English (machine translation)

Translation of 釋門自鏡錄

Language: English
Extent: 213 passages, 44,484 words
Text: complete digital text
Source: pramana-mt · Machine translation by Gemini 3.8 Flash (2026-10-21) of in.bauddha.taisho.2083 · Machine output without human authorship: no copyright is claimed (CC0 1.0). The original text keeps its own…

1 — 110 parts
2 — 100 parts

Text

1.1

Preface to the Record of Self-Reflection for Buddhists

1.2

Composed by the Śramaṇa Huaixin of Langu

I left home [for the monastic life] at the age of nine, and now more than sixty [years] have passed. As for strolling at ease through spacious halls, wandering in fragrant shade, resting the body in soft and light [garments], and dwelling in leisure and quiet—before the starlight has faded, fine viands of the ten benefits are already laid out; when the sun shines at noon, the choice delicacies of the three virtues are fully gathered. Knowing nothing of the exhausting toil of plowing and harvesting, unaware of the arduous labor of cauldron and cooking, sustaining a six-foot frame and preserving a hundred-year lifespan—by whose doing has this come to pass? It is indeed through the vow-power of our original teacher. Moreover, calculating roughly a span of fifty years: the food and drink [consumed] morning and noon has cost more than three hundred piculs; the clothing and medicines for cold and heat have cost more than two hundred thousand [cash]. Furthermore, the lofty gates and profound halls, the turquoise steps and vermilion pillars, the retinue of carriages and servants, the tables, desks, couches, and mats—the expense of these is boundless. Or again, when ignorance secretly arises, heterodox views proliferate, things are unlawfully discarded and consumed, and food and drink are taken at improper times—the cost of these is again difficult to measure. All of these come forth from the efforts of others to supply and support my use. Compared with the busy toil of [worldly] offices, how could one equate them and compare their suffering and joy? Thus we know that the teaching of great benevolence is supreme, and the power of great compassion is profound. What is more, the Tamer of the ten epithets regards me as a son and covers me; the devas, nāgas, and the eight classes regard me as a teacher and serve me. Though imperial monarchs are noble, they dare not treat [a monk] with the etiquette of a subject; hence his nobility can be known. Though venerable parents are weighty, they dare not regard [him] with the duties of a son; hence his venerability can be known. As for the vast four classes of commoners and the boundless nine lands, whose household is not my granary, and what person is not my son or younger brother? Therefore, when one raises the alms bowl and enters a chamber, sealed delicacies are promptly opened; when one shakes the tin staff and steps onto the thoroughfare, lax and haughty countenances turn solemn and reverent. The ancients, for the favor of a single meal, were still able to pledge their loyalty, and for the regard of a single word, would even lay down their lives. How much more so when, from crown to heel, all is the nourishment of the Tathāgata? From birth to death, all is the shelter of the Tathāgata! If formerly I had not encountered the Buddhadharma and had not met with renunciation, I would now be braving the frost and dew morning and night, toiling diligently in the fields dawn and dusk, rushing about in ten thousand ways, harassed by a thousand plights. Tattered rags and dusty hemp might not suffice to cover my form; wild greens and coarse porridge might not suffice to fill my mouth. How would I have leisure to look about in spacious halls, walk with a staff in quiet courtyards, trail my slippers in pure conversation, or bare my chest in idle banter; avoiding cold and heat, selecting the sweet and bitter, scolding youngsters, demanding carrying and drawing [of water], giving rein to the mind-horse to harm the herd, and letting the monkey of passion disport in the trees? Yet the three obstacles tower like clouds, and the ten fetters entangle and bind; illusory attachments disorder the mind, and wild foolishness brings distress and affliction. Repenting and reproaching oneself, but after a mere instant it has already shifted; grieving over it and lamenting it, but after a decade or a month it has suddenly changed. Or again, ascending the hall to pay reverence, weeping like rain in shame before the venerable icons; facing the shelves and opening the texts, shedding tears in remorse before the sacred teachings. Or wearing quails' clothes and eating wood, disciplining oneself through hardship and humiliation; diminishing wealth and casting off friends, enduring distress in solitary poverty—yet in the end one cannot bend the mountain of pride, quench the fire of desire, cast away coarse and vile sounds and sights, or escape the severe retribution of the boiling cauldrons. How painful! How painful! Therefore, ever grieving and ever weeping, the bitterness is limitless; Ākāśagarbha and Kṣitigarbha bring rescue and aid, yet there is no way. Furthermore, I repeatedly reflect upon myself and turn within to examine myself: my appearance, ears, and eyes are not inferior to ordinary people; my understanding, spirit, and feelings can mingle with renowned figures. By what merit was I born in the Central Land? By what good did I participate in renunciation? By what sin do I violate so many monastic restraints? By what fault am I obstinate and difficult to transform? Therefore, my mind is troubled as the sun sets, and I linger in sighs in the middle of the night, not knowing the way of salvation, nor discerning the method of reform. However, having received family training in youth and been moistened by the Śākya teachings early on, I have heard quite a few of the elders' bequeathed words, and frequently attended the lofty discourses of eminent monks. Gentlemen of three-fold deliberation rely on the flexible leather and bowstring as aids; guests on nine-fold winding roads look to proverbs and inscriptions for guidance. Therefore, I have thoroughly investigated successive generations and perused various treatises, gathering those low persons of like affliction and visiting wayfarers who have lost the ferry. Wherever there are those who slight the sacred words, make light of karmic burdens, indulge in dissoluteness without shame, and are recalcitrant, negligent, and unrestrained, which may serve as warnings and admonitions—all these I have collected and recorded. Thus I have selected ten categories and divided them into three scrolls, so that by viewing them morning and night, it may perhaps assist in one ten-thousandth. As for those who while sitting incur the retribution of a dragon, or while standing verify the body of a snake; the ox weeping as it ascends the slope, the camel braying as it circles the monastery; or beatings arriving together, the whole body burning with fire; or halberds and spears coming and going, blood flowing on cue; or tongues melting and eyebrows falling off; or losing one's nature and going mad; or taking a handful of vegetables and becoming a slave; or encroaching on a bundle of firewood and burning one's feet; lodging one's spirit in garden trees, slicing one's flesh to repay the kindness of donors; taking refuge within prison walls, transformed bones suffering the punishment of defaming others—what was not seen in the past is seen today; what was not known before is now first known. Crying to heaven and beating the earth cannot undo it; broken gallbladders and shattered livers are beyond remedy. At such a time, parents with a hundred bodies cannot ransom one; relatives and guests rushing in all four directions cannot rescue one; stored-up bribes are laid out in vain; those at one's left and right beating their chests—of what help is it? Where is the past mirth and fine joy now? On what can the former companions and kin be relied? Alas! In the morning a person of supreme virtue chants the pauses in the long gallery; in the evening he is an untimely deceased youth mourned in sorrow within the dark chamber. This does not belong to those people alone; reflecting on my own body, it may well happen to me! If in a hundred years one should encounter it even once, how could shame and remorse ever end? Can one not be grieved? Can one not be terrified? Therefore, I have compiled their beginnings and ends and placed them at my side, intending to encourage the admonition inscribed on the sash, hoping to pray for the merit of overcoming the enemy. Wherever there are elegant proclamations of renowned sages, remarkable traces of wise men, the decline or flourish of the transforming Dharma, and the praise or blame of contemporary events, these too are appended and recorded, to entrust to comprehensive scholars. The ancients said: 'Though the hundred-year shadow departs, the thousand-year mind remains.' I truly hope that after a thousand years, people will know where my mind resided.

