法華傳記 4.46

4.46

Shi Shanhui, surnamed Gou, was a native of Wen in Henei. Widely versed in various texts, he commanded both literature and meaning; even down to the Nine Chapters [of Mathematics], the pitch pipes, calendars, and the waxing and waning of the seven luminaries, he grasped them all thoroughly as if clapping his hands in complete accord. Yet worldly affairs would ultimately end in the mire; so he cast off his coarse garments, removed his hairpin, and first entered the ranks of the Saṅgha. At first, he recited the Lotus Sūtra and listened to lectures on the She dasheng lun (Mahāyānasaṃgraha) at Pengcheng Monastery in Xuzhou. At that time he encountered bandit insurrections, where warfare and famine encroached on each other. Yet Hui bore hunger, encouraged himself, and served the Dharma without fatigue, washing away impurities and guarding cleanliness with ever-increasing diligence. In those days, the clerics and scholars of the border towns made errors in the written characters, and when it came to pronunciation and glosses, opinions were clamorously divided. Although vernacular usage was current, Hui’s intention was to adhere to elegance and correctness. He inquired widely among the enlightened, yet came back with his former doubts. Thus in the closing years of the Daye era, carrying his tin staff, he went west. He repeatedly encountered bandit groups and his clothes were stripped nearly bare, with only a piece of cloth to cover himself; yet he still held his broken flask to serve always for pure use. Having reached the customs pass, he lacked travel documents; thereupon, holding right mindfulness, he advanced straight ahead and crossed through the gate. At that time, weapons were lined up outside and inside, yet no one stopped him. In the first month of winter, the tenth month, he first arrived at the capital. He happened upon the monk Jizang lecturing on the Lotus Sūtra, which deeply accorded with his original intention, so he took refuge and listened. His appearance and clothing were wretched and ragged, and the assembly would not admit him. He then swept the snow to sit upon the ground, with only a single hem to cushion his seat. As soon as the lector began to chant, he inclined his ear to each phrase, verifying the sūtra text. As Jizang expounded, he received the teachings with a courageous heart, hoping that principle would penetrate the meaning. Striving for both [letter and spirit], he had no time to bear the cold, smiling with joy as if a merchant acquiring a jewel; he remained thus throughout the winter. Only then did the assembly admire him. When they questioned him on the purport of the words, he set them forth without forgetting anything. Hearing the Dharma, he belonged together with the monk Faxi of Chanding Monastery, who took off his robe to welcome him and led him into his room. Their wise contemplation was unadulterated; Hui took Xi as his teacher, and both fostered the fragrant standards. In the early years of the Wude era, he moved to reside at Jinliang Monastery in Lantian. The local customs were originally those of the Lirong, mutually obstinate and perverse; he guided and transformed them so that nine out of ten households were reformed. Furthermore, he loved the talented and worthy by nature and took pleasure in inviting them; from west to east for more than a hundred li, he established meditation cloisters in famous groves and scenic places, so that recluses relied on them to live in peace. In the first month of the ninth year of the Zhenguan era (635 CE), he passed away in the Liangquan Hermitage on the southern slope of Mount Li, at the age of forty-nine. When Hui first cast aside secular classics to attend to this profound model, his words never reverted to worldly matters; he concentrated his mind on the work of the Way, sparing with words and moderate with food, embracing the vinaya and cherishing benevolence, welcoming and housing travelers. He deeply valued the sūtra teachings, among which he recited the Lotus Sūtra without altering his purpose. If there were texts he had never seen, he insisted on viewing them personally; if he encountered essential practices, he would chant and recite them for days on end as the foundation of his karmic habituation.