續高僧傳 5.26

5.26

Śramaṇa Zhizang, surnamed Gu and originally named Jingzang, was a native of Wu in Wu commandery. He was the eighth-generation descendant of Yao, Junior Tutor of the Wu dynasty. His great-great-grandfather Pengnian was Chief Minister of the National Granaries; his great-grandfather Chun was Magistrate of Qiantang; his grandfather Yaozhi was an Extra Gentleman-in-Waiting; and his father Ying was Attendant-in-Ordinary, who died early. Once his mother dreamed that she went out and circled the city walls of Wu once; dense clouds spread on all four sides, but the center of the sky opened clear and bright, and numerous stars fell to the earth, which she took and swallowed. Thereupon she became pregnant. When [Zhi]zang was born, he was intelligent and keen from his youth, and always harbored a modest, yielding disposition. When fruit, food, robes, or bedding and deportment were all fresh and fine, he would first yield them to others and take the lowest place. On account of this, his fame resounded through his home village, where he was revered and esteemed. At the age of sixteen, he was ordained as a monk on behalf of Emperor Ming of the Song dynasty. In the sixth year of Taichu, he was decreed to reside at Xinghuang Temple. He served as disciples to Sengyuan and Sengyou of Upper Dinglin Temple, and Hongzong of Tian'an Temple; the biographies of these eminent worthies have been recorded as above. Zhizang adhered to their instructions and models, and his veneration for righteousness grew broad and deep. Once, when his master fell gravely ill and did not eat for many days, Zhizang followed suit; only when his master took a drink did Zhizang also take a drink, and only when he recovered did he resume his normal habits. From then on, his virtuous adherence to the precepts was firm and bright, and his scholarship profound and thorough; among the assembly, his realization surpassed that of his peers. At that time, the two masters [Seng]rou and [Hui]ci were renowned for their profound doctrine across the generation. At first, he received instruction from them, absorbing the scriptures and treatises and comprehensively arguing subtle principles. When they opened the debates and challenged their opponents, none could cross into their waters. Zhizang had a godlike, penetrating insight: whenever he uttered subtle words, among all those who matched strides with them, none was not subdued. Thereupon the two monks sighed with clasped hands and considered themselves inferior to him. Duke Wang, Taizhi and Prince of Wenxian under the Qi, harbored deep admiration and invited him to spend the retreat, often sighing that they had met too late. The Prince of Wenxuan, the Taizai, established orthodox scriptures and carried on the lineage of Śākya's teachings. When he was about to deliver a lecture on the Vimalakīrtinirdeśa, he sought the foremost seat; he gathered over twenty monks of refined understanding and drew lots with tally-strips, and the tally fell to Zhizang. He was the youngest in monastic seniority and sat alone at the lowest seat, yet in expounding the principles, none could rival him. Monastics and laity gathered in concord and praised his exalted renown all the more. Before this, Master Shen of Kuaiji aspired to propagate the wondrous Dharma and requested the Prince of Wenxuan to seek a lecturing master; as Zhizang's fame was universally heard and truly matched what everyone sought, he lingered in Kuaiji for many years. Those who submitted to his guidance and brought their book-boxes to learn were indeed numerous. But because he was not yet fully versed in the Vinaya section, he journeyed again to the capital; in faithful emulation of the metaphor of pouring from vase to vase, it was like the transmission of the lamp. Soon he had illuminated the Daśabhāṇavāra-vinaya and thoroughly investigated the various divisions. Before he returned to Wu commandery, the native place of this man of the Way, not a few students packed provisions and followed him. In the second year of Yongyuan, he revisited the Cave of Yu, dwelling on Mount Fahua to gather an assembly and advance the grand undertaking. When the virtue of the Qi was about to decline, the royal house fell into great turmoil; heaven and earth were blocked, and the scriptural texts and the Way were neglected. Thereupon he soared high away, wishing to end his days at the Cave of Yu. When the Liang dynasty received the mandate and greatly promoted the True Dharma, royal