The Path to Sainthood: What Makes a Sage Different from a Saint?
成圣之路：圣人与圣徒有什么不同？
By Yang Peng (杨鹏)
From Yang Peng’s New Sinology
【Editor’s Note: Yang Peng compares the Confucian concept of sagehood with the Christian idea of sainthood, emphasizing their fundamental differences in understanding human nature. Confucianism believes in innate goodness and self-cultivation to align with Heaven, whereas Christianity recognizes both original goodness and original sin, viewing sanctification as possible only through divine grace. Confucian thought lacks an equivalent to the Christian notion of inherent sinfulness, downplaying human tendencies toward evil. Christian theology, as articulated by figures like Calvin and George Fox, sees human nature as corrupted and in need of Christ’s redemption. In contrast, Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism promote self-enlightenment, which Yang argues is insufficient given the pervasiveness of sin. He critiques Zhang Zai’s assertion that sages shape the universe, arguing that such thinking elevates human authority over divine sovereignty. Ultimately, Yang asserts that sainthood, through humility and service, aligns with God’s will, whereas sagehood risks self-centered exaltation.】
A friend once said to me, “Because you study traditional Chinese thought, you’re probably influenced by the Confucian idea of becoming a sage, the Buddhist idea of achieving Buddhahood, and the Daoist idea of attaining immortality. That’s why you focus so intensely on the bright, affirming side of human nature.” This observation may have some truth. But as I see it, the notions of original goodness and original sin are derived from the Bible (《圣经》) and have solid biblical foundations.
In Christian anthropology, the concept of sanctification assumes that human beings possess original goodness but have fallen into original sin. Only through grace can we be delivered from this state of sin and return to our original goodness. That is the Christian doctrine of sanctification. In traditional Chinese thought, Confucianism upholds the notion of becoming a sage, Daoism advocates becoming immortal, and Buddhism envisions attaining Buddhahood. Today, I won’t address them all; instead, I’ll focus on comparing the Christian and Confucian views on becoming a saintly figure.
Looking Back at the Serpent Within?
A few lines from “Zheng Min” (《诗经·烝民》) in The Book of Odes (《诗经》) encapsulate the fundamental idea of Confucianism:
“Heaven, in creating the multitudes of people, provided them with things and established for them norms.
The people, holding fast to Heaven’s unchanging law, love and cherish noble virtue.”
Heaven creates people; there are things, and there are laws. Because people adhere to Heaven’s law, they delight in practicing virtue. Heaven has its own principles; the people have their own virtue. Heaven’s principles and the people’s virtue form a unity, with human virtue derived from Heaven’s will. I find this poem to be the most complete expression of the traditional Confucian worldview. Subsequent Confucian writings—whether in The Book of Documents (《尚书》), The Analects (《论语》), Mencius (《孟子》), The Doctrine of the Mean (《中庸》), or The Great Learning (《大学》)—are merely elaborations or restatements of this poem’s core idea: by cultivating our own virtue, we can be united with Heaven’s law.
How do we “cultivate virtue so as to match Heaven”? Essentially, we rely on ourselves, on our own efforts. In “Yanyuan” (《颜渊》), a chapter of The Analects, it says: “To be benevolent (ren) is up to oneself; does it really depend on others?” This suggests that “benevolence” is attained through one’s own efforts, not through external means. Likewise, the Chan (Zen) master Huineng writes in The Platform Sutra (《坛经》), “All dharmas are within one’s own mind. Why not, from within your own mind, directly see the true nature?” Since all dharmas reside in our own mind, and the mind itself is the true suchness, once we recognize our nature, we come to know all things. Because we are born with virtue, recognizing that inherent virtue aligns us with Heaven’s law. Consequently, what matters is to “know yourself,” which differs profoundly from the Christian perspective. In Christianity, although humans bear the image of God, they also harbor original sin—the shadow of the serpent.
