The Heart Sutra Read online

  It is far easier to believe that the Sanskrit copy of the Large Sutra unearthed in Gilgit on which Nattier bases her argument has undergone sufficient corruption to account for the divergence. For example, in one of the two sets of linguistic anomalies cited by Nattier in support of her thesis (where part of the Heart Sutra occurs in Chapter Three of the Large Sutra), the Gilgit text misunderstands the subject, referring the categories of line 11 to “emptiness” rather than “dharmas” in the light of emptiness. That this is a corruption is evident from its divergence from the teaching of the chapter in which this passage occurs. Leaving aside the issue of how one extracts a coherent text (namely, the Heart Sutra) from a corrupt text, we should not be surprised to find agreement between two Chinese texts and disagreement between the Sanskrit texts upon which they were supposedly based when one of the Sanskrit texts is either corrupt or represents a textual tradition different from the one on which the Chinese translation was actually based.

  I have lingered at length over this matter because the contention that the Heart Sutra was originally compiled in China, albeit of Sanskrit pieces originally brought from India, has found a number of advocates among prominent buddhologists. Hopefully, as ancient manuscripts continue to be unearthed (alas, by explosives and those seeking sanctuary) in the region where this sutra was most likely composed, we may well see evidence someday that will clarify this issue of origin. Until then, we will have to make do with the knowledge that whoever composed this sutra bestowed on us all a great blessing.

  In the years that followed the appearance of Hsuan-tsang’s Heart Sutra, this text continued to attract the attention of translators. Fang K’uang-ch’ang lists twenty-one different versions in Chinese (cf. Po-jo-hsin-ching yi-chu-chi-ch’eng, pp. iii-xv). Although the translations of Chih-ch’ien (c. 250), Bodhiruchi (693), and Shikshananda (c. 700) have disappeared, those that have survived include one made around 735 by Fa-yueh. His was the first translation of a longer version of the sutra that included an introduction and a conclusion. This longer version, however, was clearly an attempt to give the text the stature of a standard sutra, and few Buddhists or buddhologists have accepted it as the sutra’s original form. Hence, I have not used it as the basis of my own translation or commentary but have appended a translation of it to the end of this book for reference.

  Not only has the Heart Sutra attracted the interest of translators, it has also been the subject of numerous commentaries. In Chinese alone, over one hundred are recorded prior to modern times, and of these more than eighty still exist. As the Heart Sutra was not well-known prior to Hsuan-tsang’s translation of 649, no commentaries are recorded during the first four hundred years of its existence in China—though we do have a Chinese translation of one attributed to Deva, who lived in India in the third century. Also, no commentaries prior to the eighth century have survived in Sanskrit or Tibetan. (The fact that no early commentaries are known is cited by Nattier as further proof that the Heart Sutra is of late Chinese origin, despite the fact that few commentaries exist in Chinese, Sanskrit, or Tibetan for any sutra prior to this period.)

  More recently, the Heart Sutra has seen renewed interest, and over the past several decades dozens of expositions have appeared in European as well as Asian languages. In compiling my own explanation of the text, I have consulted a number of these works and have translated selected remarks from about a dozen Chinese commentaries, mostly from the T’ang and Ming dynasties. For reference, after each line of text in the commentary I have included the romanized Sanskrit based on Edward Conze’s 1967 edition of the sutra and also the Chinese translation of Hsuan-tsang.

  In his Heart Sutra commentary, Ming-k’uang says, “The Buddhadharma is not far off. It’s as close as your mind. Reality is not somewhere outside. How can you find it, if you turn away from yourself? Whether you’re deluded or awake depends upon you. Make up your mind, and you will be there. Whether you’re in the light or in the dark doesn’t depend on others. Have faith and practice, and you will soon know the truth. If you don’t take the medicine of the Great Physician, when will you see the light of the sun?”

  Fa-tsang says, “The Heart Sutra is a great torch that lights the darkest road, a swift boat that ferries us across the sea of suffering.”

