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CHAPTER TWO

FOUR PATRIARCHS

Bodhidharma was Indian, but his disciples were not, and they began the process that resulted in the development of a Zen tradition that was uniquely Chinese. Earlier Buddhists in China had noted similarities between their teachings and native Daoism—which sought to bring its adherents into harmony with the Way (Dao or Tao) of nature and all being. Bodhidharma’s disciples recognized that realizing the Dao was essentially the same thing as achieving Awakening or realizing one’s Buddha-nature. As they adapted the Zen tradition to the Chinese temperament, they naturally assimilated Daoist terms and concepts.

HUIKE

Huike had been forty years old when he met Bodhidharma, and he remained with the first patriarch for six years. When Bodhidharma decided to return to India, he formally acknowledged Huike as his successor by presenting him with his robe and begging bowl.

Huike accompanied his master as he set out on his return journey and may have buried Bodhidharma when he died before reaching India. After that, Huike became a wandering monk. He did not profess to be a teacher and contented himself with living among ordinary people. Over time, however, he was recognized as a man of deep spiritual awakening and began to acquire his own disciples.

Conditions had changed in China since Bodhidharma first landed on its shores. The emperor Wu had been removed from his throne and starved to death while under house arrest in 549. Wu’s successors were traditional Confucianists who considered both Daoism (which had originated in China) and Buddhism (which they dismissed as something foreign) to be disruptive elements in society. Emperor Wu’s vegetarian offerings to the ancestors may have contributed to that feeling, but in particular the celibate life of monks and nuns in Buddhist monasteries was repugnant to Confucianists, who put great value on family life and social responsibility. They argued that the monks and nuns living in temples such as Shaolin were parasites who contributed nothing to society.

An edict was passed that banned the practices of Buddhism and Daoism. Religious texts and artwork were destroyed. Monks and nuns, such as those formerly supported by the Emperor Wu, were ordered to return to lay life. During the height of this persecution, Huike, with the aid of another monk named Tanlin, concealed sutras and images of the Buddha from the authorities. Tanlin had also been a disciple of Bodhidharma and had written a biography of his teacher. For a while, Tanlin was a dedicated Zen practitioner.

While the persecution was raging, Huike and Tanlin retired together to the mountains by the Yangtze River. There it happened that Tanlin lost his arm during an encounter with brigands. Huike (who had sacrificed his own arm to gain the dharma) nursed Tanlin, cauterizing the wound with fire, and wrapping the stump in silk. All through the night, however, Tanlin bewailed his fate.

During the day, Huike went into the village to beg for food, which he brought back to share with Tanlin. But when he offered Tanlin a portion, the wounded man snapped that he could not take it up because he now only had one hand. Huike pointed out, gently, that it was no different with him. Tanlin failed to be comforted, however, and eventually fell away from the practice of Zen, complaining that his fate must be due to a karmic debt he had incurred in the past.

While in the mountains, Huike was approached one day by a layman with leprosy. The layman hoped that Huike could free him of the sins that he believed were the cause of his condition. Echoing his own teacher, Huike told the man, “Bring your sins here, and I’ll rid you of them.”

“When I reflect on my sins,” the man admitted, “I’m not sure what they are.”

“Then you’re cleansed,” Huike told him. “Now all that remains is for you to take refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha.”

“I understand that you are a member of a group known as the Sangha, but what are the Buddha and the Dharma?”

“Mind is Buddha. Mind is Dharma. Dharma and Buddha are not two. So it is with Sangha.”

The leper then made one of those intuitive leaps of understanding only possible when one has been considering a problem, as he had been considering the problem of sin, for a long time: “Now I understand that sins are neither within nor without,” he exclaimed. “Just as the Mind is, so is Buddha, so is Dharma. They aren’t two.”

Huike recognized that here was the man who would be his successor and gave him the name Sengcan, which means “jewel monk.”

When the persecution began to abate, Huike returned to the capital, where he once again attracted disciples, much to the irritation of other teachers in the city. A meditation teacher named Dao Huan, in particular, resented the second patriarch’s popularity. Desiring to find out what Huike was teaching, Dao Huan ordered one of his own disciples to go to Huike and pretend to ask for instruction. But once the disciple met the second patriarch he was so impressed that he took up Zen practice in earnest. When Dao Huan did not hear back from his disciple, he sent several messengers to fetch him, but each came back without the disciple. Some time later Dao Huan encountered his former disciple in the market and asked, “Why is it that I had to send so many messengers to bring you back? Why are you behaving in such an ungrateful manner? Didn’t I exhaust myself in opening your eye to the truth?”