From the Confucian belief that human nature is good, as proposed by Mencius, we see no trace of the serpent’s shadow. If you don’t think there’s a serpent lurking within, you’ll naturally believe that self-effort alone suffices to “match Heaven with your virtue.” Confucian anthropology does not contain an insight analogous to the Christian idea of original sin; it overlooks the inborn tendency to stray from Heaven. It downplays any inherent inclination toward evil and thus fails to acknowledge that serpent crawling in the recesses of the heart. The same appears true of Buddhism and Daoism: it is curious that they, too, barely confront the serpent within. Are they intentionally avoiding something or trying to cover it up?
The Sage Magnifies the Self; the Saint Humbles the Self
In my exploration of China’s national heritage, one point has always puzzled me: Of course, people do many bad things. So why do Chinese thinkers, especially those in Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism, seldom focus on the underlying roots of evil? Why is there no rigorous inquiry into the sinfulness within human nature? These traditions seem to sidestep the problem. Confucianism declares, “Conceal evil and praise goodness.” It acknowledges the existence of evil but advocates hiding it while simply promoting good.
Mencius speaks of human nature as fundamentally good, while Legalism speaks of human nature as evil. Yet, these two views never converge within a unified conceptual framework. Christian theology is not so simplistic in distinguishing good or evil in static terms. John Calvin (加尔文) stated:
“Since human nature has been corrupted by sin, we must not only look at the original creation to know what God’s image in us was meant to be but also at that image restored in Christ.” (from Institutes of the Christian Religion (《基督教要义》))
Human beings are endowed with the image of God, but that image is already marred by sin. How can it be restored? Left to our own devices, we cannot achieve it. Only through Christ’s grace can the divine image be restored. Christ came into the world as a great act of grace for us sinners—people lost in the mire of sin, unable to save ourselves. He offered us this simplest of burdens: believe in Him, take up the cross, and follow Him so that deep within our spirits, the image of God can be renewed.
George Fox (乔治·福克斯), a religious leader with a profound influence on America, wrote:
“The Holy Spirit itself guides people toward holiness. Sanctification does not come through external rites or traditions but through an inward submission to God and a sincere pursuit of truth. Only when we obey the inner light can the Holy Spirit free us from sin and bring our lives wholly back to God.” (from Selected Letters of George Fox (《福克斯书信选集》))
Wang Yangming (王阳明), just before his death, famously said: “My mind is luminous; what more could I ask for?” By contrast, Chapter 6 of The Westminster Confession of Faith (《威斯敏斯特信条》) tells us: “Although humanity was created in God’s image, that image has been distorted by sin. Yet, through Christ, it is restored. We are called to a new life that reflects God’s grace and love.” Christianity recognizes original sin and sees humanity as mired in it, unable to free itself. But Christ opens a path of grace through which human beings can rediscover the image of God within and be made whole again.
Chinese tradition likewise speaks of an inherent radiance in human nature—Confucianism calls it becoming a sage, Chan Buddhism calls it becoming a Buddha, and Daoism calls it becoming an immortal. Though each system describes that light differently, all suggest that people should transcend their present state and aspire to something higher. Yet these paths rely on self-enlightenment, self-salvation, and self-effort—a human-centered way of proceeding that, from a Christian perspective, leads nowhere. Why? Because humanity labors under original sin, a serpent coils in the human spirit, diverting us to evil and urging us to make ourselves the center in place of the Creator.
Take Zhang Zai (张载) and his work Collected Sayings of Hengqu (《横渠语录》) as an example. His well-known “Four Sentences of Hengqu” read: “To establish the mind for Heaven and Earth, to establish life for the people, to continue the lost teachings of past sages, and to bring peace to all future generations.” These lines have always been an inspiration to literati, who recite them with fervent admiration. But let us parse them:
“To establish the mind for Heaven and Earth” implies that Heaven and Earth lack a guiding mind, so the sage must define right and wrong for the cosmos and assume dominion over space.
“To establish life for the people” implies that the people cannot determine their own destiny; only the sage can do it—assuming dominion over the populace.
“To continue the lost teachings of past sages” implies that the source of wisdom is not some higher order but the sage himself—assuming dominion over learning.
“To bring peace to all future generations” implies that human peace for the next thousands upon thousands of years hinges upon a few sages of the present—assuming dominion over time.
In other words, the Sage proclaims: “I, I, I. I hold dominion over space, over time, over the people, over the tradition of the sages. I am the master of all under Heaven.”
Such an outlook is entirely different from the visions of the Duke of Zhou (周公) and Confucius (孔子). In their world, Heaven presides over the universe and history; Heaven’s mandate rules all things, pointing us toward the flourishing of benevolent life. The Duke of Zhou and Confucius recognized their own source—they understood that human virtue has its origin in Heaven’s virtue. As Confucius put it, “Heaven has engendered the virtue in me.” Regrettably, this Heaven-centered Confucianism was gradually replaced by an approach centered on the “Dao” or on the mind, as Confucianism blended with Daoism and Chan. Heaven-based Confucianism gave way to mind-based Confucianism. A “serpent-inflected” Confucianism eclipsed the original Heaven-infused Confucianism. According to our earlier reflection on the Bible’s teaching of original goodness and original sin, how should we regard these “Four Sentences of Hengqu”? Might they be the voice of the serpent—an echo of original sin? If that is called a sage, could it be a sage possessed by the serpent?
Christianity discerns humanity’s deeply ingrained self-centeredness, the sin that traps us in original guilt. But God does not destroy humanity for being sinful. Instead, through the Word becoming flesh, God reveals Himself and offers salvation, opening a path of redemption. This “Word becoming flesh” is utterly unique and fundamental because it is God who forges the bridge between humanity and Himself by means of His own sacrifice. Having that bridge, we no longer require any “sage” as an intermediary who becomes divinity through the flesh. Instead, we need only to take up our cross and follow Christ—those who do so are the saints. A “sage” magnifies the self, is self-centered, and monopolizes the connection between Heaven and humanity. A saint, by contrast, humbles the self, relinquishes self-centeredness, takes Christ as the channel, puts God at the center, and serves all people.
How Can the Ideas of Sanctification and Sainthood Be Joined?
Sanctification—becoming a saint—is predicated on the belief that we are made in God’s image. When we speak of the Confucian journey to sagehood, the Buddhist pursuit of Buddhahood, or the Daoist quest for immortality, the underlying premise is a confidence in human nature—an inward radiance, self-salvation, and self-empowerment. From the standpoint of Christian anthropology, such thinking does hint at humankind’s awareness of the divine image within us. However, it lacks a deep perception of that source in the Creator Himself; it lacks the path of Christ, the Word made flesh.
In Christian thought, the dual elements of original goodness and original sin bring discipline and freedom. Awareness of the serpent’s shadow enforces moral accountability, while awareness of our divine image bestows freedom. From the vantage point of original goodness—the imago Dei—one might resonate with centuries of Confucian, Buddhist, or Daoist contemplative practices for self-improvement. That resonance can guide us toward sanctification in the Christian sense, becoming saints who are humble and dedicated to service.
But that ancient riverbed of sage-making has fallen dry at its source; its waters no longer flow. By emphasizing sanctification and sainthood, we prepare a path for Christ’s great spiritual current to enter human hearts through our service. We pray for the Holy Spirit’s mighty torrents to surge once more through this old channel, bringing a new vibrancy to our inner lives.
The content of this article is excerpted from a lecture titled “Restoring the Broken Image of God in Human Nature—A Comparative Discussion of Christian and Confucian Views on Becoming a Saint,” delivered by Yang Peng (杨鹏) at the “1212” Forum.
Recommended Course: Study Jewish Culture: Twelve Lectures with Yang Peng (杨鹏) to delve deeper into the roots of Western civilization.
This translation is an independent yet well-intentioned effort by the China Thought Express editorial team to bridge ideas between the Chinese and English-speaking worlds.