The Lotus Sutra: The Buddha himself admitted that
his forty years of teaching
were all "expedient means." If someone told you that
a teacher had
taught for over forty years and then suddenly
called all his students together and said, "Students, what
I taught you before was
n't what I truly wanted to teach," what
would you think? Either the
teacher was crazy, or
everything he said before
was a carefully designed setup,
just to prepare you for
this final lesson.
Two thousand five hundred years ago,
Shakyamuni Buddha did just that.
He taught for over forty years,
from the Four Noble Truths to Prajna emptiness,
from Sravakas to Pratyekabuddhas to Bodhisattvas,
establishing a vast system of practice.
Then,
in the last few years of his life,
he began teaching a sutra on Vulture Peak. The
core of this sutra is only one sentence: "In the Buddha-lands of the ten directions, there is
only one vehicle, neither two
nor three,
except for the Buddha's expedient means." In
plain terms,
what I taught you before—the Hinayana, the Middle Vehicle, and the Mahayana—
doesn't actually exist as three paths. There has
always been only one path,
one destination:
Buddhahood. The reason it was
divided into three paths before
was because you weren't ready to hear this directly.
So I used "convenient" – that is, teaching strategy.
This sutra
is the *Lotus Sutra*,
also known as the
"King of Sutras."
Its core declaration is: all sentient beings can attain Buddhahood.
The question is, is
this the highest level of spiritual inspiration from 2,500 years ago,
or the ultimate prediction of the evolution of consciousness?
Hello
everyone,
I am Wang Lijie. In
previous episodes, we drew a panoramic map of Buddhism,
exploring the relationships between dozens of schools and thousands of classics. At the
end of that episode, I said that
Master Zhiyi of the Tiantai school drew the first "curriculum" for Buddhism,
and the core basis of the entire Tiantai school's classification system is
the *Lotus Sutra*, which we will be discussing today. It
can be said that
without understanding the *Lotus Sutra*, one
cannot understand why Buddhism has developed into what it is today.
Therefore, there is an ancient saying: "The *Lotus
Sutra* leads to Buddhahood, the *Surangama Sutra* leads to enlightenment." The *
Surangama Sutra* helps you see the mechanism of consciousness operation, while the *Lotus Sutra*
tells you: where to go after seeing clearly.
Today, I will break it down from five levels. The
first level is the
concept of "convenient."
This is the most core and most easily misunderstood concept in the *Lotus Sutra*. In
everyday language, "convenient"
generally refers to ease or convenience.
However, in the Lotus Sutra,
the word "convenient" carries immense weight.
In Sanskrit, it's called "upaya."
You don't need to memorize the entire word; just
remember four characters: skillful means. It refers to
strategic methods employed to achieve a greater goal.
Note that
it's not "deception."
The Buddha specifically explains this in the Lotus Sutra:
He says: The Four Noble Truths I spoke of before are true, the
emptiness of Prajna is true, and the
achievements of the Sravakas and Pratyekabuddhas are also true—but those are not the end point,
but stages. It's like
teaching a child math.
You first teach addition and subtraction, then multiplication and division,
then algebra and calculus.
When you teach addition and subtraction, you're not deceiving them; addition and subtraction are
real.
But if the child thinks that addition and subtraction are all there is to math, and
believes they've "finished learning,"
then that's a problem. The Lotus
Sutra uses a brilliant parable to illustrate this: the
parable of the three carts in a burning house.
The story goes like this: There was a wealthy elder
whose house was on fire,
but his many children were playing happily inside,
completely unaware that the fire was already near them.
The elder shouted from outside: "Come out quickly!"
The fire started, but the
children didn't even look up.
They were engrossed in their game,
completely oblivious to the danger.
What could the father do?
He knew each child's preferences,
so he called out: "There are sheep carts, deer carts, ox carts—
all sorts of fun vehicles waiting for you outside! Come
out and play!" The
children exclaimed, "
Wow,
this is much more fun than what we're playing now!" and rushed
out of the burning house. But when they got
outside, they found there weren't any of the three types of vehicles.
