法苑珠林 96.24

96.24

During the Zhou dynasty, there was a śramaṇa from Yizhou named Sengya, whose family name was Mou. In his childhood, he spoke little and did not engage in playful games. Whenever he visited mountain springs, he would always bow before drinking. At times, he would sit staring without blinking for the entire day. When people asked him why, he answered, "This body is despicable; I am merely contemplating it. Later, I will surely burn it." When he grew older, he entered military service, where he was resolute and upright. Once, when joining his companions in catching fish, he took his own share and threw them back into the water, telling his companions, "Killing is no good deed. Now, boils have broken out all over my body. I vow to stop hunting forever." He then burned his hunting gear. At that time, several hundred heads of the indigenous tribes were building a reservoir by damming a stream to raise fish. Sengya led a crowd to go and observe it once more, when suddenly an unusual snake appeared, about a foot long, with both head and tail red. In an instant, it grew to more than a zhang in length and five to six chi in circumference. The indigenous people fled in panic. The snake then headed into the water and raised its tail into the clouds; a red radiance spread throughout the wilderness, extinguishing only after a long while. Shortly afterward, when the crowd gathered to discuss what had happened, Sengya said, "Do not worry about this. If you only put an end to the karma of killing, the snake will not harm people." He urged them to stop damming the reservoir, but the crowd would not agree. Shortly after, the dyke collapsed. He then went forth from household life. In the first year of the Wucheng era of the Zhou dynasty, in the sixth month, at the head of the road west of the city of Yizhou, he wrapped the five fingers of both hands in cloth and set fire to them. When someone asked, "Does it not hurt to burn your fingers?" Sengya replied, "Pain arises from the mind; since the mind feels no pain, what pain could the fingers have?" The people of the time unanimously called him the Sengya Bodhisattva. Someone asked him, "You seem to have a wind disease; why not treat it?" He replied, "The body is entirely empty; what is there to treat?" The person said further, "The faculties and the elements have their counterparts; how can you call them empty?" He replied, "Where, then, do the four great elements and the five faculties abide?" The assembly admired his words. Master Dui of Xiao'ai Temple had profound insight. Learning of Sengya's deeds, he led dozens of disciples to pay homage to him, taking off his robes to offer to him. Turning to the assembly, he said, "He truly understands prajñā, not merely in words." From this, both clergy and laity gathered in full, their veneration and faith redoubling. As the days passed, the fingers of his left hand were consumed, and the fire reached the bones of his palm. The marrow boiled and surged upward, threatening to extinguish the flames, so with the remaining fingers of his right hand he grasped a piece of bamboo to stir them. When someone asked him why, Sengya said, "It is because sentient beings are unable to practice forbearance. Now I urge those who cannot bear it to bear it, and those who do not burn to burn." He also preached the Dharma, encouraging them to practice compassion and abstain from meat. Though the smoke and flames blazed intensely, continuing from day into night, as both his hands burned, his eyebrows and eyes did not move. He also preached the Dharma and recited sūtras for the fourfold assembly. Whenever he reached an urgent word or an essential meaning, he would nod his head and smile faintly. At times, someone in the crowd grew slack in mind and privately muttered. Sengya looked back and said, "While in the mountains, I was entirely illiterate. Now, hearing the words of the sūtra, sentence by sentence they accord with my mind. Why do you not listen quietly with utmost devotion? If you contradict my purpose, I burn these hands in vain; how would it differ from burning firewood?" Thereupon the assembly trembled with awe, and all became solemn and attentive. Later, he addressed the assembly again, saying, "In the final kalpa, careless arrogance increases while faith wanes. People see Buddha statues as mere pieces of wood and hear the sūtras like the wind passing by a horse's ears. Now, for the sake of transcribing the teachings of the Mahāyāna scriptures, I burn my body and hands, wishing to make people revere the Buddha's Dharma doubly." The men and women of the entire region who heard of this all came to circumambulate him tens of thousands of times. Sengya remained serene, calm, and composed. Repeatedly gathering by the main avenue west of the city, he discussed the Dharma and its transformations. Initially, a fine drizzle began to fall, nearly soaking them; he then gathered his mind and entered samādhi, whereupon the clouds dispersed and the moon shone brightly. The five bones of his burned arms and palms, resembling remnants of burnt candles, suddenly sprouted anew, each growing three inches long, white as mother-of-pearl or