宋高僧傳 21.44

21.44

釋智𮗿，不知何許人也。少而英偉，長勤梵學，凡諸經論，一聽入神。其所講宣也，音辯瀏亮。每臨臺座，自謂超絕——所患者聽眾無幾。虞其以水傳器，器器不空，繄我獨無，乃辜佛意。遂負箱帙遍歷名山，以詢智者。末至衡嶽寺，憩息月餘，甞於寺閑齋，獨自尋繹疏義，復自咎責曰：「所解義理，莫違聖意乎？」沈思，兀然偶舉首見老僧振錫而入，曰：「師讀何經論？窮何義理？」𮗿疑其名嶽之內，車轍原中，羅漢混凡，曾何可測？乃自述本緣，因加悔責。又曰：「儻蒙賢達指南，請受甘心，鈐口結舌，不復開演矣。」老僧笑曰：「師識至廣，豈不知此義？大聖猶不能度無緣之人，況其初心乎？師只是與眾生無緣耳。」𮗿曰：「豈終世若此乎？」老僧曰：「吾試為爾結緣。」遂問𮗿「今有幾貲糧耶？」𮗿曰：「自北徂南，裂裳裹足，已經萬里，所齎皆罄竭矣。見受持九條衣而已。」老僧曰：「只此可矣！必宜鬻之，以所易之直，皆作麋餅、油食之調。」𮗿如言作之，約數十人食，遂相與至埛野之中，散掇餅餌，焚香長跪呪曰：「今日食我施者，願當來之世與我為法屬，我當教之，得至菩提。」言訖，烏鳥亂下啄拾，地上螻螘蠅蠁莫徵其數。老僧曰：「爾後二十年，方可歸開法席。今且周遊，未宜講說也。」言訖而去。𮗿由是精進道力，不倦研摩，義味滋多，志在傳授。至二十年，却歸河北，盛化鄴中，聽眾盈千數人，皆年二十已來，其老者無二三人焉。

Shi Zhibang: it is not known where he was from. When young he was heroic and outstanding, and as he grew he applied himself diligently to Sanskrit studies; whenever he heard any sūtras and treatises, he grasped their spirit at once. When he lectured and expounded, the eloquence of his voice was clear and resonant. Whenever he mounted the platform, he considered himself peerless; his only affliction was that his audience was scarce. Fearing that as water is transmitted from vessel to vessel, and vessel after vessel is not empty, while he alone had none, he would thus fail the Buddha's intent. Thereupon, carrying his book-boxes, he traveled to famous mountains everywhere to consult the wise. At last he reached Hengyue Temple, where he rested for over a month. He once sat in a quiet room of the temple, unraveling the meanings of commentaries alone, and reproached himself again, saying, "Could the principles I have understood be contrary to the sage's intent?" While in deep, motionless contemplation, he casually raised his head and saw an old monk entering while shaking a khakkhara, who asked, "What scriptures and treatises are you reading, Master? What principles are you fathoming?" Bang suspected that within famous peaks and amidst the rutted plains, arhats mingled with ordinary people—how could one ever measure them? He then recounted his original circumstances and added his self-reproach. He further said, "If I could receive guidance from a worthy master, I would willingly accept it, lock my mouth, knot my tongue, and no longer lecture." The old monk laughed and said, "Your learning is so broad, Master; could you not know this principle? Even the Great Sage cannot deliver those who lack karmic affinity, how much less those at the initial stage of practice? You simply lack affinity with sentient beings, that is all." Bang asked, "Must it be like this all my life?" The old monk said, "Let me try to form affinities for you." He then asked Bang, "How much provisions and property do you have now?" Bang replied, "Traveling from north to south, tearing my robes to wrap my feet, I have already traversed ten thousand li, and all that I brought has been exhausted. I only have the nine-strip robe that I receive and uphold." The old monk said, "This alone will suffice! You must sell it, and with the price exchanged, make porridge cakes and seasoned fried foods." Bang made them as told, enough to feed several tens of people. Thereupon they went together out into the open fields, scattered and tossed the cakes and pastries, burned incense, knelt down on both knees, and chanted a dhāraṇī, saying: "May those who eat my alms today become my Dharma kin in future ages; I shall teach them and enable them to reach bodhi." When he finished speaking, crows and birds descended in flurries to peck and gather, and the mole crickets, ants, flies, and gnats upon the ground could not be numbered. The old monk said, "Twenty years from now, only then may you return and open your Dharma seat. For now, roam around; it is not yet suitable to lecture." Having spoken, he departed. From then on, Bang vigorously pursued his spiritual cultivation, unflaggingly examining and polishing, and the flavor of the principles became ever more bountiful, his aim fixed on transmission. When twenty years had passed, he returned to Hebei and grandly transformed Yedu; his audience numbered over a thousand, all of whom were around twenty years of age, with no more than two or three elderly among them.