華嚴經傳記 4.18

4.18

釋普安。姓廓氏。京兆涇陽人。小年依圓禪師出家。苦節損削世務。而性在和忍。不喜怨酷。或代執勞役。受諸懃苦。情甘如薺。恐其事盡。晚投藹法師。通明三藏。常業華嚴。讀誦禪思。依之標擬。周氏滅法。栖隱兮終南山之楩梓谷西岐。深林自庇。廓居世表。潔操泉石。連蹤巢甫。又引靜淵法師。同止林野。轉擇幽奧。資承玄理。加以遵修苦行。亡身為物。或露形草莾。施諸蚊虻。流血被身。初無懷憚。或委身臥屍。用施豺虎。望存生捨。以祈本志。而虎豹雖來。皆嗅而不食。常懷耿芥。恨不副其情願也。于時天地既閉。象教斯蒙。國令嚴重。不許逃難。京邑名德三十餘僧。避地終南。投骸未委。安乃總召翔集。洲渚為心。幽密安處。自在顯露。自行乞索。不懼嚴誅。故得衣食俱豐修業無廢。亂世知士。安其謂歟。時有重募。投獲一僧。賞物十段。有人應募來欲執安。安則慰喻曰。觀卿貧煎。當願相給。為設食已。俱共入京。帝語此人曰。我國法急不許道人民間。爾復助急。不許山中。若爾遣他。何處得活。朕觀此道人。神采志氣。非苟求活者。宜放入山。不須撿挍。爾後屢遭擒訪。獲免如前。時藹法師。避難在義谷杜映世家。堀窯藏之。安被放還。因通禮覲。藹曰。安公神志絕倫。不避強禦。蓋難及也。安曰。今蒙脫難。乃惟受持華嚴力耳。凡所祈誠。莫不斯賴。因請藹還山。親自經理。四遠承風。投遠非一。藹乃與安。更開其所住。具如別傳。隋文創曆。佛教大興。廣募遺僧。依舊安置。時楩梓一谷三十餘人。應詔出家。竝居官寺。唯安欣茲重復。不為名馳。依本山居。守素林壑。時有清信士。於子午豹林兩谷合㵎之側。結茅鑿窟。延而處之。初有大石。正當其上。恐下損屋。將欲轉之。安念曰。願移餘處。莫損龕舍。石遂迸避餘所。眾怪歎。安曰。華嚴力也。龕東石壁㵎左。有素頭陀者。鄉川巨害。縱橫非一。陰嫉安德。思將誅殄。與伴三人。持弓挾刃。攘臂挽絃。將欲放箭。箭不離絃。弓不離手。怒眼舌噤。立住經宿。唯得出聲喚叫而已。行路聞之。遠近雲會。鄉人稽首。歸誠謝焉。安曰。余了不知。蓋華嚴力也。若欲除免。但令懺悔。如語教之。方蒙解脫。又龕西魏村張暉者。以盜為業。夜往安所。私取佛油瓮受五斗。背負而出。既至院門迷昏失性。若有所縛。不能動轉。眷屬鄉村同來為謝。安曰。余不知蓋華嚴力乎。語令懺悔。扶取油瓮。如語得脫。又龕南張卿者。來盜安錢。袖中持去。既造家內。寫而不出。口噤無言。鄉人家室。將其歸懺依經遂免有程廓村程暉和者。頗懷信向。恒來安所。聽受法要。因患致死。已經兩宿。纏屍於絕向欲棺殮。安時先往𨝽縣。返還在道。行達西南之德行寺。東去暉村五里。遙喚程暉和何為不見迎耶。連喚不已。田人告曰。和久死矣。何由迎也。安曰。斯乃浪語。吾不信之。尋至其村。厲聲大喚。和遂動身。傍親見之。乃割繩令斷。安入其庭。又大喚之。和即屈起。匍匐就安。令屏棺除器。覆一筈筌。以當佛坐。令和遶旋。尋服如故。更壽二十許載。後遇重病。來投乞救。安曰。放爾。遊蕩非吾知也。便遂命終。時安風聲搖逸。請謁肩隨。興建福會。每多通感。有昆明池北白村老母者。病臥床枕。先瘖百日。指撝男女。思見安形。子念母意。請安至宅。病母既見不覺下迎。言問起居。奄同常日。遂失病所在。于時聲名更振。村聚齊集。各率音樂。巡家告令。欲設大齊大會。村中白遺生者。家途壁立。而有四女。妻著弊布齊膝而已。四女赤露逈無條綫。大女名華嚴。年已二十。唯有麁布二尺。擬宛布施。安引村眾。次至其所居。愍斯貧苦。遂度而不入大女思念。由我貧煎。不及福會。今又不修。當來倍此。周遍求物。閴耳不從。仰面悲號。遂見一把亂𥞪用塞明孔。挽取抖擻。得穀十餘顆。採以成米。并將前布。擬用隨喜。身既無衣。待至夜暗。匍匐而行。趣齋供所。以前施物。遙擲眾中。十餘粒米。別奉炊飯。因發願曰。女人窮業。亦自昔種得。竭貧行施。用希來報。以十餘粒黃米。投飯甑中。必若至誠。貧業盡者。當願所炊之飯。變成黃色。如無所感。命也奈何。作是誓已。掩淚而返。於是甑中。五石米飯。竝成黃色。大眾驚嗟。未知所以。周尋緣搆。乃云。白遺生女之願力也。齋會之齊率。獲粟十斛。尋用齊之。安等後以事聞奏。遂得度華嚴。出家住寺。終身受持華嚴經也。安居處雖隱。每行慈救。年常二社。血祀者多。周流救贖。勸修德義。遂使不殺之邑十會而九焉。甞於龕側村中。縛猪三頭。將如烹宰。安聞往贖。社人恐不得殺。求價十千。安曰。貧道見有三千。可以相與。眾各不同。更相忿競。忽有小兒羊皮裹腹。來至社會。助安贖猪。既見爭競。因從乞酒。行飯行舞。煌焜旋轉。合社老小眼竝失明。須臾自隱。不知所在。安即刀自割肉告曰。此彼俱肉耳。猪喫糞穢。爾尚噉之。況人食米。理豈不貴也。社人聞見。一時同放。猪既得脫。繞安三匝。以鼻喙觸。若有喜謝之儀。故使郊之西南五十里之內鷄猪絕祀。乃至于今。其感發慈善。皆此類也。性多誠信。樂讀華嚴。一鉢三衣。累紀彌勵。開皇八年。頻勅入京。為皇儲門師。長公主營建靜法寺。後住延興寺。名雖帝宇。常寢巖阿。以大業五年十一月五日。終于靜法禪院。春秋八十遺。骸於終南。起塔在至相寺之側矣。

Shi Pu'an, whose lay surname was Guo, was a native of Jingyang in Jingzhao. In his youth, he went forth from the household life under the Dhyāna master Yuan. Maintaining austere discipline, he curtailed worldly affairs; yet by nature he was harmonious and forbearing, having no taste for resentment or harshness. He would take the place of others in performing heavy labor, enduring diverse toils and hardships. His mind tasted bitterness as sweet as shepherd's-purse, yet he only feared that the tasks would come to an end. Later, he entrusted himself to the Dharma master Ai, thoroughly mastering the Three Baskets. He made the Avataṃsaka his regular practice, reading, reciting, and meditating upon it, taking it as his model and guide. When the Zhou dynasty suppressed the Dharma, he dwelt in seclusion on the western branch of Pianzi Valley in the Zhongnan Mountains. Sheltered by deep forests, he lived secluded beyond the worldly realm, keeping his conduct pure amid the springs and rocks, following in the footsteps of Chaofu and Xuyou. He also invited the Dharma master Jingyuan to reside together with him in the wild woods, seeking out even more secluded and profound places to inherit and carry forward the abstruse principles. In addition, he observed and practiced ascetic disciplines, sacrificing his own body for the sake of other beings. At times he exposed his body in the wild grass to offer it as food to mosquitoes and gnats, with streams of blood covering his body, never harboring any dread. At other times he cast himself down to lie like a corpse, offering himself to jackals and tigers, hoping to surrender his living body to fulfill his original aspiration; yet though tigers and leopards came, they all merely sniffed him and did not eat. He constantly harbored regret in his heart, lamenting that they did not fulfill his wish. At that time, heaven and earth were closed, and the image teachings were obscured. The state's decrees were strict and severe, forbidding anyone