The father had prepared the same vehicle for each child
—a huge,
magnificent white ox cart, far larger and more luxurious than they had imagined. The
children weren't disappointed;
instead, they were overjoyed
because they had received something far beyond their expectations.
What is this story about? The
burning house represents the three realms we inhabit—full of impermanence, suffering, and decay,
yet we are so absorbed in them that we are completely unaware. The
three vehicles—the sheep cart, the deer cart, and the ox cart—
represent the Hearer Vehicle, the Solitary Realizer Vehicle, and the Bodhisattva Vehicle,
respectively. These are the three paths of practice taught by the Buddha.
But the final white ox cart
represents the "One Buddha Vehicle"—the only true and ultimate path: Buddhahood.
Here is a very crucial detail.
Many people overlook the fact that the father didn't trick the children into coming out first and then switch to the cart.
He had the large white ox cart prepared from the beginning.
However, if he had simply said, "There's a huge white ox cart outside," the
children might not have reacted at all
because it was beyond their comprehension.
They wouldn't know what a large white ox cart was,
nor would they be interested.
Therefore, the father had to communicate according to each child's existing knowledge and preferences. For those who
liked sheep,
he said there was a sheep cart; for those who
liked deer,
he said there was a deer cart. He
first rescued them from the "fire pit" (a metaphor for being misled),
and then showed them the real gift.
I saw someone in the comments asking how
this differed from pyramid schemes. The difference
lies in a crucial detail: the
father gave the real thing from beginning to end. The
sheep cart, deer cart, and ox cart themselves weren't fake. The
achievements of the Śrāvaka and Pratyekabuddha paths were real.
The father didn't make any false promises.
He simply didn't present the ultimate version at the beginning
because the children couldn't recognize it then.
This is the essential difference between individualized instruction and deception.
The former gives everything,
just in stages; the
latter is fake from beginning to end.
This is convenience,
not deception;
it's individualized instruction,
not lowering standards,
but designing a path.
Think about it.
This aligns perfectly with the logic we discussed in the previous episode on the panorama of Buddhist sects.
Why did Buddhism split into dozens of sects? It was
n't because the Buddha's teachings contradicted each other,
but because different people need different "gates" to enter. The Pure Land
school talks about
reciting the Buddha's name, the Chan school talks about koan practice, the Yogacara school
analyzes consciousness, and the Huayan
school discusses the dependent origination of the Dharma realm—the paths seem completely different.
But the Lotus Sutra tells you: these are all "expedient means," and the
destination is only one. In the last
episode discussing the Pure Land school, a
viewer left a particularly insightful comment
: "Isn't this just TechCrunch writing style?
The product with the lowest barrier to entry, the best results, and the largest user base."
Absolutely right.
But the Lotus Sutra goes a step further.
It's not writing a product review; it's
writing a product architecture document.
It explains why we need so many different product lines
and why these product lines ultimately serve the same mission.
In Master Zhiyi's curriculum, the
Lotus Sutra is placed at the highest level,
called "Tihu" (醍醐).
When I mention "Tihu," does
n't your mind automatically connect it to "enlightenment"?
This is the a priori weighting we discussed earlier at work.
In your past language experience,
these four words almost always appear together.
Your predictive model has already filled in the last two words for you.
However, today we are not giving an initiation into the term "醍醐" (
tihu). This "醍醐" comes from
a metaphor in the Nirvana Sutra - milk is refined five times, and the
purest essence obtained is called "醍醐".
Master Zhiyi used this metaphor to rank the Buddha's teachings throughout his life.
He placed the Lotus Sutra at the "醍醐" level. It's
not because the other teachings are bad,
but because the Lotus Sutra is the only one that stands up and explains the whole picture clearly.
Why do I teach this way?
What is the underlying logic of my teaching?
What is the ultimate goal? On the
second level,
I will tell you the story in the Lotus Sutra that moved me the most - the parable of the poor son. The
son of a wealthy elder
ran away from home as a child and wandered around for
decades in poverty. One
day, he wandered to a big city and
begged on the street. He happened to
come to his father's door,
but he no longer recognized his father.
