續高僧傳 8.30

8.30

Śramaṇa Huiyuan, surnamed Li, was a native of Dunhuang. Later, he lived in Gaodu in Shangdang. By his heaven-endowed nature he was candid and bright, and in his deportment mild and harmonious. His capacity and tolerance were broad and simple, and his exalted practice lofty and far-reaching. Having lost his father in his youth, he lived together with his uncle, who especially guided him, instructing him in benevolence and filial piety. At only three years of age, he already took delight in leaving the household life; whenever he saw a śramaṇa, he held them in loving regard and exalted veneration. At seven, when engaged in his studies, his achievements surpassed ordinary children a hundredfold. His spirit and will were lofty and brisk, and he was praised for his clear wisdom. At thirteen, he took leave of his uncle and went to Guxiangu Temple in the Eastern Mountains of Zezhou. At that time, there was the Dhyāna Master Sengsi, a śramaṇa of Huayin, who, seeing him, granted him tonsure. Si’s purified practice was elevated above the world, and he was revered by the multitude. He said to Yuan: “You have the bodily marks of one who leaves the household life; take good care of yourself.” At first he had him recite the scriptures, instructing him according to the matter at hand. Through the diligent practice of the six periods of the day, there was no need to summon or spur him on. Soon after, due to turbulent unrest, Sengsi took him south to Dangu in the Northern Mountains of Huaizhou. Whenever Yuan questioned his master on the great principles within the scriptures, they were all abstruse and hidden matters, so the master deeply knew that when grown he would become a vessel of achievement. At age sixteen, his master then had him accompany the ācārya, Vinaya Master Zhan, to Ye. He extensively traversed both the Great and Small Vehicles’ scriptures and treatises. Wherever he heard deep and hidden teachings, he received particular admiration and distinction. Yet he laid special emphasis on the Mahāyāna, considering it the foundation of the Way. Reaching full age, he advanced to full ordination, taking the Great Controller Shang as upādhyāya and Du of Shundian as ācārya; the ten great disciples of Master Guang all served as witnesses to the precepts. At that time, this was regarded as the utmost in glorious reputation. He then went to Vinaya Master Dayin to listen to the Four-Part Vinaya. Wandering in pursuit of instruction, he spent five summer retreats at the head of the mat. Winnowing the refined from the crude, he distinguished the rules and paths. Concerning the Adhikaraṇaśamatha and the Skandhakas, disputes had arisen before and after, and from ancient times passed down, no one had comprehended their original import. Yuan then dissected and summarized them, categorizing them into single and combined rules; examining the beginning and the end, he determined what was identical and what was distinct. All converged with principle and agreed with the text, and are practiced and recited today. In his final years, he focused solely on Master Shangtong; persevering earnestly for seven years, he profoundly penetrated the ultimate principle, briskly drawing forth the subtle and profound. Those carrying their book-boxes [to study with him] crowded the roads; his lectures and realizations continued incessantly, not even neglecting the "three leftovers" [of free time]. Those who bathed in the Way and became accomplished vessels were beyond count. He then led his fellow students back to Qinghua Temple in Gaodu. The assembly of causes was joyous, marveling at what they had never heard before; each contributed gold and silks to promote assemblies for him. The lecture halls and temple buildings became lofty and spacious all at once, and the gentry and commoners of Han and Wei all took pride in it. In the spring of the second year of Chengguang, the Northern Zhou conquered Qi and immediately carried out the abolition of the Buddhist teachings. An imperial decree ordered the formerly eminent monks of great virtue to assemble at the palace. Emperor Wu himself ascended a high seat and laid out the principle of abolition and establishment, pronouncing the declaration: “We have received Heaven’s mandate to nurture the myriad people. However, the world has propagated the three teachings, whose influence has been long-lasting. Yet when examining the ultimate truth, they are mostly in error regarding moral transformation; hence, We order them all to be abolished. However, the Six Classics of the Confucian teachings broadly expand the arts of governance in their texts; their ritual propriety, righteousness, loyalty, and filial piety are suitable for the world, and therefore must be preserved and established. Moreover, the true Buddha has no image; in the great void one may pay reverence from afar to express one's heart. Buddhist scriptures broadly extol this, yet there are magnificent pagodas and images; creating them to attain merit