四明尊者教行錄 7.22

7.22

When Heaven desires that its Way endure, the world is sure to give birth to the right person. If the imperial virtue departed, were it not for the Duke of Ji and Confucius, there would be no way to hand down the constant canons for a hundred generations; when the Buddha's Way declined, were it not for Master Si and Zhizhe, there would be no way to penetrate the texts spoken during the five periods. Among those who became ancestral masters of the Confucian rostrum after Confucius, how could there never have been someone? After Zhizhe's demise, as for those who became models and teachers of the Dharma gate, there surely must be born people of virtue. The Great Master's taboo name was Zhili, and his courtesy name was Yueyan; his secular surname was Jin, and for generations his family were people of Siming. Initially, his father, having no male heir born to him, was earnest and urgent in his resolve. His mother, Lady Li, prayed to the Buddha together with him, and thereupon became pregnant. When the Master was born, he was named after the Buddha's son, Rāhula. His spiritual disposition was serene and still, and his physiognomy heroic and refined. When he was a young child, he was entirely beyond the ordinary run. At the age of seven, he suffered the loss of his mother; reflecting that her maternal toils were not easy to repay, he wept and wailed without cease, and from this grew weary of the secular world, urgent to leave home. His father stroked him, marveled at him, and ultimately did not thwart his resolve. He first served Hongxuan of Taiping Xingguo Monastery as his master. At fifteen he received the full precepts and specifically probed the Vinaya section. At twenty he studied the Tiantai Dharma under the seat of Dharma Master Baoyun (Yitong), guarding the jewel with a resolve as firm as forged gold, and possessing an understanding like pouring from a pitcher, clear as viewing daylight. Thereupon, exerting great vigor and endowed with great wisdom, he reposed peacefully on the open ground, blazing like the vast sky. Whenever he accepted a disciple, people inevitably called it "ascending the dragon"; whenever he analyzed a doctrine, the multitude inevitably called it "taming the deer." Thus, without seeking to propagate his Way, it was heard throughout the four quarters; without waiting to be summoned, the assembly arrived of their own accord from a thousand li. In the autumn, the seventh month, of the bing-shen year of the Zhidao reign era, he returned from Chengtian Bodhimaṇḍa to the Dharma seat at Yanqing, where for nearly forty years he devoted his whole mind to lecturing and repentance; thus he never for an instant departed from the offerings of incense and lamps, nor did he ever spend a single night knowing the warmth of fine bedding. In his diligence, a hundred rivers vied to surge without ceasing; in his benefit, the great sun abode at the center and illuminated everywhere. Above, Emperor Zhenzong dispatched envoys to bestow exceptional honours upon him; afar, the National Preceptor of Japan ordered his disciples to come and inquire about the essentials of the Dharma; thus the admiration of the rest can well be known. In the first year of the Tianxi reign era, having reached the age of sixty, he told his disciples: "Giving up one's body for half a gāthā, casting oneself into the fire for a single phrase—such was the mind of the sages for the sake of the Dharma. How much more so as we are ever farther from the Buddha, and those who slight the Way are numerous! If I cannot sacrifice and give up my lifespan to arouse and awaken the indolent, how can vigorous enterprise be spoken of?" Thereupon he joined with ten monks to enter repentance, pledging to burn themselves together in three years. At that time, Hanlin Academician Duke Yang (Yi) and Imperial Son-in-law Commandant Duke Li (Zunxu) were both world-transcending literary giants and illustrious dignitaries of the reigning court. Whenever they contemplated the Master's thorough awakening, they unfailingly deferred to him and looked up to him from afar. In that year, an imperial decree bestowed a purple kāṣāya, and shortly after, an imperial edict bestowed the title "Fazhi"—both granted upon the recommendation and praise of these two dukes. When they heard that the Master had vowed to make an offering of the true Dharma and yearned for the Land of Peaceful Nurture, Duke Yang made diligent use of the post-relay system to earnestly entreat him to remain in the world, and further raised doubting objections on the basis of the sentiments of aspiration and aversion. Therefore the Master replied: "Though all day shattering marks, all dharmas are fully established; though all day establishing dharmas, the finest dust is completely exhausted." Duke Yang knew he could not be bent by argument, nor could he be detained by words, and so specifically entrusted the prefectural governor and the various department officials to have him protected throughout their jurisdictions and preserved for long admiration. At that time, the Prefect, Vice Director of the Bureau of Receptions and of the Institute of History Duke Li Yigeng, together with his commandery and county colleagues, were all exceedingly deep in faith and veneration, earnestly making entreaties together. Moreover, in Qiantang there was Dharma Master Zunshi, whose reputation was weighty in his generation, and whose Way surpassed the common