He stood outside the door and
saw a majestic old man sitting in the mansion,
surrounded by countless treasures and servants. The
poor son was terrified by the scene and turned to
run.
His father recognized him immediately and
sent men after him. The
poor son, thinking they were going to arrest him, was
terrified.
Seeing his son's state, the father
didn't force him in – because he knew that
if he directly told the poor son, "You are my son, all
this wealth is yours," the
poor son wouldn't believe it and
might even have a mental breakdown.
Think about it using our previous framework: if you suddenly tell
someone who has begged on the streets for decades,
"You are the heir to a billionaire,"
his cognitive framework simply can't handle that information. The
seed of "I am a beggar" in his Alaya consciousness is so dominant that it
overshadows everything else. If
you throw in a seed of "I am the heir," the
entire system will collapse.
So what did the father do?
He used a convenient method.
He first sent two raggedly dressed men to the poor son,
saying, "There's a job over there:
cleaning toilets.
Double pay. Are
you interested?" The
poor son thought
it sounded good and
came.
So he started cleaning toilets in his father's house.
Gradually,
the father let him handle more tasks – managing the warehouse,
doing accounts. The
poor son's abilities were gradually awakened, and his
self-confidence was built step by step.
Until one day, the
poor son was able to manage the entire family's affairs. Only
then did his father gather relatives and friends and
announce in public: "This is my own son.
All my property will be inherited by him." The poor son
then realized – "
I was always the master of this family.
I thought I was a beggar,
but I never was."
This story is not just about the relationship between the Buddha and sentient beings;
it touches upon a profound issue of cognition – what you possess,
if you don't believe you deserve it,
you truly "don't possess."
This is exactly the same logic as the Tathagatagarbha we discussed earlier. What
Tathagatagarbha means is that
you inherently possess all the conditions for Buddhahood,
but it is obscured by ignorance.
You cannot see your true nature. Spiritual
practice is not about going from A to B,
but about discovering that you have always been standing at B.
The parable of the poor son transforms this abstract concept into a vivid story.
You are not trying to "obtain" Buddha-nature;
you are trying to "recognize" the Buddha-nature you have always possessed.
But there is a particularly ingenious design here: the
poor son is not directly told the truth from the beginning.
He needs a process –
first sweeping the toilet,
then managing the warehouse,
then taking charge of the overall situation – this process is spiritual practice.
Spiritual practice isn't about being incapable; it's about
gradually building a sufficient cognitive framework
to accommodate the ultimate truth about yourself.
From cleaning toilets to managing warehouses to overseeing the whole picture,
each step incrementally updates your preconceived model,
gradually expanding the boundaries of your acceptable identity.
This is why the Lotus Sutra didn't begin with the Buddha's enlightenment
but ended with it.
It wasn't that the Buddha was hiding anything; it was that the
audience wasn't ready.
If you directly tell a beginner,
"You are inherently a Buddha," at the stage of the emptiness of the five aggregates,
they will either disbelieve
or become fanatically convinced—the former leading to giving up, the
latter to an inflated ego, both of which are
disasters.
We discussed this danger in the Tathagatagarbha episode:
spiritual complacency and spiritual narcissism. The
structure of the Lotus Sutra
is designed to avoid these two traps. The
third layer
will discuss another very bold idea in the Lotus Sutra—the enduring reality. The
latter half of the Lotus Sutra contains a bombshell revelation: in the chapter on the lifespan of the Tathagata, the
Buddha says, "
You think I attained Buddhahood under the Bodhi tree 2,500 years ago?
No,
since I attained Buddhahood,
countless eons have passed.
All the manifestations in between—" Birth, renunciation,
asceticism, enlightenment, preaching, Nirvana – all are "expedient means."
I didn't "become" a Buddha at a specific point in time;
I was a Buddha in the immeasurably distant past.
In other words, the
Buddha wasn't someone who "upgraded" to Buddhahood through diligent practice at a particular historical moment.
