弘贊法華傳 9.7

9.7

Śramaṇa Zhida was a monk of Su Temple in Yi Prefecture. His conduct was rather worldly, but he was skilled in chanting sūtras and regularly recited the Lotus Sūtra. At the age of twenty-three, in the sixth month of the third year of the Yuanhui reign era of the Song, he fell ill and died. His body remained warm and was not encoffined, and thus two days passed. His breath gradually returned, and on the morning of the third day he was able to speak. He recounted himself: When he first fell critically ill, he saw two men, both wearing yellow cloth trousers and jackets. One stood outside the door and the other went straight to his bed, saying, "The reverend should depart; you may step down to the ground." Zhida said, "This impoverished monk's body is weak and cannot endure walking the road." This man said again, "You may ride a palanquin." Thereupon a palanquin arrived, and when Zhida got in, his consciousness became bewildered, and he no longer saw his family, the room, or the palanquin he rode in. Looking as far as his eyes could see in all directions, he beheld only a desolate wilderness, with the roads rugged and perilous. Showing him the way, they climbed and trod along; the two men hurried him on so that he could not catch his breath. They arrived at a vermilion gate whose walls and portals were magnificent. Zhida entered and reached the foot of the hall. Upon the hall was a nobleman wearing a vermilion cap, sitting alone on a couch, his appearance stern and dignified, possessing great awe-inspiring authority. There were about a hundred guards to his left and right, all in red garments leaning on swords, ranked straight and formidable. When the nobleman saw Zhida, he composed his expression, sat upright, and addressed him, saying, "A person who has left household life, why have you accumulated so many transgressions?" Zhida said, "Since I attained awareness, I do not recall committing sins." He asked, "Have you recited the precepts or not?" Zhida said, "When I first received full ordination, I indeed practiced reciting them regularly. Recently, however, I neglected lectures, and constant affairs made me increasingly heedless, so in reciting the precepts I at times had lapses." He said again, "To be a śramaṇa and not recite the precepts is contrary to the Dharma. For now, you may read a sūtra." Zhida thereupon recited the Lotus Sūtra for three sections and ceased. The nobleman ordered the men who had brought Zhida, saying, "You may take him and place him in an evil realm, but do not subject him to great torment." The two men led Zhida away. After walking several tens of li, he gradually heard a deafening clamor of clashing noise boiling up to the heavens, while the road ahead grew increasingly dark. Next, they arrived at a gate several tens of zhang high, extremely hard and black in color—it was evidently an iron gate—and the walls were likewise. Zhida thought to himself, "The sūtras speak of hell; this must be it." He was seized with great terror, regretting that while in the world he had not cultivated meritorious practice. When he entered within the gate, the clamor grew louder, and listening quietly for a long while, he only then realized that it was the sound of people screaming. Inside the gate it grew darker, so that nothing could be seen; only now and then was there the light of flames, now extinguishing, now flaring up. He saw several people bound with their hands behind them walking forward, followed by several people stabbing them with pitchforks, their blood flowing like a gushing spring. One of those people was Zhida's paternal aunt; when they saw each other, they wished to speak, but someone dragged her along very swiftly, so she had no time to say anything. Two hundred or so paces inside the gate, he saw an object shaped like a grain bin, about a zhang or more in height. The two men seized Zhida and threw him onto the bin. Inside there was fire, which severely scorched Zhida's body; half of his body was completely roasted, the pain unbearable. He fell from the bin to the ground, unconscious. After a long while, the two men led Zhida away again, and he saw more than ten iron cauldrons, all boiling sinners. The people inside the cauldrons rose and sank with the boiling fluid; beside the cauldrons were people stabbing them with pitchforks. Some clutched the cauldrons trying to climb out, their eyes burst and protruding, their tongues extended more than a foot, their flesh completely shredded and roasted, yet still they did not die. All the cauldrons were full, and only one remained empty. The two men said to Zhida, "The reverend should enter into this one immediately." When Zhida heard their words, his liver and gall fell to the ground in terror. He then implored them, saying, "I beg you to grant this impoverished monk a moment to pay homage to the Buddha." He then bowed with utmost devotion, praying to be spared this suffering. Lying prostrate on the ground for the duration of a meal, he prayed and repented with extraordinary earnestness. After this, when he looked all around, he saw none of those things anymore, beholding only a flat plain with luxuriant trees, the landscape clear and bright. The two men were still leading Zhida along, and they arrived beneath a tower. The tower was tall and small; atop it was a person barely able to sit, who said to Zhida, "For a śramaṇa to receive a light retribution is indeed something to rejoice in." Beneath the tower, Zhida suddenly lost awareness, and returned to his present body.