To which the former disciple replied, “My eye was right from the beginning. It was only because of you that I came to squint.”

Dao Huan stormed off, even more angry with Huike than before.

For several years, Huike continued in this manner, living unostentatiously and teaching those who sought him out. One day he was talking to a group of people gathered in front of a Buddhist temple wherein the local priest was giving a discourse on the Nirvana Sutra. The priest’s lecture was not very interesting, and some of those near the door, who could hear Huike speaking outside, stepped out to listen to him. The temple priest, annoyed by the situation, later denounced Huike to the authorities, asserting that the Zen master was promoting heresy. The charge would no doubt have been seconded by Dao Huan and others. The priest must have had some political influence because Huike was arrested and condemned to death. He did not resist being taken into custody and faced his execution with equanimity, remarking only that—like Tanlin—he no doubt had a karmic debt to repay.

He was one hundred and seven years old at the time of his death.

JIANZHI SENGCAN

After the leper Jianzhi Sengcan had been ordained by Huike, he also lived in obscurity. When presenting him with Bodhidharma’s robe and bowl, Huike had warned Sengcan of the civil unrest coming to the country. “Now that you have my teaching,” Huike had instructed him, “it is your responsibility to preserve it. Don’t make your dwelling in the cities and towns where you will draw the attention of the authorities, but go to the mountains.”

Little is known of Sengcan’s activities in the mountains, but he is recognized as the author of the Xinxin Ming (Inscription on the Believing Mind), a verse composition still popular with Zen practitioners. The following passages, “liberally” translated by D. T. Suzuki, show how Daoist terminology had been united with Buddhist principles:

The Perfect Way [Tao or Dao] knows no difficulties

Except that it refuses to make preference:

Only when freed from hate and love,

It reveals itself fully and without disguise.

A tenth of an inch’s difference,

And heaven and earth are set apart;

If you want to see it manifest,

Take no thought either for or against it.

To set up what you like against what you dislike—

This is the disease of the mind:

When the deep meaning of Tao is not understood

Peace of mind is disturbed and nothing is gained.

The Tao is perfect like unto vast space,

With nothing wanting, nothing superfluous:

It is indeed due to making choice

That suchness is lost sight of.

Pursue not the outer entanglements,

Dwell not in the inner void;

When the mind rests serene in the oneness of things,

The dualism vanishes by itself.

. . . .

When we return to the root, we gain the meaning. . . .

. . . .

Try not to seek after the true,

Only cease to cherish opinions.

Tarry not with dualism,

Carefully avoid pursuing it;

As soon as you have right and wrong,

Confusion ensues, the mind is lost.

. . . .

The object is an object for the subject,

The subject is a subject for an object:

Know that the relativity of the two

Rests ultimately on the oneness of the void

. . . . .

The infinitely small is as large as large can be,

When external conditions are forgotten;

The infinitely large is as small as small can be,

When objective limits are put out of sight.

. . . .

One in all

All in one—

If only this is realized;

No more worry about your not being perfect!

The believing mind is not divided,

And undivided is the unbelieving mind—

This is where words fail,

For it is not of the past, future, or present.³

DAYI DAOXIN

Regardless of how reclusive Zen masters were, highly motivated students continued to seek them out. So it was that Dayi Daoxin tracked down Sengcan. The third patriarch asked his visitor what he was looking for, and Daoxin replied: “Please show me the way to achieve liberation.”

“Who is it that holds you in bondage?” Sengcan asked.

“Well, no one,” Daoxin admitted.

“Then why are you seeking liberation?”

These words startled the young man, and he became Sengcan’s disciple. After many years, he too attained awakening and Sengcan declared him his successor, giving him the robe and bowl that had been passed down from Bodhidharma.

By the time of Daoxin, the suppression of Buddhism had abated and monasteries were once again open. A formal tradition of Zen training was starting to evolve. Daoxin instructed his disciples to be earnest in their practice of zuo chan (zazen in Japanese) or sitting meditation. “Zazen is basic to all else. Don’t bother reading the sutras; don’t become involved in discussions. If you can refrain from doing so and concentrate instead on zazen, for as much as thirty-five years or more, you will benefit. Just as a monkey will eat a nut still in its shell although it’s only satisfied when it has patiently extracted the nut from that shell, so there are only a few who will bring their zazen to fulfillment.”

Zazen was brought to fulfillment in the “emptiness” of which Bodhidharma had spoken to Emperor Wu. But Daoxin warned, “When those who are still young in the practice see emptiness, this is seeing emptiness, but it isn’t real emptiness. To those who are mature in the practice and who have attained emptiness, they see neither emptiness nor non-emptiness.”