  Red Pine

  New Year’s Day, Year of the Monkey

  Port Townsend, Washington

  Thanks and an always ready pot of oolong tea to Silas Hoadley for encouraging me to work on this sutra; to Andrew Schelling for help with the Sanskrit; to Hank Glassman and his students at Haverford College, Robert Sharf and his students at UC Berkeley, and members of the Cambridge Zen Center, the Zen Center of New York City, the Village Zendo, the Atlanta Zen Center, and the Port Townsend sangha for sharing questions and insights regarding this teaching; to Tom Kirchner, Victor Mair, Jan Nattier, Neil Schmid, and William Waldron for sending me articles and information relating to the Heart Sutra; to Lin Kuang-ming for his line-by-line comparison of 184 editions and translations of the Heart Sutra; and to my wife for supplying me with the Chinese texts and tea. Thanks, too, to all those who have continued to support me and my family while I worked on this book, including the Department of Agriculture’s Food Stamp program, the Port Townsend Food Bank, the Earned Income Tax Credit program administered by the Internal Revenue Service, and the Olympic Community Action’s Energy Assistance program.

  The Heart Sutra

  Prajnaparamita Hridaya Sutran

  PRAJNAPARAMITA

  THE TEACHING of this sutra is known as prajnaparamita. The word prajna is Sanskrit for “wisdom” and is a combination of pra, meaning “before,” and jna, meaning “to know.” From the same combination, the Greeks got pro-gnosis. But while the Greeks referred to the knowledge of what lies before us, namely the future course of events, the Buddhists of ancient India referred to what comes before knowledge. Shunryu Suzuki called it “beginner’s mind.”

  In the centuries after the Buddha’s Nirvana, however, the focus of cultivation was on knowledge, jnana, rather than prajna. The members of the earliest Buddhist sects held that reality was a complex system of dharmas that could be known and that liberation depended on such knowledge. One of the earliest and most important texts of the Sarvastivadins was Katyayaniputra’s Abhidharma Jnana-prasthana (The Source of Knowledge through the Study of Dharmas), which was compiled around 200 B.C. and which set forth a matrix of dharmas as the basis of all that we know or can know. It would appear that it was in reaction to this emphasis on jnana that the compilation of prajna texts occurred, focusing on wisdom as opposed to knowledge. Although opinions vary as to when the text before us was compiled, the use of prajna in the title tells us this is a text that goes beyond the analysis of reality into discrete, knowable entities, such as those used by the Sarvastivadins. Thus, Zen masters ask their students to show them their original face, their face before they were born.

  Buddhists distinguish three levels of prajna, or wisdom. The first level is mundane wisdom, which views what is impermanent as permanent, what is impure as pure, and what has no self as having a self. This form of wisdom is common to the beings of every world, and despite its erroneous nature, it is by this means that most beings live out their lives.

  The second level of prajna is metaphysical wisdom, which views what appears to be permanent as impermanent, what appears to be pure as impure, and what appears to have a self as having no self. This is the higher wisdom of those who cultivate meditation and philosophy and is characteristic of such early Buddhist sects as the Sarvastivadins. Despite providing its possessors with insight into a higher reality, such wisdom remains rooted in dialectics and does not result in enlightenment. At best it leads to an end of passion and no further rebirth.

  The third level of prajna is transcendent wisdom, which views all things, whether mundane or metaphysical, as neither permanent nor impermanent, as neither pure nor impure, as neither having a self nor not having a self, as inconceivable and inexpressible. While mundane wisdom
and metaphysical wisdom result in attachment to views, and thus knowledge, transcendent wisdom remains free of views because it is based on the insight that all things, both objects and dharmas, are empty of anything self-existent. Thus, nothing can be characterized as permanent, pure, or having a self. And yet, neither can anything be characterized as impermanent, impure, or lacking a self. This is because there is nothing to which we might point and say, “This is permanent or impermanent, this is pure or impure, this has a self or does not have a self.” Such ineffable wisdom was not unknown among early Buddhists, but, if the written record is any indication, it did not attract much attention until such scriptures as the Heart Sutra began to appear four or five hundred years after the Buddha’s Nirvana.