run. He had long associated with the Master, and they were in closest accord through the Dharma. Duke Yang also sent a letter to Zunshi, having him join in entreating the Master (the letter appears in the Pengshan ji). Zunshi then crossed the great river in person and went straight to the abbot's quarters. Thereupon the Great Master's practice and vows were, only out of necessity, halted. When the Great Master passed away, Zunshi once composed a poem to mourn him, with the lines: "In the heavens there is no twin moon; / in the human world there was only this one monk." Critics did not regard Zunshi's words as excessive, but deemed that the Master's Way was indeed so. Such was the extent to which the Great Master's virtue and the Great Master's sincerity were cherished and esteemed by the worthy of the time and companions of the Way. In the winter of the fifth year of the Tiansheng reign era, he suddenly manifested illness in his body, yet practiced the Way with ever greater diligence. When his disciples requested that he rest a little, the Master's body immediately recovered health. On the fifth day of the first month of the sixth year, while sitting cross-legged, he passed away in profound stillness. Although many days had elapsed, when the niche was opened he looked as if alive. His worldly age was sixty-nine, and his monastic seniority was fifty-four. On the twenty-fourth day of that month, he was cremated outside the southern gate of the commandery. Facing the pyre of sandalwood, as it was about to be set ablaze, the fragrance of campaka was already smelled in rich profusion. The five-colored relics obtained were of an unknown number, and those sought and taken by monastics and laypeople were again countless. On the twenty-ninth day of the seventh month of the second year of the Mingdao reign era, his numinous bones were enshrined and buried to the left of Chongfa Cloister, following the custom of this teaching. The Great Master was endowed by Nature with perfect illumination and bestowed by spirit with vigorous energy; therefore, when broadly elucidating the great scriptures and advancing in samādhi, wherever ancient masters had not clarified and present students had not explained in detail, the Master unfailingly recorded and explicated it with brilliance. What past sages found difficult to tread and future generations found difficult to continue, the Master unfailingly pursued and advanced toward with steadfastness. It was like a solitary peak rising ten thousand cubits high: people could gaze up at its steepness, but could not scale its heights; it was like the hundred valleys lying below: the multitude could behold their breadth, but could not fathom their depth. Therefore, the writings transmitting the Great Master's brush numbered over forty fascicles. Those who ascended the Great Master's hall numbered more than a thousand. Among them, those who discerned the esoteric depths with particular profundity, leading disciples and continuing his flourishing, included Zequan of Kaiyuan Monastery in this prefecture, Juezong of Yuanzhi Monastery in Yuezhou, Benru of Mount Dongye in Taizhou, Chongju of Fushi Cloister in Quzhou, and Shangxian and others who presently succeed to the abbacy of the Great Master's cloister. Another twenty-two individuals were all outstanding and fully accomplished, aloofly awakening to the mind, resolutely shattering the various mountain peaks and extending their benefit to all living beings. This is what is meant by the upper, middle, and lower natures being universally moistened by a single cloud, and hundreds of thousands of rays radiating forth from a single torch. Thus the Great Master's Way was magnificent in the world and beneficial to the multitude, resplendent and impossible to exhaust or extinguish, as can also be known. The matters are fully recorded in the authentic record composed by Master Quan, and are omitted here. The master of the teachings, Venerable Xian, wishing to engrave an inscription of the Great Master's Way upon his stūpa, sent a letter with fine words requesting this record. Alas! Did the Great Master's appearance in the world happen for no reason? Could it not be that the Dharma of the Jetavana grove belonged to a degenerate age, and the Master sustained it? Could it not be that the teachings of Mount Tiantai were due to be spread abroad, and the Master magnified them? Were there carriages outside the gate that the children no longer rode, and the Master made them ride them? Was there a jewel in the robe that the drunken man no longer realized, and the Master made him realize it? Did he manifest a conjured city on a perilous road? Did he float a buoyant float upon the great sea? Was it to repay the kindness of all buddhas? Was it to act as an envoy of the Tathāgata? Were it not so, why would he concentrate his mind toward the Way and sacrifice his body for the multitude to such an extreme degree? In the past, Omissioner Liang said: "Was Tiantai at equal awakening? Or wondrous awakening? It cannot be known." Prime Minister Pei said: "Was Guifeng a person of the four reliances? Or a person of the ten stages?" Then for those who speak of the Great Master today, how could they not take the words of Liang and Pei to utter praise and sighs of admiration? I, Fang, am unperceptive, yet dared not decline the incoming instruction. Burning incense and bowing my head, I respectfully compose the inscription, which says: