釋門自鏡錄 2.74

2.74

Śramaṇa Mingchen was a man of Qi. In his youth he traveled and studied across the Lianghe region, winning renown for his comprehensive insight. Yet, although well versed in the sūtras and treatises, he made it his aim to raise objections and pose difficult questions. Under the reign of the Wei-Ming dynasty, the Buddhist order flourished. Mingchen possessed learning, yet he merely used it for unrestrained debate; hence, his character was far from noble achievement. At that time there was a śramaṇa named Zhiyi, whose reputation for virtue was revered far and wide, inspiring respect from all who looked up to him. Pupils gathered at his gate as in a marketplace. Unable to contain his secret jealousy, Mingchen deeply resented his fame and prominence. Secretly forming intimate alliances, Mingchen searched extensively for disputants. At first, he devised a debating method called the “Room Method,” formulating diagrams and composing texts. Externally he applied the Confucian teachings, while internally he constructed arguments and citations, pulling references in and out with convoluted, boastful rhetoric. Hearing his speech, one seemed to grasp it, yet when he elaborated, all became vague and baffling. Bold spirits flocked together like clouds. Looking at his diagrams and texts, they were bewildered as in a dream; but once instructed by him, their doubts dissolved like melting ice. Therefore, incoming students first had to provide funds and silk before being admitted to this Room Method. Many profited from it and could not keep it secret, so Mingchen’s fame somewhat subsided compared to before. He then devised the “Serpent Array Method.” Its formation was modeled on Zhuge Liang’s battle formation of the Changshan serpent: strike its head and the tail arrives. It was roughly like this. He also compared numerical doctrines along the serpent’s body, now advancing, now retreating, irregular front and rear. I once saw the diagram; it was utterly terrifying. It depicted a snake about three feet long, now coiling, now stretching, with the stages of the Path added alongside. At the end of the Daye era, many studied it; today it is no longer practiced and has presumably died out. When Mingchen first promoted his Serpent Treatise throughout Dongchuan, those possessed of virtuous practice earnestly admonished and reasoned with him, yet he had set his mind upon circulating it broadly as an intellectual art. An upper county of Luzhou wished to propagate the Lotus Sūtra; they went to Honggu Monastery in Linlü County of Yanzhou to invite a monk—whose name is forgotten—to give lectures. Mingchen had long known him, and upon hearing of it, went thither to see him. When the lecturer heard of his arrival, his heart trembled with anxiety, knowing that in doctrinal debate he could not withstand Mingchen. He confided to him: “This county has only newly embraced faith, and affairs require their submission. The gentry and commoners have already turned their hearts [to the Dharma]. I pray the Dharma Master will not forget old friendship, but assist and support me. Here is a small quantity of cloth, which I venture to offer you, in deep appreciation of this sentiment.” He then presented ten bolts of silk. Mingchen said: “Did I come here with any intention of dominating you? Please set this mind at rest.” Yet he was unwilling to leave, wishing to hear a single lecture. The monk became even more terrified. Having no choice, he ascended the high seat to lecture as usual. Mingchen entered the hall last, carrying the silk tied in a bundle among the congregation. He said: “The high seat Dharma Master presented me with silk last night, asking that there be no debate. But the Buddha-Dharma is vast; right and wrong must be distinguished. If one converts people through false teachings, how greatly one will mislead the gentry and commoners!” Hearing this, the high seat monk was terrified and utterly at a loss. Following the standard procedure, he chanted the text according to the commentary. Mingchen immediately called out for him to stop, wishing to debate the ultimate principle. At that moment, the high seat monk’s spirit surged with courage, and he calmly awaited the questions. Mingchen posed questions, and as soon as they were asked, he resolved them. Though many layers were raised, there was no meaning he did not penetrate. Mingchen became flustered and disoriented, finding no way to pose difficulties. Rising from his seat, he said: “The high seat Dharma Master has always been obtuse; how could he suddenly understand like this today? It must be the spirits and ghosts of the mountains aiding his mindfulness. Otherwise, how could he attain this?” The entire assembly in the hall burst into loud laughter. Mingchen then left the town and went with two companions to beg for food at a house. Having obtained it, his breath was stifled with rage and he choked, unable to swallow. The others reasoned with him: “What is there to dispute? Debate is not an eternal, great cosmic principle. Why suddenly arouse such affliction?” Mingchen did not reply. Following them eastward, sighing at every step, he climbed a ridge in utter exhaustion and stopped under a tree. He said to his two companions: “I am now tormented by a feverish affliction beyond words. I fear I will become a serpent.” He then stripped off his robes and lay naked, tossing and turning restlessly, stretching out both legs. In a moment, his two legs suddenly merged into a serpent’s tail, curling high into the air and writhing on its own. He told his companions: “I composed the Serpent Array Treatise, and now my retribution has arrived! You should climb the tree. If the serpent’s mind takes over, there will be the cause for swallowing you. Climb the tree quickly, while my mind has not yet transformed.” The companions climbed the tree, yet continued to exchange words with him: “Whenever you composed the serpent treatise, how did such a result come to pass?” While speaking, his whole body suddenly became a serpent; only his head had not yet changed, and he could no longer speak. Writhing on the ground, he raised his head and struck it repeatedly without stopping, until it shattered. Suddenly it became the head of a python. His body abruptly transformed, growing some fifty feet long. Raising its head and looking in all directions, its eyes were like fiery sparks. At that time, countless snakes from all four quarters converged at once. The python raised its head five or six feet above the ground and headed down into the valley, with the host of snakes following along. His companions witnessed this retribution with their own eyes and recounted it upon arriving in Ye. (Continued Biographies of Eminent Monks)