  To distinguish this third level of prajna from mundane and metaphysical wisdom, it was called prajna-paramita. According to early commentators, there were two possible derivations, and thus meanings, for paramita. In Prajnaparamita scriptures like the Diamond Sutra, it is evident from usage elsewhere in the same text that the author derived paramita from parama, meaning “highest point,” and that paramita means “perfection.” Thus, prajna-paramita means “perfection of wisdom.” But we can also deduce from the use of para in the mantra at the end of the Heart Sutra that the author of this text interpreted the word paramita as a combination of para, meaning “beyond,” and ita, meaning “gone,” and read the m after para as an accusative case ending. Thus, according to this interpretation, paramita means “what has gone beyond” or “what is transcendent” or, according to Chinese translators and commentators, “what leads us to the other shore.” Also, because ita here is feminine, paramita means “she who has gone beyond” or “she who leads us to the other shore,” the “she” in this case referring to Prajnaparamita, the personified Goddess of Wisdom. Commentators have long been divided over these two interpretations. Since both have their merits, I have used both. But I have also avoided both and have usually taken refuge in transliteration.

  In addition to viewing prajna as having three levels, Buddhists distinguished three aspects: wisdom as language, wisdom as insight, and wisdom as true appearance. According to this conception, language provides the means by which insight arises. And insight perceives true appearance.

  Chen-k’o says, “There are three kinds of prajna: prajna as true appearance, as insight, and as language. The prajna of true appearance is the mind possessed by all beings. The prajna of insight is the light of the mind. Once someone awakens, the light of the mind shines forth. And anything composed of words and phrases, regardless of its length, if it contains the wisdom of the ancients and dispels the darkness of ignorance, is called the prajna of language.

  “Wisdom and delusion basically aren’t different. This shore and the other shore essentially have the same source. But because someone thinks the body and the mind exist, we say they are deluded and they dwell on this shore. And because someone doesn’t think the body and the mind exist, we say they are wise and they dwell on the other shore.”

  In discussing these three aspects in his Diamond Sutra commentary, Yin-shun says, “True appearances are not something that can be expressed by ordinary conceptions or everyday language. So how can we say they are empty or that they exist, much less argue about them? Nevertheless, true appearances do not exist apart from anything else. Hence, we shouldn’t speak of them as separate from language. At the same time, if we don’t rely on speech, we have no other means to lead beings from attachment toward understanding. Thus, as long as we aren’t misled by provisional names when we speak of the nature of dharmas, there is no harm in using ‘existence’ or ‘emptiness’ to describe them. Some people say true appearances are objective truth, which isn’t created by the Buddha or by anyone else but is realized by insight. Others say true appearances transcend such dialectics—that they are the absolute, subjective mind—the mind’s self-nature. Actually, they are neither subjective nor objective, nor is there any ‘realization’ or ‘true mind’ we can even speak of!”

  Te-ch’ing says, “What is the meaning of ‘prajna’ in the title of this sutra? This is Sanskrit for ‘wisdom.’ And what is the meaning of ‘paramita’? This is also Sanskrit and means ‘to reach the other shore.’ The meaning is that the suffering of sansara is like a great ocean, and the desires and thoughts of beings are boundless. Ignorant and unaware, their waves of consciousness swell and give rise to doubt and karma and the cycle of birth and death, to bitterness that has no limit and from which they cannot escape. This is what is meant by ‘this shore.’ The Buddha used the light of great wisdom to shine through the dust of desire and to put an end to suffering once and for all. To cross the sea of sansara and to realize nirvana is what is meant by ‘the other shore.’”

  Pao-t’ung says, “The sutras say to cross a river we need a raft, but once we reach the other shore, we no longer need it. If a person resolves to find their true source and plumbs the depths of reason and nature, they will see their original face and instantly awaken to what is unborn. This is to reach the other shore. And once they are there, they are there forever. They don’t need to return again. They will be free spirits unconcerned with material things, and they will be happy and at peace. Chia-shan said, ‘The Tao is everywhere.’ He also said, ‘When you see form, you see the mind.’ But people only see form. They don’t see the mind. If you can look into the depths and think about what you are doing one action at a time, you will suddenly see. This is called seeing your nature. You can’t know this nature through knowledge. You can’t perceive it through perception. This nature has no form or appearance. When you don’t see it, you see it. When you see it, you don’t see it.”