is truly lacking in sentience—how can it bestow grace and benefit? The ignorant populace, being gullible, exhausts its precious wealth to broadly erect temples and pagodas; since this is an empty expenditure, it is not worth preserving. All scriptures and images are to be completely abolished and destroyed. The kindness of parents is profound, yet the śramaṇas do not pay them respect; for such extreme recalcitrance and rebellion, how can the state law tolerate it? All shall return home to exalt the origin of filial piety. This is Our intention. What do the Great Virtues say of this principle?” At that time, more than five hundred people, including the Great Controller of Śramaṇas Fashang, all considered that the emperor was using sovereign power and that an unyielding admonition would be difficult to follow; each remained silent. The emperor repeatedly urged them by decree to answer, but they looked at one another and paled, and no one answered. Yuan, considering that the entrustment of the Buddha's Dharma is what the four assemblies rely upon, and asking how one could keep silent and make it seem as though reason had submitted, stepped forth from the assembly and replied: “Your Majesty presides over the great domain, having attained unity to occupy the honored position; adapting to worldly customs, you make pronouncements and take the three teachings as models. The edict says: ‘The true Buddha has no image.’ It is truly as the sincere decree states. Yet living beings with ears and eyes rely on the scriptures to hear of the Buddha, and depend on images to express truth. If you cause them to be abolished, there will be no means to arouse reverence.” The Emperor said: “The true Buddha of empty space is known naturally to all; there is no need to rely on scriptures and images.” Yuan said: “Before Emperor Ming of the Han, scriptures and images had not yet arrived; why did the sentient beings of this land not know the true Buddha of empty space?” At that time the Emperor had no answer. Yuan said: “If without relying on scriptural teachings one naturally knows there is a Dharma, then before the Three Sovereigns there was no writing; humans should have naturally known the five constants and other norms. At that time, why did people only know their mothers and not know their fathers, being the same as birds and beasts?” The Emperor again had no answer. Yuan further said: “If because physical images lack sentience, serving them brings no merit and thus they must be abolished, then the images of the state's Seven Ancestral Shrines—are they sentient, that you falsely venerate and serve them?” Emperor Wu did not answer this refutation, but said: “The Buddhist scriptures are teachings of foreign countries; this country has no need for them, so they are abolished and not used. The Seven Ancestral Shrines were established by previous dynasties; We also do not consider them correct, and intend to abolish them along with the rest.” Yuan said: “If because foreign scriptures are not used here they must be abolished, then what Confucius taught originated in the state of Lu; in the lands of Qin and Jin they should also be abolished and not practiced. Furthermore, regarding the Seven Ancestral Shrines as wrong and intending to abolish them means not venerating the ancestors; if ancestors are not venerated, the zhaomu ancestral order loses its sequence; if the zhaomu order loses its sequence, the Five Classics become useless. Where then is the justification for previously preserving the Confucian teachings? If so, then the three teachings are abolished together; how will you govern the state?” The Emperor said: “Although the territory of the state of Lu is distinct from Qin and Jin, all were under the single transformation of the sovereign; therefore they are not analogous to Buddhist scriptures.” To the refutation regarding the Seven Ancestral Shrines, the Emperor had no way to answer. Yuan said: “If you say that Qin and Lu both followed a single transformation and so their scriptural teachings were mutually practiced, then although the borders of Zhen Dan and Tianzhu differ, all without exception dwell in Jambudvīpa; within the four seas, under the single transformation of a wheel-turning king, why not equally follow the Buddhist scriptures instead of ordering them alone to be abolished?” The Emperor again had no answer. Yuan said: “The edict says that returning monks to their homes exalts filial support. But the Confucian scriptures also state: ‘To establish oneself and practice the Way so as to make one’s parents illustrious is filial practice.’ Why must one return home for it to be called filial?” The Emperor said: “The kindness of parents is heavy, requiring reciprocal support through physical care; abandoning close kin to attend to distant matters does not constitute ultimate filial piety.” Yuan said: “According to what you say, Your Majesty’s attendants all have two parents; why not release them, instead of making them serve continuously for five years without seeing their parents?” The Emperor said: “We also follow shifts; in turn they are able to return and serve.” Yuan said: “The Buddha also permits monks to cultivate the Way according to conditions in winter and summer, and in spring and autumn return home to attend and nourish their parents. Thus Maudgalyāyana begged for food to feed his mother, and the Tathāgata bore the coffin at the burial. This principle is broadly pervasive and cannot be abolished alone.” The Emperor again had no answer. Yuan raised his voice and said: “Your Majesty now relies on sovereign power to destroy the Three Jewels as you please; you are a person of wrong view. Avīci Hell makes no distinction between noble and base; how can Your Majesty not be terrified?” The Emperor suddenly flushed with rage, looked directly at Yuan and said: “So long as the common people obtain happiness, We will not shirk the various sufferings of hell!” Yuan said: “Your Majesty transforms people with false teachings and presently plants painful karma; you will enter Avīci together with Your Majesty—where will any happiness be found?” The Emperor’s reasoning was defeated before his words, but his ambition was fervent; he made no further reply, but merely said: “You monks may return for now; later we shall assemble again.” The officials recorded the names of the monks who debated. At that time, the state of Qi had just been exterminated, and the Zhou soldiers were like thunder; seeing Yuan resist the edict, all broke into a sweat, everyone saying he would have his body pulverized and be boiled in cauldrons. Yet Yuan’s spirit was towering and firm, his expression and tone unyielding. The Superior Controller, Dharma Master Yan, and others took Yuan by the hand, wept, and thanked him, saying: “The awe of the Son of Heaven is like dragon fire; it is difficult to provoke. You were able to push it to the utmost. As the Great Scripture says, a bodhisattva who protects the Dharma should be just like this. That he did not reform is not your fault.” Yuan said: “The correct principle must be expounded; how could one merely look after this physical life?” He then took leave of the venerable masters, saying: “Such is the turn of the times; even a sage cannot avert it. I regret not being able to serve you in person, and consider this a great regret. The Dharma is truly not destroyed; may the Great Virtues understand this. I hope you will not grieve or worry over it.” He then went into hiding in the Western Mountains of Jijun, diligently pursuing the Way without weariness. Within three years, he recited the Lotus and Vimalakīrti Sūtras each a thousand times to preserve and circulate the remaining teachings. Thereafter, dwelling in the mountains and drinking from valleys, his meditation and recitation never ceased; his cavern of principle deepened further, never abandoning the floating raft. In the second year of Daxiang, Tianyuan slightly reopened Buddhist proselytization; in both the eastern and western capitals, the Great Zhihu Temples were established, Bodhisattva-monks were installed, and an edict was issued to former eminent monks ordering them to take residence. Thereupon he constantly lectured at Shaolin. When the Great Sui received the abdication, the imperial fortunes opened up and cleared. At the beginning of Kaihuang, he was included in the ranks of those granted religious robes. Senior elders hurried and gathered in Luoyang; when the gates of the Dharma first opened, those from near and far came rushing back. Gazing at the signs of prosperity, it suddenly resembled an academy city. For this reason his fame galloped to the imperial court, and the Emperor heard of him. An edict was issued appointing him Controller of Śramaṇas of Luozhou, to rectify and uphold the Buddha’s Dharma. Yuan declined but was not excused, so he assumed the position. In his character he was upright and straightforward, leaving honor and disgrace to conditions; he could not be awed by intimidation, nor corrupted by gain. His righteous spirit was singularly heroic, his spiritual manner uniform and solemn; in loving respect he was harmonious and gentle, yet he tolerated no impropriety or excess. When disciplining offenses and establishing regulations, he did not avoid the powerful. Wherever he lectured, he prescribed the necessary requisites: if there was a deficiency in material support, or failure to strain water to maintain purity, or seeking alms contrary to the Dharma, or a lapse in proper deportment, they were not permitted among the listening assembly. As for those who were indolent, overslept, missed their times, or arrived late to the Dharma assembly, they were penalized in accordance with the assembly's regulations without pardon. Therefore, his disciples were solemn and grave, and their deportment was admirable. In the fifth year of Kaihuang, at the request of the Regional Inspector of Zezhou, Prince Qianjin, he went to his native place. This was the revival of the