隋天台智者大師別傳 1.2.7

1.2.7

Having spoken, he lay on his right side facing west, exclusively reciting [the names of] Amitābha, Prajñā, and Avalokiteśvara. When they offered medicine, he said, “Can medicine dispel illness and prolong remaining years? Illness does not unite with the body; how could medicine dispel it? Years do not unite with the mind; how could medicine prolong them? What did Zhixi hear in past days? What was said in the *Treatise on the Contemplation of the Mind*? Complicated medicine and herbs only harass and trouble others.” They also invited him to partake of the vegetarian meal, to which he replied, “It is not merely pacing the shadow that makes a vegetarian fast; being able to dwell without conditions and without contemplation is the true fast. In life I was burdened by a poisonous vessel; in death I rejoice in resting and returning home. The marks of the worldly condition are like this—they are not worth lamenting over.” He then dictated his testament and handwritten note of forty-six characters, leaving behind a lotus incense burner and a rhinoceros-horn ruyi sceptre as parting gifts for the Prince, with the wish: “May the fragrant aroma never end, and may you forever preserve what is according to your wish.” The letter is recorded in full in a separate document. After sealing it, he asked for his three robes and bowl and ordered the place to be cleaned and swept. He had two scriptures chanted for his final listening and contemplation. When the hearing of the *Lotus Sūtra* ended, he praised it, saying: “Father and mother of dharma-gates, from whom wisdom and understanding are born! Origin and traces are vast and great, subtle and difficult to measure. Kept within me for over forty years, who knows to whom it could be given? I alone understood it, while other men saw it not. Today the axe is stayed and the strings are severed!” When the hearing of the *Amitāyus Sūtra* ended, he praised it, saying: “The forty-eight vows adorn the pure land; the flower ponds and jewel trees are easy to reach, yet few go there. Even those who, upon the appearance of the fiery chariot, are able to repent can still attain rebirth—how much more so those who have cultivated precepts and wisdom! Because of the power of practicing the Way, it is truly not in vain. The form of the Brahmā sound truly does not deceive people.” At the time the sūtras were being chanted, Zhang Da, an attendant officer of Wuzhou, and a party of five companions saw for themselves a great Buddha, double the size of the stone image, whose brilliance filled the mountain and entered directly into the room. Various monks either had auspicious dreams or saw wondrous signs; though in different places, all occurred at this very time. When the recitation of the scriptures finished, he asked for fragrant water to rinse his mouth. He then expounded the ten suchnesses, the four non-arisings, the ten dharmadhātus, the three contemplations, the four immeasurables, the four siddhāntas, the four noble truths, the twelvefold dependent origination, and the six pāramitās. Each single dharma-gate subsumes all dharmas, and all are able to guide the mind to the Cool Pond. “If one can comprehend all these dharma-gates in the realm of illness, then the twenty-five persons and the hundred pieces of gold can be entrusted to them. Now, for the last time, I spur contemplation and discourse on the profound; into the ultimate tranquility I shall now enter.” Zhilang requested, saying, “We humbly pray that out of compassion you remain to resolve our remaining doubts. We do not know at what stage of attainment you pass away, where you will be reborn, or whom we should venerate.” He answered, saying: “You are too indolent to plant good roots, yet you inquire into the merits of others, like a blind man asking about milk or a lame man asking the way. What benefit is there in telling you the truth? Because of your obstinacy, you act out of pleasure and anger, scolding and praising; since you do not reflect on yourselves, you give rise to inverted views, mockery, and disdain. Before long, I shall dispel doubts and slanders for such people. The *Treatise on the Contemplation of the Mind* has already explained this, but now I will tell you again: had I not led a community, I would certainly have purified the six faculties. Since I harmed myself for the sake of others, I am only at the stage of the five grades [of practice]. As for your question of where I will be reborn: my teachers and friends, along with the attendants of Avalokiteśvara, have all come to welcome me. You ask whom you should venerate: have you not heard that the Prātimokṣa is your master? The four kinds of samādhi that I regularly taught are your bright guide. They teach you to lay down heavy burdens, to subdue the three poisons, to cure the four elements, to untie the fetters of karma, to break the army of Māra, to temper the savor of dhyāna, to snap the banner of conceit, to keep far from the ferry of heterodoxy, to emerge from the pit of unconditioned stillness, and to be free from the disaster of great compassion. Only this Great Master can serve as your refuge. You and I have met because of the Dharma, and with the Dharma as our kin; those who transmit and practice the lamp of the Buddha are my family. If you cannot do so, you transmit and practice the lamp of Māra and are no followers of mine.” He admonished the karmadāna, saying: “When a person's life is about to end, hearing the sound of the bell and chiming stone increases their right mindfulness. Strike them steadily and for a long time until breath is completely exhausted. Why wait until the body is cold to sound the chiming stone? Worldly weeping and the wearing of mourning garments must not be done.” Having spoken, he sat cross-legged, chanted the names of the Three Jewels, and appeared to enter samādhi. On the twenty-fourth day of the eleventh month, in the dingisi year, the seventeenth year of the Kaihuang era of the Great Sui (597 CE), during the hour of wei (1–3 p.m.), he entered extinction. His worldly age was sixty; his monastic age was forty. Up until the hour of zi (11 p.m.–1 a.m.), the crown of his head was still warm. Although wailing was forbidden, his disciples, choked with sorrow and longing, were submerged in a sea of grief, beyond consolation. The sun had set, the boat had sunk, and there was forever no one to rely upon. He remained seated cross-legged out in the open for ten days. Monastics and laypeople hurried to the site, burning incense, scattering flowers, wailing as they circumambulated, and weeping as they bowed. After ten days had passed, when he was encoffined in the dhyāna niche, sweat flowed over his entire body; when wiped with cotton and silk cloths, they became soaked as if washed. Later, as he was being returned to Folong, continuous rain poured without pause. His disciples prayed: “We pray that you grant your spiritual power!” As soon as the nirvāṇa palanquin moved, in an instant the clouds parted and the wind settled; the pines grieved and the springs rushed with weeping waters. The monastic and lay disciples escorted the spiritual cortege back to the site specified in his testament. Although the niche and tumulus are sealed, his wondrous traces remain perpetually manifest. I respectfully record ten items following the end of this account.