envoys arrived continuously, whereupon he journeyed to the capital. The Son of Heaven descended in etiquette to receive and cultivate [ties with] him, and the honorable and wealthy alike stood in awe and reverence. When the holy monk Baozhi passed away and was entombed at Mount Zhong, a stūpa was built before his tomb and a monastery was named Kaishan, which Zhizang was decreed to occupy. Earlier, before Zhizang had received the full precepts, he met Baozhi at Upper Dinglin Temple; Baozhi had pushed him forward to take the front seat, showing marks of exalted respect, which was a foreknowledge that his virtue and renown would find their rightful place. At that time, Emperor Wu of the Liang dynasty deeply revered the gate of Śākya and permitted him free access to the palace. The officials in charge, taking the view that the one who faces south before the royal screen is the unique sovereign of the realm, argued that the imperial throne was for the Son of Heaven alone to mount, and that śramaṇas should by no means share in it. Zhizang heard this and bristled with stern countenance; he immediately entered the Golden Gate, went up to the main hall, sat upon the Dharma seat, and said in a ringing voice: 'In the past, when this poor monk was Master Gu of the Wu region, I did not shrink before an imperial couch; how much less so now, having for ancestor Dīpaṅkara and being a Disciple of Śākya of the Golden Wheel! If the Dānapati wishes to kill this poor monk, kill me at once; I do not worry about lacking a place to be reborn. If you send me to the Shangfang directorate, it will not hinder my practice of the Way within the prison.' He then brushed off his clothes and stood up. The Emperor thereupon rescinded the decree and let him follow the previous practice. His towering over the Son of Heaven and elevating the gate of Śākya were all of this nature. There was an old countrywoman who was skilled at physiognomy; when she recorded good or bad fortune, she did not fail once in a hundred times. She said to Zhizang: 'The Dharma Master's intelligence and eloquence surpass the world and his name resounds across the realm, but it is a pity that your lifespan is not long; you may only reach thirty-one.' At that time, he was twenty-nine. Hearing this report of shortness of life, he halted all lecturing, exerted his utmost energy in cultivating the Way, made great vows, and did not set foot outside his door. He then searched the scriptural canon and obtained the Vajracchedikā Prajñāpāramitā; receiving, upholding, and reciting it, he dedicated his life to its devotion. Arriving at the twilight of the year of peril, he bathed in fragrant water and sat in a clean room reciting the sūtra to await the arrival of death. Soon, he heard a voice in midair saying: 'Good man! Your age of thirty-one in the past was the end of your retributive lifespan. By the power of the Prajñā Sūtra, your lifespan has been doubled.' Zhizang later left the mountain and made a test by visiting the former physiognomist, who arose in great shock and said: 'For what reason are you still in the world? Formerly I saw the sign of a short life, but now it is completely gone. A śramaṇa truly cannot be physiognomised!' Zhizang asked: 'To what age can I now reach?' She replied: 'Your facial features and bone structure indicate an age of over sixty.' Zhizang said: 'Fifty is considered a full lifespan, which is no longer premature, how much more so exceeding it!' He then told her the circumstances; the physiognomist rejoiced and was convinced. In the end, he departed the world at the close of his years, just as the physiognomist had said. Thereupon, monastics and laity east of the Yangtze vied with one another to recite this sūtra, and there were many responses and verifications, growing ever more illustrious down to the present day, with spiritual resonances repeatedly occurring. In the Datong era of the Liang, reverence for the Three Jewels stirred the darkened minds through pursuit of gain; persons of frivolous conduct indulged their desires to the lower extremes, while the vinayadharas' disciplinary networks had no effect on the outlaws. The Emperor wished to supervise the monastic officials himself and personally manage the Dharma companions; he ordered the Palace Scribes to have all who consented sign their names. At that time, among the eminent and wise, none dared resist; in silent submission they cast aside their brushes. Later, the document was presented to Zhizang; Zhizang struck a horizontal line across it with his brush and declared: 'The great ocean of the Buddhadharma is not something secular people can understand.' The Emperor examined it and did not take offense; in this manner, he rebuffed and disregarded the Lord of Ten Thousand Chariots, being the sole man in a decadent age to do so. Yet the Emperor's intention grew all the stronger, and the measure was about to be put into effect in the world. Though Zhizang had not consented later, the imperial decree had already been issued beforehand. In the evening, an assembly was held at the Huaguang Hall, and a great gathering of monks assembled; Zhizang arrived last. The Emperor said: 'Lately I have seen that monks and nuns mostly do not recite and study, and the white-robed Monastic Controllers do not understand the rules and statutes; punishing them by secular law errs on the side of excessive severity. In my spare time, I, this disciple, wish to act personally as the White-robed Monastic Controller and also establish regulations based on the Vinaya. Although this is the matter of Dharma Masters, the Buddha also entrusted it to kings. Just now I discussed it with all the monks, and they all said it was not objectionable. What is the Dharma Master's opinion?' Zhizang said: 'That Your Majesty wishes to personally oversee monastic affairs is truly to make the True Dharma illustrious. However, monks and nuns are mostly not in accord with the Vinaya; I only wish you would bestow mercy and pardon, and put this matter off.' The Emperor said: 'How could this disciple's intention be to afflict the assembly of monks? It is precisely because the secular and foolish err too heavily that we may naturally determine it based on the Vinaya. For what reason does the Dharma Master ask for mercy and pardon?' Zhizang replied: 'Your Majesty truly wishes to reduce the severe to the light, but in the latter age it is difficult for all the assembly of monks to be in accord with the Vinaya; therefore I dare beg for mercy and pardon.' The Emperor said: 'Let me ask: when monks commit transgressions, should the Buddhadharma punish them or not?' Zhizang replied: 'I humbly consider that the Buddha's principles are profound and far-reaching, and his teachings have both manifestation and concealment; my sense is that there is both punishment and non-punishment.' The Emperor said: 'I have only seen it entrusted to kings to punish them; where is there any teaching of non-punishment?' Zhizang replied: 'Devadatta was a personal case in point: the Tathāgata set him aside and did not punish him.' The Emperor said: 'In the Dharma Master's view, what kind of person was Devadatta?' Zhizang replied: 'Devadatta was truly unfathomable. Now, his manifestation of traces was precisely meant to make the teachings clear. If it were unacceptable not to punish, how could the Sage have manifested this? If one punished exclusively, then the assembly of monks could not stand; if one did not punish at all, they would likewise not stand.' The Emperor's expression changed, and he recalled and suspended his former decree. The monks, shaken with fear, went together to petition the Emperor. The Emperor said: 'Dharma Master Zhizang has the mind of a great man: what he considers right, he calls right; what he considers wrong, he calls wrong. His words are grand and expansive, and he does not burden himself with his physical body and life. The other Dharma Masters are not great men: their minds were truly not in agreement, yet their words showed no difference. Just now I had a great dispute with Master Zhizang, yet the other Dharma Masters were silent and none came to my aid; was this not because their intent was different?' The matter was thereupon dropped. Zhizang came out and told his disciples: 'That a king wishes to take the Buddhadharma as his personal duty is indeed the intention of a Mahāsattva. However, even within a single noble family of ten-odd sons, they may not necessarily conform to one's wishes; how much more so with the assembly of monks, where people from the five regions are mixed together and cannot easily be distinguished! One must simply eliminate their extremes. Moreover, the Tathāgata's precepts and Vinaya are spread in the world; if one can comply with and employ them, they are sufficient to regulate and order them. Monastic Controllers are not only of no benefit, but do immense harm. I have always wished to persuade him to abolish them; how could I endorse this matter?' Someone said: 'The principle is indeed to the utmost, but facing the anger of the Lord of Ten Thousand Chariots, how could you remain so calm?' Zhizang laughed and said: 'This was truly fearsome. But I am old; even if I flattered the decree and accommodated it, I would not live forever. Since death is not something I regret, I was at ease with it.' Later, Fayun said to the assembly: 'The Emperor could not apologize to him in terms of doctrinal principles; that day's affair is truly worthy of shame and submission.' Not long after, Zhizang was decreed to lecture on the Tattvasiddhi at Pengcheng Temple; his audience numbered over a thousand, all the outstanding talents of the time, and the scholarly community viewed it as an honor. He was also decreed to lecture on the Prajñā Sūtra at the Huilun Hall, with thirty Eminent Worthies specially decreed to attend. Zhizang's expositions and initiations of themes were each lucid and preeminent; they all took private notes to serve as materials for later transmission and study. In the spring of the final year of Tianjian, he renounced his possessions in a great confession, gathering monastics and laity, and personally lectured on the Vajracchedikā Prajñā as the utmost repentance. He retained only his robes and alms-bowl, giving away everything else completely without a single thing remaining. Xie Jiqing of Chen commandery pointed playfully at the bamboo pole for hanging robes and said: 'You still keep this object; do you still have attachment?' Zhizang said: 'The body is not yet extinguished; how could attachment be ended?' Yet still harboring a desire for a tranquil place, he set his thoughts upon the mountains and forests; returning to reside at Kaishan, he ceased treading in the secular world. When he was occasionally summoned to imperial assemblies, he submitted a memorial declining: 'Looking back on the past, my mind was confused and uncontrolled; I wished to rely on a single word of the Buddha to discipline myself in seclusion. Yet I drifted along with conditions for over twenty years; in youth and strength, it could still be pardoned. Now that I am old and sick, both body and mind are waning; if I fall back by even a fraction, I will no longer be able to discipline myself. Therefore, my wish is to reside in a quiet place to preserve myself a little, not daring to act aloof from the world to seek fame, nor wishing to indulge myself in ease. It is simply the immediate feeling of an ordinary man, fearing that the road ahead is already closing in.' The Emperor replied with an imperial letter of instruction: 'Seeking emptiness to ease oneself and entering wisdom relying on emptiness—to withdraw high and nourish one's spirit is truly an exquisite joy. It does not transgress the Three Vehicles, and I also rejoice accordingly. Yet at the moment of parting, how can one not feel desolate? Words of parting given at the crossroads were valued by the ancients. I still advise the Dharma Master to practice with an unhindered mind, with great compassion foremost and skillful means to benefit others; adapt to the times in adopting and discarding, and do not abruptly shut them out. To practice the Bodhisattva Way with a mind of obstruction is without justification.' The imperial decrees went back and forth repeatedly and for a long time, yet his resolve remained unchanged. When the Emperor was about to receive the Bodhisattva Precepts, he ordered the Monastic Controller to present a roster of senior monks of eminent reputation. At that time, Chaozheng drew up a roster consisting of Fashen, Huiyue, and Zhizang; the Emperor's intention lay with Zhizang, and so he chose him. The Crown Prince especially showed him respectful treatment; intending to perform the etiquette of facing north as a disciple, he proceeded with reverence and devotion, his vermilion carriage slowly moving with horns clearing the road, lowering his status in humility to go and pay him court, following his precepts and rules to make him his eternal Master and Instructor. He also requested him to lecture on the Mahāparinirvāṇa at the temple, personally attending the canopy seat to present questions and inquiries; court dignitaries, celebrated talents of the day, monastics, and laity filled the hall, and the magnificence of the Dharma banquet had never been heard of before. Later, at the Northern Pavilion, he further invited him to engage in discourse; all sighed and said: 'To have participated in this supreme gathering