釋門自鏡錄 1.88

1.88

明解字昭義。姓姚吳興武康人也。童幼出家住西京普光寺。為性聰敏。少有文藻。琴書丹青時無與競。頗種三絕。然矜名淺識。滯酒荒情。蓋為文俠者所知。貞淳者所棄。每見無學問僧多號之驢子。顯慶五年天皇大帝造西明寺。搜集龍象以居之。其取一人令弘福寺靈閏法師詳擇可否。時有僚宰數人。俱來閏所。共薦明解。閏曰。公等國器名臣出言不易。宜求戒定慧學增長福田。何乃舉酒客畫師以當洪寄。官等失色流汗逡巡俯退。明解因其致憾。尤輕法化。俄而上徵四科。不間道俗。解應詔自舉射策昇第。喜謂友人曰。解今得捨驢子皮而復人身矣。因致酒歡會。述志為詩曰。一乘本非有。三空何所歸。幸得金門詔。行背玉毫暉。未能齊物我。猶懷識是非。賴爾同心契。知余志不違。幕齊雲葉。卷酒度榴花。飛寄語繩床執。辭君匡坐威。因題壁曰。老母在堂。袈裟去體。前途暗漆。浪穪明解。解惡之。未幾染疾自見。數十人形容詭異各執猛矩迎解。解大怖流汗。言未終而卒於東都擇善里。即龍朔元年八月也。後託夢於相知洛州淨土寺僧慧整曰。明解為不遵內教今大受罪。非常飢乏願有故念賜惠一餐。慧整夢中諾覺已設食。其夜纔睡。即見明解來愧謝之。至二年秋間。又託夢於畫工。我以不信佛法耽好外書。今大受苦。努力為我寫三二卷經。執手慇懃賦詩言別。教畫工讀十八遍令記。覺乃憶之。其為詩曰。握手不能別。撫膺還自傷。痛矣時陰短。悲哉泉路長。松林驚野吹。荒隧落寒霜。離言何以贈。留心內典章。畫工先不識字。忽覺乃倩人錄之。將示明解本生故舊。皆曰是明解文體也。莫不惻然。

Mingjie, styled Zhaoyi, had the secular surname Yao and was a native of Wukang in Wuxing. In his childhood, he underwent renunciation and lived at Puguang Monastery in the Western Capital. By nature intelligent and sharp, he had literary talent from a young age; in playing the zither, calligraphy, and painting, he was unrivaled in his time, possessing these three arts in abundance. Yet he boasted of his fame, was shallow in understanding, and became entangled in wine and wild passions. He was appreciated by literary eccentrics but spurned by the chaste and upright. Whenever he saw monks without learning, he would often call them 'donkeys.' In the fifth year of Xianqing, the Great Emperor of Heaven founded Ximing Monastery and gathered dragons and elephants (eminent monks) to reside there. To select one person, he ordered Dharma Master Lingrun of Hongfu Monastery to carefully evaluate the candidates. At that time, several high officials came together to Run's quarters and jointly recommended Mingjie. Run said: 'You gentlemen are vessels of the state and renowned ministers; your words carry great weight. You ought to seek learning in precepts, concentration, and wisdom to foster the field of merit. Why recommend a wine-drinker and painter to bear such a momentous responsibility?' The officials lost color, broke out in a sweat, hesitated, and withdrew in bows. Mingjie harbored resentment on account of this and held the teachings of the Dharma in even lower regard. Soon after, the Emperor summoned candidates across four categories, without distinguishing between monastics and laymen. Responding to the edict, Mingjie recommended himself, passed the policy questions, and advanced in the ranks. Overjoyed, he said to his friends: 'Today I have shed the skin of a donkey and regained a human body!' He then hosted a gathering with wine, expressing his aspirations in a poem: / 'The One Vehicle was originally non-existent; / To where do the three forms of emptiness return? / Fortunately receiving the summons of the Golden Gate, / I now turn my back on the radiance of the jade urna. / Unable to equalize self and others, / I still harbor distinctions of right and wrong. / Relying on you, my kindred spirits, / You know that my resolve has not been thwarted. / ... The curtain gathers clouds of leaves; / The passing wine measures pomegranate flowers. / Sending word flying to the masters of the rope-bed (monks): / I bid farewell to your imposing seated posture.' / He then wrote on the wall: 'My aged mother is at home; the kaṣāya has left my body. The road ahead is pitch black; in vain am I called "Mingjie" (Bright Understanding).' Mingjie felt uneasy about this. Before long, he fell ill and saw for himself several dozen people of bizarre appearance, each holding a fierce torch, coming to receive him. Mingjie was terrified and drenched in sweat. Before his words were finished, he died in Zeshan Ward of the Eastern Capital; this was in the eighth month of the first year of Longshuo. Later, he entrusted a dream to an acquaintance, the monk Huizheng of Pure Land Monastery in Luozhou, saying: 'Because I did not follow the inner teachings (Buddhism), Mingjie is now undergoing great punishment and is exceedingly hungry and exhausted. I hope that out of old affection you will grant me a single meal.' In the dream Huizheng agreed, and after waking he set out food. That night, as soon as he fell asleep, he saw Mingjie come to thank him with remorse. In the autumn of the second year, Mingjie again appeared in a dream to a painter, [saying]: 'Because I did not believe in the Buddha-Dharma and indulged in outer texts, I am now suffering greatly. Please do your utmost to copy two or three scrolls of sūtras for me.' Holding hands earnestly, he composed a farewell poem, teaching the painter to read it eighteen times to memorize it. Upon waking, the painter remembered it. The poem ran: / 'Holding hands, we cannot bear to part; / Clasping my breast, I grieve for myself again. / How painful that the daylight is so brief! / How sorrowful that the path to the springs (underworld) is so long! / In the pine grove, startled by wild winds; / In the desolate underground tomb, cold frost falls. / What can I give you at parting? / Keep your mind upon the inner canonical scriptures.' / The painter was previously illiterate, but having suddenly awoken, he asked someone to record it and showed it to Mingjie's old acquaintances from his home, all of whom said: 'This is indeed Mingjie's literary style.' None were not moved to sorrow.