Can Bodhi Be Attained Without Severing Kleshas?

Some say that enlightenment of the mind and attainment of the first fruition do not sever afflictions, and that there are no significant changes or transformations in body and mind—claiming this is normal. Yet this is profoundly abnormal. Such a monumental matter concerning life and death, overturning previously grave erroneous views, shifting the perception of the five aggregates from existence to emptiness—how could there be no changes whatsoever in body and mind? With diligent practice of the Four Right Efforts in accordance with the Dharma, how could body and mind remain unchanged? Through the rational cultivation of the Seven Factors of Enlightenment, how could body and mind fail to transform? If the mind does not change, how can one speak of attaining fruition or enlightenment of the mind? Even in worldly matters, when the mental faculty truly comprehends something significant, it may provoke extraordinary agitation: the body undergoes great changes, the heart surges with emotion—tears may flow, the body may tremble, the countenance may turn solemn, or one may lie sleepless for days.

Prior to attaining fruition, during the practice of the Thirty-Seven Aids to Enlightenment, body and mind gradually undergo changes, becoming distinctly different from before. If the difference becomes pronounced and one severs the five grades of defilements in the desire realm, one enters the stage of approaching the first fruition. If body and mind show no transformation at all, it indicates a failure to practice in accordance with the Dharma—either the direction of practice is incorrect, effort is fundamentally lacking, one remains stuck in broad learning and intellectual understanding, or one is overly preoccupied with worldly matters without internalizing the Dharma principles.

The Abhidharma-kośa states that genuine, rational cultivation of the path inevitably subdues and severs afflictions and defilements—this is the process of cultivation, and even more so its result. Only then can one approach the first fruition and ultimately attain it. Without severing even a thread of affliction, without transformation of body and mind, one remains an ordinary being bound by fetters—trussed up by afflictions and unable to move. How could such a one advance on the path to bodhi or transform their identity? Forcibly claiming such an identity results in empty titles devoid of substance—a fraudulent reputation undeserved.

Many assume that merely being able to expound the Dharma implies genuine realization, but reality contradicts this. If one teaches without personal realization, the guidance lacks true significance. Having never walked that path oneself, one cannot guide others on how to traverse it concretely. If one’s own mind burns fiercely with greed, hatred, and delusion—riddled with leaks everywhere—it is impossible to guide others in subduing and severing afflictions.

There is a kōan of the One Finger Zen: When a guiding nun raised her index finger before her teacher, he instantly attained enlightenment. A young novice witnessed this and thought: "So this is enlightenment!" Later, when the teacher was absent, the novice would raise his index finger to anyone asking about the Dharma, declaring it to be "that very Suchness"—a flawless imitation like a parrot’s mimicry. The "enlightenment" claimed by people today is no different from this novice’s. Though they may gesticulate, mimicking the conduct of ancestral masters—appearing adept at enigmatic exchanges and seemingly capable of guiding others—outsiders see only the spectacle while insiders discern the substance. Such tricks only deceive the uninitiated. All enigmatic exchanges involve the coalescence of the eight consciousnesses, blending truth and falsehood. If one cannot distinguish truth from falsehood, mistaking the false for the true, no amount of gesturing constitutes a genuine kōan.

A century after the Buddha’s parinirvāṇa, Ānanda heard a novice mispronounce "impermanent phenomena" as "water old crane" and corrected him. But when the novice asked his teacher which was correct, the teacher replied: "Don’t listen to Ānanda—he’s senile. Recite as I taught you." The novice thus continued his erroneous recitation. Hearing this, Ānanda thought: "The Buddha Dharma has already been so distorted just a century after the Buddha’s parinirvāṇa. What will it become in future ages, further removed from the Buddha?" Overwhelmed by grief at beings’ profound ignorance, Ānanda resolved to enter parinirvāṇa immediately, unwilling to witness the gradual ruin of the Dharma. Even then, the Dharma had already deteriorated—how much more so thousands of years later! Ours is certainly not an era where saints fill the streets; multitudes gravely misunderstand the cultivation and realization of the Buddha Dharma.

Today, neither the Mahāyāna nor Hīnayāna teachings are considered precious or rare. Merely hearing the Dharma and pondering it is thought sufficient to attain fruition—no need for precepts, meditative concentration, or wisdom; no need to cultivate the six pāramitās or myriad practices. Those who uphold precepts or cultivate concentration are deemed fools. Now, any fruition seems easily obtainable: dream-like contemplation, illusion-like contemplation, even the fruition of the ten stages of dedication pose no difficulty. The practice and realization of Tathāgatagarbha contemplation need only be orally transmitted to "bring the fruition home." The ignorance and inversion of beings have reached a point that leaves one speechless.