隋天台智者大師別傳 1.2.2

1.2.2

At that time there was Dhyāna Master Huimiao. His conduct was bizarre and contrary to normal standards, and his eloquence bewildered the listeners of the day. He said to his disciples, “What I expound is the true lion's roar; what others speak is the yelping of jackals.” Whose eyes of the mind are not yet opened that would not be deluded? The former master directly cited scriptural passages, referenced tenets, marked the rhythm, investigated, and cross-examined him. Miao then lost his evidence: when the wind of wisdom winnows, the chaff can be recognized; when the water of concentration clarifies, the gravel and sand are easily made clear. Thereupon the deluded disciples knew to turn back, sought the ferry, and recognized the crossing.
Still, that very night, [the former master] dreamed that he saw a three-storied pavilion: Miao was standing beneath it, while he himself sat above. There was also a man who rolled up his sleeves, glared angrily, and said, “Why do you disregard Miao? Why do you doubt his teachings? You ought to question me!” The former master posed difficulties through several rounds of back-and-forth exchange between host and guest. The angry man ran out of words, his reasoning collapsed, and his tongue tied, he fell silent. Thereupon [the master] admonished him, saying, “Apart from the true reality of all dharmas, all else is the deed of Māra.” After he admonished him, he no longer saw Miao or the angry man. Those who heard it that night thought he had been talking in his sleep. In the morning, he went to Huisi's place and recounted these signs in full.
His master said, “When you contemplate the ‘Non-retrogression Chapter’ of the Prajñā[-pāramitā], how many kinds of behavioral categories and appearances are there among the ninety-six paths? The sūtra says that if someone preaches the Dharma, spirits will assist and terrify him. Since you shattered the banner of pride by day and drove off the wicked faction by night, it is only natural that falsehood does not obstruct the true Dharma.”
Master Huisi finished producing a gold-lettered copy of the Pañcaviṃśatisāhasrikā Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra. He himself opened the profound meaning and ordered [the master] to lecture in his stead. Thus his wisdom was likened to the sun and moon, and his eloquence was like a hanging river; his contraction and unfolding suited the occasion, with [profound] principle residing within. Only concerning the three samādhis and the three contemplation-wisdoms did he consult and verify; all the rest he decided himself. Master Huisi held a ruyi in his hand, approached the assembly, and praised him, saying, “It may indeed be said that the Dharma has been entrusted to a dharma minister, and the dharmarāja has nothing to worry about!” Vinaya Master Huikuang also came to join the assembly. Huisi said to him, “This old monk has been listening to your worthy disciple's Dharma!” [Huikuang] replied, “He was born of the Dhyāna Master; he is no disciple of mine.” [Huisi] also said, “Huisi has no merit either; it is only the power of the Lotus!”
When the substitute lecturing was finished, Master Huisi admonished him, saying, “I have long longed for the southern Heng[yue], but regretted having no one to whom I could entrust the Dharma. You have roughly attained its gateway, which greatly fulfills my wish. My understanding does not surpass yours, but our karmic affinities must part. Now I entrust it to you. You may uphold the Dharma, adapt to conditions, transmit the lamp, and transform beings. Do not be the person who cuts off the lineage at the end!”
Having received this strict instruction, he could not accompany [his master] to Hengyue. Having long heard that Jinling was a reservoir of benevolence and righteousness, he went to observe it as a test: if the Dharma could be propagated in that land, he would not fail the entrustment. Thereupon, together with Faxi and others—twenty-seven people in all—he went to the capital of the Chen dynasty.
Yet “the highest virtue does not consider itself virtue,” and those who truly appreciate it were few. There was an old monk named Faji, who was the uncle of He Kai. Proud of his own dhyāna learning, he leaned back reclining and asked, “If a person enters samādhi and hears the ground of Mount She shaking, knowing that Sengquan’s training is impermanent, what kind of dhyāna is this?”
[The master] answered, “This peripheral concentration is not deep; falsehood enters through the darkness. If one grasps it or speaks of it, the concentration will be ruined without doubt.”
Ji arose in astonishment, apologized, and said, “This old monk once attained this concentration himself. I spoke of it to Master Gong of Lingyao, but he did not understand it, and after I spoke of it, it was lost forever. Today I have heard what I had never heard before! Not only do you know the marks of dharmas well, but you also perceive others’ minds from afar!”
Ji told Kai about it, and Kai told the court and the commoners. From this, his renown spread among the ordained and the lay, and those seeking instruction formed a beaten path.