  Fa-tsang says, “According to the Maha Prajnaparamita Shastra, ‘Just as the great peak of Mount Sumeru does not quake for no or just any reason, the same holds for the appearance of the teaching of prajna.’ Although many reasons might be given, I will briefly mention ten. First, it destroys the erroneous views of other sects; second, it leads followers of lesser paths toward the Mahayana; third, it keeps beginning bodhisatt vas from becoming lost in emptiness; fourth, it helps them realize the middle way between relative and absolute truths and gives rise to balanced views; fifth, it reveals the glorious merit of the Buddha and engenders true faith; sixth, it inspires them to set their minds on enlightenment; seventh, it leads them to cultivate the profound and all-inclusive practices of a bodhisattva; eighth, it cuts through all serious obstructions; ninth, it results in the fruits of enlightenment and nirvana; and tenth, it continues to benefit beings in future ages. These are ten of the many reasons why this teaching has flourished. In the Dharma, we have the two categories of substance and function. Prajna is its substance and means ‘wisdom.’ It is insight into the mysterious and realization of the true source. Paramita is its function and means ‘to reach the other shore.’ By means of this marvelous wisdom one transcends birth and death and reaches the realm of true emptiness.”

  Several Chinese translations add the word mo-ho, for maha, or “great,” to the beginning of this sutra’s title. Although such usage appears in some citations of Chih-ch’ien’s translation of circa A.D. 200-250 and in most citations of Kumarajiva’s translation of circa A. D. 400, it does not appear in any other Chinese translation or Sanskrit copy that I am aware of. Hence, I have not included it. Another word I have omitted is bhagavati, which is generally understood as meaning “she who bestows prosperity” and, hence, “bountiful.” Being in the feminine, it modifies Prajnaparamita, the personified Goddess of Wisdom. However, it does not appear in any Sanskrit copy or Chinese translation from Sanskrit and apparently exists only in the Tibetan.

  HRIDAYA

  In his Sanskrit-English Dictionary, Monier-Williams has this for hridaya, the “h” of which is nearly silent: “the heart or center or core or essence or best or dearest or most secret part of anything.” In titles, hridaya usually indicates that the work is a summary. However, prior to Hsuan-tsang’s translation of 649, the Heart Sutra does not
appear to have had the word hridaya in its title; rather it was known as the Prajnaparamita Dharani (Chihch’ien’s translation) or the Maha Prajnaparamita Mahavidya Dharani (Kumarajiva’s translation). Thus, sometime between the fifth and seventh centuries, the text picked up the title by means of which it has been known ever since.

  My guess is that the use of heart in the title was in response to the series of Sarvastivadin texts that began with Dharmashri’s groundbreaking Abhidharma Hridaya Shastra (Treatise on the Heart of the Abhidharma), composed in Bactria (Afghanistan) around 100 B.C. This was followed by a text of the same title (and much the same material) written by Upashanta around A. D. 280 and another by Dharmatrata around A.D. 320 entitled Samyukt Abhidharma Hridaya Shastra (Commentary on the Heart of the Abhidharma Shastra). These last two texts were written in Gandhara (Pakistan), and it might have been the second of the two that inspired the change in the title, as it was the most influential Abhidharma text of its day in the same area where many Mahayana texts are thought to have originated.

  Another possible explanation for the presence of the word hridaya in the title is that it was added to reflect the primary use of this text as an incantation. While most commentators have explained the appearance of hridaya as indicating that this text is a summary of the teaching of Prajnaparamita, Fukui Fumimasa has shown that the word hsin, which is the standard Chinese translation of hridaya, appears in titles of other texts meant to be chanted and refers not to a summary but to the view that dharanis form the heart of Buddhist practice (cf. Hannya shingyo no kenkyu). A dharani, or mantra, is an incantation that possesses protective powers, and the Heart Sutra was clearly seen in this light from the very beginning, as the first two translations included the word dharani in their titles. Thus, during the T’ang dynasty (618-906), most Chinese referred to it as the T’o-hsin-ching, or Dharani Heart Sutra, and one of our earliest records of this text concerns its use by Hsuan-tsang to protect him during his travels.