里社祠 The Shrine of Village and Soil
師徒們說著話，早已到了門首。三藏下了馬，只見那門上有三個大字，乃「里社祠」，遂入門裡。那裡邊有一個老者，項掛著數珠兒，合掌來迎，叫聲：「師父請坐。」三藏慌忙答禮，上殿去參拜了聖像。那老者即呼童子獻茶。茶罷，三藏問老者道：「此廟何為『里社』？」老者道：「敝處乃西番哈咇國界。這廟後有一莊人家，共發虔心，立此廟宇。里者，乃一鄉里地；社者，乃一社土神。每遇春耕、夏耘、秋收、冬藏之日，各辦三牲花果，來此祭社，以保四時清吉、五穀豐登、六畜茂盛故也。」三藏聞言，點頭誇讚：「正是『離家三里遠，別是一鄉風』。我那裡人家，更無此善。」老者卻問：「師父仙鄉是何處？」三藏道：「貧僧是東土大唐國，奉旨意，上西天拜佛求經的。路過寶坊，天色將晚，特投聖祠，告宿一宵，天光即行。」那老者十分歡喜，道了幾聲「失迎」，又叫童子辦飯。三藏吃畢，謝了。师徒们说著话，早已到了门首。三藏下了马，只见那门上有三个大字，乃「里社祠」，遂入门里。那里边有一个老者，项挂著数珠儿，合掌来迎，叫声：「师父请坐。」三藏慌忙答礼，上殿去参拜了圣像。那老者即呼童子献茶。茶罢，三藏问老者道：「此庙何为『里社』？」老者道：「敝处乃西番哈咇国界。这庙后有一庄人家，共发虔心，立此庙宇。里者，乃一乡里地；社者，乃一社土神。每遇春耕、夏耘、秋收、冬藏之日，各办三牲花果，来此祭社，以保四时清吉、五谷丰登、六畜茂盛故也。」三藏闻言，点头夸赞：「正是『离家三里远，别是一乡风』。我那里人家，更无此善。」老者却问：「师父仙乡是何处？」三藏道：「贫僧是东土大唐国，奉旨意，上西天拜佛求经的。路过宝坊，天色将晚，特投圣祠，告宿一宵，天光即行。」那老者十分欢喜，道了几声「失迎」，又叫童子办饭。三藏吃毕，谢了。
逐句解 Line by line
While master and disciple were still speaking, they had already reached the gate.
說著話 takes the durative 著 (zhe); 門首, "the gate-front."
Sanzang dismounted, and saw upon the gate three great characters — Shrine of Village and Soil — and so went in at the door.
里社祠: the 里 was the village or ward of the old administrative geography, the 社 the altar of the soil-god that stood at its centre. 那門上 is demonstrative, nà.
Inside there was an old man with a string of prayer-beads about his neck, who came to meet them with palms joined, calling: "Master, be seated."
數珠兒 (shù zhū) is a rosary, Sanskrit japamālā; 掛著 takes durative 著 (zhe). 那裡邊 is demonstrative, nà. The old man greets them with the añjali before a word is spoken.
Sanzang hastily returned the courtesy, went up into the hall, and did reverence before the holy image.
答禮, "to return a salutation." Sanzang's punctilio is his one unfailing competence, and it never deserts him — not before a soil-god's image, and not before a Bodhisattva he has already missed.
The old man at once called a boy to bring tea.
童子, the temple boy or acolyte. After a chapter of dragons and Guardians, the rites of hospitality unfold in their proper order, and the ordinariness is a relief.
Tea over, Sanzang asked the old man: "Why is this shrine called 'Village and Soil'?"
何為, "for what reason," with 為 read wèi. The question is a scholar's, and it draws from the old man the one piece of ethnography in the chapter.
Said the old man: "Our poor district lies within the borders of the Western Fan land of Habi.
敝處, "this humble place." 西番, the "Western Fan," is a general name for the non-Chinese lands beyond the frontier; 哈咇 (Hābì) is a transliterated place-name of uncertain reference, the graph 咇 read bì. The pilgrims have crossed out of the Tang world altogether.
