無慈非僧 No Mercy, No Monk
三藏道:「你十分撞禍。他雖是剪徑的強徒,就是拿到官司,也不該死罪;你縱有手段,只可退他去便了,怎麼就都打死?這卻是無故傷人的性命,如何做得和尚?出家人掃地恐傷螻蟻命,愛惜飛蛾紗罩燈。你怎麼不分皂白,一頓打死?全無一點慈悲好善之心。早還是山野中無人查考;若到城市,倘有人一時衝撞了你,你也行兇,執著棍子亂打傷人,我可做得白客,怎能脫身?」悟空道:「師父,我若不打死他,他卻要打死你哩。」三藏道:「我這出家人寧死,決不敢行兇。我就死,也只是一身,你卻殺了他六人,如何理說?此事若告到官,就是你老子做官,也說不過去。」行者道:「不瞞師父說,我老孫五百年前,據花果山稱王為怪的時節,也不知打死多少人。假似你說這般到官,倒也得些狀告,我就做不到『齊天大聖』了。」三藏道:「只因你沒收沒管,暴橫人間,欺天誑上,才受這五百年前之難。今既入了沙門,若是還像當時行兇,一味傷生,去不得西天,做不得和尚。忒惡!忒惡!」三藏道:「你十分撞祸。他虽是剪径的强徒,就是拿到官司,也不该死罪;你纵有手段,只可退他去便了,怎么就都打死?这却是无故伤人的性命,如何做得和尚?出家人扫地恐伤蝼蚁命,爱惜飞蛾纱罩灯。你怎么不分皂白,一顿打死?全无一点慈悲好善之心。早还是山野中无人查考;若到城市,倘有人一时冲撞了你,你也行凶,执着棍子乱打伤人,我可做得白客,怎能脱身?」悟空道:「师父,我若不打死他,他却要打死你哩。」三藏道:「我这出家人宁死,决不敢行凶。我就死,也只是一身,你却杀了他六人,如何理说?此事若告到官,就是你老子做官,也说不过去。」行者道:「不瞒师父说,我老孙五百年前,据花果山称王为怪的时节,也不知打死多少人。假似你说这般到官,倒也得些状告,我就做不到『齐天大圣』了。」三藏道:「只因你没收没管,暴横人间,欺天诳上,才受这五百年前之难。今既入了沙门,若是还像当时行凶,一味伤生,去不得西天,做不得和尚。忒恶!忒恶!」
逐句解 Line by line
Sanzang said, "You have brought down great trouble.
The rebuke that follows is the moral centre of the chapter, and it opens with the charge of having brought down disaster on them both. 三藏 reads 藏 as zàng; 十分 reads 分 as fēn.
Though they were highway robbers, even had they been taken before a magistrate they would not have merited death;
The first argument is legal, not religious: highway robbery was not a capital offence, so even a magistrate would not have hanged them. 強徒 reads 強 as qiáng.
you, for all your powers, needed only to have driven them off — how could you go and beat them all to death?
And the second follows from it: you could have driven them off, so killing them all was surplus to requirements. 就都打死 reads 都 as dōu.
This is taking life without cause. How can you be a monk?
Now the religious charge, and it is the sharpest thing he says: taking life for no cause — so how can you be a monk? 做得和尚 reads 得 as dé.
A man who has left the household sweeps the floor for fear of harming an ant, and shades the lamp out of pity for moths and insects.
The famous picture of monastic scruple: sweeping the floor carefully in case there are ants under the broom, putting gauze round a lamp so moths cannot fly into it. Both are real practices, and both are being held up beside a man who has just clubbed six people to death.
How could you, without telling black from white, beat them dead at a stroke?
不分皂白, 'not telling black from white', is still ordinary Chinese for acting without discrimination — the characters are the black and white of dyed cloth. 分 is read fēn.
You have not a shred of mercy or love of good in your heart.
And the verdict, with nothing left to soften it: not a shred of mercy in you.