Dharma Master Daren was eminent in virtue and nurtured the Way under the Liang and Chen dynasties, dwelling at Kaishan without mingling with the contemporary world. At that time, when an assembly on doctrinal meaning met at Mount Jiang, though there were sharp disputants and double seats, Ren had no place for anyone. When he engaged with the former master, whose contemplative wisdom flowed unhindered, the listeners tilted their ears. The assembly all snapped their fingers, joined their palms, and all said they had heard what they had never heard before. Ren sighed and said, “This does not come from written commentaries; it is an unhindered eloquence based on discerning capacities! Prajñā is neither dull nor sharp; sharpness and dullness depend on conditions. That it is abundantly suited to the time is its sharp aspect. When the pond is deep, the flower is large; how could a dull [mind] fathom this? I rejoice in having the good fortune to receive his lingering radiance, making me, in my old age and illness, forget my fatigue!” Because he was praised by earlier luminaries, eulogies filled the avenues.
At that time, Huibian of Changgan invited him to Dingxi, and Sengkuang of Tiangong invited him to dwell in the Buddha-cave. Both wished to abandon lecturing and practice dhyāna, but their karmic conditions fell short, leaving them with eternal regret. Facing him, they vowed: “In this life obstacles have separated us so that it could not be fulfilled. Receiving your teachings in a future life to propagate them, we certainly hope you will draw us forward!”
Xu Ling, the Left Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs, of superior virtue and weighty renown, dreamed that his deceased father said to him, “The Dhyāna Master is my ancestral model from past lives. You should serve him whole-heartedly.” Having received this nocturnal instruction, his respect was consummate: he never missed the seasonal occasions to pay visits, and he did not avoid mud or water when bowing. If he received a letter, he would wash his hands, burn incense, don his cap and belt, and make three prostrations; holding his breath, he would open the seal, and facing the text, he would bow and read, assenting to every sentence. Were it not for subtle and supreme virtue, how could a literary giant of the era have humbled his mind to such a degree?
Shen Junli, Specially Advanced with the Equivalence of the Three Excellencies, invited him to reside at Waguan to lecture on the title of the Lotus Sūtra. An imperial decree suspended court affairs for a day, and the gathered lords all assembled: Wang Gu, Grand Master of the Imperial Fall with Gold and Purple, Kong Huan, Palace Attendant, Mao Xi, Minister of the Department of State Affairs, Zhou Hongzheng, Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs, and others. Red-wheeled carriages stirred the roads, and jade pendants clattered in the assembly. Together they donned the fragrance of the precepts, and together they partook of the flavor of the Dharma.
Huirong of Xiaozhuangyan Temple, puffed up and haughty, raised his eyebrows and waved his fan on that day. The fan then fell to the ground. He formulated two great difficulties, but his difficulties were not sharp. Joining his palms, he sighed and said, “Without dhyāna there is no wisdom—is this not [exemplified by] today’s Dharma throne?” Dharma Master Fasui, who was sitting beside him that day, patted Rong’s back and mocked him, saying, “The doctrinal dragon of former days has now become a crouched deer! Since the fan has already fallen to the ground, what will you use to cover your shame?” Rong replied, “Underestimating the foe led to losing momentum, but I cannot yet be bullied!”
Falang of Xinghuang Temple extensively propagated Nāgārjuna. He sent senior disciples to formulate difficulties for successive decades of days. Polishing a mirror only makes it brighter; rubbing gold only makes its color pure. Going empty, they were filled, and forgot to return! Is this not what is meant by ‘Those fond of winning harbor shame, and change their ways without dispute’?
Baoqiong of Jianchu, meeting him, yielded the road and said, “In my youth I wished to study dhyāna but did not meet a renowned master. When grown, although I had faith, I was hindered by lecturing. Just when autumn has come, I meet a worthy one, but my years are already advanced! I hope that through this thirst and longing, we will guide each other through successive lives.”
Jingshao of Baima, Fasui of Dinglin, Zhiling of Chanzhong, and Fengcheng and Fa'an, were all supreme masters of Jinling whose virtues placed them at the head of the sangha. They relinquished the position of facing south and observed the etiquette of facing north. Those from the four quarters who folded their sleeves and came from ten thousand li did not spare their priceless bodies, hoping to gain the benefit of a single sentence. Bowing their minds to the supreme teaching, they partook in harmony of the wondrous Way; intent only on dhyāna and wisdom, they forgot sleep and meals.
The former master was good at leading the assembly, guiding and disciplining them appropriately. He stayed at Waguan for eight years, lecturing on the Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa and preaching the Gradual Gate of Dhyāna. The benefits received through his speech and silence are difficult to record in brief. Though his movement and stillness were in accord with the Way, he was able to expose flaws while concealing treasures, and his grace extended to all.