續高僧傳 8.17

8.17

Shi Sengfan, surnamed Li, was a native of Pingxiang. In his youth, he traveled to study the diverse texts; by the age of twenty-three, he was thoroughly versed in the classifications of learning. As for the seven luminaries, the nine chapters [of mathematics], and Tianzhu incantations, he never needed a second consultation to achieve comprehension. His disciples numbered nearly a thousand; snap-fingers and broad smiles accompanied his ability to break the pride of others. Contemporaries had a saying: 'Li Hongfan of Xiangzhou penetrates deeply into the profound doctrines; Zhang Binsheng of Ye comprehends without omission.' These words were truly meaningful. Furthermore, youthful and handsome in appearance, he had no intention whatsoever of taking a spouse. Desiring to attach himself to the Dharma gate, he burned his fingers to perform offerings. At the age of twenty-nine, while sojourning in a subordinate district, he heard a lecture on the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra; testing it by listening just once, the spiritual seat of his mind was awakened, and both his reasoning and reflection attained thorough comprehension. He thereby knew that the Buddhist scriptures contained the utmost secrets. Thereupon, he went to Sengshi in the city of Ye and underwent pravrajyā under him. He first studied the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra, exhausting its purport all at once. He also settled his mind in Linlü to quiet his superficial passions. Furthermore, he headed to Luoyang, where he followed Lord Xian to listen to the Saddharmapuṇḍarīka Sūtra and the Avataṃsaka-sūtra; honoring the former masters, he distinguished the right paths from the wrong. Later, he transferred his allegiance to Master Guang (Huiguang) and received the Way from him. Indulging in the flavor of the teaching of emptiness, years slipped by. Having exhausted the worldly symbols and words, his mind was devoted to study without distraction. He then went forth to travel, transform, and bring benefit and peace to the lands of Qi and Wei. Each time a Dharma assembly was held, the audience numbered over a thousand. When he returned to the capital at Ye, he could be called a luminous master of that era. Consequently, Cui Jin, in commenting on the Yijing, consulted him to adopt his strengths; Song Jing, in compiling the calendar, sought him out to eliminate shortcomings. Great Confucians such as Xu Zunming and Li Baoding had faith inspired in them upon a single encounter with his words, and he conferred the Bodhisattva Precepts upon them. The fivefold assembly flocked to him like people to a marketplace. He lectured on the Avataṃsaka, Daśabhūmika, Bodhisattvabhūmi, Vimalakīrtinirdeśa, and Śrīmālādevī, producing commentaries and notes for each. Furthermore, adapting commentaries by citing scriptures, he composed them into treatises (śāstra); hence his works on the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra and the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-sūtra were both titled treatises (lun). That on the Bodhisattvabhūmi alone was titled an account (shu). His phrasing, however, was dense and vigorous, not conforming to worldly tastes; yet, being the work of a distinct master, it is worthy of perusal. Moreover, his words and deeds reinforced each other, and auspicious omens frequently descended. Once, Du Bi, the regional inspector of Jiaozhou, invited Sengfan to give a winter lecture at Xianyi Monastery in Ye. When he reached the sixth ground of the Avataṃsaka, a wild goose suddenly flew down, circumambulated clockwise from the east of the pagoda, and entered the hall; facing directly toward the high seat, it prostrated on the ground to listen to the Dharma. When the lecture ended, it slowly exited, again circumambulating clockwise west of the pagoda, and only then took flight and soared away. Furthermore, during a summer lecture at this monastery, a sparrow came and lay listening at the southwest of the seat throughout the entire ninety days. Again, when he once stayed in Jizhou, an owl also flew in to listen, leaving as soon as the lecture was finished. Such auspicious resonances were numerous; were it not for his virtue blending with the unseen realm, how could this have come to pass? Once, while he was lecturing on the Avataṃsaka, a monk disparaged him, saying: 'This is just [a game of] curved vessels; what does he actually understand?' That very night, a spirit beat him, so that he died and then revived; those who saw or heard of this were all deeply awed by the anomaly. Once, staying overnight at another monastery, he wished to listen to the recitation of the precepts. A monk mounted the seat and was about to propound the doctrine, saying: 'To propound and debate the characteristics of dharmas profoundly accords with the holy words; why trouble ourselves with the poṣadha? We monks hear it constantly.' Suddenly, a spirit appeared, over a zhang tall and of exceptionally heroic and imposing appearance. Coming before the seat, it asked the speaker: 'What day is today?' The speaker answered: 'It is the poṣadha day.' The spirit immediately struck him with its hand and dragged him beneath the seat, leaving him bruised and battered on the verge of death. Next, it questioned the rector (sthavira), striking and dragging him in the same manner. From this, Sengfan disciplined himself: to the end of his life, whether for monastic business or personal affairs, he never declared consent [by proxy]. Even when gravely ill, he was carried to join the saṅgha. On the day of his death, he invited an image into his room, stepped down from the bed, and knelt on the ground, only repenting past violations. At the exact hour of noon, having given his final admonitions, he passed away at Dajue Monastery east of Ye. His age was eighty; this was on the second day of the third month of the sixth year of Tianbao (555 CE). Initially, when Sengfan turned his back on Confucianism to enter the Buddhist path, his reverence and faith increased daily. With his thoughts stilled in the gate of emptiness, he was detached from worldly affairs; his mouth spoke no words of the worldly books, and his person engaged in no unrighteous travels. Whenever he received wealth, he immediately gave it away to his disciples; he never mentioned whether he had clothing or food. Patient in the face of good and evil, he showed neither joy nor anger. Washing impurities away and observing the prohibitions, he was consistent from beginning to end. He focused his mind on the Avataṃsaka as karma for his future retribution, and bowed to the Thousand Buddhas at night as his constant capital for this lifetime. In his final years, with his age advanced and his physical strength failing, he still bowed on his pillow according to the six intervals of the day. Endowed with a brilliant capacity of comprehension, few could match him; and as for his spiritual resonance and marvels, they are entirely beyond standard measures.