It is well that this was in the wild hills, where there is no one to investigate;
Then the argument slides, revealingly, from morals to consequences: lucky for us there was nobody out here to see it. 早還是 reads 還 as hái; 山野中 reads 中 as zhōng.
but if we came to a town, and someone chanced to jostle you, and you fell to violence and beat and wounded people with your cudgel, then even I could not stand clear of it — how should I get free?"
And slides further. What he is really afraid of now is being the travelling companion of a killer in a town with witnesses. 行兇 reads 行 as xíng; 執著 uses the ongoing-action 著 (zhe); 做得白客 reads 得 as dé.
Wukong said, "Master, if I had not killed him, he would have killed you."
One sentence, and the entire counter-argument: if I had not killed him, he would have killed you. The disciple's realism against the master's absolutes is the chapter's real subject, and neither of them is simply wrong.
Sanzang said, "I, who have left the household, would sooner die than do violence.
The reply is the doctrine of harmlessness carried to its end: I would rather be killed than kill. It is a real position, sincerely held, and it is the one thing Wukong cannot answer. 三藏 reads 藏 as zàng; 行兇 reads 行 as xíng.
Were I to die, it would be but one life; but you have killed six of them — how is that to be explained?
He even does the arithmetic: my death would be one life; you have taken six.
If this matter were brought before the authorities, even had your own father been the magistrate, it could not be argued away."
And back to the courts again — not even a magistrate who was your own father could argue this away. 老子 here takes the light 子 (zi).
The Pilgrim said, "I will not deceive you, Master: five hundred years ago, when I held Flower-Fruit Mountain and reigned there as a monster, I killed I know not how many men.
Wukong's answer is his own history, offered without apology: five hundred years ago on Flower-Fruit Mountain he killed more men than he can count, and the world made him a Great Sage for it. 行者 reads 行 as xíng; 稱王為怪 reads 為 as wéi; 多少 reads 少 as shǎo.
Supposing, as you say, it had come before the authorities and I had drawn a few charges upon myself — why, then I should never have become the 'Great Sage Equal to Heaven.'"
The logic is defiant and, on its own terms, sound: a monkey who worried about charge sheets would never have become the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. 假似, 'supposing', reads 似 as sì; 得些狀告 reads 得 as dé.
Sanzang said, "It was just because you had no restraint and no rule, running riot in the world, cheating Heaven and deceiving those above, that you suffered that calamity of five hundred years ago.
And Sanzang turns the same history straight round on him. That lawlessness is not a credential; it is why you spent five hundred years under a mountain. 三藏 reads 藏 as zàng; 之難, 'that calamity', reads 難 as nàn.
Now that you have entered the gate of the Buddha, if you still do violence as you did then, taking life at every turn, you cannot go to the Western Heaven, cannot be a monk. Too wicked! Too wicked!"
The rebuke ends in a threat and an exclamation: go on like this and you forfeit the journey and the robes together. 忒惡,忒惡 — too wicked, too wicked — with 忒 read tè. Two syllables, repeated, and they cost him his disciple. 還像 reads 還 as hái; 行兇 reads 行 as xíng; 去不得 and 做不得 both take 得 as dé.
Sanzang's long rebuke is the ethical heart of the chapter and one of the clearest statements in the novel of the tension the pilgrimage is built on. His position is the Buddhist ideal at full strength: killing is never justified, not against armed robbers, not in self-defence; the true monk sweeps the floor to spare an ant and would sooner die than take a life.
Against that stands Wukong's flat realism — it was them or you — and his own history, in which countless killings led not to ruin but to the title of Great Sage. The argument is genuinely unresolved. The reader feels the pull of the monk's compassion and of the monkey's practicality both, and the narrative declines to hand either of them the win. That refusal is what gives a comic novel its weight.
But Sanzang overplays it. The scolding will not stop, and it ends in 'too wicked, too wicked' and the threat that Wukong can be no monk at all — which wounds a proud creature past bearing. The rebuke meant to reform him drives him off instead, and brings on the crisis that only Guanyin's intervention, and a coercive golden band, will settle. Compassion preached without wisdom, the episode suggests, is not yet enough to govern the mind-monkey.