Essays in Zen Buddhism · 48 of 66

Practical Methods of Zen Instruction, Part 5

We now come to the third class I have styled, “Contradiction,” by which I mean the Zen master’s negation, implicitly or expressly, of what he himself has stated or what has been stated by another. To one and the same question his answer is sometimes “No,” sometimes “Yes.” Or to a well-known and fully-established fact he gives an unqualified denial. From an ordinary point of view he is altogether unreliable, yet he seems to think that the truth of Zen requires such contradictions and denials; for Zen has a standard of its own, which, to our common-sense minds, consists just in negating everything we properly hold true and real. In spite of these apparent confusions, the philosophy of Zen is guided by a thorough-going principle which, when once grasped, its topsy-turviness becomes the plainest truth.

A monk asked the sixth patriarch of the Zen sect in China, who flourished late in the seventh and early in the eighth century, “Who has attained to the secrets of Wobai (Huang-mei)?” Wobai is the name of the mountain where the fifth patriarch, Hung-jên used to reside, and, it was a well-known fact that Hui-nêng, the sixth patriarch, studied Zen under him and succeeded in the orthodox line of transmission. The question was therefore really not a plain regular one, seeking an information about facts. It had quite an ulterior object. The reply of the sixth patriarch was, “One who understands Buddhism has attained to the secrets of Wobai.”

“Have you then attained them?”

“No, I have not.”

“How is it,” asked the monk, “that you have not?”

The answer was, “I do not understand Buddhism.”

Did he not really understand Buddhism? Or is it that not to understand is to understand? This is also the philosophy of the Kena-Upanishad.

The self-contradiction of the sixth patriarch is somewhat mild and indirect when compared with that of Dōgo (Tao-wu). He succeeded to Yakusan (Yüeh-shan Wei-yen, 751–834), but when he was asked by Gohō (Wu-fêng) whether he knew the old master of Yakusan, he flatly denied it, saying, “No, I do not.” Gohō was however persistent, “Why do you not know him?” “I do not, I do not,” was the emphatic statement of Dōgo. The latter thus singularly enough refused to give any reason except simply and forcibly denying the fact which was apparent to our common-sense knowledge.

Another emphatic and unequivocal contradiction by Tesshikaku (T‘ieh-tsui Chiao) is better known to students of Zen than the case just cited. He was a disciple of Jōshu (Chao-chou). When he visited Hōgen (Fa-yen Wên-i, died 958), another great Zen master, the latter asked him, what was the last place he came from. Tesshikaku replied that he came from Jōshu. Said Hōgen,

“I understand that a cypress tree once became the subject of his talk; was that really so?”

Tesshikaku was positive in his denial, saying, “He had no such talk.”

Hōgen protested, “All the monks coming from Jōshu lately speak of his reference to a cypress tree in answer to a monk’s question, ‘What was the real object of the coming east of Bodhi-dharma?’ How do you say that Jōshu made no such reference to a cypress tree?”

Whereupon Tesshikaku roared, “My late master never made such a talk; no slighting allusion to him, if you please!”

Hōgen greatly admired this attitude on the part of the disciple of the famous Jōshu, and said, “Truly, you are a lion’s child!”

In Zen literature, Dharma’s coming from the west, that is, from India, is quite frequently made the subject of the discourse. When a question is asked as to the real object of his coming over to China, it refers to the ultimate principle of Buddhism, and has nothing to do with his personal motive which made him cross the ocean, landing him at some point along the southern coast of China. The historical fact is not the issue here. And to this all-important question numerous answers are given, but so varied and so unexpectedly odd, yet according to Zen masters all expressive of the truth of their teaching.

This contradiction, negation, or paradoxical statement is the inevitable result of the Zen way of looking at life. The whole emphasis of its discipline is placed on the intuitive grasping of the inner truth deeply hidden in our consciousness. And this truth thus revealed or awakened within oneself defies intellectual manipulation, or at least cannot be imparted to others through any of dialectical formulas. It must come out of oneself, grow within oneself, and become one with one’s own being. What others, that is, ideas or images can do, is to indicate the way where lies the truth. This is what Zen masters do. And the indicators given by them are naturally unconventionally free and refreshingly original. As their eyes are always fixed on the ultimate truth itself, anything and everything they can command is utilised to accomplish the end, regardless of its logical conditions and consequences. This indifference to logic is sometimes asserted purposely, just to let us know that the truth of Zen is independent of the intellect. Hence the statement in the Prañā-pāramitā Sūtra, that “Not to have any Dharma to discourse about—this is discoursing about the Dharma.” (Dharmadeśanā dharmadeśaneti subhūte nāsti sa kaścid dharmo yo dharmadeśanā nāmotpalabhyate.)

Haikyu (P‘ei Hsiu), a state minister of the T‘ang dynasty, was a devoted follower of Zen under Ōbaku. One day he showed him a manuscript in which his understanding of Zen was stated. The master took it, and setting it down beside him, made no movement to read it, but remained silent for some little while. He then said, “Do you understand?” “Not quite,” answered the minister. “If you have an understanding here,” said the master, “there is something of Zen. But if it is committed to paper and ink, nowhere is our religion to be found.” Something analogous to this we have already noticed in Hakuin’s interview with Shōju Rōnin. Being a living fact, Zen is only where living facts are handled. Appeal to the intellect is real and living as long as it issues directly from life. Otherwise, no amount of literary accomplishment or of intellectual analysis avails in the study of Zen.