1.4

Table of Contents of the Record of Self-Reflection for Buddhists

1.5

Fascicle Upper
1. Record of the Long-Enduring Bondage of Karma
2. Record of Rebellious Icchantikas
3. Record of Despising and Slandering the Teachings of the Dharma
4. Record of Envying the Worthy and Grudging Transformation
5. Record of Anger, Hatred, Greed, and Meanness
6. Record of Secular Learning Being of No Benefit
7. Record of Laxity, Pride, and Lack of Diligence

1.6

Fascicle Lower
8. Record of Harming Living Beings and Injuring Compassion
9. Record of Unlawful Eating and Drinking
10. Record of Parsimony and Diminishing Saṃgha Property

1.7

Collected under the ten categories are seventy-three items in all (two chapters of elegant proclamations, deeds of seventy-one persons, with fourteen persons appended).

1.8

1. Record of the Long-Enduring Bondage of Karma

1.9

The Western Regions Sage Dharmamitra Being Born as a Dog for Five Hundred Lifetimes

1.10

After the Buddha's parinirvāṇa, in the mountains of Kaśmīra, there was a holy monk named Dharmamitra. His talent and wisdom were transcendent, and he was foremost in sitting meditation. Where Mitra dwelt there was a three-tiered cave. At that time, there were two monks who, having heard of his superior fame from afar, went purposely to pay homage to him. They saw the Venerable One in tattered clothes, ugly and exposed, before a stove in the lower cave, lighting a fire for the saṃgha in order to tame his body and mind. At that time, the two monks asked, saying, 'Where is the Elder Dharmamitra?' He replied, saying, 'He is in the uppermost room of that multi-tiered cave.' They then went to seek him out. The Venerable One, by his supernatural power, suddenly returned to his original room. When the two men saw him, they both gave rise to doubt and wonder, saying, 'The Great Worthy is a holy person whose majestic name fills Jambudvīpa. For what reason do you humble yourself to light a fire for the saṃgha?' Mitra said, 'You should know now: I contemplate the suffering endured in saṃsāra over a long time. If my head and hands could be burned, I would burn them both for the saṃgha. How much less should other parts of the body, or lighting a fire, be considered difficult? I remember in the past, during five hundred lifetimes, I constantly took the body of a dog, hungry, impoverished, and destitute. Though I passed through many bodies, I only twice obtained fullness of food. First, there was a man who drank wine, became heavily drunk, and vomited by the roadside; as I roamed I came across it and obtained a single full meal. Again, I once became a dog for a poor family; the husband and wife cooked porridge and placed it in a vessel, and having an errand, stepped out briefly. Because of hunger, I put my head into the vessel to eat it, and having eaten my fill, could not pull my head out. The people came and saw it; they gave rise to great anger, and then with a sharp knife cut off my head. Reflecting on myself, I received a dog's body five hundred times; though I encountered two full meals, I lost my life. Therefore I contemplate: saṃsāra is long-lasting, revolving through the five destinies; wherever one is born, there is none who does not suffer. Hence I do not fear hard labor now; why should I refuse to light a fire for the saṃgha?'