to flee the catastrophe. More than thirty monks of eminent virtue from the capital, taking refuge in the Zhongnan Mountains, were at a loss as to where to cast their bodies. Pu'an then summoned them all to gather like birds, harboring the mind of a safe haven. He settled them in hidden, secluded places, while he himself openly and freely went about begging for alms, without fear of severe punishment. Thus they were provided with abundant food and clothing, and their cultivation suffered no neglect. To be a wise man in an age of disorder—does this not describe Pu'an? At that time there was a high bounty: whoever turned in or captured a monk was rewarded with ten bolts of fabric. Someone responding to the bounty came wanting to seize Pu'an. Pu'an comforted and reasoned with him, saying, “Seeing how you are tormented by poverty, I truly wish to provide for you.” After preparing food for him, they entered the capital together. The emperor said to the bounty hunter, “The laws of our realm are strict and do not permit religious persons among the populace; yet you add further severity by not even permitting them in the mountains. If you drive them away like this, where can they survive? As I observe this man of the Way, his spirit and resolve are not those of one who merely seeks to stay alive. He should be released back into the mountains; there is no need to interrogate him.” Afterward, Pu'an was repeatedly captured and questioned, yet was pardoned each time as before. At that time, the Dharma master Ai was taking refuge from the persecution at the family home of Du Yingshi in Yigu, hiding inside an excavated pit. When Pu'an was released and returned, he went to pay his respects. Ai said, “Reverend An’s spirit and resolve are peerless; not shrinking before violent power, you are indeed hard to match.” Pu'an said, “That I have now escaped this hardship is solely due to the power of upholding the Avataṃsaka. Whatever I have prayed for with sincere devotion has entirely relied upon this.” He then invited Ai to return to the mountain and took charge of managing things himself. Those in all four directions heard of his reputation, and not a few came from afar to join him. Ai and Pu'an then further expanded their dwelling, as is fully recorded in his separate biography. When Emperor Wen of the Sui founded the dynasty, Buddhism flourished greatly. A wide search was made for the surviving monks, and they were reinstated as before. At that time, more than thirty people from the single valley of Pianzi were ordained in response to the imperial decree, and all resided in official monasteries. Only Pu'an, while rejoicing in this restoration, did not run after renown; remaining in his original mountain dwelling, he kept to simplicity amid the forested ravines. At that time, there was a pure-faith layman who built a thatched hut and excavated a grotto at the confluence of the two valleys of Ziwu and Baolin, inviting Pu'an to dwell there. At first, there was a large rock hanging directly overhead; fearing that it might fall and damage the building, they intended to move it. Pu'an thought, “May it move to another place, and not damage the shrine.” The rock thereupon broke away and fell aside to another location. The assembly marvelled with praise, but Pu'an said, “It is the power of the Avataṃsaka.” To the east of the shrine, on the left side of the rocky cliff and stream, there was a certain Ascetic Su, who was a great menace in the countryside, acting lawlessly on many occasions. Secretly jealous of Pu'an’s virtue, he plotted to destroy him. Together with three companions, carrying bows and holding blades, he bared his arms and drew his bowstring, intending to shoot. Yet the arrow would not leave the string, nor the bow leave his hands; with glaring eyes and his tongue stiffened, he remained standing through the night, able only to cry and shout aloud. Wayfarers who heard this gathered like clouds from near and far. The local villagers bowed their heads and made sincere apologies. Pu'an said, “I know