法苑珠林 84.45

84.45

'Having long heard of your fine virtue, I have constantly thought of meeting you in conversation. Now Dingzhou is ordered to send the Master to Ye to transform the multitude of beings; in principle, one should not cultivate goodness for oneself alone. We hope you will bear your staff and briefly visit Chengming, with the wish to propagate the supreme Way and deliver these suffering folk. When you arrive here, if you must return to the mountains, you may freely go east or west without restraint.' Chou had resided in the mountains for many years, dedicating his life to deliverance; hearing the imperial summons, he had no intention of obeying. Only after earnest entreaties did he grant the request. On the very day he brushed off his clothes and prepared to leave the mountain gates, the two peaks suddenly shook with alarm; a mournful sound frightened and disturbed people, livestock, birds, and beasts, which flew and fled. It was like this for three days. Chou looked back and said: 'Yearning for the Way and harboring benevolence—all things are endowed with this. Is it not that affection is easy to maintain, while relinquishing attachment is difficult to sustain?' Without lingering for any worldly affairs, he leaned on his cane and proceeded to the Zhang and Fu rivers. The Emperor personally set out in his imperial carriage to the suburbs to welcome him. That all under Heaven turned to goodness was entirely due to Chou. Furthermore, at the mountain temple of Yunmen, in front of the meditation cave where he resided, there was a deep pit. He saw a hairy man of imposing stature and barbarian appearance setting up a cauldron and lighting a fire; the water was about to boil. Presently, a large python emerged from the water and wanted to enter the cauldron. Chou kicked it aside with his foot; the python then entered the water, and the hairy man also vanished. That night, a male spirit came, bowed his head to Chou, and said: 'This disciple has sons who are eaten year after year by an evil spirit. My sons value their lives and dare not face it. This disciple is old and near death, so I offered myself as food. Owing to the Master's protection, I have escaped this disaster.' Chou asked for water and spat it out; it suddenly turned into clouds and mist. At that time, someone slandered Chou to Emperor Xuan, claiming he was haughty and disrespectful. The Emperor was furious and came in person to do him harm. Chou knew this through occult vision. Throughout his life he never entered the monastery's kitchen, yet without reason he arrived there and said: 'Tomorrow a great guest will arrive; prepare many offerings.' By the fifth watch of the night, he prepared an ox carriage in advance, went alone to the mouth of the valley over twenty li from the temple, and stood solitary by the roadside. Soon the Emperor arrived, and surprised, asked him why. Chou said: 'Fearing my body is impure and might defile the saṃghārāma, I waited here.' The Emperor dismounted, prostrated in homage, and repented boundlessly. He said to the Vice-Director of the Department of State Affairs, Yang Zunyan: 'How could such a perfected man be slandered?' He then personally carried Chou on his back to the temple. Chou declined with an altered voice and would not accept. The Emperor said: 'Even if this disciple carried the Master throughout all under Heaven, it would not suffice to atone for my transgression.' He then asked: 'What was this disciple in a former life?' [Chou] replied: 'You were a rākṣasa king; hence you are still fond of killing now.' He then cast a spell on a basin of water and had the Emperor look at himself; he saw his reflection in the likeness of a rākṣasa. Every year on New Year's Day, [the Emperor] would always ask about the good and bad fortune of the year. Later, in the tenth year of Tianbao, [Chou] said: 'This year cannot be good.' Wenxuan was displeased. The Emperor asked: 'How will it be for you, Master?' He replied: 'This poor monk will also not last long.' In the tenth month, the Emperor passed away. The next year was the first year of Qianming under the Qi. On the thirteenth day of the fourth month, at the chen hour, without any affliction or suffering, he sat upright and passed away at the mountain temple, at the age of eighty-one. At the moment of his passing, an extraordinary fragrance filled the temple; those who smelled it were awestruck. Imperial condolences were expressed with earnest care, and it was ordered that the cremation rites of the central kingdom be followed. The four assemblies covered the mountain, exceeding tens of thousands of people, with thousands of fragrant logs. At midday, they set fire to burn him. Monastics and laity wept in bitter grief, their crying resounding through the valleys. Immediately, several hundred white birds hovered above the smoke, crying mournfully in distress, and departed only after some time. Then, a brick stupa was built to the northwest of the temple. Efficacious signs and rare fragrances regularly responded to monastics and laity. When he was still in good health, Emperor Xuan said to Chou: 'This disciple has not seen the wondrous anomalies of the Buddha. May I behold them?' Chou said: 'This is not appropriate for a śramaṇa.' The Emperor insisted, so he threw his kāṣāya onto the ground. The Emperor had several tens of men try to lift it, but they could not move it. Chou ordered a novice to pick it up, and it was not heavy at all. Because of this, [the Emperor's] sincere faith grew ever deeper. (These four proofs above are from the Liang Biographies of Eminent Monks.)