1.11

The Western Regions Sage Jayata Encountering a Ghost and a Crow and Lamenting the Longevity of Saṃsāra (from the Fu fazang zhuan)

1.12

Formerly, the Dharma-transmitting sage Jayata was entering a city with his disciples. Reaching the gate, he looked sad and displeased. Proceeding a little further along the road, he saw a crow and suddenly smiled faintly. The disciples wondered and asked about it, whereupon he answered, saying: 'Earlier, beneath the gate, I saw a hungry ghost child, starved, desperate, emaciated, and weak, who said of himself: "After my mother gave birth to me, she entered the city to seek food. Since we parted, five hundred years have passed; starved, empty, and destitute, my life will not last long." When I saw his mother, I fully recounted the child's message. The mother said: "I departed to enter the city and for a long time have sought food without obtaining any. Even if I obtained a little spittle, powerful ghosts snatched it away. Only today did I happen upon a person who vomited, with no other ghosts at his side, and I wished to give it to my child. However, beneath the gate there are many ghosts and spirits, and fearing it would be snatched away, I dared not carry it out. I wish the Venerable One would mercifully shelter me and take me out of the city, so that I may share the mucus and spittle I carry with my child." I also asked her: "How long have you lived?" She replied, saying: "I have seen this city form and disintegrate seven times." Hearing her words, I deeply lamented that saṃsāra is without boundary; therefore I furrowed my brow, looking sad and unhappy. Moreover, ninety-one eons ago in the past, I was at that time the son of an elder, and earnestly wished to renounce the household life, turning away from worldly desires. If I had renounced the household life, I would surely have severed all fetters and become an arhat. But because my parents would not comply with my wish, they forcibly arranged a wife for me, hoping to continue the lineage. Having failed to avoid it, I took a wife and fathered a son, and again sought to renounce the household life. When the child was six years old, the parents instructed the child: "If your father takes leave of us wishing to renounce the household life, you should hold his feet and say to your father: 'If you abandon me and leave, who will support me? You should first kill me, and only then may you leave.'" When I saw the child holding me, I gave rise to love and attachment, and said to the child: "I now, for your sake, will no longer renounce the household life." Because of this child, I failed to realize the Way. For ninety-one eons I drifted in the five destinies; in these bodies of birth and death, we never encountered each other. Now, with the eye of the Way, I see that he has been born among crows; pitying his infantile folly, it was for this reason that I smiled.'

1.13

The Western Regions Sage, the Pratyekabuddha Revata, Having Slandered Another for Stealing an Ox and Incurring Retribution

1.14

Formerly, west of the city in the kingdom of the Yuezhi, there was a great mountain; it was the dwelling place of the pratyekabuddha Revata. A fierce beast ascended here. Not far away, a man lost an ox, and tracking it, came to this mountain, happening upon this pratyekabuddha lighting a fire to dye his robes. Due to the power of past karma, at that exact time the bowl transformed into an ox's head, the Dharma robes transformed into an ox's hide, the dye broth transformed into blood, the dye dregs transformed into meat, and the firewood transformed into bones. Since the traces were thus, he was seized by the ox's owner and put into prison. The disciples searched for him, not knowing where he was. From then on, twelve years elapsed gradually. Later, through certain causes and conditions, they learned that he was in prison, and then said to the king, 'Our teacher is in prison; we pray the king grant a pardon.' The king asked the prison warden whether there was a monk. The prison warden said there was no monk. The disciples said to the king, 'We pray you summon those who are śramaṇas in the prison to come out; our master will emerge of himself.' The prison warden then called, and the pratyekabuddha immediately came out. This pratyekabuddha had been in prison for so long that his hair was long, his robes tattered, and his śramaṇa appearance destroyed. The disciples bowed and asked, saying, 'Why was our master here?' The master at that time answered with the events above. The disciples further asked, 'What cause did you create in a past life that now brought about this?' The master answered, saying, 'In past times I slandered another person for stealing an ox, which brought about this outcome.'

1.15

The Jin Śramaṇa Huidā Dying, Entering Hell, and His Past Violations of the Precepts (from the Mingxiang ji and others)

