A Life Dedicated to the Dharma

The twilight years of Xuanzang, China’s most celebrated Buddhist pilgrim and translator, were marked by both profound spiritual accomplishment and physical decline. By 664 CE, the sixty-five-year-old monk had already achieved what few could imagine – a seventeen-year pilgrimage across Central Asia to India, mastery of Sanskrit and Buddhist philosophy, and the translation of hundreds of sacred texts that would shape East Asian Buddhism for centuries. Yet as he worked tirelessly in the Jade Flower Monastery (Yuhua Si), translating what would become his final works, the once indomitable traveler confronted his own mortality with the same clarity that had guided his legendary journey westward.

The Weight of Translation

Xuanzang’s final years at the Jade Flower Monastery represented the culmination of a translation project unprecedented in scale and significance. Since returning from India in 645 CE with 657 Buddhist texts, he had labored under imperial patronage to render these Sanskrit works into Chinese. The physical toll was immense – ancient records describe how the aging monk would rise before dawn to begin work, continuing late into the night with only brief pauses for meals and meditation.

In the first month of 664, while attempting to translate the Mahāratnakūṭa Sūtra (Great Treasury of Scriptures), Xuanzang suddenly stopped. Looking at his disciples with solemn resignation, he confessed: “The scope of this scripture equals that of the Mahāprajñāpāramitā Sūtra. I can feel my energy is insufficient to complete this task. My time of death has arrived; it is not far off.” These words marked his final act as a translator – after producing over 1,300 scrolls of translations, the great scholar put down his brush forever.

Visions and Parting Words

As Xuanzang’s health declined, his days became filled with vivid spiritual visions that Buddhist tradition interprets as signs of impending enlightenment. He described seeing enormous white lotuses “larger than plates” and witnessed celestial beings filling his chamber with music and offerings. To his disciples, these were not hallucinations but confirmations of his approaching Buddhahood.

The monk’s practical preparations for death reflected both his humility and meticulous nature. He ordered a complete catalog of his translations (revealing 582 texts remained untranslated) and instructed that his funeral be simple: “When I am gone, send me off frugally…place me in a secluded mountain stream, far from palaces and temples. This impure body should be kept at a distance.”

His final testament, delivered on the 24th day of the first lunar month, distilled a lifetime of spiritual seeking: “I have grown weary of this defiled body. My work here is complete…May the merit I’ve cultivated benefit all sentient beings. I vow to be reborn in Tuṣita Heaven to serve Maitreya Bodhisattva, and when the future Buddha descends, may I follow to spread the Dharma.”

The Passing of a Sage

Xuanzang’s death on the fifth day of the second lunar month (February 7, 664) unfolded with ritual precision. After days of silent meditation, he assumed the parinirvāṇa posture – reclining on his right side, head supported by hand – that would become iconic in Buddhist art. When a disciple asked if he was certain of rebirth in Maitreya’s paradise, his final whispered “Yes” sealed a life that had bridged continents and civilizations.

News of his passing sent shockwaves through Tang China. Emperor Gaozong lamented, “I have lost a national treasure,” canceling court sessions for days. The state organized an elaborate funeral procession from the Jade Flower Monastery to Chang’an, where thousands paid respects before his interment at White Deer Plain. Later moved to Fanchuan, his tomb became a pilgrimage site, while memorial temples like the Great Ci’en Pagoda ensured his legacy would endure.

The Scholar’s Enduring Light

Xuanzang’s contributions transcend hagiography. His translation methodology revolutionized Chinese Buddhism by introducing precise Sanskrit equivalents rather than borrowing Daoist terminology. The “Five Guidelines for Not Translating” established principles still studied today, while his translation academy’s division of labor (with roles from “text verifiers” to “stylistic polishers”) set new standards for accuracy.

Beyond scripture, his Records of the Western Regions remains an invaluable historical source for seventh-century Central Asia and India. The Faxiang (Yogācāra) school he founded influenced Buddhist thought across East Asia, while his vernacular translations helped democratize access to Buddhist teachings.

Modern scholars like Ji Xianlin note the complex duality of Xuanzang – at once a spiritual seeker and political operator navigating imperial patronage. Yet as Lu Xun observed, it is precisely such “those who sought the Dharma with their lives” who constitute “the backbone of China.” From the Jade Flower Monastery’s quiet scriptorium to the halls of modern academia, Xuanzang’s legacy endures as both a historical monument and living inspiration – a testament to the power of intellectual courage and cross-cultural exchange.