NIUTOU FARONG

Two schools of Zen are said to have descended from Daoxin’s teaching. The first was the Niutou, or Ox-head School, which only survived for a few generations. The actual founder of this school was the hermit Farong who lived in a small temple in the Niutou Mountains. He lived such a holy life that birds brought him offerings of wild flowers. Farong’s fame was such that Daoxin’s curiosity was aroused and he determined to visit the recluse; others, however, warned him that Farong was so committed to his practice of meditation that he would not even acknowledge the presence of people who sought him out.

Undiscouraged, Daoxin made his way into the mountains and at length found Farong, just as he had been described, sitting in meditation on a stone outside the small temple he maintained. Daoxin sat opposite the hermit and when, at last, the hermit glanced at him, Daoxin asked: “Reverend Sir, may I ask what you’re doing?”

“I’m contemplating Mind,” Farong answered.

“Ah. May I ask: who is he who is contemplating, and what mind is it that’s being contemplated?”

Farong was taken aback, uncertain how to answer these questions. Suspecting that his visitor might be someone more accomplished than himself, he rose from the stone on which he had been sitting and greeted Daoxin formally, inviting him to stay and have a cup of tea.

While they were chatting, Daoxin heard the roar of a wild beast in the woods, and he was startled. Farong smiled and remarked, “I see it’s still with you.”

Daoxin made no comment, but, when Farong went into his dwelling to prepare the tea, Daoxin took the opportunity to write the name of the Buddha on the stone where Farong had been sitting. When he returned, Farong saw the sacred name on his stone and hesitated to desecrate it by sitting down.

“Mmm,” Daoxin murmured. “I see it’s still with you.”

On hearing these words, Farong came to genuine awakening, and the birds no longer brought him wildflowers.

DAMAN HONGREN

The second school to descend from Daoxin was the East Mountain School of his successor, the fifth patriarch, Hongren.

The story is told that an elderly tree-planter heard Daoxin speaking one day and felt a great longing to become his disciple. But because of his age, he believed he was too old to begin the practice of Zen. Somewhat despondent, he returned to his home and along the way came upon a young woman washing clothes on the bank of a river. He spoke to her, telling her that he sought to be reborn in order to become a disciple of the fourth patriarch and asked if she would be willing to be his mother in his new life. As odd a proposition as this was, the girl agreed to do so. The tree planter then died, and the young laundress found herself pregnant. When her child was born, the girl’s parents tried to conceal their daughter’s disgrace by throwing it into the river. But the newborn floated on the water and survived to be raised by others.

Now named Hongren, the child came to visit Daoxin when he was only six years old and asked to be admitted to the sangha. Daoxin asked the boy what his family name (xing) was, and Hongren replied with a clever pun: “I have a nature (xing) but it is not an ordinary one.” Although the characters for “name” and “nature” are different, they are pronounced the same.

“What is it then?” Daoxin inquired, still asking for the precocious child’s name.

“It is Buddha-nature [fo xing].”

“So you have no name [xing]?”

“No, master,” the boy continued the pun, “because it [referring to his nature] is empty.”

Daoxin accepted Hongren as a disciple, despite his age, and the boy dedicated himself to the practice with fervor. Zen chroniclers record that he worked in the monastery during the day and then often remained up until dawn sitting in meditation.

When Daoxin retired, he named Hongren his successor, passing on Bodhidharma’s robe and bowl. The fifth patriarch then moved to East Mountain. He was already famous and quickly attracted a large group of disciples. There were even invitations from the emperor to come to the city, which Hongren declined, saying that he would refuse even if threatened with execution—an answer it is said the emperor admired.

On East Mountain, Hongren taught his disciples Daoxin’s discipline of zazen. The Zen School was still small, and some of Hongren’s students wondered why he hid away in the mountains rather than teaching in the cities, where more students might be attracted. Hongren offered this analogy: “Where are the trees found that are used for making the pillars and beams of a large building? They aren’t found in populated areas where they may be cut down for trivial reasons such as for firewood. They’re found in secluded mountain valleys where they’re free to grow as large as they can. In the same way, those who seek to grow in the dharma must live apart from the large population centers so that they too may grow un-molested, undistracted by trivialities. Studying in this manner, away from distractions, they grow strong.”

It was to this isolated mountain temple that a young, illiterate woodcutter named Huineng would make his way.

Huineng (who had been a woodcutter as a child) chopping bamboo