snow. The monks and nuns said together, "After the Bodhisattva passes into extinction, we wish to receive his relics and erect a stūpa for offerings." Sengya then bit the five newly grown bones with his mouth, snapped them off, and spat them out as a gift to the assembly, saying, "These may serve for the stūpa." On the fourteenth day of the seventh month, there was suddenly a loud noise, like the earth shaking and the sky splitting open. People and animals were terrified. In the sky above, some saw apparitions of dogs, sheep, dragons, snakes, and military weapons; after a short while, they subsided. When people asked about this, Sengya said, "There is no suffering in this; it is merely the samādhi of awakening from sleep. I intend to abandon my body; you may prepare the offerings." At that time, Dhyāna Master Dao of Xiao'ai Temple, an elder of great virtue who observed the precepts with rigorous austerity, gave up his six-paramitā khakkhara and purple quilt to present to Sengya for entering the fire. The monk Yuanyuan sent a patched patchwork robe from afar, wishing it to accompany his body. At that time, people were clamouring and offerings of wealth piled up like mountains, so Sengya did not at first notice the items sent by the two virtuous masters. At dawn the following day, he suddenly said to his attendant Fatuo, "Go fetch the Master's khakkhara, the purple quilt, and the patched kāṣāya, and put them on me." He then set out for the place where he was to burn his body. At that time, more than a hundred thousand members of the clergy and laity surrounded his carriage, weeping. Sengya said, "Just preserve the bodhicitta; according to principle, there should be no weeping." He then ascended the high seat to preach the Dharma for the assembly. From time to time, he looked up at the pyre and smiled happily to himself. He then lay down on his right side, completely without breath, looking like a wooden statue. Suddenly, he rose and asked, "The time is near; I shall step down." First, he addressed the saṃgha, saying, "The Buddha's Dharma is difficult to encounter; you should protect and uphold it together." The firewood previously accumulated had been piled into a tower several tens of zhang high, atop which was built a small dry chamber, soaked with oil. Sengya walked unhurriedly to the tower, circumambulated it three times, bowed toward the four directions, and then ascended it. Leaning against the balustrade, he looked down and instructed them to be mindful of prajñā. A donor named Wang Zhuan said in fear, "If I set the fire, I will be burning a holy man, and will incur grave sin." Sengya knew his thoughts telepathically, told Zhuan to climb the tower, stroked his head with his arm, and said, "Do not worry that building the tower will incur sin; it is great merit." He urged them to light the fire, but they were all frightened and put the torches down on the ground. Sengya held the torch under his arm and first lit the northwest, then the southwest. The hemp was dry, and the oil thick; the blaze roared and merged together. Amid the raging fire, Sengya cast aside the firebrand and paid homage. By his second bow, his body was already scorched and cracked. He made one more bow, and his body fell forward onto the burning coals. When the wood was exhausted and the fire extinguished, the flesh and bones had all been transformed, yet only the heart remained, red and moist; the liver, intestines, spleen, and stomach were still joined together. They burned it again with forty cartloads of firewood; although the intestines and stomach shrank, the heart remained as before. Master Dui then ordered them to collect and bury it beneath a stūpa. Before he was burned, someone asked, "When the Bodhisattva enters extinction, we pray that you show an auspicious sign." Sengya replied, "My body can be exhausted, but my heart cannot be destroyed." The assembly thought the mental consciousness was formless and could not be burned away anyway; only later, when the physical heart remained, did they understand his foresight. Throughout his life until his end, Sengya frequently displayed extraordinary signs, dozens of them. Once, when he was about to receive precepts at someone's home, he suddenly laughed and said, "Are you about to donate a treasure, but hesitation has arisen?" When people made inquiries, they found that a wife of the Yang family had wished to donate a silver hairpin, but feared her husband would blame her, and so had delayed giving it. There was a monk named Foxing at Xiao'ai Temple who was excessively fond of drinking and eating, behaving casually like a layman. Following behind Sengya's carriage, he made a private vow, saying, "Now that I have encountered a holy man, I vow to abstain from wine and meat." When he returned to the temple, he saw a yellow-complexioned man who said to him, "That you can abstain from meat is a great and good thing. If you eat the meat of one sentient being, you are eating the meat of all sentient beings. If you eat it again, you are eating the meat of all your parents and relatives. If you must eat it, you should see it as the maggots in a corpse; the maggots are just the meat itself."