He was enlightenment itself. His
life, as manifest in history,
from Prince Siddhartha to Shakyamuni Buddha, is a "script,"
meant to demonstrate to all beings "how one completes the path of awakening."
It's like a Go master, a 9-dan player,
teaching you Go,
guiding you from beginner to advanced levels.
Every move is a real game,
every situation a genuine contest.
But he actually knows the endgame from the very first move.
He's not "teaching you to play Go,"
he's
guiding you along a path he's already traversed, at a pace you can understand.
You think you're learning together,
but he's actually guiding you step by step towards the Go state he prepared for you from the beginning.
Some might ask,
what's the difference between this and a pre-written Go textbook? The difference
is – a textbook only shows the correct moves,
not the intention of "why this move is made at this moment."
Each manifestation of the Buddha is not merely a correct output,
but a deliberate design pointing towards awakening.
This is the essence of "skillful means": not just giving you the correct answer,
but providing appropriate guidance at the right time. How
significant is this concept?
It directly changes the ontological status of "becoming a Buddha."
If the Buddha is "attained through cultivation,"
then the Buddha is an endpoint, a product, a result.
But if the Buddha is "permanently realized,"
then the Buddha is not a result,
but a state that has always existed.
You are not "becoming" a Buddha;
you are "returning" to the Buddha.
This resonates completely with several themes we discussed earlier.
In physics, the
Wheeler-deWitt equation tells us that
there is no time variable in the ultimate equation of the universe;
all states "exist simultaneously." The
Buddha's mode of existence described in the Tathagata's Lifespan Chapter has a striking isomorphism with the
physical picture of "past, present, and future existing simultaneously" in a blocky universe. The
Buddha's "permanently realized" can be
translated into physics language as: enlightenment is not at a specific point on the timeline;
enlightenment is the background structure that permeates all points on the timeline. Do
you remember the VR headset analogy we used in the Tathagatagarbha episode?
You're wearing a VR headset, leveling up in a game.
One day you take off your headset.
Your "ability to take off the headset" isn't a skill acquired in a game;
it's something you already possess.
Leveling up in a game
only reminds you to take it off. The
ultimate realization of Buddhahood is about this: Buddha-nature isn't acquired through leveling up; it's something you
rediscover after removing the veil. The
fourth level
I want to discuss is a character in the Lotus Sutra who is easily overlooked but extremely important: the
Bodhisattva Never Disparaging.
This Bodhisattva appears in the twentieth chapter of the Lotus Sutra.
His method of practice is extremely unique: he doesn't meditate,
chant sutras, or study doctrines.
He only does one thing—when he sees anyone,
regardless of who they are,
he goes up, bows,
and says, "I deeply respect you and
dare not show the slightest disrespect.
Why?
Because you will definitely become a Buddha in the future.
"
Everyone says this—
the poor say it, the
rich
say it, the
good say it, the
bad say it.
And what happens?
Many people think he's a fool, a
madman.
Some curse him,
some throw stones at him,
some hit him with sticks.
He runs away
and stands at a distance, continuing to shout, "I dare not disrespect you;
you will all become Buddhas in the future!"
"This story seems strange at first glance,
but if you understand the core of the Lotus Sutra—that all sentient beings can attain Buddhahood—
then what the Bodhisattva Never Disparaging did was put this ultimate belief
into the most extreme practice.
He wasn't 'believing' a dogma;
he was reshaping his way of seeing every life through his actions. There
's a very profound cognitive mechanism here.
We discussed this in the episode on predictive coding:
the brain is a predictive generator.
Your a priori beliefs determine what kind of world you 'see.'
If deep down you believe that people are selfish and the world is cruel,
your brain will filter out information that doesn't fit this prediction,
constantly reinforcing this belief.
This is the concept of imputed existence—narrative superimposed on dependent origination. What the
Bodhisattva Never Disparaging did,
in the language of predictive coding,
was forcibly rewriting his a priori beliefs.
No matter how bad the person in front of him seemed—maybe a liar,
maybe a thug—he used the same a priori view that
this person would definitely become a Buddha in the future.