Behind this shrine is a hamlet of households who, of one devout heart, raised this temple.
共發虔心, "together sent forth a devout heart." The shrine is no state foundation but a village one, raised by subscription among neighbours.
'Village' means the land of a single hamlet; 'Soil' means the soil-god of a single community.
里者…社者… is the classical glossing formula — "as for 里, it is…" The temple-keeper defines his terms exactly as a commentator would gloss a classic.
At each season — the ploughing of spring, the weeding of summer, the reaping of autumn, the storing of winter —
冬藏 takes 藏 as cáng, "to store away" — the single place in this chapter where the graph is not the zàng of the monk's own name. 耕、耘、收、藏 is the canonical fourfold cycle of the agricultural year.
we make ready the three victims, with flowers and fruit, and come here to sacrifice to the soil, that the four seasons may be clear and auspicious, the five grains abundant, and the six beasts of the farm flourish."
三牲, the three victims (ox, sheep and pig); 五穀, the five grains; 六畜 (liù chù), the six domestic animals. The formula is that of the state sacrificial liturgy, spoken here by the keeper of a village shrine.
Hearing this, Sanzang nodded in praise: "Just so — 'three lǐ from home, and the customs of the village are other.'
正是 here means simply "just so," and is not the storyteller's tag for verse. The proverb 離家三里遠，別是一鄉風 turns on the very 里 the old man has just glossed — the monk has been listening closely.
Among the folk of my own country there is no such piety."
我那裡, "where I come from," demonstrative nà; 更無此善, "there is not even so much goodness." The compliment is handsome, and the Tang monk pays it to a foreign shrine of a god not his own.
The old man then asked: "And what is the master's own honoured native place?"
仙鄉, "immortal village," is the courteous circumlocution for asking a stranger where he is from.
Said Sanzang: "This poor monk is from the Great Tang land in the East, sent by imperial command to the Western Heaven, to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures.
奉旨意, "in obedience to the imperial will." This is the plain self-introduction — who I am, whence, and on what errand — that Wukong could not bring himself to make at the gorge, and for want of which a horse was eaten.
Passing by your precious district, and the sky growing late, I have come to your holy shrine expressly to beg lodging for one night. At daybreak we shall go on."
寶坊, "precious ward," a polite term for another man's locality; 天色將晚 takes 將 as jiāng, "about to." 天光即行, "at first light we go."
The old man was mightily pleased, said "Forgive my poor welcome" several times over, and called the boy again to set out a meal. When Sanzang had eaten, he gave thanks.
失迎 — "I failed to come out and meet you" — is the formula by which a host apologises for a welcome he had no chance to prepare. 十分歡喜, "delighted in the highest degree."
After dragons, Guardians and a Bodhisattva, the novel sets down a village shrine and lets an old man explain what it is for. The 里社 was one of the oldest institutions of Chinese religion: the 里, a ward or hamlet; the 社, the altar of the god of the soil at its centre, where the villagers sacrificed at the four turns of the agricultural year. The keeper's gloss is delivered in the manner of a commentator on a classic — 里者，乃一鄉里地；社者，乃一社土神 — and his liturgy of the four seasons and the five grains is the language of the state cult, spoken in a mud-walled shrine on the far side of the frontier. That this piety is found not in the Tang but in the land of Habi is a point the monk himself makes, and generously: 我那裡人家，更無此善.
There is a fine philological joke buried in the old man's speech. In 冬藏, "the storing of winter," the graph 藏 appears for the only time in this chapter in its other reading, cáng — everywhere else it is zàng, the last syllable of the monk's own dharma-name, which itself means the Three Baskets, the Storehouse of the canon. The peasant's granary and the Tripiṭaka are written with one character. And note what Sanzang does here that Wukong could not do at the gorge: asked who he is, he answers plainly — 貧僧是東土大唐國，奉旨意，上西天拜佛求經的. The monk who is useless in a fight is master of the one skill this chapter has argued is indispensable.