semblance teachings and the reassembling of his homeland; whether related or unrelated, all were filled with joy beyond measure. In the spring of the seventh year, he went to Dingzhou; passing through Shangdang, he lingered for the summer lectures, thus omitting the eastward mission. Soon an imperial decree was issued warmly inviting him again; unable to decline, he arrived at the Western Capital. At that time, six Great Virtues were summoned by imperial decree, and Yuan was one of them. Still accompanied by over two hundred regular students, he first arrived at the imperial palace, personally attended the royal banquet, expounded the sacred transformation, and communicated it throughout the state. The Emperor was greatly delighted, ordered him to reside at Xingshan Temple, extended lavish inquiries, and doubled his offerings. Furthermore, because large assemblies at Xingshan were frequent and the Dharma gatherings numerous, though propagation was carried out, matters were ultimately restrictive; hence, a site was chosen south of Tianmen and to the right of the main avenue, a crucial east-west thoroughfare where travelers could listen without fatigue. A temple was established there and named Jinying. He constantly resided there giving lectures, broadly expounding the abstruse and profound, his eloquence flowing like a torrent, his vocal delivery profound, and his explanations exhaustive. Thereupon, over seven hundred scholars from the four directions came to study, all being the flower of the realm. Following in the earlier tracks of the wheel of the Dharma, they looked to the capital and hastened to the temple as a place of the Dharma. However, because the halls had not yet been completed, they stayed together in the open air, in mats and huts; divided into alleys by their prefectures, day and night they followed the teachings, vessels of accomplishment emerging one after another. Although the various Great Virtues of Xingshan enjoyed renowned fame for a time, when it came to students arriving from thousands of miles around, one after another without break, none surpassed Yuan. He was eight chi tall, with a waist of nine spans, wearing a skirt of thirteen breadths as ordinary clothing. Ascending the seat, his roar shook like thunder, waking dormant creatures, fully satisfying the hopes of the multitude—this was truly magnificent! In the spring of the twelfth year of Kaihuang, an edict ordered him to oversee translation work and edit and verify the terms and meanings. In that year, he passed away at Jinying Temple at the age of seventy. The Emperor was moved to grief and suspended court; he sighed and said: “The state has lost two treasures!” At that time, Yuan and Li Delin had died in the same month, which was why the Emperor’s heart was stirred. From the time Yuan tied up his hair to seek a master, his original aim was to transmit the teachings; passing through two dynasties, his influence filled the eight directions. He composed commentaries and refined writings, collating the beginning and the end; those who inherited his learning and were awakened from error were like comb teeth and dust, connected continuously. Serving as a model for the court of his time, he was rightly called a peer. When he first fell ill, a few days prior, the upper ridge of the lecture hall broke by itself for no reason. The assembly looked at one another in shock, knowing he would not recover. On the day of his final hour, he sat upright and collected his spirit, appearing as if entering samādhi. His attendants did not realize he had passed away; suddenly they smelled a strange fragrance in the room, and all felt wonder and suspicion. Only when placing fine silk floss to his nose did they realize his breath had ceased. Formerly at Qinghua, he had raised a goose, which made listening to lectures its duty, continuing through several cold and warm seasons. After Yuan entered Guanzhong, the goose remained at the original temple, roosting in the corridors and crying out day and night. The monks, troubled by it, sent it to the capital with an envoy. When released at the main gate of Jinying, it immediately cried, leaped, and entered Yuan’s room. Thereafter, it listened submissively as before: whenever it heard the bell summoning the Dharma assembly, whether morning or evening, during repeated lectures or debates, it entered the hall and lay down to listen. When the monks’ chanting dispersed, it flew out the door, calling. If it encountered the fortnightly Poṣadha, though it heard the bell summoning, it would never enter to listen, which all thought extraordinary. If Yuan gave an ordinary exposition, it listened quietly according to the Dharma; if in the middle he touched on other matters, it would call out, flap its wings, and leave. Six years passed in this manner, its love of listening never waning for an instant. Later, it suddenly cried mournfully in the courtyard and refused to enter the hall; two decades of days from that time, Yuan passed away.