Dharma Master Faxian of the Jin (晉) and Liu-Song Dynasties (5th to 6th Centuries, A.D.), is one of the most venerated Dharma Masters in the history of Buddhism. He was one of the first to make the difficult journey from China to India, long before Tripitaka Master Xuanzang (玄奘) of the Tang. During the Jin Dynasty, travel was treacherous, and the inland route from China to India took several years to complete.
Dharm Master Faxian had three brothers. The first brother lived for only three years. The second lived two years, and the third died at the age of one. When Faxian was born his parents were so concerned for his welfare that they took him to a monastery to become a Shramanera soon after his birth. He lived at the monastery for three years without incident, and his parents began to think that perhaps this son would not die, so they brought him back home only to have him immediately fall ill. His sickness was so severe that he lost consciousness. “This is really incredible,” thought his parents, and sent him back to the monastery. They couldn’t bear to part with their son, but had no recourse. As soon as they sent him back to the monastery, he made an overnight recovery. The severe illness just disappeared.
His mother still spent all her time longing to see her son, but she didn’t dare bring him in the door of her own home, because as soon as she did, he fell ill. Eventually, she devised an expedient method. Right outside the front door of the family house they built a small room fashioned like a miniature monastery where the little Shramanera could return home for two or three days once, twice, or at the most, three times a year. But even then he could never go in the main house.
When he was ten years old his father died. His uncle, who was a real busybody, advised him saying, “You are your father’s only son. You can’t leave the home life now that your father is dead. You should return to lay life.” The uncle kept pressing his point: “Your mother is in mourning. She’s a widow now and it won’t be easy for her. You should return home and be her companion. You can’t leave home any more.”
What do you suppose the small Shramanera said? “My leaving home had nothing to do with my father,” he replied evenly. “Since I didn’t leave the home life because I had a father, why should I return to lay life just because my father has died?” His reply left the uncle speechless. The uncle realized that if he argued, his nephew would out-talk him, so he didn’t have anything more to say.
The child stayed on at the monastery and cultivated ascetic practices. He did the things that others couldn’t do, but never mentioned that he was doing them. The officers of the monastery noticed the work being done and asked publicly, “Who did that job? It was well done.” Although it was actually Faxian who had done it, he remained silent while another Shramanera who was greedy for recognition, took the credit. This caused everyone to respect the greedy novice, not realizing that he was a fraud.
Once, however, a group of Shramaneras went to the rice fields for the harvest. Times were hard in the area, and many people suffered from hunger, so when workers went into the fields to harvest the grain, people would come and steal it.
So it was that some hungry thieves, who were probably as hungry as hungry ghosts, saw that the rice in the monastery fields was being harvested, and went there intent upon stealing it. The Shramaneras fled in fright when they saw the thieves approach. But Faxian didn’t run with the others. Instead he stayed and spoke the Dharma for the bandits. “Brothers, I know it is because you are hungry that you have come to take this grain. Very well, you may have it. Take as much of it as you want. And by the way, I’d like to say something to you if you want to listen.”
As soon as the bandits heard that Faxian was willing to give them the grain—that it didn’t matter to him and that he wouldn’t try to stop them—they were pleased with the small Shramanera and said, “Sure, speak up. Say whatever you want. We’ll be happy to listen.”
“I wonder if you know why you don’t have any rice to eat,” said Faxian. “Do you know why you are so hungry?”
The bandits looked at one another blankly. Unable to come up with an answer they muttered, … “Don’t know.”
Faxian said, “If you had known, it wouldn’t have been necessary for me to say anything. But since you don’t know, I will tell you.”
“Why is it?” asked the thieves.
Faxian said, “You can figure out what you did in the past by what is happening to you now. You don’t have anything to eat now and so you have become thieves who go about stealing food. This is happening because in past lives you didn’t give to anyone. This is the former cause that has led you to be so poor in this life, to the point that you don’t have any food at all. But look at yourselves. You still aren’t giving. You are still going around stealing. Probably next life, you won’t have it even this good. This life at least you are still able to steal. But at the rate you’re going, in your next lives, you probably will be cripples who will die of starvation. It’s a shame.”
His words set the bandits thinking. “He’s got a point there…”
Faxian turned on his heels as soon as he finished speaking and walked out of the rice fields without a backward glance. Suddenly, the thieves were overwhelmed with shame and left without touching a grain of the monastery’s rice. When Faxian arrived back at the monastery, the several hundred Bhikshus who had witnessed the scene from afar agreed, “That Shramanera has got guts. Not only was he unafraid of the thieves, but he was able to teach and transform them, so that they renounced their evil ways and began to practice the good.”
After that incident, most people realized this Shramanera was no ordinary novice and began to watch him closely. “In the future, he will be a valuable resource for the Dharma,” they predicted.
When Faxian was twenty he received the complete Precepts. It was then that he began to notice that most of the Sutras which were available in translation, were incomplete. Sometimes the first volume had been translated but not the last; sometimes the last volume had been translated, but not the first. Faced with this situation, he vowed to go to India.