is something never before experienced.' Zhizang let himself float like an empty boat and practiced equality in true action; he was unmoved by praise and blame, and honors and profit never tainted him. Sitting peacefully in seclusion, he stood firm like a mountain. Though his spiritual realm was detached and his demeanor pure and lofty, when responding to others, he seemed so anxious as if he had not done enough; he could be called 'looking imposing from afar, yet warm when approached'—one who embodied the changes of a gentleman. Ever since he revealed himself in the cliffs and caves, concealing his form from human society, he additionally built six dhūta huts separately in the mountain recesses outside the temple, all of which were thatched cottages just large enough to fit one's knees. When the Crown Prince heard of this, he went to tour them, and composed poems before returning; the last verse said: 'Not that I take delight in leisurely wandering, / But that I wish to know the Ji and Ying.' Zhizang focused his mind beyond the world and constantly performed repentance. In all six periods of the day, he looked up with reverence at the spiritual images and said: 'The flavor of the principle is deep and profound; when my shallow thoughts ponder it, I harbour doubts and obstacles of my own, and fear I may deviate from the sage's intent and commit many errors.' Thereupon, his earnest words and tears flowed together. Once he stayed the night at Lingyao Temple; walking at night, he briefly concentrated his mind and saw a golden light shining, with the entire room brightly illuminated. When people asked the reason, he replied: 'The wonder within this cannot be spoken of.' That morning he fell ill, until his condition became critical. Imperial messengers from the Emperor and the Crown Prince came in sight of each other, and monastics and laity of the fourfold assembly inquired after him day and night. An order was given to establish a vegetarian feast for him, and a prayer text was composed by the Emperor's own hand, along with continuous medicine; but his physical health did not improve, and his condition only worsened without abating. Facing his end, his words and countenance were composed and correct, and his final words were solely devoted to propagating the Dharma. On the tenth day of the ninth month in the third year of Putong, he passed away in his temple room at the age of sixty-five. By imperial decree, he was buried at Mount Dulong; those attending the funeral filled the road, and they jointly erected stelae, one at the tomb and one within the monastery. Xiao Ji, the Governor of Xin'an, composed the text; Xiao Yi, Prince of Xiangdong, composed the inscription; and Yin Jun of Chen commandery, Household Provisioner to the Crown Prince, erected the epitaph. Earlier, Zhizang often dreamed that the Tathāgata Jinsu entered his room and conversed with him, holding two fly-whisks, one decorated with jewels and the other plain; he left the plain one with Zhizang. Moreover, the recluse He Yin of Lujiang, while residing at Mount Huqiu in Wu commandery, met a divine monk holding a case of books who said: 'Someone came and entrusted words to me,' and in an instant he vanished. When he opened the case and looked, he could not recognize the text at all; later, he asked a monk from the Wei, who said: 'These are two folios from the middle of the Mahālaṃkāra-śāstra.' The people of the time all said it was brought about by Zhizang. Furthermore, Liu Hun of Pengcheng committed a crime punishable by death; Zhizang was then in the inner hall expounding the meaning of the four immeasurables for the Emperor, when the memorial was presented from outside. The Emperor said: 'Now, on account of state affairs, I cannot speak of the four immeasurables; what should be done?' Zhizang said: 'Words and actions must take advantage of the opportunity; now the opportunity arises and is missed—whose fault is it? The setting forth of the four immeasurables is not done in vain.' The Emperor thereupon set the matter aside and did not pursue it, and Liu ultimately escaped execution. Liu never knew the reason for this in the end; his covert help and benefits bestowed on others were mostly of this kind. In all, he lectured on the Pañcaviṃśatisāhasrikā and Aṣṭasāhasrikā Prajñāpāramitā, Mahāparinirvāṇa, Saddharmapuṇḍarīka, Daśabhūmika, Suvarṇaprabhāsa, Tattvasiddhi, Śata-śāstra, and Abhidharmahṛdaya, and authored commentaries on each that circulated in the world.