---
title: "天界覺浪盛禪師全錄 · 題姑蘇建法藥寺療十方僧引"
description: "天界覺浪盛禪師全錄是明代高僧覺浪道盛的語錄文集由弟子大成大然等人編集整理後附杖門隨集覺浪道盛活躍於明末清初禪宗曹洞宗重要傳人其思想融合儒釋道三教全錄收錄其上堂法語書信偈頌等內容闡釋禪法心要與修行見地反映了明末禪林的思潮與實踐該文獻對研究明清佛教史禪宗思想流變及三教合一趨勢具有重要價值是了解當時禪宗風貌的關鍵典籍之一"
url: "https://rushiwowen.co/en/r/cmgn0d8wx1oesl404wcs658pq"
---

### 題姑蘇建法藥寺療十方僧引

> A Proposal for Establishing Fayao Temple in Gusu to Care for the Monks of the Ten Directions

黃道來居士，予先父友也。歲辛亥，予方出家，適值恩愛執歸，幸居士深為勸釋，復為予卜夢筆山，因得閉關。後謝去，參壽昌大師，遂策杖觀方。時戊午，從金陵來閶門訪居士，正有事，余因特下毒手，以酬其夙私而別，迄今又十六年矣。去歲，予有嵩衡之役，偶西湖雙徑度春夏，因取道荊溪，故不及姑蘇也。抵金陵，問禪者，言居士有藥僧願，予即寄一偈曰：「殺得天下人，活得天下人，若非自殺漢，此鋒無處尋。」予已先深期居士矣。及予之楚，耿天臺請予主盟，并以藥僧願約屬予作序，願中有曰：「人之生老與死，此中著力不得，惟有病之一路可以救藥。」予笑曰：「是則是，豈不知佛祖出世，特以生死二字為人著力者乎？舍此，則亦無從施設法藥矣。」居士以僧徒無主，病苦可悲，或小恙而大劇，活症而瀕死，誠大士見為藥草救療沉痾之弘願也。又云：「年逾五十，筋力易衰，不趁此歲月作行門犬馬，悔將何及？至望諸方大德皆發勇擔荷，共成勝事。」嗚呼！余讀至此，益可悲其志而傷其事也。居士欲以自己必死之身，救他人無常之病，其智癡願切，世人所緩而獨急，尤可謂難行之事也。況有一等向上病痛，千聖所拱手，不能為治者在耶？昔維摩示疾，毘耶，以病作醫，欲去眾生無始愛見攀緣妄想之業，況此四大地、水、火、風，變化詭異，如夢幻空華，難可捉摸，孰能一一按其症候，人人授其藥石哉？即維摩神力，亦不過欲眾生悟此生死妄因，而自得解脫耳。不然，即使盡大地人皆如長壽天，無病苦之惱，亦何補於眾生慧命乎？即予一人有身已來，無日不病，無病不奇，使居士終身為予左右調視，亦不能盡善此幻業也，況能為天下後世耶？昔有真人患大瘋癩，自視身為棄物，不久即得成道。是則眾生因病悟幻，因病了心，以病為大良藥者，則亦取諸自身矣。居士年迫桑榆而不自治，亦何暇以不急之務自誤哉？噫！居士必先有見于此乎？必先有主張于是乎？一切眾生，至于羽毛鱗甲之屬，其迷已極，即有微言妙法，難使開悟。獨有人於彼生死之際，解放其性命，彼必感我救拔，以激起報恩之心，反能消落其積業，而頓悟此靈，則施藥之當機捷矣。又如僧者，豈不有因病而感其真智，因法以悟其妄業，而同游此大藥籠乎？夫如是，能以法藥二施，則療一僧之身病，即可療盡天下眾生之心病也；續一日之危命，即可續萬世不絕之慧命也。即不然，居士雖藥院不成，能舉此心、倡此行，自足感悟十方，豈有如是真因，無如是真果也哉？予壽昌祖每見病僧，必親調藥餌；見僧遷化，必躬負薪茶。毘予此身，不知為人調藥負薪者耶？人為我調藥負薪者耶？予當執杖鞭，吾徒皆從其後，則吾最初感居士勸釋之心，亦可以酬矣。居士矍鑠哉！無疑予不來也，無疑予不來也，且為先聲。

> Lay practitioner Huang Daolai was a friend of my late father. In 1911, when I first left home to become a monk, I happened to be caught in the grip of worldly attachments. Fortunately, the practitioner counseled me deeply and even divined a dream for me about Bǐshān, which led me to enter retreat. Later, after leaving retreat, I went to study under Master Shouchang, and then traveled with a staff to observe the world. In 1918, I came from Jinling to Changmen to visit the practitioner, but he was occupied with business. I thus delivered a fierce strike to repay our old connection, and we parted. That was sixteen years ago now. Last year, I undertook a journey to Mount Song and Mount Heng, spending spring and summer at West Lake and Shuangjing. I took a detour through Jingxi, and so could not pass by Suzhou. When I arrived at Jinling and asked about the practitioner, I was told he had made a vow to heal monks with medicine. I immediately sent a verse: "Kill all under heaven, live all under heaven. Unless one is a self-killer, this blade has nowhere to be found." I already had deep expectations for the practitioner. When I went to Chu, Geng Tiantaì invited me to lead and asked me to write a preface for the practitioner's vow to heal monks. In the vow, it said: "In birth, aging, and death, one cannot exert effort. Only in illness is there a path for remedy." I laughed and said: "That may be so, but do you not know that the Buddhas and patriarchs appeared in the world precisely to give people a place to exert effort in life and death? Apart from this, there is no way to administer the medicine of Dharma." The practitioner felt that monks had no one to lead them, and that their suffering from illness was pitiable. A minor ailment might become severe; a curable condition might approach death. This truly embodies the great vow of a bodhisattva, seeing medicine and herbs as a way to rescue and heal deep afflictions. He also said: "Past fifty, my strength wanes. If I do not seize these years to serve as a beast of burden in practice, what regret can remedy it? I hope all great virtuous ones will rise up with courage and together accomplish this excellent matter." Alas! When I read this far, I grieved all the more for his resolve and lamented his circumstances. The practitioner wishes to use his own inevitably dying body to save others from the illness of impermanence. His wisdom may be humble, but his vow is deeply earnest—what the world neglects, he alone pursues urgently. Truly, this is a difficult deed. Moreover, there is a kind of higher illness that even a thousand sages yield to, unable to treat. In the past, Vimalakīrti manifested illness in Vaiśālī, using illness as medicine, wishing to remove sentient beings' beginningless attachments, clinging, fantasizing, and karmic entanglements. How much more so when the four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—transform in strange ways, like dreams, illusions, and empty flowers, impossible to grasp? Who can examine each symptom and prescribe each person their medicine? Even Vimalakīrti's miraculous power merely wished sentient beings to awaken to the illusory cause of birth and death and attain liberation themselves. Otherwise, even if everyone in the world lived like the long-lived gods, free from the affliction of illness, what would that add to the wisdom-life of sentient beings? For myself, since having this body, there has not been a day without illness, and no illness has been ordinary. If the practitioner were to spend his whole life at my side tending to me, he still could not fully care for this illusory karma—how much less for the world and future generations? In the past, a true person contracted severe leprosy, regarded his own body as a discarded thing, and soon attained the Way. Thus, when sentient beings awaken to illusion through illness and understand their minds through illness, taking illness as a great medicine, they draw it from their own bodies. The practitioner's years draw near to sunset, yet he does not tend to himself. How can he spare time to delay himself with matters that are not urgent? Ah! Must the practitioner have already seen this? Must he already have a position on this? All sentient beings—even birds, beasts, fish, and insects—are deeply deluded. Even subtle words and wondrous Dharma struggle to awaken them. Yet when someone frees them at the moment of life and death, they must surely feel gratitude for the rescue, arousing a mind of repayment. In turn, this can dissolve their accumulated karma and suddenly awaken this spirit. Then administering medicine strikes at the very moment. As for monks, are there not those who, through illness, are moved toward true wisdom, and through Dharma, awaken to their illusory karma, roaming together within this great medicine basket? If one can thus administer both medicine and Dharma, then curing one monk's physical illness can cure the mental illness of all sentient beings. Extending one day of endangered life can extend an unbroken wisdom-life for ten thousand generations. Even if this is not achieved, though the practitioner's medicine hall may not succeed, if he can raise this mind and promote this practice, that alone can move the ten directions. How could there be such a true cause without such a true fruit? My master, Patriarch Shouchang, whenever he saw a sick monk, would personally prepare his medicine. When he saw a monk pass away, he would personally carry firewood for cremation. Now I ask myself: am I the one who prepares medicine and carries firewood for others, or are others preparing medicine and carrying firewood for me? I should take up my staff and whip my disciples to follow behind me. Then the gratitude I felt when the practitioner first counseled me can be repaid. Practitioner, you are still vigorous! Do not doubt that I will come. Do not doubt that I will come. Let this serve as an advance notice.