At that time Buddhism in China was much like Buddhism in America today. With rare exceptions, there weren’t any Sutras. Those which were available were very, very simple, such as the Forty-two Sections Sutra translated by the Venerable Masters Gobharana and Kashyapa Matanga. Printing methods had not been developed and the Sutras which were translated had to be copied out by hand, a process which often resulted in scribal errors and omissions.
So Faxian vowed to organize a party to go to India to bring back the Sutras. He set out in search of comrades and soon there were more than twenty Dharma Masters who were prepared to accompany him. Dharma Masters Huijing (慧景), Daozheng (道整), Huiying (慧應), Huiwei (慧嵬) and over fifteen others set out from China to India. The places which they passed through—the arid deserts with their shifting sands which stretched for hundreds of miles, high freezing mountains—and other difficulties they encountered, were extreme. They traversed places practically inaccessible, where neither birds would dare fly nor animals tread. How much the less a man! They trekked through barren wastes that bore no signs of life, not even vegetation. There, the hot wind burned the eyes and made the head so dizzy that most who made the attempt would soon pass into unconsciousness, and die.
In that region, besides the hot wind there were invisible poisonous ghosts. Their vapors were fatal when inhaled, and many people suffocated and died on the spot upon meeting them. Near Congling (蔥嶺, known as the Pamir Plateau), Faxian and his party encountered a poison-spitting dragon who infiltrated the wind and rain with his poisonous vapors. Although the vapor was potentially fatal if inhaled, nonetheless, Faxian and his Dharma companions, having no other recourse, walked right through the danger fully aware of the consequences.
At one point they came upon a place in the mountains where the road ended at the edge of a sheer rock cliff. The only way to go was up and over using peg holes chipped out by former travelers. They would stick a wooden piton into a hole and take a step up, pulling out the piton below and pounding it into the hole above before they could take their next step. Each person carried four pitons, and by putting them in and taking them out of the sheer rock face, they managed to make the ascent. Everyone had to do it. At the outset of this rugged climb there were more than twenty people in the party. Three days later the party had dwindled to twelve or thirteen—the rest having tumbled down and died.
Yet the remainder still pressed on, and eventually reached Small Snow Mountain where the cold was severe. There Huijing caught chills and began to shiver uncontrollably. He called to Faxian, “I can’t go on with you. I am going to die. Don’t retreat. Press on. May my spirit protect you as you go on to seek the Sutras.” When he finished speaking, Huijing froze to death. There is a verse which says,
During the reign of the seven emperors
From the Jin, Song, Qi, Liang, through the Tang Dynasties,
Hundreds of High Masters left Chang’an,
But less than ten returned.
How can generations to come ever realize
The difficulties endured by their ancestors?
Many Chinese people who went to India to seek the Buddhadharma exchanged their lives for it. They renounced their very lives neither to invade India, nor to steal her treasures, but to seek the Buddhadharma. Americans have many blessings, for they have at their disposal, without any particular effort on their parts, complete and accurate texts of the Sutras which have been passed down from the virtuous High Monks of China. These Sutras have been studied and certified by Bodhisattvas and Arhats. Now they should be translated into English, which is also not a particularly difficult task.
After Huijing froze to death, Faxian clasped his corpse crying, “Our original vow has not been fulfilled. Now you are dead, but I am not discouraged. With even firmer resolve I will go on and seek the Buddhadharma.” So saying, he continued on through more than thirty countries until he arrived at a temple about thirty miles from Rajagriha.
Upon his arrival he told the several hundred monks residing at the temple that he was from China and that he had come to seek the Buddhadharma. What he wished to do first, he said, was visit Vulture Peak.
“You can’t go there!” was their reaction. “It’s too dangerous. Nobody dares go to Vulture Peak these days. It was all right when the Buddha was in the world, but it won’t work now. You can’t go.”
“Why not?” Faxian asked, “Why could the Buddha go there but not us?”
They replied, “When the Buddha was in the world he had spiritual powers to defeat evil animals, beasts, and demons. Now on Vulture Peak the panthers alone are ferocious, not to mention the other wild animals. The black cats devour men on sight, and nobody could even begin to estimate the number of panthers roaming up there.”
“I’ve been through all sorts of difficulties on my journey from China,” Faxian replied emphatically.
“There were poisonous snakes and evil beasts every day, and I wasn’t afraid to die then. Now I am at the foot of Vulture Peak. How could fear of death possibly stop me from paying my respects at a place where the Buddha taught?”
Two monks from the temple were sent to accompany him. It took an entire day to get to the top where Shakyamuni Buddha had dwelt. By the time they arrived, night had begun to fall. “We’ll stay here,” said Faxian.
“You want to stay here?” repeated the two monks incredulously. “We’ll be eaten alive by the panthers! There are no two ways about it. We should start back immediately.”
“I’m not going back tonight,” said Faxian. “If you don’t want to remain, you can return.”
As soon as he said that, the two monks dropped all pretence of courtesy and left, saying, “If you want to stay here and be eaten by panthers, it’s your business. We still want to spread the Buddhadharma, and can’t give up our lives.” Faxian was left alone on the mountain top.