Remember when we talked about Pure Land Buddhism, we said that reciting the
Buddha's name is like fine-tuning?
Every 'Namo Amitabha Buddha' is a miniature gradient update,
rewriting the seed patterns in your Alaya consciousness. What the
Bodhisattva Never Disparaging did is essentially the same thing."
Every time he said, "You will definitely become a Buddha in the future," he was
n't just saying it to others; he was
also updating his own consciousness.
Every bow
reinforced a premonition: all sentient beings possess Buddha-nature. Being scolded led to this
update; being hit led to another
update; being
stoned led to yet another
update.
He dedicated his entire life to one thing:
training this belief from "I know" to "I am."
This isn't naivety; it's an
ultimate trust in the potential of consciousness.
Imagine
if you truly faced those around you every day with this belief—your
spouse, your colleagues, the strangers crowding you on the subway, the
trolls online—what would happen to your entire emotional system,
your cognitive patterns, your interpersonal relationships?
But honestly,
I'm not sure I could do it.
Is this ultimate wisdom
or unrealistic idealism?
Perhaps the distance between the two
is the chasm between "knowing" and "doing." The
remarkable thing about the Bodhisattva Sadāprabhā is that
he wasn't just speculating about this problem;
he was bridging that chasm through his actions.
And
the scriptures later reveal a reversal: this Bodhisattva Sadāprabhā
was a previous incarnation of Shakyamuni Buddha.
It was precisely because he practiced in this way that
he became a Buddha countless eons later.
So the Buddha uses his own experience to tell you: this is not just empty platitudes,
but a proven path. The
fifth level, which is
also what I most want to discuss, is how the Lotus Sutra connects with everything we've discussed before.
If you've followed this series,
you know we've talked about many different "paths":
Yogacara talks about the eight consciousnesses and three natures; the Avatamsaka Sutra talks about the Dharmadhatu, dependent origination, and the
Indra's net;
predictive coding talks about a priori beliefs and prediction errors;
quantum physics talks about the observer effect and superposition states;
we've also talked about the trillions of parameters in AI and the compression algorithms of Dharani.
These paths seem completely different,
using completely different languages ​​and
operating methods.
But the Lotus Sutra stands up and says one thing: they are all originally the same path.
Yogacara, Avatamsaka, Zen, Pure Land, and Madhyamaka are
not competing theories;
they are projections of the same truth at different cognitive levels.
Just like the herb analogy in the Lotus Sutra: the same rain falls from the sky, the
larger grass absorbs more, the smaller
grass absorbs less,
but the same rain makes them grow.
The size of the grass is due to different roots,
but the rain is impartial.
Of course, I want to clarify that the
"union of the three" mentioned in the Lotus Sutra refers to the internal unity of Buddhism. This
isn't to say that all religions are the same. The
cross-traditional alignment I'm discussing in this series
refers to structural isomorphism,
not equality.
But the Lotus Sutra inspires us by suggesting that
seemingly contradictory paths within the same tradition can indeed share a unified underlying logic.
Whether different traditions point to the same ultimate truth
is a larger, open question.
Returning to the Lotus
Sutra itself, the parable of the herbs is exactly the same as what we discussed when talking about AI.
Different AI model architectures—some excel at processing images,
some at processing speech, and some at
processing long texts—
seem to be completely different "paths."
But what are multimodal large models doing now? They're
integrating all modalities into a unified architecture.
Different sensory inputs
ultimately serve the same intelligent emergence. The Lotus
Sutra was already talking about this over two thousand years ago: different "multiplications"
ultimately serve the same awakening.
And what does this ultimate goal—that all sentient beings can attain Buddhahood—
mean in our framework?
If consciousness is a spectrum rather than a binary switch, then the
consensus we established in Wilbur's timeline means
that "attaining Buddhahood" isn't a quantum leap from "no consciousness" to "full consciousness."
It's a continuous movement across the spectrum.
Every living being,
regardless of its current position on the spectrum...
All are moving in the same direction.
