續高僧傳 18.20

18.20

釋法純。俗姓祝氏。扶風始平人也。初出家日在于周世。備聞正教親奉明師。意在定林情兼拯溺。住帝京陟岵天宮二寺。往來居止通慮為先。逢於廢教退僧潛匿城市。內持道服外假俗衣。皇隋之興厥初度首。即百二十人之一也。住大興善。鞭勒形心有逾前稔。文帝聞純懷素請為戒師。自辭德薄不敢聞命。帝勤注不已。遂處禁中為傳戒法。四事厚禮。不勝其供辭還本寺。歎曰。危身脆命無常不久。終日保養何見牢固。上供難銷。遂行方等懺法。四十五年常處淨場宗經檢失。除食便利餘無闕廢。嘗於道場然燈。遂感燈明續焰經于七夜不添油炷而光耀倍常。私密異之。為滅累之嘉相也。又油瓮所止在佛堂內。忽然不見。乃經再宿還來本處。而油滿如故。每於夜靜聞有說法教授之聲。異香尋隙氣衝於外。就而視之一無所見。識者以為幽祇所集故也。而謙弱成治趣務造功。不累形骸用清心海。至於三秋霖滯民苦者多。純乃屏除法服微行市里。或代人庸作。事訖私去。有與作價反乞貧人。或見道俗衣服破壞塵垢。皆密為洗補。跪而復處。及巾屨替藉穢污臭處。皆縫洗鮮全。其例甚眾。或於靜時摙廁擔糞。有密見者告云。若情事欣泰願共同作。或為僧苦役。破薪運水。或王路艱岨。躬事填治。因而勵俗。相助平坦。有來䞋錫皆慘然不樂。口云。愛賊既來獄王潛至。打縛不久矣。故所獲財物。並施大眾。不造經像。人問其意。云行道者所乏耳。因以趣入也。故王公等施日盈門首。皆迴與僧。而自著糞掃袈裟。內以布裙又無腰襻。以繩收束如中國法。寺僧服其行也。或有不敢受者。以為勝人。所奉稍異常徒。自敘云。余初出家依于山侶。晝則給供清眾。暮則聚薪自照。因而誦經得二十五卷。謂十地經論金剛般若論金光明諸法無行等。并講習通利。故其所宣導皆引用斯文焉。開皇十五年。文帝又請入內。為皇后受戒。施物出宮。隨散並盡。故貧窶之士。聞純之入內也要必有賜。並聚集街首待施而還。仁壽三年遂覺不悆閉室靜坐。而無痛所有。白衣童子手捧光明立侍於右。弟子慧進入問。此是何人。答曰。第六欲天頻來命我。但以諸天著樂。竟不許之。由妨修道故也。常願生無佛法處教化眾生。慎勿彰言。死後任說。至五月內。弟子為建大齋。望崇玄福。道俗湊集並在純前。有雙鴿飛來入純房內。在衣桁上。注目看純。雖人觸捉都無有懼。純云。任之勿捉。至暮方逝。及其疾甚。人有問者。必誡以法行。不久得自縱自欺。又云。我不覺忽乘白象也。此乃妄業耳。何由可任。因設齋食與諸舊別。所有衣資雜物施同行者。任取一事用結良緣。而神志明悟不覺餘想。卒于淨住寺。春秋八十有五。即仁壽三年五月十二日也。葬於白鹿原南。鑿龕處之。外開門穴以施飛走。後更往觀。身肉皆盡。而骸骨不亂。弟子慧昂等。率諸檀越追慕先範。乃圖其儀質。飾以丹青。見在淨住。沙門彥琮。褒美厥德為敘贊云。昂少所慈育。親供上行。為之碑文。廣陳盛事。兼以立性閑穆。識悟清爽。文藻橫被聞于京室。著集十卷頗共傳之。