nothing of it; it is probably the power of the Avataṃsaka. If you wish to be freed, just have him repent.” He instructed him as such, and only then was he released. Furthermore, to the west of the shrine lived Zhang Hui of the Wei village, who was a thief by trade. One night he went to Pu'an’s place and secretly took a jar of Buddha-lamp oil holding five dou, carrying it out on his back. When he reached the monastery gate, he became dazed, lost his senses, and was as if bound, unable to move. His family and fellow villagers came together to apologize. Pu'an said, “I know nothing of it; is it not the power of the Avataṃsaka?” He told him to repent and helped him take off the oil jar, and just as he said, the man was freed. Furthermore, a certain Minister Zhang to the south of the shrine came to steal Pu'an’s coins, carrying them off in his sleeve. But once he arrived inside his house, though he poured them out, they would not come out, and his mouth was paralyzed, unable to speak. His villagers and household brought him back to repent according to the sūtra, and he was thereupon freed. There was also Cheng Huihe of the Chengkuo village, who harbored considerable faith and constantly visited Pu'an’s dwelling to listen to and receive the essentials of the Dharma. He fell ill and died, and two nights had already passed. His corpse was tightly bound with cords and about to be placed in the coffin. Pu'an had earlier gone to Hu county, and was on his way back. Arriving at Dexingsi in the southwest, five li east of Hui’s village, he called out from afar, “Cheng Huihe, why do you not come to welcome me?” Calling repeatedly without pause, a farmer told him, “Huihe has been dead for a long time; how could he welcome you?” Pu'an said, “These are wild words; I do not believe them.” Soon he reached the village and shouted loudly with a stern voice. Huihe thereupon moved his body. When his relatives beside him saw this, they cut the cords. Pu'an entered his courtyard and shouted loudly again. Huihe immediately sat up, bent forward, and crawled toward Pu'an. Pu'an ordered the coffin removed and the funerary vessels cleared away, turned an inverted fish trap upside-down to serve as a Buddha seat, and had Huihe circumambulate it. Soon he was as healthy as before, and lived for some twenty more years. Later, falling gravely ill, he came to plead for help. Pu'an said, “I let you go [once], but roaming and idling are no concern of mine.” Huihe thereupon died. At that time, Pu'an’s renown spread far and wide, and those requesting an audience followed shoulder to shoulder. Whenever he established merit assemblies, extraordinary responses often occurred. North of Kunming Lake, there was an elderly mother in Bai village who was bedridden with illness, having been mute for a hundred days, communicating only by gesturing to her sons and daughters, longing to see Pu'an’s form. Her son, mindful of his mother’s wish, invited Pu'an to their home. When the sick mother saw him, without realizing it she stepped down to welcome him, exchanging greetings about daily life just as on ordinary days, and her illness vanished completely. At that time, his renown spread even further; whole villages gathered, each providing music, going from house to house announcing that they wished to host a great vegetarian feast and assembly. In the village lived Bai Yisheng, whose household was destitute with only bare walls, and who had four daughters. His wife wore tattered cloth that reached only to her knees, while the four daughters were completely naked, without a single thread of clothing. The eldest daughter, named Huayan, was already twenty years old; she had only two feet of coarse cloth, which she intended to give as an offering. When Pu'an led the villagers and arrived near her dwelling, pitying their poverty, he passed by without entering. The eldest daughter thought: “Because of our destitute suffering, I could not join the merit assembly. If I do not cultivate merit now, in the future it will be doubly worse.” She searched