續高僧傳 13.36

13.36

Śramaṇa Xuanxu, surnamed Sang, was a native of Chengdu in the Shu commandery. Having long left household life, he managed his practice of the Way, taking the Nirvāṇa Sūtra and the Satyasiddhi-śāstra as the foundational objects of his study. He regularly lectured on the Lotus Sūtra to guide the unenlightened toward clarity. His demeanor was lofty and austere, his comportment dignified and square. In conversations, his sharp wit was versatile and adaptable. He was thoroughly versed in secular books and skilled in cursive and clerical calligraphy; occasionally, he composed poetic pieces that matched the beauty of past masters. Moreover, he could humble himself before those of lower rank: whenever young youths, whether monastics or laypeople, possessed talent and tone, he would summon them to converse, showing them affection and closeness. Yet when it came to princes, lords, prominent scholars, and eminent monks, he would stand aloof and solitary, paying them no heed; his spirit was all the more lofty, and his eloquence as swift as lightning. There was Xiao Pingzhong, an Administrative Assistant in the Eastern Section of Zizhou, who was a grandson of Emperor Gao of the Liang dynasty. Extensively learned in machinery and clever mechanisms, he was without match in his time. He went to visit and converse with Xu, presenting his literary collection. Pingzhong admired him, and leisurely said: 'I have long looked up to your lofty sentiments, which treat all the nobility with disdain. Today, receiving your courteous regard, I am deeply ashamed that I may not be the right person.' Xu said: 'The nobility are arrogant and insolent; one must respond to them with pride. Your Excellency possesses universal benevolence; therefore, I respond with universal benevolence.' Pingzhong said: 'You have never been like this before, Dharma Master; today you suddenly are. I suspect this is empty talk and perhaps not your true feeling.' Xu replied: 'The sincerity or falseness with which this poor monk treats you is just like the genuineness or emptiness with which you meet me.' They laughed together in delight. Once, he composed a stela inscription for Baoyuan Monastery, in which there was a critique of Laozi and Zhuangzi, saying: 'Lao is called a sage, and Zhuang is styled a philosopher; yet this is like holding a firefly to compare with the sun, or using a mountain peak to measure dust.' It happened that Feng Shanying, a Daoist priest in charge of river sacrifices, visited the monastery to pay homage. Seeing the inscription, he detested it and said to Xu: 'Compositions each discuss their own merits; bitterly slandering others leaves your intentions unclear. If you do not remove and alter it, I am an imperial commissioner and shall immediately memorialize this to the throne.' Xu said: 'The style and essence of literature are not things you understand. If you claim to be an imperial commissioner to intimidate me, within our monastery each year we also assign people to manage the monastic estates; this is sanctioned by imperial decree, so they too are imperial commissioners. If you wish to memorialize against me, my estate manager can also memorialize against you.' Although Ying was greatly resentful, there was nothing he could do. The monastery had fifty monks; though they were all in their declining years, they all submitted to him obediently. Once, seeing someone recount Zhuangzi's parable of the Peng bird and the quail, he sighed and said: 'Zhuang Zhou thought small and large reached their limits here! How could he know that Mount Sumeru cannot contain the garuḍa bird, and that worldly realms can enter into atomic dust? The wisdom of a frog in a well only sullies people's ears and eyes.' Later, when his illness grew severe, he summoned the monks. Having gathered them, he gave away all his possessions completely, saying: 'Birth and death are merely ordinary matters; I pray that each of you will soon cross to the other shore.' That night, his life came to an end. This occurred during the Zhenguan era.