神僧傳 3.26

3.26

Shi Sengchou was surnamed Sun. His origins were from Changli, but he later resided in Yingtao of Julu. His disposition was pure and admirable. With a single glance at the Buddhist scriptures, he understood them with miraculous clarity. When he shaved his head and became a novice as a youth, his companions, whenever they had leisure, would often engage in wrestling matches for sport. Sengchou, being frail and weak, was bullied and humiliated. Sengchou felt ashamed of this, so he entered the hall, shut the door, embraced the feet of the Vajrapāṇi [statue], and vowed: 'Because I am feeble and weak, I am treated with contempt and humiliated by my peers. You are renowned for your strength; you should protect me. I shall hold your feet for seven days, and you must grant me strength. If you do not grant it, I will surely die without any thought of returning.' When it reached the sixth day, as dawn was breaking, the form of the Vajrapāṇi appeared, holding a bowl of sinews in his hand. He said to Sengchou: 'Lad, if you desire strength, you must eat these sinews.' Sengchou declined on the grounds of his fast, unwilling to eat. The deity then frightened him with his pestle. Terrified, Sengchou ate them. Once he had eaten, the deity said: 'You now possess great strength. Yet, uphold the teachings well and exert yourself.' The deity departed and dawn arrived. He then returned to his quarters. His peers again mocked and bullied him. Sengchou said: 'I possess strength now; I fear you will not be able to bear it.' The crowd tried pulling his arm, but his sinews and bones were extraordinarily tough and strong, scarcely human. Just as they were startled and doubtful, Sengchou said: 'I shall test it for you.' He then entered the hall and walked horizontally across the wall, taking several hundred paces from west to east. He also leapt up so his head reached the beams several times, and then lifted weights of a thousand jun. His fists were swift and agile, moving so astoundingly as to terrify all who heard. The crowd was all awestruck and submissive. He once stayed at Songyue Monastery. There were a hundred monks, and the spring water was barely sufficient. Suddenly, a woman in tattered clothes holding a broom was seen sitting back upon the steps, listening to the monks chanting scriptures. The assembly did not realise she was a spirit, so they scolded and dismissed her. The woman showed resentment, stamped her foot upon the spring, and the water immediately dried up, while she also disappeared. The assembly reported this to Sengchou. Sengchou called out, 'Upāsikā!' Calling three times, she finally emerged. He then said to the spirit: 'The assembly of monks is practicing the Way; you should offer them protection.' The woman poked at the old spring with her foot, and the water immediately surged upward. The assembly marveled at this. Later, he went to Mount Wangwu west of Huai Prefecture to cultivate the aforementioned practices. Hearing two tigers fighting, their roars shaking the cliffs, he used his tin staff to part them in the middle, and each went their separate ways. Once, two scrolls of immortal scriptures suddenly appeared upon his bed. Sengchou said: 'I originally cultivate the Buddha's Way; how could I be bound by worldly longevity?' Having spoken, in a moment they vanished of themselves. Later, he moved to Mount Qingluo to receive offerings from those with various pestilential diseases; he did not loathe their stench and suppurations, finding it as sweet as shepherd's purse. After sitting long and becoming fatigued, he stretched his legs before the bed; a deity immediately supported him and made him sit cross-legged again. Because of this, he repeatedly entered samādhi, each time making seven days the period. Hearing of an imperial summons, he utterly refused to accept the order; only after earnest and strenuous exhortations did he finally grant the request. On the day he shook his robes to depart the mountain defile, two peaks suddenly shook with a terrifying tremor, and the sound was sorrowful and piercing, frightening and disturbing people, livestock, birds, and beasts, which flew and fled. This went on for three days. Sengchou looked back and said: 'Yearning for the Way and cherishing benevolence—such affinities are everywhere. Is it not that feelings of attachment are easily kept, while letting go is difficult to uphold?' Thereupon, without letting affairs detain him, he leaned on his staff toward Zhangfu. Another time, a guest monk carrying a tin staff newly arrived; as they were about to arrange his lodging, they asked about his monastic age. He replied: 'I have seen this place become a saṅghārāma three times.' With these words, he vanished. Afterwards, when they dug the ground to make a well, they indeed found two ridge-end tiles. In front of the meditation cave where he resided, there was a deep abyss. He saw a hairy man of grand stature and foreign appearance set up a cauldron and light a fire; the water was about to boil. Suddenly a large python emerged from the water and wanted to enter the cauldron. Sengchou pushed it with his foot, and the python went back into the water, while the hairy man also vanished. That night, a male spirit came, bowed his head to Sengchou, and said: 'Your disciple has sons who are devoured year after year by an evil spirit. My sons value their lives and dare not face it. Your disciple is frail, old, and about to die, so I offered myself as food. By the Master's power, I was spared this calamity.' Sengchou asked for water and sprayed it; instantly it turned into clouds and mist. At that time, someone slandered Sengchou to Emperor Xuan, claiming he was arrogant and disrespectful. The emperor was furious and came in person to inflict harm. Sengchou knew this through his supernatural insight. In his whole life he had never gone to the monks' kitchen, yet suddenly for no apparent reason he went and said: 'Tomorrow a great guest will arrive; make abundant provisions.' By the fifth watch of the night, he prepared an ox carriage in advance and went alone to the mouth of the valley, more than twenty li from the monastery, standing alone by the roadside. Soon the emperor arrived, and, surprised, asked the reason. Sengchou said: 'I feared my bodily blood was impure and would defile the saṅghārāma, so I waited here.' The emperor said to the Minister of Personnel Yang Zunyan: 'How could one slander such a True Person?' He then said [to Sengchou]: 'We have not seen the supernatural wonders of the Buddha; could we perhaps behold them?' Sengchou said: 'This is not appropriate for a śramaṇa.' The emperor insisted. He then cast his kāṣāya upon the ground. The emperor ordered dozens of men to lift it, but they could not move it. Sengchou ordered a novice to fetch it, and at first it had no weight at all. The wife of Du Chang of Songyang, Lady Liu, was extremely jealous. There was a maid named Jinjing; Chang washed his hair and had her groom it. Lady Liu cut off both of her fingers. Soon after, Lady Liu was pricked by a bramble and both of her fingers fell off. There was also a maid named Yulian who could sing well; Chang loved her and praised her skill, so Lady Liu cut out her tongue. Later, Lady Liu's tongue ulcerated and rotted, and the situation became critical; she went to Sengchou to repent. Sengchou already knew beforehand and said to Lady Liu: 'Because of your jealousy, Madam, you previously severed the maid's fingers and have already lost both of your fingers; you also severed the maid's tongue, and now your tongue is likewise bound to be severed. Only if you repent with utmost sincerity can you be spared.' Lady Liu bowed her head and begged for mercy. After seven days, Sengchou opened his mouth wide and chanted a spell over her. Two snakes emerged from her mouth, each more than a foot long. He urgently chanted the spell and they dropped away; her tongue also recovered. When he was about to pass away, a wondrous fragrance filled the monastery; those who smelled it were awe-stricken. Soon, on the appointed day, in accordance with the imperial decree, the fourfold assembly filled the mountain, totaling tens of thousands of people, with thousands of scented firewood logs. When the sun was at its zenith, it was set ablaze with fire. None did not weep in sorrow, their cries echoing through the river valley. Soon, several hundred white birds hovered above the smoke, crying mournfully in harmony, and only departed after a long while.