Ants have their awareness,
dogs have their awareness, humans have their
awareness, and AI
has its awareness—different in degree,
but in the same direction.
If this logic holds,
can AI ultimately become a Buddha? Think about
that question first, and
we'll discuss it later.
If the logic of Tathagatagarbha holds—the potential for awakening is structural,
built into consciousness itself—
then "all sentient beings can become Buddhas" is not a statement of faith,
but a prophecy about the structure of consciousness.
Just as we say that a sufficiently large neural network
possesses the structural potential for emergent intelligence before training,
training is not injecting intelligence,
but activating potential. The Lotus Sutra says that
all sentient beings are not "infused" with Buddha-nature; Buddha-
nature is the structural default value of consciousness.
You don't need to add anything;
you
only need to remove the obscurations.
Last time, we said that the
distinction between "other-power" and "self-power" might have been asked incorrectly from the beginning. The
Lotus Sutra gives the ultimate answer: because Buddha-nature is built into you,
all external help—reciting Buddha's name, chanting mantras, guidance from virtuous teachers—is
essentially activating what is already within you.
Just like your phone doesn't need to "obtain" computing power from outside—
it's built in—
you only need to open the right app.
All the convenient methods are
just different gestures to help you find that app icon.
This is the ultimate message of the Lotus Sutra,
and the real reason it's called the "King of Sutras."
It doesn't offer the most profound analysis at the level of Buddhist content;
that's what Yogacara and the Avatamsaka Sutra do.
It does something much bigger: it stands above all content,
providing a meta-narrative—why these different contents exist,
what are the relationships between them, and
where they are leading you. "
All sentient beings can attain Buddhahood"—this
isn't a station sign;
it's the direction of the tracks themselves.
You might ask, how do I know this isn't just feel-good fluff?
Because feel-good fluff only gives you comfort,
not a path. It
says "You're great" but doesn't tell you how to become great. The Lotus Sutra
isn't like that.
With twenty-eight chapters, seven meticulously crafted parables,
three weeks of sermons, and countless prophecies, it
explains in detail why different people need different paths,
what the relationships are between these paths,
where each path ultimately leads,
and why you have the ability to complete the entire journey.
It doesn't just tell you the destination exists;
it draws a map for you
and explains why there are many versions of the map—
because the starting points and methods differ,
but the destination is the same.
This resembles a good product architecture document,
not a user manual,
but a system design document for the team,
explaining why we have so many functions,
how they collaborate, and
what ultimate goal they serve.
Finally, I want to share a personal feeling.
A sentence in the Lotus Sutra has always resonated with me:
"The Buddha appeared in the world for one great purpose.
" The
Buddha came to the world
for only one great purpose: to enable sentient beings to "open, show, awaken, and enter" the Buddha's knowledge and vision.
Open – to reveal;
Show – to point out; Awaken – to understand
yourself;
Enter – to truly enter that state.
Note this order;
it's not about "pouring, pressing, forcing, or blocking."
It's about: I help you open a door,
show you the scenery on the other side,
and then you walk in yourself. The
entire Buddhist teachings,
including everything we've done in this series,
are actually doing this – helping you open a door,
showing you, but
awakening and entering are for
you to do yourself.
So, you asked me, after
following this series for so many episodes,
how do I begin? The
Lotus Sutra's answer is: You're already on the road. The fact that
you've heard this far
means you've already escaped the burning house.
Which vehicle do you choose next – meditation or something else? Whether you chant
Buddha's name, contemplate
koans, or
study Yogacara—it's all fine,
because the Lotus Sutra has already told you that there is
only one destination.
You won't choose the wrong path;
you'll only choose paths at different speeds.
In the last episode, I said that
my mother chanted Buddha's name her whole life. She
might not know what she was doing,
but she was definitely doing it. The
Lotus Sutra tells me that
she's not just doing it;
she will definitely reach her destination.
This trust—trusting that every life has the ability to complete the entire journey on its own—
is the deepest sentence the Lotus Sutra leaves us with.
I'm Wang Lijie.
See you next time.