Scams in the Buddha-Dharma

How many people love being deceived, love acquiring such empty fame that satisfies their vanity—as long as it makes them stand out from the crowd, anything goes, and being deceived is worth it. Some people, as long as their sense of self-importance is stirred up, would even willingly accept a bomb; that feeling is precisely what they live for. Gradually, all sorts of demons and monsters come out to pose as good teachers and "save sentient beings," delivering sentient beings right into the ranks of demons and monsters—and yet these people are precisely the ones who love such demons and monsters. What can anyone do about it?

A good teacher asks his foolish disciple: Are you a Buddha? The disciple hesitates. The good teacher says: How can you still not dare to take this on? Are you not a Buddha? The disciple then suddenly sees the light: I am a Buddha! How could I not be? Good teacher, you are also a Buddha, and I am also a Buddha; we are each of us Buddhas. Everyone together praises one another: you are a Buddha, I am a Buddha, you are a god, I am a god, you save sentient beings, I save sentient beings. We are all extraordinary, higher than sentient beings, and sentient beings are saved through us. And so the whole crowd stands loftily up in the clouds every day, giddy and dazed, as if they had drunk several jars of old wine. And so this band of foolish "Buddhas" commits the grave karma of great false speech, and at the end of their lives, a place in hell awaits them.

After they have confirmed one another as Buddhas, the good teacher instructs them: A Buddha has nothing to cultivate, nothing to realize, nothing to attain; henceforth we need not cultivate any longer—just maintain and preserve it. And so the foolish "Buddhas" happily play at being fake Buddhas all day long, learning nothing and cultivating nothing, calling this "maintaining and preserving."

Mental illness can be divided into collective mental illness and individual mental illness. Individual mental illness is already very hard to deal with, but when collective mental illness flares up, even the Buddha cannot remedy it for quite a while. Sentient beings are being thoroughly steeped and dyed in the great vat of defilement, unknowingly, as if they had drunk several jars of old wine—there is no way to wake them up.