He began bowing just as if Shakyamuni Buddha were still there speaking the Dharma. With the traces of the Sages right before his eyes, he bowed and bowed with great sincerity. But eventually, the prediction made by the monks at the temple came true. Three panthers moved in on him. The cats were fiercer than tigers, and totally merciless. Their sleek bodies crept closer and closer while they licked their chops and flicked their tails as a prelude to the pounce.
Faxian, who was reciting mantras at the time, said to them, “If you wish to eat me you’ll have to wait until I finish reciting the Sutras and mantras. Once I’ve finished, I’ll give you my body so that you can tie up conditions with the Dharma. However, if you don’t wish to tie up conditions, but have just come to test me, then get out of here immediately! Don’t hang around!”
When he finished addressing them, the three panthers knelt at his feet and Faxian reached down and rubbed the tops of their heads just as if they were house cats. After a while the cats left, probably deciding among themselves that since one person wasn’t enough for the three of them, it would be better if none of them feasted. Faxian, having been virtually in the panthers’ mouths, got off with his life.
At dawn he began to walk back. After about a mile, he met an extremely large person who wore ragged clothes and appeared to be over ninety years old. It was only after they passed one another that Faxian realized the man was no ordinary person. Not really stopping to think who he might be, he turned around to take another look, only to find that the huge man had disappeared. A little farther along the road he met a monk and Faxian said, “Who was that tall person?”
The monk laughed and said, “Him? He is the Great Disciple Mahakashyapa.” Hearing this, Faxian turned to address the monk only to find that he too had disappeared into thin air. Faxian realized that he was having an inconceivable experience.
He returned to the temple and took up the study of Sanskrit. One day he noticed a food offering on the altar and recognized it as being from China. Realizing that a Chinese merchant must have docked recently, he went out to find him, and was able to secure passage on the return trip to China. He packed up the numerous Sanghan Precepts, Bodhisattva Precepts, Sutras, and other sections of Vinaya as well as Agama texts. He left on the merchant’s boat for China. During the passage, a violent storm blew the boat off course and it ended up on the shores of some unknown land. It is due to this incident that there are in the Indian languages of Mexico to this day, features which bear a similarity to ancient Chinese. This also accounts for the occurrence of some Chinese styled architecture evident in Mexico and also for similarities in the iconography. When Faxian and the hundred or so people on that merchant ship were blown across the Pacific to Mexico, they lived among the people there for five months during which they taught the natives Chinese and showed them various building techniques.
When the boat left Mexico, it carried over two hundred people, as some Mexicans wished to travel to China. Not long after it set sail, the winds rose again, and threatened the safety of the ship. Everyone on board banded together to lay the blame on Faxian, saying that his presence on board was the reason for the repeated storms. The mob was preparing to throw Faxian overboard as a sacrifice to the sea spirits in order to calm the winds and waves.
But as they moved toward Faxian, a devoted Dharma Protector of his stepped in and said loudly, “If you intend to throw this Shramana into the sea, you will have to toss me in first. If you don’t get rid of me, when we get to China, I will report you to the Emperor and you will all surely lose your lives. The Emperor believes in the Buddha and venerates the Triple Jewel; therefore, if you throw this monk into the sea, none of you will have long to live.” The Dharma Protector, in addition to being persuasive, was very powerful as well. Sizing him up, the merchants realized that they would have difficulty overcoming him, and several at least would lose their lives. All cowards, they didn’t dare throw Faxian into the sea. After more than twenty days, li huo (蔾藿), a plant native only to China, was sighted growing along a shore, and word spread that the boat had reached Shandong (山東).
The natives of Shandong informed the Governor that Faxian had arrived, and the Governor, who believed in the Buddha, came personally to welcome him. He invited Faxian to reside at the Governor’s mansion for a year, but the Dharma Master declined, saying that after his long stay in India, he wanted to return to the capital, Chang’an. Realizing that he couldn’t detain Faxian, the Governor permitted him to go on his way. He went on to Daochang Monastery where Buddhabhadra resided, and began to translate the Sutras he had brought back from India. His translations include the Sangha Vinaya, the Nirvana Sutra, and over a hundred other texts. At age 86, he completed the stillness.
Of the Sutras he translated, the Nirvana Sutra was the one which many people particularly liked to study and recite. Once a layman, whose name has been forgotten, had a handwritten copy of the Nirvana Sutra which somehow got mixed in with the secular books in his collection. One day his house caught fire and all the books burned with the exception of the copy of the Nirvana Sutra which remained totally untouched by the flames. Everyone found the incident incredible, and it caused many to take up the study of that Sutra.
One other point of interest is that when Faxian was in India, he witnessed the annual appearance of a white-eared dragon. This local dragon spirit protected the area and caused there to be an abundant harvest every year, provided that the people in that locale made an annual offering to him. The dragon, which looked like a snake except for his white ears, made its appearance while Faxian was in the area.
Dharma Master Faxian’s merit and virtue with regard to the Buddhadharma is very great, and he is an outstanding figure in the history of Chinese Buddhism.