續高僧傳 20.26

20.26

Shi Mingjing was a native of Mizhou. He went forth from household life when young, taking delight in meditation as his vocation. Pure in resolve, loyal, and scrupulous, he was prudent, earnest, serene, and solemn. He once lived at Mount Meng by the seashore, sitting in quiet contemplation for several decades, uncomprehended by others. Later, he traveled south to the various mountains of Tiantai in Dongyue. With dhyāna contemplation held in his heart, he had no concern for worldly customs. His clothing was tattered, and his movements were suited to the moment. His fellow dhyāna practitioners did not hold him in great esteem. The grain in the mountains ran out, and daily he went to the villages to beg for food. Bringing it back, on the way he met a pack of tigers, all with mouths agape and eyes shut as though famished. Mingjing said, "I have walked through mountains and marshes extensively; tigers and rhinoceroses have no intention to fear. Now you line the roadside—is it not for food?" He then used a spoon to scoop up rice and place it into their mouths, and what remained he ate before them until it was all gone. He addressed them, saying, "Knowing that little food came, I have improvised to rescue both self and others. It falls far short of my wish, for which I am deeply and greatly ashamed." The next day, when he begged for food, the tigers were as before. Such conditions recurred frequently, and his companions thus found his conduct extraordinary. Later, because the mountains were secluded and the ground damp, his physical form suffered from it, and he returned to the coastal corner to dwell by the side of Mount Meng. Inwardly, he complied with the contemplation of the Way; outwardly, he stimulated hidden resonance. His fine reputation spread far, and numinous spirits responded in harmony. Once, during a severe drought, the young crops all withered. Those of the excessive cults prayed and besought in vain; though they redoubled their earnestness, in the end they could bring nothing about. Mingjing said, "You may cease all heterodox prayers; I alone can bring it down." He then observed a retreat in a quiet room. At dawn on the seventh day, clouds spread and rain fell, pouring profusely over high and low. The common people benefited from it and revered him as a sage. In the third year of Zhenguan, from the previous winter to the coming summer, in the sixth month it had completely failed to rain. The Son of Heaven issued an edict commanding the two traditions of Śākya and Laozi, the various temples of the sacred peaks and rivers, and even the excessive cults, universally to perform rain prayers. At that time, across ten thousand leagues the drought was blazing, with no response whatsoever. Court and countryside looked at one another in sorrow and helplessness. There was an attendant gentleman named Pan, who had previously served in Mizhou; knowing that Mingjing could produce spiritual resonance, he submitted a memorial reporting the facts. By imperial command, Mingjing was summoned to the capital and ordered to reside there to pray for rain. When asked what he required, [he replied that] he needed nothing of expense: "I only wish to silently contemplate the triratna and compassionately rescue the four kinds of living beings. After seven days, sweet moisture will surely descend. If you wish to recompense my virtue, let the unoccupied monasteries in the realm and the privately ordained monks all be granted recognition so that the sacred Way may be propagated." An imperial decree granted this. Although no general provisions were supplied, incense and oil were separately bestowed. He sat in silent dhyāna in a quiet room at Zhuangyan Monastery. Toward dawn on the seventh day, he asked the guard, saying, "In the northwest of the sky there should be a white rainbow; you may try looking for it." Hearing his words, the guard immediately saw it. Mingjing said, "The rain will surely arrive." In a moment the clouds gathered, and heavy rain suddenly fell. By late afternoon, it had drenched the entire realm. The civil officials submitted memorials praising the Emperor's merit, while Mingjing's secret virtue was not mentioned at all. After the new rain had cleared, agricultural work was pursued together. Although the sprouts had emerged from the ridges, there was no subsequent rain; withering and falling, they were on the verge of dying, and all plans were exhausted. The Left Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs, Fang Xuanling, personally went to Mingjing's place to request another prayer for rain. Mingjing said, "The rising and falling of rain stems from the sovereign and his ministers. What virtue does Mingjing have to presume to bear your sincere entrustment? What was previously promised has not been repaid, so the unseen and the manifest share the same sorrow. If the former request is followed, the rain should also be brought about." The matter was memorialized, and the Emperor again granted it. He then decreed a temporary halt to secular affairs, and the entire court received the fasting retreat. Mingjing then sat quietly as before. At the end of seven days, the previous moisture descended again, the four classes of people rejoiced in peace, and a bountiful harvest ensued. An imperial decree then ordained three thousand monks in all to recompense Mingjing's virtue. His signs of resonance were unfathomable and his manifestations unpredictable. However, because the capital was noisy and tumultuous, and he was not accustomed to it by nature, he requested to return to Maosheng Monastery in his native district. Dwelling in the mountains and attending to his vocation, none ultimately knew of his survival or death. In the same monastery, the monk Huirong was also renowned for his dhyāna practice. Dwelling in the mountains, he consumed elixirs and chanted over water to cure illnesses. Summoned by imperial decree to the capital, he also resided at Puguang Monastery. The Two Palaces deeply respected him and treated him with successive gifts.