Shi Fachun, whose secular surname was Zhu, was a native of Shiping in Fufeng. When he first went forth from home, it was during the Zhou dynasty. He thoroughly heard the correct teachings and personally served enlightened masters. His mind was set on the Grove of Dhyāna, and his heart was equally bent on rescuing the drowning. He resided at the two temples of Zhihu and Tiangong in the imperial capital; in coming and going, dwelling and halting, comprehensive mindfulness was his priority. When he encountered the proscription of the teaching, with the saṅgha dissolved, he went into hiding in the cities and markets, internally keeping to his monastic robes while externally adopting secular dress. At the rise of the August Sui, when ordinations first began, he was one of the hundred and twenty men. Residing at Daxingshan Temple, he disciplined body and mind even more than in former years. Emperor Wen, hearing that Chun cherished purity, requested him to be his precept master. Chun declined on the grounds of his meager virtue, not daring to accept the imperial command. The Emperor was unremitting in his earnest request, so he finally stayed within the forbidden palace to transmit the precept teaching. When treated with lavish gifts of the four requisites, finding it unbearable to receive such offerings, he resigned and returned to his original temple. He sighed and said: 'The perilous body and fragile life are impermanent and fleeting. If one cares for it all day long, where does one see any firmness? Sublime offerings are difficult to digest.' Thereupon he practiced the Vaipulya repentance method. For forty-five years he constantly dwelled in the pure precinct, relying on the scriptures to examine his faults, never omitting it except for taking food and answering nature's call. Once, when he lit a lamp in the bodhimaṇḍa, he brought about a spiritual resonance where the lamp's light continued to flame for seven nights without the addition of oil or wick, yet its radiance was twice that of normal. He secretly marveled at it, taking it as an auspicious sign of extinguishing defilements. Furthermore, the oil vat kept inside the Buddha hall suddenly vanished. After two nights it returned to its original place, and it was full of oil as before. Often in the quiet of the night, sounds of preaching the Dharma and giving instruction were heard, and an extraordinary fragrance followed the crevices, its scent bursting outwards; when people went up to look, they saw nothing at all. Those with discernment considered it to be an assembly of unseen spirits. Yet he cultivated humility and weakness, pursuing the accumulation of merit; he did not encumber his physical form, using it to purify the ocean of his mind. In the three months of autumn, when constant soaking rains caused much suffering among the populace, Chun would lay aside his monastic robes and walk incognito through the markets. Sometimes he worked as a hired laborer for others, quietly departing when the work was done; if someone gave him wages, he in turn gave them to the poor. Or seeing the clothes of monastics and laypeople torn and soiled with dust and dirt, he would secretly wash and mend them, and kneel to return them to their places. Even worn-out mats, filthy footwear, and stinking items, he would sew, wash, and make fresh and whole; such instances were very numerous. Or during quiet times, he would clear latrines and carry manure. To those who saw him secretly and spoke to him, he would say: 'If in your heart you feel at ease and joyous, I wish to work together with you.' Or he would perform laborious tasks for the saṅgha, chopping firewood and fetching water; or where the imperial roads were rugged and obstructed, he personally went to fill and repair them, thereby encouraging the populace to help make them smooth and level. Whenever donations or gifts arrived, he looked sad and displeased, saying aloud: 'Since the thieves of craving have come, the king of the hells has secretly arrived; the beating and binding will not be long off!' Therefore, all the wealth and goods he obtained were bestowed on the great assembly; he did not use them to make scriptures or images. When people asked his intention, he said: 'Practitioners of the Way simply lack provisions, and through this they may enter [the Way].' Therefore, although offerings from princes, dukes, and others filled the doorway day after day, he redirected them all to the saṅgha, while he himself wore a rag robe (pāṃsukūla) and beneath it a cloth skirt without waistbands, tied with a rope in the manner of the Central Country (India). The temple monks admired his conduct. Some did not dare to accept [his gifts], considering him an extraordinary person whose reverence differed somewhat from ordinary people. He recounted of himself: 'When I first went forth, I relied on companions in the mountains. By day I provided supplies to the pure assembly, and at night I gathered firewood to illuminate myself. Through this I chanted twenty-five scrolls of scripture, namely the Daśabhūmika-śāstra, the Vajracchedikā-śāstra, the Suvarṇaprabhāsa, and the Sarvadharmāpravṛtti; I also lectured on and studied them with thorough fluency. Thus what I proclaimed and guided with always cited these texts.' In the fifteenth year of Kaihuang, Emperor Wen again invited him into the palace to administer the precepts to the Empress. The goods bestowed came out of the palace, and as soon as they were dispersed, they were entirely spent. Hence the poor and destitute, upon hearing that Chun had entered the palace, knew there would certainly be gifts, and gathered at the head of the street to await his charity before returning. In the third year of Renshou, he felt unwell and sat quietly behind closed doors, yet he was free of pain. A boy in white holding radiance in his hands stood in attendance at his right. His disciple Huijin came in to ask, 'Who is this person?' He answered, 'The sixth desire heaven repeatedly comes to invite me, but because the gods are attached to pleasure, I have not consented at all, as it obstructs cultivating the Way. I constantly vow to be reborn in places without the Buddhadharma to teach and transform sentient beings. Be careful not to speak of this openly; after my death you may say as you please.' In the fifth month, his disciples set up a great vegetarian feast for him, hoping to augment subtle blessings. Monastics and laypeople gathered together before Chun. A pair of pigeons flew into Chun's room and perched on the clothes rack, gazing intently at Chun; even when people touched and grabbed at them, they showed no fear at all. Chun said, 'Leave them be, do not catch them.' Only at dusk did they depart. When his illness became severe, whenever someone inquired of him, he would always admonish them with practice of the Dharma: 'Before long one will [no longer] be able to indulge oneself and deceive oneself.' He also said, 'Without realizing it, I suddenly rode on a white elephant. This is merely deluded karma; how can it be relied upon?' He then provided a vegetarian meal to bid farewell to his old acquaintances. All his robes, resources, and miscellaneous goods were given to fellow practitioners, allowing them to take whatever single item they wished to form a wholesome bond. Yet his mind and consciousness were clear and awake, unaware of other thoughts. He died at Jingzhu Temple at the age of eighty-five, on the twelfth day of the fifth month of the third year of Renshou. He was buried south of Bailuyuan. A niche was chiseled out to house him, with an opening left on the outside to bestow his remains on flying and running beasts. When people later went to view it, the flesh of his body was entirely gone, yet his skeleton was undisturbed. His disciple Hui'ang and others, leading the various dānapatis in longing remembrance of their former exemplar, drew his portrait, decorating it with cinnabar and azure; it is currently at Jingzhu Temple. The śramaṇa Yancong praised his virtue and composed a eulogy in verse for him. Ang, whom he had nurtured with kindness since youth, personally attended to his superior conduct, composed a stele inscription for him, extensively recounting his glorious deeds. In addition, his innate nature was serene and harmonious, his discernment clear and brisk; his literary brilliance spread broadly and was known throughout the capital. He composed a collection of ten scrolls, which is widely circulated.