1.16

The monk Huida, whose secular surname was Liu and personal name was Sahe, was a native of Lishi in Hexi. When living at home, he was raised in the military, did not hear the Buddhadharma, valued weapons, and was fond of hunting. At the age of thirty-one he suddenly fell ill and died. His body remained warm and pliant, so his family did not dare encoffin him. After seven days he revived, recounting: When he was about to pass away, he saw two men seize and bind him to take him away, heading northwest. As they traveled, the road became steeper, gradually reaching a level thoroughfare lined on both sides with trees. He saw a man holding a bow and wearing a sword, standing in the middle of the thoroughfare, who pointed and told the two men to take Sahe to the west. He saw a great many buildings. Suddenly he saw two monks, who said to Sahe, "Do you recognize us?" Sahe answered, "I do not." The monks said, "You should now take refuge in Śākyamuni Buddha." Sahe gave rise to this thought according to their words. Thereupon he traveled along with the monks. Looking into the distance, he saw a city resembling the city of Chang'an, but of an extremely black color—it was indeed an iron city. He saw people of immense height, with skin as black as lacquer and hair trailing to the ground. The monks said, "These are ghosts in the hells." That place was bitterly cold, with ice like scattered flying stones: striking someone's head, the head was severed; striking their feet, the feet were severed; striking their arms, the arms were severed. The two monks said, "This is the Cold Ice Hell." Sahe then inwardly reproached himself and recognized his past lives, realizing that the two monks had both been his teachers back in the time of Vipaśyin Buddha. At that time, when he was able to become a monk, because he committed a secular transgression he was unable to receive the precepts; although a Buddha was present in the world, he never managed to see him. From then on, he twice obtained human rebirth: one lifetime among the Qiang, and his present life in the Jin lands. Next he saw the Hell of the Mountain of Knives, observing and witnessing a great many hells in sequence. Each hell was a distinct realm, not intermingling with the others, and the number of people was exceedingly large, beyond reckoning. The harsh punishments broadly corresponded with what is explained in the sūtras. Suddenly there was a pure, dazzling golden radiance, and a person about twenty feet tall, adorned with majestic marks, their entire body golden. Those to the left and right said, "It is the Great Being Avalokiteśvara!" All rose to welcome and pay homage. There were two monks of similar appearance walking side by side to the east and west. After Sahe finished paying homage, the Bodhisattva expounded the Dharma in full detail for him, uttering over a thousand words, and also said, "You were destined to undergo retribution for your sins across kalpas; however, because you once rejoiced at hearing the scriptural Dharma, you shall now undergo a light retribution in the present, escaping it entirely after just one pass. When you are revived, you may become a monk." Sahe met someone else who said to him, "Why did you kill a deer when you were in Xiangyang?" Sahe knelt and replied, "Someone else killed the deer; I merely added a spear thrust. Furthermore, I did not eat its flesh; on what grounds should I receive retribution?" At that moment he immediately saw the place where the deer was shot in Xiangyang, with the grasses, trees, mountains, and marshes distinctly before his eyes; the black horse he had ridden could also speak, fully testifying to the year, month, time, and day Sahe killed the deer. Sahe was terrified and had no answer. In an instant, someone pierced him with a pitchfork and cast him into a boiling cauldron. He watched as his four limbs disintegrated into mush. A wind blew his body together on the water's bank, and suddenly, without realizing it, his form was restored whole again. A person said to him again, "You also shot pheasants and once killed wild geese." Having spoken, they cast him into the boiling cauldron with a pitchfork, mincing him just as before. After undergoing these punishments, Sahe was dispatched to leave. Going forth, he entered a large city inhabited by people. Someone said to Sahe, "You have received a light retribution and are able to return to life again; this is supported by the power of merit. From now on, do not commit any more sins." A person was dispatched to escort Sahe. Sahe saw his former body in the distance and was unwilling to return; the escort pushed and pulled him, and only after a long time did he reattach to the form, whereupon he revived. He practiced the Dharma with vigorous diligence, and immediately renounced household life. His subsequent meditative awakenings and marvelous transformations are recorded in a separate biography.

1.17

The monk Daoguang of the Tang seeking ordination across many lifetimes but failing to obtain official registration (from the New Records)

1.18

The monk Daoguang was a native of Bingzhou. His secular surname was Zhang. His family was quiet and reclusive, ashamed to hold prestigious official posts. In his youth, Guang transcended the worldly and was long acquainted with the fasts and precepts. At the age of ten, he took leave of his parents to seek the Way everywhere, subsequently shaving his own head and wandering to dwell in Guanzhong. Later he served Vinaya Master Daoxuan, being especially noted for his practice and understanding. Turning his sincerity and dedicating his thoughts, he inquired and received instructions morning and evening; as for his filial nourishment and care in cold and heat, he far surpassed his peers. Because his devotion and propriety were both consummate, Xuan instructed and guided him all the more; after decades of diligent study, he ultimately became a great vessel. However, when the reign of Yonghui succeeded to the throne, imperial attention turned to the Buddhist order, and ordinations were granted frequently; yet Guang missed out each time due to lacking the necessary karmic conditions, perpetually harboring shame, resentment, and dissatisfaction in his heart. Around the Linde era, because of his precept virtue, Xuan was suddenly visited by celestial spirits coming and going, conversing with him over several months about the profound principles; from several past Buddhas down to the present, all their actions, sit-ins, times, and places were detailed completely. Xuan took the opportunity to inquire about the scriptural and Vinaya permissions and prohibitions, and the origins of sacred traces, subsequently composing a Comprehensive Record in one section of ten fascicles. Furthermore, in an hour of leisure, he asked the celestial spirit, saying, "I, Xuan, have a disciple named Daoguang whose filial love is pure and utmost; I do not know what karma could cause this." The spirit said, "Guang and you, Vinaya Master, have been father and son, master and disciple, for over three hundred lifetimes. Because their affectionate intimacy has endured for so long, this is the result; the residual retribution and remaining affinities are not yet exhausted even today." He asked again, "Guang has repeatedly sought ordination to receive the precepts, yet it has never matched his wish; what karma has caused this?" The spirit said, "In the past, during the time of Vipaśyin Buddha, Guang was once a vihārasvāmin. At that time, there was a monk whose observance of the precepts was deficient in many ways. The vihārasvāmin was angered by him and sent him away to return to secular life. Because of this karma, lifetime after lifetime when he enters the Way, he cannot obtain official registration. The lingering calamity of this karma is still not exhausted today." After Xuan died, Guang sought a place to reside in the east and west, eventually settling north of the Yellow River. In the second year of Shangyuan, Emperor Tianhuang, on behalf of Emperor Xiaojing, restored Baima Monastery. The vihārasvāmin Chongyi searched exhaustively; because Guang's reputation had long been evident, he answered this auspicious selection, and his name was submitted to the inner palace. Guang then contracted an illness; by the time the imperial decree descended upon Weizhou, his body had already passed away. This proved the celestial words were true indeed. There was Dhyāna Master Baoliang, who had associated with Guang for several years, repeatedly heard Guang speak of this, and quietly kept it in mind; upon hearing that his registration was achieved just as his life ended, he finally understood that his karmic destiny was indeed so, and recounted it fully to me.

