神僧傳 8.40

8.40

釋智𧦬（扶件切）不知何許人也。少而英偉長勤梵學。遂負箱帙遍歷名山。至衡岳寺憩息月餘常於寺閑齋。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。𧦬疑其異。乃自述本緣。因加悔責。又曰。倘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。𧦬曰。豈終世若此乎。老僧曰。吾試為爾結緣。遂問𧦬。今有幾貲糧耶。𧦬曰。自南徂北。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。皆作糜餅油食之物。𧦬如言作之。約數十人食。遂相與至坰野之中散掇餅餌。焚香長跪。祝曰。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。𧦬由是精進不倦研摩。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。皆年二十餘。其老者無二三人焉。

Shi Zhibian's (pronounced *bian*) origins are unknown. In his youth he was eminent and remarkable, and as he grew up he was diligent in Sanskrit studies. Carrying his book-cases, he traversed famous mountains. Coming to the monastery of Mount Heng, he rested for more than a month, constantly dwelling alone in a quiet room of the monastery, unraveling the meaning of commentaries and treatises. He reproached himself, saying: "Does my understanding of the doctrinal principles not contravene the holy intent?" Sunk in profound, motionless contemplation, he happened to raise his head and saw an elderly monk shaking his staff as he entered, who said: "What sūtras or treatises are you reading, Master, and what principles are you examining?" Bian suspected he was extraordinary, so he recounted his original circumstances and added reproaches against himself, further saying: "If I could receive guidance from a worthy master, I would willingly accept it; I would hold my mouth and tie my tongue, never expounding again." The elderly monk smiled and said: "Your understanding is very broad, Master; how could you not know this principle? Even the Great Sage cannot deliver those who lack karmic affinity, how much less someone in the initial aspiration! You simply lack karmic affinity with sentient beings, that is all." Bian asked: "Must it be like this all my life?" The elderly monk said: "I will try to establish karmic ties for you." He then asked Bian: "How much provisions do you have now?" Bian said: "Traveling from south to north, tearing my robes to wrap my feet, I have crossed ten thousand miles; all that I carried is completely exhausted. I possess only the nine-strip robe I currently keep." The elderly monk said: "Just this will do. You must sell it, and with the price obtained, make gruel, cakes, and oily foodstuffs entirely." Bian made them as instructed, enough for several tens of people to eat. Thereupon they went together into the open wilderness and scattered the cakes and treats. Burning incense and kneeling long, he prayed: "May those who eat my dāna today become my Dharma kin in future ages; I shall teach them so they reach bodhi!" When he finished speaking, crows and birds descended in flocks to peck from the ground, while crickets, ants, flies, and midges were beyond count. The elderly monk said: "Only twenty years from now may you return to establish a Dharma seat; for now, wander about, as it is not yet suitable to preach." Having spoken, he departed. From then on, Bian made vigorous, untiring efforts in research, and the flavor of the doctrines grew richer, his aspiration set on transmission. When twenty years had passed, he returned to the north of the Yellow River and extensively transformed the people in Ye. His audience numbered well over a thousand, all in their twenties, among whom those of old age were no more than two or three.