everywhere for something [to give], but found nothing at all. Looking up with a sorrowful cry, she saw a handful of tangled wild hemp stuffed into an aperture for light. Pulling it down and shaking it, she obtained a dozen or so grains of millet. She hulled them into rice, intending to use them along with the coarse cloth to rejoice in merit. Since she had no clothing on her body, she waited until the dark of night, then crawled along to the place of the vegetarian feast. She hurled her previous gift into the assembly from afar, and offered the dozen grains of rice separately to be cooked into rice. She then made a vow, saying: “A woman’s karma of poverty is also sown from the past; exhausting my poverty to make an offering, I hope for future retribution. Casting these dozen grains of yellow rice into the cooking vessel, if my sincerity is genuine and my karma of poverty is exhausted, may the cooked rice turn yellow. If there is no response, what can be done about my fate?” Having made this vow, she wiped away her tears and returned. Thereupon, the five dan of rice in the cooking vessel all turned yellow. The great assembly was astonished and sighed, not knowing the cause. Searching all around for the origin, they said, “It is the power of the vow of Bai Yisheng’s daughter.” From the contributions gathered at the vegetarian assembly, ten hu of grain were obtained and immediately used to provide for her. Pu'an and others later reported the matter to the throne, and Huayan was thereupon permitted to be ordained, dwelling in a monastery and upholding the Avataṃsaka Sūtra for the rest of her life. Although Pu'an lived in seclusion, he constantly practiced compassionate rescue. Every year at the two community sacrifice festivals, many animals were sacrificed with blood; he traveled around to ransom them, urging people to cultivate virtue and righteousness, so that in nine out of ten settlements, slaughter was ceased. Once, in a village beside his grotto, three pigs were tied up and about to be butchered. Hearing of this, Pu'an went to ransom them. The villagers, fearing they would not be able to slaughter them, demanded a price of ten thousand coins. Pu'an said, “I currently have three thousand, which I can give you.” The crowd disagreed, quarreling angrily among themselves. Suddenly a young boy, his belly wrapped in a sheepskin, arrived at the festival gathering to assist Pu'an in ransoming the pigs. Seeing the dispute, he begged for wine, and while walking around distributing food, he began to dance. With dazzling and spinning movements, all the villagers, young and old, were struck blind. In a moment he vanished of his own accord, leaving no trace behind. Pu'an then took a knife, cut flesh from his own body, and announced: “Both this and that are merely flesh. Pigs eat filth and excrement, yet you still eat them; how much more so with humans who eat grain—is that not even more valuable?” Seeing and hearing this, the villagers all released the pigs at once. Having been freed, the pigs circumambulated Pu'an three times and touched him with their snouts, as if displaying gratitude and joy. As a result, within fifty li southwest of the suburbs, the sacrificial slaughter of chickens and pigs ceased, down to the present day. His ways of inspiring compassion were all of this kind. He was deeply sincere in nature and took delight in reciting the Avataṃsaka. With only one bowl and three robes, he became ever more diligent through the decades. In the eighth year of the Kaihuang reign era, he was repeatedly summoned to the capital by imperial decree to serve as preceptor to the crown prince. The Eldest Princess established Jingfasi, and later he resided at Yanxingsi. Although his name was associated with imperial dwellings, he constantly slept in rocky grottoes. On the fifth day of the eleventh month in the fifth year of the Daye reign era, he died at the Jingfa Meditation Cloister at the age of eighty. His remains were left in the Zhongnan Mountains, and a stūpa was erected beside Zhixiangsi.