1.19

Record of Rebellious and Refractory Icchantikas, Part 2

1.20

Daozhi of the North Duobao Monastery under the Song stealing the ūrṇā pearl of an image and suffering pain (with the nun Zhitong appended)

1.21

It is not known where Daozhi came from. He renounced household life in his youth and lived at the North Duobao Monastery under the Song dynasty. He once managed the halls and pagodas, secretly pilfering curtains, canopies, and other goods; later, he went so far as to steal the ūrṇā pearl from between the eyebrows of an image. Afterwards, he bored a hole through the wall, making it look as though an outside thief had done it; therefore, the monastic assembly was unable to detect it. After more than ten days, he fell ill, seeing strange men pierce him with spears and lances. Coming and going at intervals, he would shriek in alarm whenever they came, blood flowing in response to his cries. At first it happened like this twice a day, but afterwards it grew increasingly severe, the piercings becoming more frequent; wounds and injuries covered his entire body, and his groaning never ceased. The monks of the monastery strongly suspected he had committed a transgression and wished to perform repentance on his behalf; when they first questioned him, he still concealed it and would not speak. Two or three days before his end, he finally confessed it all himself, weeping and pleading for deliverance, saying, "I was foolish and defiant, blind to the Way, thinking there would be no suffering of mud and charcoal; losing my senses, I committed transgressions and brought about this harsh calamity. In life I suffer beatings and torture; in death I shall be ensnared by knives and cauldrons. For my already mangled body, please only bestow pity and compassion! I have no other belongings; only my clothing, bedding, felts, and shoes might suffice for a communal assembly, and you must invite my old friends to repent on my behalf. In the past I stole two ūrṇā pearls from the image: one has already come into the possession of an old woman and can no longer be retrieved; the other was pawned for money at Chen Zhao's house, and can now be redeemed." Having finished speaking, he died. After redeeming the ūrṇā pearl, [the monks] also arranged a vegetarian feast of repentance. At first, when the artisan installed the pearl, turning and rotating it back and forth, it would not fit properly. Only after the assembly of monks bowed and burned incense on its behalf could it be fitted. More than a year later, at dusk, his fellow students heard a voice in the air; listening closely, it was Daozhi's voice. It said, "Since my death, I have been fully subjected to agony and torment; many years and kalpas lie ahead with no date of release. Thanks to the monastic assembly's compassionate deliverance and protection in redeeming the ūrṇā pearl, within this harsh suffering there are occasional respites. My gratitude is boundless, so I have come briefly to give thanks." Having said this, it ended. While hearing his words, an unspeakably rancid and putrid stench arose, which subsided slightly once the speech ended. This occurred at the end of the Taishi era.

1.22

The nun Zhitong renounced household life in her youth and lived at the Jianjing Monastery in the capital. Her faith in the Way was not firm. In the ninth year of Yuanjia, her teacher died; she abandoned the Way and married Liang Xifu of Wei Commandery as his wife, giving birth to a boy. When he was six or seven years old, the family was extremely poor, with nothing to clothe him. While Tong was a nun, she had several rolls of silk sūtras such as the Sukhāvatīvyūha and the Lotus Sūtra; she boiled and pounded them all to clothe her child. After living thus for a year, she fell ill, trance-like and alarmed, her entire body peeling and rotting like burn sores. Fine white maggots emerged at a rate of more than a pint a day; in agonizing pain and virulent distress, she wailed day and night. A voice was heard in the air saying, "For destroying sūtras to make clothing, she receives this severe retribution." She died after more than ten days.

1.23

Yantong of the Northern Qi stealing money, shaming an image, contracting leprosy in his present body, and sinking into the earth (from the Traditions and Records of Guanzhong Customs)

1.24

It is not known where Yantong came from. Although he mingled among the clergy, his inclinations were largely foolish and base; relying upon meritorious deeds, he sought to enrich himself. He once cast a large bronze image, but the halo, pedestal, and attendant figures were all omitted. The donated funds he received were routinely pocketed for himself, and he called the image the "revenue-yielding slave." Later, after a long time had passed without receiving a single scrap, Tong took up a staff and said to the image, "Slave, why do you not yield revenue?" He was about to beat it, but before he could raise his hand, he suddenly saw a man twenty feet tall, clad in armor, glaring with angry eyes and coming straight forward, saying, "Worthless wretch! How can you bear to treat a Buddha image like this?" He then seized him by the neck, lifting him several feet off the ground, and whipped him with an iron staff, blood flowing all over his body from head to foot. Tong screamed and pleaded for mercy, his voice heard far and near; among monastics and lay onlookers, none failed to be chilled to the heart. After ten days, beneath the staff wounds, leprous sores further erupted, as large as peaches and apricots, oozing and discharging pus; his entire body turned crimson, as though on fire. Several paces away, the feverish heat radiated outward. Tong could only wail day and night, tossing and turning in pus and blood. After more than a hundred days, the ground in his room sank several feet, and thereupon he died.

1.25

Sili of the Tang damaging an image to steal silk and being crushed and struck by a spirit

1.26

Sili's family name is not known; he was a native of Lantian in Yongzhou. By nature he was mediocre and shallow, his ambitions set only on illicit gain. Although clad in black robes, he was not imbued with the true transformation. During the Xianheng era, he observed the summer retreat at Wuzhen Monastery in Langu. At that time, the assembly numbered several dozen, mostly refined and disciplined; Li concealed his true nature and masqueraded among them, ever harboring illicit intents. Thereupon he stole the silk from inside an image in the hall. After several days the monks noticed it, but none knew who had stolen it; investigating one another in turn, everyone harbored suspicion, and many felt ashamed and regretful, each wishing to scatter and leave. At that time the elder Fazang spoke to the assembly, saying, "I have heard that this monastery has an abundance of miraculous traces. Now that someone has broken and damaged an image, would the guardian deity of the saṃghārāma remain silent? Within three days, may this matter be revealed so that the monastic assembly may find peace." Having spoken, each returned. While Li was taking a midday nap in his quarters beneath the bell tower, he saw a great white-robed spirit wedge him between the bed and the wall, hanging his head downward and crushing him with a stone. By the following morning, since the monks did not see Li, they went to his room to search for him; his room was bolted tightly, and they could not open it at all. After a night, finding it increasingly strange, they finally chiseled a hole in the door leaves and saw Li precisely wedged beside the bed, with the silk from inside the image folded upon his body. They lifted him out together and placed him outside the door, seeing his face as black as lacquer and his breath obstructed. The monks performed repentance on his behalf; after a long time he revived slightly, confessed his sins and misdeeds, and fled by night, none knowing where he ended up.

1.27

Record of Slighting and Disparaging the Teachings of the Dharma, Part 3

1.28

Master Vimalamitra of the Western Regions slandering the Mahāyāna and growing five tongues consecutively (with the monk of Khotan from the Account of the Western Regions appended)

1.29

Formerly, in the Western Regions, there was a treatise master named Vimalamitra, rendered in Tang [Chinese] as Wugouyou ('Immaculate Friend'). He was a man of the country of Kaśmīra, and had gone forth into renunciation in the Sarvāstivāda school. He had a comprehensive mastery of the Hīnayāna, and his renown sped throughout the five Indias. On his way returning to his native country, he halted by the stūpa of the treatise master Saṃghabhadra. Stroking [the stūpa], he sighed and said: 'Only this treatise master possessed an elegant capacity, pure and lofty, praising and expounding the great principles! Just as he was about to crush the divergent schools and establish the legacy of our own tradition, how could his allotted years not have been long? I, Vimalamitra, have unworthily inherited this late learning. In a different age I have yearned for his righteousness; across generations I cherish his virtue. Although Vasubandhu has passed away, the study of his tradition is still transmitted. Exhausting all that I know, I shall compose various treatises, so that all students in Jambudvīpa will cut off the designation of Mahāyāna and obliterate the name of Vasubandhu!' When he had finished speaking these words, madness arose in his mind. Five tongues came forth in succession, and boiling blood welled up and flowed out. Knowing his life was bound to end, he wrote a letter in repentance, saying: 'The Mahāyāna teachings are the ultimate exposition among the Buddha's teachings. Their names and phrasing surpass expression, and their principle and doctrine are profound and occult. Rashly, out of my foolishness, I refuted the advanced predecessors. The retributive response is plain to see; it is right that my body be destroyed. I make bold to announce to students: let your mirror of reflection be right here! Each of you, be cautious with your resolve, and do not harbour doubt!' Thereupon the great earth quaked, and his life then ended. At the place where he died, the ground sank into a pit. At that time an arhat, upon seeing the place of his death, sighed and said: 'Pitiable! How painful! Now this treatise master, giving rein to passion and clinging to views, defamed the Mahāyāna and has fallen into the Avīci Hell.'

1.30

The Khotanese monk Vajrasena—here translated as 'Adamantine Army'—received, upheld, and studied the Hīnayāna *Kośa* treatises. He did not believe in the Mahāyāna, and constantly engaged in disputation and slander. Because of this, he lost sight in both eyes. More than ten years passed, and he was blind, unable to see anything. Later, he heard the instructions of Siṃhamitra, yet was unable to believe completely; he was merely admonished to chant the heart-dhāraṇī of Avalokiteśvara. Thereupon both his eyes became bright and clear. Consequently, he made a great dedication of merit, took refuge in and believed the Mahāyāna, and abandoned Hīnayāna studies.

1.31

The account of the monk Huiyan of Dong'an Monastery in the Song capital being warned by a spirit (with Sengsong and Sengyuan appended)

1.32

The monk Huiyan, surnamed Fan, was a native of Yuzhou. His understanding of principle was clear and broad, and he was revered by scholars. At that time, when the *Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra* first arrived in the Song territory, the literary phrasing was exquisitely fine, but the chapter divisions were loose and brief, so that beginners found it difficult to grasp its import. Thereupon, together with Huiguan, Xie Lingyun, and others, relying on the *Nirvāṇa* text, he added chapter titles, and wherever the phrasing was overly unadorned, he also revised it considerably. He abridged the forty-fascicle version into thirty-six fascicles. At first, several copies were circulated. Later, while asleep, he suddenly saw a man twenty feet tall, of extremely imposing appearance and bearing, who said to him: 'The venerable *Nirvāṇa-sūtra*—how could you lightly make adjustments to it?' When Huiyan awoke, he was terrified and displeased; yet he still intended to maintain it, and had not yet changed his mind. On the following evening, he saw the man from the previous day again, who had an angry expression and said: 'If you cling to your original plan, I will promptly let you know [the consequences]!' Huiyan cried out in alarm. He then gathered the saṃgha once more to collect the earlier copies, suppressing them as they were retrieved. A discerning person admonished him, saying: 'This was probably meant only to caution and encourage later people. If it were truly not permissible, how could the dream have occurred only now?' Although Huiyan thought this was so, in the end he remained fearful.

1.33

Furthermore, during the Taishi reign period, the monk Sengsong of Zhongxing Monastery was well versed in the Abhidharma treatises. In his later years, he held a perverse attachment, claiming that the Buddha could not be eternally abiding. On the day of his death, the root of his tongue rotted away first.

1.34

Furthermore, in the Liang dynasty, the monk Sengyuan of Pengcheng slandered the *Nirvāṇa[-sūtra]*, and instantly the root of his tongue melted and rotted away in a moment.

1.35

The account of the monk Sengfan of Dajue Monastery in Ye under the Qi dynasty, who at the poṣadha saw a spirit rebuke the defending of a thesis

1.36

The monk Sengfan was surnamed Ji and was a native of Pingxiang. He went forth into renunciation at the age of twenty-nine. Rich in both learning and practice, he was esteemed by the times. Once, when he was lecturing on the *Lotus Sūtra*, there was a monk who slandered him, saying: 'What does this spent vessel understand?' Immediately, a spirit gave him a severe beating; he died and was revived. On another occasion, when staying overnight at another monastery, it happened to be the day of the poṣadha. A monk mounted the seat, intending to defend a thesis, and said: 'Defending a treatise on the marks of phenomena accords deeply with the holy words. Why labor over reciting the precepts? The saṃgha hears them regularly.' Suddenly, he saw a spirit over ten feet tall, of extremely heroic and stern appearance, who came before the seat and asked the one defending the thesis: 'What day is today?' He answered: 'It is the day of the poṣadha.' The spirit immediately struck him with his hand, dragging him beneath the seat, where he lay battered and on the verge of death. He then asked the senior monk [the same], striking and dragging him in the same manner. From that time until the end of his life, Sengfan never once gave his consent by proxy [for poṣadha]; even when gravely ill, he was carried on a litter to join the saṃgha. This was because he valued this precept day and delighted in beholding the Dharma-body.

1.37

The account of the monk Sengyun of Baoming Monastery in Ye under the Qi dynasty, who neglected the poṣadha and was harmed by a spirit

1.38

The monk Sengyun—it is not known where he was from—was intelligent, eloquent, and fully versed in both the Mahāyāna and the Hīnayāna. He resided at Baoming Monastery, serving as a leader among the saṃgha. On the fifteenth day of the fourth month, when it was time to recite the precepts, the saṃgha assembled in the hall, and Sengyun sat as the senior seat. He then addressed the assembly, saying: 'The prātimokṣa merely prevents wrongdoing, and everyone can recite it. Why trouble the assembly to hear it repeatedly? We might rather defend a thesis once, so that the younger generation may achieve enlightenment.' His stature was such at the time that none dared oppose him. All complied with him, and throughout the end of the summer retreat the recitation of the precepts was regularly abolished. On the fifteenth day of the seventh month, as he was about to mount the grass seat, Sengyun's whereabouts were lost. Since the new monastic age had not yet been received and the pravāraṇā would mutually be abandoned, the great assembly rushed forth in confusion in all four directions to search for him. They then found him inside an ancient tomb about three li beside the monastery. His whole body was streaming with blood, as if sliced by knives. When asked the reason, he said: 'There was a gentleman holding a three-foot broadsword, who angrily reproached me for altering the poṣadha and falsely ordering the defence of a thesis. He mincemeated my body with the sword, causing unbearable pain.' They then supported him and returned to the monastery. Sengyun repented with all his heart, and over ten years he made reciting the precepts, holding poṣadha, and chanting the various sūtras his regular practice. On the day of his death, an extraordinary fragrance welcomed him; his countenance was undisturbed, and he passed away joyfully.

1.39

The account of Huitiao of Shenzu Monastery in Xiangzhou under the Tang dynasty, who slandered the Three Treatises and had his tongue pulled out three feet (with Xiaoci, Shenfang, and Xinxing appended)

1.40

The monk Huitiao was surnamed Zhuang. He went forth into renunciation in his youth, took the Hīnayāna as his vocation, and his fame spread along the Changjiang and Han Rivers. Hearing that Master Xiangwang Zhe was lecturing on the Three Treatises, an intolerable feeling arose in his heart, and he said: 'The Three Treatises expound emptiness, and those who lecture on them are attached to emptiness!' As soon as he finished speaking, his tongue protruded three feet, and blood flowed from his nose, eyes, and both ears. For seven days he could not speak. The Vinaya Master Tai heard of it and said: 'You are greatly deluded! Slandering the sūtras with a single word incurs a crime surpassing the five heinous deeds. Only if you believe in the Mahāyāna will you be able to escape it.' He then had him repent, and his tongue was drawn back in. He was then carried on a litter to Master Zhe's place, vowing to listen to the Mahāyāna. Later, whenever he lectured on the *Lotus* and *Avataṃsaka*, he used it to express his repentance. Once, while sitting in meditation in a pine grove, he saw three people whose appearance and clothing were entirely elegant, requesting to receive the bodhisattva precepts. Having received them, they addressed him, saying: 'Meditation Master, your faculties are greatly sharp. If you had not changed your mind and believed in the Mahāyāna, even when a thousand Buddhas appeared in the world you would still be in hell.' Hearing these words repeated, tears streamed down, and he wept aloud as he returned to the monastery. In front of Master Zhe's room he tossed about and sobbed, unable to speak. Furthermore, he encouraged laypeople to produce one hundred copies each of the *Avataṃsaka*, the *Great Perfection of Wisdom*, the *Lotus*, the *Vimalakīrti*, and the *Viśeṣacintibrahma-paripṛcchā*. At the time of his passing, he moved the trees of the forest to turn white. He may indeed be called one who was able to correct his faults!

1.41

The monk Xiaoci of Cimen Monastery was about fifty years old. From his youth onward he had relied on Dhyāna Master Xinxing, teaching the Dharma of the Three Levels and taking the practice of austerities and perpetual begging for food as his vocation. In the six periods of the day he paid homage and repented, and wore robes made of rags. Wherever he stayed, he preached the Three Levels Buddhist Dharma, admonishing and guiding the ignorant laypeople. Whenever he preached the Three Levels Buddhist Dharma, he always said: 'It is not fitting to read and chant Mahāyāna sūtras; those who read and chant them will enter the Avīci Hells of the ten directions. You must urgently repent!' Later, at one time in Qizhou, he preached the Three Levels Buddhist Dharma. At that time, there was an upāsikā who upheld the *Lotus Sūtra* and also encouraged those with karmic affinity to uphold the *Lotus Sūtra* together. That dhyāna master admonished those upāsikās who upheld the *Lotus Sūtra*, saying: 'You who uphold the *Lotus Sūtra* do not match your spiritual capacity; you should enter hell. I urge you to abandon its recitation.' Thereupon several upāsikās abandoned upholding the *Lotus Sūtra*, and among the assembly at the dhyāna master's place, repented the sin of upholding the *Lotus Sūtra*. The upāsikā who had originally encouraged the upholding of the *Lotus Sūtra* found this intolerable in her heart. Subsequently, on a day of a great vegetarian feast, the dhyāna master preached the Three Levels Buddhist Dharma for the assembly, at which time up to ten thousand people sat beneath his seat. That upāsikā burned incense among the great assembly and made a vow, saying: 'If my upholding of the *Lotus Sūtra* does not accord with the Buddha's intent, may I in this present body be stricken with an evil illness, so that the great assembly will collectively know that upholding the *Lotus Sūtra* brings this retribution of sin! Moreover, may my living body sink into hell, and may the assembly witness it together! If my upholding of the *Lotus Sūtra* accords with the Buddha's intent, may it be likewise for the dhyāna master!' At the moment this upāsikā made her vow, the dhyāna master was struck by a spirit, lost his voice, and could not speak. The one who chanted the collected records on the high western seat also lost his voice and could not speak. Furthermore, there were five elderly dhyāna masters who likewise lost their voices and could not speak. The several people who had previously abandoned the recitation of the *Lotus Sūtra* thereupon generated the resolve to recite the *Lotus Sūtra* with even greater earnestness.

1.42

The monk Shenfang of Cibei Monastery had listened to and studied the *Daśacakra-sūtra* from his youth onward, and his diligent austerities were especially uncommon. He wore robes of rags, paid homage and repented during the six periods of the day, and took begging for food as his vocation. Whenever he lectured on the *Daśacakra-sūtra*, he would regularly say: 'Sentient beings ought not to read and chant Mahāyāna sūtras; those who read and chant them will fall into hell.' In the end, when his life came to a close, his living body was burned by the fires of hell, and black smoky vapor surrounded his body. At that time, the monk Sijian of Jifa Monastery personally witnessed this matter and came to know with certainty that cutting off the study of prajñā will inevitably have evil omens, bringing verification directly in this present body.

1.43

A certain monk of Fuxian Monastery in the Divine Capital suddenly passed away at one time. Thereupon, along the path of karma, he saw Dhyāna Master Xinxing transformed into the body of a great serpent, completely covered with mouths. Furthermore, he saw that those students of the Three Levels who had died all entered into the mouths of this serpent's body, none knowing where they went. That monk then revived. For this reason, he came to the capital to report it to Dhyāna Master Sengjing. Sengjing did not believe it, so he then returned to the Divine Capital.

1.44

Fascicle 4: Records of Envying the Worthy and Being Jealous of Teaching

1.45

The account of Daoxiu of Xiangzhou under the Qi dynasty transforming into the body of a serpent

1.46

Daoxiu went forth into renunciation in his youth, devoted himself single-mindedly to study, and was universally praised as having divine talent. His disciples gathered like clouds, and he was an exemplary master of his time. There was a fellow student, Huiyi, who was several years younger, yet his transcendent awakening surpassed Daoxiu's. Upholding moral purity, his elevated discourse stood out from the crowd. Thereupon his renown shook the capital of Ye, and both clergy and laity looked up to him. He then came to open lectures at a monastery directly opposite Daoxiu. Daoxiu harbored jealousy in his heart and thought solely of humiliating him, but Huiyi's reputation grew ever higher, leaving Daoxiu no opportunity to speak against him. Daoxiu's fierce rage brought about disaster, and he was about to hatch an abnormal plot; but with guards and followers being numerous, in the end he found no opening. Later, he went outside the city with his disciples and rested beneath a tree. As Daoxiu lay asleep, a whirlwind suddenly arose furiously and enveloped Daoxiu's body; his two legs instantly transformed and merged into a serpent's tail. In this manner, it gradually rose up to his chest. Weeping and wailing, he said to his disciples: 'Because my evil intention burned ever more fiercely to harm Master Yi, the poisonous malice steamed internally and transformed me into a serpent's body. The karmic retribution being such, regret is of no avail! You may take the robes and belongings in my room to create merit on my behalf, and also apologize to Master Yi with donations so that he may rejoice.' Having finished speaking, he suddenly turned into a serpent twenty to thirty feet long. In an instant, hundreds of small snakes in the grass vied to welcome him, and he departed with them. When people far and near heard of this, there were none who did not grieve and sigh on his account.

First 46 of 216 passages. Read on