The Trap of Purity and the Liberation of the Fox

On a high, windswept mountain peak, where mist shrouds the landscape all year round so that human eyes can only make out the faint shadows of trees, the sound of a temple bell rang out solemnly in the stillness. Master Huaihai Baizhang, a meditation master renowned by the dharma name "Baizhang" (meaning one hundred zhang, referring to the height of the mountain where he served as abbot), sat upon the dharma seat. Beneath him, nearly a thousand monastics sat in complete silence, listening to every word of his teaching. The atmosphere was so solemn that one could hear even a falling leaf.

In that crowd, at the very back, there appeared the faint figure of an old man, plainly dressed yet with a strange bearing. He was not an ordinary monastic, nor a stranger visiting from afar. Each time the teaching ended and the disciples slowly rose and departed, this old man would walk slowly toward Master Baizhang, his deep eyes holding an indescribable sorrow, as if carrying a burden of a thousand years that he could not yet release through letting go.

One autumn evening, as the last rays of sunlight slanted through the leaves, casting pale golden streaks across the stony ground, everyone had dispersed. Master Baizhang still sat there, as still as a stone statue. The old man approached, knelt down, and said in a trembling voice:

"Venerable Sir, I wish to present a matter and ask for your help in resolving a doubt. I am not a human being. I am a fox who has lived hidden in a deep cave in this mountain."

Master Baizhang looked at him with eyes of wisdom, showing no surprise or fear. He clearly understood the nature of the matter, yet asked gently:

"Then what cause led you to take on the body of an animal for so many lifetimes?"

The old fox bowed his head, tears streaming down his withered cheeks, and recounted his story from the time of Buddha Kashyapa, hundreds of thousands of years ago. At that time, he had been an accomplished, enlightened monk with a pure heart and transcendent wisdom. One day, a young monk came and asked him:

"Venerable teacher, does a great practitioner, one who has realized the truth, still remain governed by the karmic law of cause and effect? Do they still fall into the whirlpool of karmic retribution?"

The monk at that time, with the pride of attainment and absolute confidence in his own state of purity, answered decisively:

"Not falling into cause and effect. One who has attained the way is no longer subject to cause and effect."

That statement seemed to express absolute liberation, but in truth it was a dangerous wrong view. Because of a single word, "falling into," instead of understanding the true nature of things, he fell into the body of a fox for five hundred lifetimes. Though he bore the form of an animal, thanks to the blessings from merit of his past cultivation, he retained the memory of his previous lives and could transform into human form to attend dharma teachings, hoping to discover his error.

Hearing this, Master Baizhang smiled, and his voice rang out clearly, cutting through the fog of ignorance:

"Ask me that question again."

The old fox repeated his old question, his voice full of hope and anxiety:

"Venerable Sir, does a great practitioner, one who has attained the way, still fall into cause and effect?"

Master Baizhang answered immediately, each word like thunder shattering delusion:

"Not blinded by cause and effect. One who has attained the way is no longer deluded by cause and effect."

Like a flash of lightning tearing across the dark sky, the old fox suddenly awakened. The trap of self-assurance, of confusing purity with irresponsibility, of confusing liberation with denying the law of the universe, shattered completely. He realized that the karmic law of cause and effect is an unchanging truth. The higher one's cultivation, the more clearly one must understand every seed of karma one has planted, not escape from it. The purity of the heart allows one not to suffer when retribution arrives, but it cannot erase that retribution.

He wept aloud, and this time they were tears of true liberation:

"I understand now! I am free from the fox's body!"

He asked Master Baizhang for permission to be given a funeral with the rites of a monk, to send off his soul. Immediately afterward, the figure of the old man vanished completely.

The next day, after the midday meal, Master Baizhang led the monastics to the cave where the fox had lived. There, beneath the damp earth, lay the curled body of a fox. Using his staff, the master dug away the soil, retrieved the body, held a solemn cremation ceremony, chanted sutras and dedicated the merit, and placed the remains in a stupa. The disciples were astonished, but they also absorbed the costly lesson of being careful with every word and every thought concerning cause and effect.

The Meaning of the Story

The core lesson of this story lies in the subtle yet fatal difference between two concepts: "not falling into cause and effect" and "not being deluded by cause and effect." Many practitioners, upon attaining a state of mental purity or great blessings from merit, easily develop arrogance, believing they have transcended the karmic law of cause and effect. This is an extremely dangerous wrong view. In reality, the law of cause and effect operates fairly for everyone. One who has attained the way is not someone who has escaped cause and effect, but someone who understands it clearly and is not deluded by it. They accept retribution with equanimity, without suffering, yet they must still repay their karma if it is due. Humility and awareness in every action and every word are the keys to avoiding the trap of ego and wrong views.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang.