---
title: "靈峰蕅益大師宗論 · 誦帚師往生傳"
description: "靈峰蕅益大師宗論是明末高僧智旭的著作。明末佛教面臨內部僵化與外部挑戰，智旭大師立足天台宗，主張禪教律淨融合，回應時代弊病。該書匯集其書信、註疏與開示，系統闡述性相融通、淨土為歸的佛學思想，強調解行並進與實踐修行。作為中國佛教史上承先啟後的巨著，它深刻影響了後世漢傳佛教的發展，尤其對淨土宗的推廣貢獻卓著，被尊為淨土宗第九祖的智旭，其思想透過此論成為明清佛教的重要指南。"
url: "https://rushiwowen.co/en/r/cmgn46ogd0pbak1045tav93le"
---

### 誦帚師往生傳

> Master Songzhou's Rebirth

師諱宏思，一字如是，晉江溜𤀀人，族姓陳。髫年入郡之開元寺，禮湛然精舍肖滿全公為師。薙髮後，喜詩文，不理錢穀，氣節昂然，緇素咸敬憚之。年二十七，忽發出世心，盟月臺心默師及惺谷何居士，為生死交，朝夕參究大事，忘形破格，風雨寒暑，弗替也。時溫陵佛法久荒，聞熏乏種，師獨與惺谷鼓舞數人，謁博山無異禪師受具戒，苦參無字，脅不著席者三年。異師愍其勤，恐致病，說調琴喻勸之，稍稍晏息，終不解衣。師志遠大，縱有省悟，不自足，亦不輕舉似人。同輩視師若木訥，師固是非了了，洞如秦鏡矣。離博山，游浙直，習教觀於幽谿，鑒末世暗證之失，遵永明角虎之訓，遂神棲安養，期以萬善同歸。迨惺谷薙草，師以受惺谷教益最深，欲推為先臘，且博山受戒不如法，遂捨前所授，禮季賢師為和尚，覺源、新伊二法師為阿闍梨。次惺谷進比丘戒，兼進菩薩大戒，結夏聽予律要。次年，惺谷師西逝，師以全公年邁，歸侍，創八關社，接引居士，從此溫陵緇素，始知有如來正戒。師自視欿然，惟明師良友是念。越五載，復逃江外，踏冰雪，尋予九子峰頂。未幾，全公變，厥孫泣挽回泉，乃訂予續至紫雲，作掩關計。逮予踐約，未及一載，師遂示疾。召予助其念佛，命侍者除髮浴身。浴畢，端坐，舉手而逝。正念分明，神清氣定。越二時，頂𩕳尚煖，托質蓮蕊無疑也。師生平自奉甚約，破衫補履，數十年如一日。予嘗笑謂之曰：「舜視棄天下猶棄敝屣，師棄敝屣猶天下也。」師愀然曰：「某非故作慳態，愧薄德不堪消受檀信耳。」甘淡薄，忍疲勞，精勤禪誦，夜寐夙興，雖劇病臨危，亦不懈廢，誠有古人風。至於親信師友，受惡辣鉗錘，如飲甘露，於古人中，亦不多得。假以數年，近可匹休異巖，遠可追蹤斷崖。惜乎生年僅五十，戒臘甫十夏，自度固已有餘，利他功未及半。痛哉！與士夫往復，必隨其病渴，飲以苦口。師侍者，錄成帙，予戲題為老婆禪，便有偈頌詩詠數十首。未示疾前一月，忽焚之。嘗取律中一偈，銘諸座右。偈曰：名譽及利養，愚人所愛樂。能損害善法，如劍斬人頭。師未嘗不與鄉紳賢達交，而心固覷破如此也。猶憶其詠菊絕句云「籬菊數莖隨上下，無心整理任他黃。後先不與時花競，自吐霜中一段香。」此可窺其概矣。師自謂神根稍鈍，晚稱誦帚道人，志在掩關，專修淨業。又號藏六比丘，其道昉一，諱則異，師所命也。按紫雲《開士傳》，已得八十人，今當續稱第八十一云。

> The Master, whose monastic name was Hongsi and courtesy name Rushi, was a native of Liupu in Jinjiang, whose lay surname was Chen. He entered Kaiyuan Temple in the city as a child and took Venerable Xiao Man Quan of Zhanran Hermitage as his teacher. After his ordination, he delighted in poetry and literature, paid no attention to money or grains, and was upright in spirit, earning reverence tinged with fear from both monastics and laity. At the age of twenty-seven, a sudden aspiration for liberation arose in his heart. He formed a lifelong friendship focused on spiritual matters with the hermit Mind-Moon Ximo and the layman He Xinggu, vowing to investigate the great matter of life and death with total dedication, transcending conventions through all weather. At the time, the Buddha Dharma in Wenling had long been neglected, with no seeds for awakening. The Master alone, along with Xingu, inspired several others to travel to Boshan Temple to receive full precepts from the Chan master Wuyi. There he devotedly meditated on the word "Nothingness," keeping his elbows off the mat for three years straight. Master Wuyi, moved by his diligence and fearing it might harm his health, advised him with the analogy of tuning a lute—not too tight, not too loose. Although he began to rest a little more, he never once removed his robes. His aspirations were vast; even when experiencing insight, he neither became self-satisfied nor casually revealed it to others. His peers saw him as slow and dull-witted, but in truth he was discerning about right and wrong, as clear as a mirror. After leaving Boshan, he traveled to Zhejiang and Zhili, studying the teachings and contemplation system at Youxi. Recognizing the faults of those in the latter age who claim realization without corresponding conduct, he followed the dual cultivation method of Master Yongming, thus setting his heart on the Pure Land of Peace and Nourishment, hoping all good deeds would lead there. When Xingu was to receive full ordination, the Master, having gained the greatest benefit from his guidance, sought to honor him as a senior. However, recognizing that the precepts given at Boshan were not properly transmitted, he set aside his previous ordination, took Venerable Lixian as his preceptor, and used Dharma Masters Jueyuan and Xinyi as supervising teachers. Next, he encouraged Xingu to receive the higher precepts, himself also receiving the greater Bodhisattva precepts, and spent the summer retreat listening to Dharma talks on the essential rules. The following year, Master Xingu passed away. The Master, seeing that his own teacher Venerable Quan had grown old, returned to serve him, establishing the Eight-Precepts Society to guide laypeople. From then on, monastics and laity in Wenling began to learn of the true precepts of the Tathagata. Despite this, the Master remained deeply humble, constantly thinking of wise teachers and good friends. Five years later, he again fled to Jiangwai, treading through ice and snow to find me on the summit of Nine Sons Peak. Soon after, when Venerable Quan died and his disciples tearfully called him back to Quanzhou, he arranged for me to come to Ziyun Monastery to prepare for a period of retreat. But before the year was up, the Master became ill. He called me to support him in his recitation of the Buddha's name and instructed his attendant to shave his head and bathe his body. When the bath was finished, he sat upright, raised his hand, and passed away. His mindfulness was clear and unconfused; his spirit was calm and composed. Even two hours later, the crown of his head remained warm—no doubt his essence was already born on a lotus flower in the Pure Land. In his daily life, the Master was extremely frugal. He wore patched robes and mended sandals for decades. I once laughingly said to him: "Emperor Shun saw losing the world like casting away a worn-out sandal. You, Master, see wearing a worn-out sandal as losing the world!" He responded solemnly: "I certainly don't force myself to be stingy—it’s just that I am deeply ashamed to accept offerings from the faithful, feeling myself unworthy of them." He embraced simplicity, endured hardship, and devoted himself to meditation and recitation with tireless diligence, sleeping late and rising early. Even when seriously ill and close to death, he never slackened in his practice—truly embodying the spirit of the ancients. As for his trust in wise teachers and good friends, he accepted even harsh and bitter training as if drinking sweet nectar. Even among the ancients, such a quality is rare. Given a few more years, he could have equaled the greats of recent times and rivaled even the finest of old. What a pity that he lived only fifty years, with only ten full monastic rains! For his own liberation he had prepared more than enough, but the work of benefiting others was only half completed. How deeply this grieves me! When corresponding with scholars and officials, he always responded according to each person's illness, prescribing bitter remedies as needed. His attendant compiled these exchanges into a volume, which I humorously titled "Old Woman’s Chan." There were also dozens of verses and poems. A month before he fell ill, he suddenly burned them all. He once took a verse from the Vinaya and inscribed it on his meditation bench. The verse goes: > Fame and profit, the things that others crave, > Are loved by those who do not understand. > They harm all wholesome dharmas—such a band— > As when a sharp sword cuts a man's head. Though the Master never refused to associate with prominent scholars and officials, his profound insight saw through appearances, as demonstrated here. I still recall a quatrain he wrote about chrysanthemums: > A few stalks of fence-chrysanthemums, free to rise and fall, > Left untrimmed, they freely turn to gold. > They race not with the flowers of the season, > But breathe their fragrance in the frost, alone. This reveals something of his character. The Master said he was somewhat dull in spiritual faculties, and in later years called himself "One Who Sweeps with Recitation," aiming to close the door and focus solely on Pure Land practice. He also used the title "Bhikshu of the Sixfold Hiding." The name "Daofangyi" for his practice was given by Master Yiyi. According to the Ziyun "Biographies of Eminent Monastics," eighty worthy figures have already been recorded. Now, we may officially count him as the eighty-first.