “sun” is left out and one says only “eighty years,” does that mean eighty days or eighty years? Another example, “Suddenly afflicted with the ‘Yellow River fish’ illness, then lamenting the team of horses glimpsed through a crack,” is even more disrespectful. “Yellow River fish” is a euphemism for diarrhea, while “horses through a crack” is an obscure metaphor for a person’s death. Besides, “life is like a white colt passing through a crack” is only a metaphor. Is it appropriate to use such words in a prayer to the Lord of Heaven?

Consider also, “The Jade Capital and golden palace, where one walks amid the clouds of the Eight Scenes; the rounded Jiao Isle and square Fanghu Isle, where one dwells in the towers of the Three Isles.” If such words are used to pray for the deliverance of a deceased soul, can the Lord of Heaven carry them out as stated? Or take, “The morning dew has already dried; the mournful wind brings only sorrow.” This is merely an allusion used casually. Morning dew dries quickly, and the phrase can indeed suggest how easily human life fades away. But if one extracts just the four characters “the morning dew has already dried” and understands them in their ordinary literal sense, they mean only that the sun has risen and the dew has dried. How, then, can they be used in a sacrificial address to Heaven?

As for poetic forms, there are “hidden beginnings,” “suspended endings,” “veiled expressions,” and “double meanings.” A “hidden beginning” preserves a sentence while concealing its first one or two characters. Su Dongpo once wrote a playful poem: “The worthy lady is just reaching the age of standing firm; her old man has already reached the age few attain.” The first line alludes to “at thirty, one stands firm,” hinting that his mother is thirty. The second draws on the saying, “Since ancient times, few have lived to seventy,” to say that his father is already seventy. This is a “hidden beginning.”

A “suspended ending” preserves a sentence while concealing its last one or two characters. Someone wrote a poem about stones: “The Milky Way’s loom-support stone is gone; what remains is the stone held by the immortal.” This refers to the “loom-support stone of the Milky Way” and the “stone held by the immortal.” Su Dongpo also wrote in a lyric: “To ruin a whole life, there is only…; to overcome all things, nothing is better than…” The original saying was, “To ruin a whole life, there is only wine; to overcome all things, nothing is better than wine.” Dongpo removed the word “wine” from each phrase and put what remained into his lyric. This is precisely the “suspended ending” form. Zheng Qi of the late Tang often composed such witty lines, and at the time…

This kind of expression is called a “trailing phrase”: it describes a situation without directly naming it. A recent poem reads, “Rustling from the house, a thousand fathoms of jade … / In the open sky, a single column of cloud.” The first line refers to bamboo, the second to incense. This is how indirect language works: the literal meaning of a phrase carries another meaning beneath the surface.

Using a single phrase to convey two meanings at once is called a “double entendre.” Su Dongpo wrote, “Rain falls as the sun sets in the west; / It is neither clear of clouds nor without feeling.” The lines speak on the surface of sun and rain, but they also play on the words for “clear” and “feeling,” which sound alike, expressing that even in the absence of affection, affection is still present. This is how a double entendre works.

These are literary devices used in poetry, song lyrics, and informal prose. In letters, they are suitable only between peers of equal standing. They are inappropriate when writing to someone of high rank or in official memorials and formal communications to the court. Yet in recent times, many petitions to Heaven used in Daoist purification rituals have adopted devices such as acrostics and indirect language. When entreating Heaven to pardon sins and preserve life, how can one feel at ease writing casually in irregular and unconventional forms? I have given only a few examples here. Many people also fail to observe the proper taboos; any practice that goes against the standards of Daoist scriptures falls into this category.

How can anyone hope to preside over a purification ritual and serve as its chief officiant without careful study? The ignorant may perhaps be beyond reproach, but those who know better dare not speak. It is astonishing that people, seeking material gain, flatter the ritual patron and follow worldly customs while deceiving Heaven. The proper wording of petitions to the gods in a ritual is of great consequence. If the chief officiant does not study the matter carefully, consult widely, and seek the most appropriate forms, or if he fails to make sound choices when the occasion arises, who should bear the blame?

I dare not say more. I am simply concerned that Heaven must not be treated lightly, so I have set down this small fraction of what I know. Those with aspirations should examine the matter carefully. The ignorant may even slander me for this modest effort. But I speak to those who understand. Surely, in time, someone will grasp my meaning. This, too, may count as a small service to the Daoist community.