法苑珠林 90.55

90.55

Bhikṣu Zhida of the Song was a monk of the Suo Temple in Yizhou. His conduct was rather worldly, but he was skilled in sūtras and chanting (pāṭha). He was twenty-three years old. In the sixth month of the third year of the Yuanhui era of the Song, he died of illness. As his body remained warm, he was not placed in a coffin. After two days he revived, and by the morning of the third day he was able to speak and see. He recounted: At the time he was first critically ill, he saw two men, both wearing yellow cloth trousers and tunics. One stood outside the door, and one came straight up before the bed, saying: 'Reverend Sir, you ought to depart; you may step down to the ground.' Zhida said: 'My body is frail and cannot endure travelling the road.' The man said again: 'You may ride in a palanquin.' No sooner had he spoken than the palanquin arrived. When Zhida mounted it, his consciousness became bewildered; he no longer saw his family, the room, or the palanquin he rode. Looking far into the distance as far as the eye could see, he beheld only a desolate wilderness, with dangerous and difficult pathways, which were shown to him to climb and tread; he was driven without being allowed to rest. He reached a crimson gate with very magnificent walls and doors. Zhida entered and reached the base of the hall. Upon the hall was a noble personage, wearing a red robe and official cap, sitting haughtily on a couch. His appearance was stern and severe, with great dignity. Flanking him were about a hundred guards, all in red robes, leaning on swords and lined up in stern ranks. Seeing Zhida, the noble personage composed his countenance, assumed a stern expression, and said to him: 'How can one who has left household life have so many faults?' Zhida said: 'Since I had consciousness, I do not recall committing transgressions.' He asked: 'Do you recite the precepts?' Zhida said: 'When I first received full ordination, I indeed constantly studied and recited them. Recently, pursuing fasting assemblies and lectures, I have constantly engaged in chanting sūtras, and so in reciting the precepts there have been deficiencies and neglect.' [The noble personage] said again: 'For a śramaṇa not to recite the precepts—if this is not a sin, what is it? For now, you may recite a sūtra.' Zhida thereupon recited three sections of the Lotus Sūtra and stopped. The noble personage ordered the messengers who had arrested Zhida, saying: 'You may take him and place him in an evil place, but do not cause him great suffering.' The two men led Zhida away. After travelling several tens of li, he gradually heard roaring and clamorous sounds, with boiling fire, while the road ahead grew darker. Next they came to a gate, several tens of zhang high, extremely hard and black in colour, which was an iron gate; the walls were likewise. Zhida thought to himself: 'The sūtras speak of hell; this surely must be it.' He was thereupon terrified and regretted that while alive in the world he had not cultivated karmic practices. When he reached inside the great gate, the clamour grew louder. Listening quietly for a long time, he only then realized it was the sound of people screaming and weeping. Inside the gate it grew darker, so that nothing could be seen. At times the light of fire flared and died. He saw several people bound with their hands behind them walking forward, followed by several people holding forks who were impaling them, blood flowing like a spring. One of them was Zhida's paternal aunt. Seeing each other, they wished to speak together, but someone dragged her away with extraordinary speed, so there was no time to speak. Going about two hundred paces past the gate, he saw an object shaped like a rice granary basket, about a zhang high. The two men seized Zhida and threw him onto the basket. Inside the basket was fire, and the flames burned Zhida's body; half of his body was completely scorched and putrid, with unbearable pain. He fell from the basket to the ground, fainting away for a long time. The two men again led Zhida away, and he saw more than ten iron cauldrons, all boiling sinners. The people in the cauldrons rose and sank with the boiling fluid. Beside the cauldrons were people who stabbed them with forks; some clutched the cauldrons trying to climb out, their two eyes boiling and bulging, their tongues protruding more than a foot, their flesh completely split and rotting, yet they did not die. The cauldrons were all full; only one cauldron was still empty. The two men said to Zhida: 'Reverend Sir, you should enter this one right now.' Hearing their words, Zhida was scared out of his wits. He then pleaded with them, saying: 'Allow me to pay homage to the Buddha once.' He then bowed his head with utmost devotion, praying to be spared this suffering. He lay prostrate on the ground for the duration of a meal, praying and repenting with exceptional sincerity. Thereupon, looking around, he no longer saw anything [of that place], seeing only a flat plain with luxuriant trees, and clear, bright scenery. The two men were still guiding Zhida along. They reached the base of a tower. The tower was tall and small; atop it was a person, who just had room enough to sit, and who said to Zhida: 'That a śramaṇa receives a light retribution in the present is truly cause for rejoicing.' At the base of the tower, Zhida suddenly and unconsciously returned to his body. At present, Zhida is still alive in Suo Temple. His fasting and precepts are all the firmer, and his meditation and chanting all the more resolute.