續高僧傳 13.22

13.22

Shi Faxiang was a native of Tongzhou. He left the household in his childhood; he was pure, poor, and had few desires. He diligently sought the Way, with no fixed resting place. After taking the full precepts at capping, he observed the monastic regulations, spurring himself forward with determined intent and immersing his mind in profound mysteries. When the two teachings were abolished during the Northern Zhou, he took service as a secular clerk; yet embracing virtue and cherishing the scriptures, he never ceased his worship and recitations. His fellow officials in the ranks jointly admired him and sought to promote him to the imperial bureau, but his upright nature longed for the Way and he gave no thought to worldly glory. He merely practiced his studies as he pleased, just keeping his name on the roster. When the Dharma was revived under the Sui, he immediately became a monk again, dwelling at Daxingguo Monastery. His aspirations and conduct were sharp and bright, and his speech was always sincere and concise. His deportment was serious and solemn, and he never stayed in dark, enclosed rooms. He always occupied a large room with front and rear entrances open; for over thirty years he lived exposed to the wind. His thoughts were open and spacious, and his door was never closed. Sitting or lying on a single couch, reading scriptures was his sole occupation. When clergy and laity came to pay their respects, unless he had finished reading, he would never speak words unrelated to the scroll in his hands. Therefore, guests who knew his habits and saw that he had not yet rolled up his scroll would wait until after he had granted an audience before speaking with him. Xiang immersed his mind in profound scriptures, comprehending broadly and retaining much. In illuminating the ignorant and drawing analogies, his words were unadorned. Once he contracted a cold; when someone urged him to take medicine, he accepted nothing, but merely focused his mind and handled his affairs with composure. Once he suffered from dysentery; when someone gave him medicine, he said: "Dysentery is water. If one takes nothing, it will naturally subside." He then ate dry cooked rice, and after several days he recovered. His firm adherence to his discipline was entirely of this sort. Furthermore, he was faithful and exemplary in demeanor, never associating with frivolous people. When issuing regulations for the assembly, his words brought reverence and submission. Thus, whenever penalties were imposed on the assembly, Xiang would always offer his admonitions first; hearing their faults, they yielded and submitted, without harboring resentment. His virtue illuminated humans and gods in this manner. In the seventh year of the Wude era, he had been bedridden for months, and his vital energy was weak and fading. As his attendants stood by in attendance, he whispered faintly: "The Buddha statue, the Buddha statue." His voice was faint and muffled; at first they did not understand, but upon reflection they realized his meaning. Turning to look, they caught a glimpse of the venerable image standing tall on the western wall, its radiant marks complete, and after a moment it gradually faded away. They also heard fragrant music arriving all at once, permeating the entire room. Clergy and laity were amazed. They also saw a flock of white cranes coming from the west, circling the room three times, hovering, and then returning to the place from which they came. A short time later, he passed away. He was buried at the eastern corner of the city. The whole city filled the streets; banners and canopies stretched continuously, and the sound of wailing was heard far and near.