Hakuin grew desperate and thought of leaving the old master altogether. When one day he was going about begging in the village, a certain accident[f149] made him all of a sudden open his mental eye to the truth of Zen, hitherto completely shut off from him. His joy knew no bounds and he came back in a most exalted state of mind. Before he crossed the front gate, the master recognised him and beckoned to him, saying, “What a good news have you brought home to-day? Come right in, quick, quick!” Hakuin then told him all about what he went through with that day. The master tenderly stroked him on the back and said, “You have it now, you have it now.” After this, Hakuin was never called names.
Such was the training the father of modern Japanese Zen had to go through. How terrible the old Shōju was when he pushed Hakuin down the stone-wall! But how motherly when the disciple after so much of ill-treatment finally came out triumphantly! There is nothing lukewarm in Zen. If it is lukewarm, it is not Zen. It expects one to penetrate into the very depths of truth, and the truth can never be grasped until one comes back to one’s native nakedness shorn of all trumperies, intellectual or otherwise. Each slap dealt by Shōju stripped Hakuin of his insincerities. We are all living under so many casings which really have nothing to do with our inmost self. To reach the latter, therefore, and to gain the real knowledge of ourselves, the Zen masters resort to methods seemingly inhuman. In this case however there must be absolute faith in the truth of Zen and in the master’s perfect understanding of it. The lack of this faith will also mean the same in one’s own spiritual possibilities. So exclaims Rinzai: “O you, men of little faith! How can you ever expect to fathom the depths of the ocean of Zen?”
VIII
In the life of the Zendo there is no fixed period of graduation as in a school education. With some, graduation may not take place even after his twenty years’ boarding there. But with ordinary abilities and a large amount of perseverance and indefatigability, one is able to probe into every intricacy of the teachings of Zen within a space of ten years.
To practise the principle of Zen, however, in every moment of life, that is, to grow fully saturated in the spirit of Zen is another question. One life may be too short for it, for it is said that even Śākyamuni and Maitreya themselves are yet in the midst of self-training.
To be a perfectly qualified master, a mere understanding of the truth of Zen is not sufficient. One must go through a period which is known as “the long maturing of the sacred womb.”[7.31] The term must have originally come from Taoism; and in Zen nowadays it means, broadly speaking, living a life harmonious with the understanding. Under the direction of a master, a monk may finally attain to a thorough knowledge of all the mysteries of Zen; but this is more or less intellectual, though in the highest possible sense. The monk’s life, in and out, must grow in perfect unison with this attainment. To do this a further training is necessary, for what he has gained at Zendo is after all the pointing of the direction where his utmost efforts have to be put forth. But it is not at all imperative now to remain in the Zendo. On the contrary, his intellectual attainments must be further put on trial by coming into actual contact with the world. There are no prescribed rules for this “maturing.” Each one acts on his own discretion in the accidental circumstances in which he may find himself. He may retire into the mountains and live a solitary hermit, or he may come out into the “market” and be an active participant in all the affairs of the world. The sixth patriarch is said to have been living among the mountaineers for fifteen years after he left the fifth patriarch. He was quite unknown in the world until he came out to a lecture by Inshu (Yin-tsung).[7.32] Chu, the National Teacher of Nan-yang, spent forty years in Nanyang and did not show himself out in the capital. But his holy life became known far and near, and at the urgent request of the Emperor he finally left his hut. Isan (Wei-shan) spent several years in the wilderness, living on nuts and befriending monkeys and deer. However, he was found out and big monasteries were built about his anchorage, he became master of 1,500 monks. Kwanzan,[7.33] the founder of Myōshinji, Kyoto, retired in Mino province, and worked as day-labourer for the villagers. Nobody recognised him until one day an accident brought out his identity and the court insisted on his founding a monastery in the capital.[f150] Hakuin became the keeper of a deserted temple in Suruga which was his sole heritage in the world. We can picture to ourselves the scene of its dilapidations when we read this: “There were no roofs and the stars shone through at night. Nor was there any floor. It was necessary to have a rain-hat and to put on a pair of high getas when anything was going on while raining in the main part of the temple. All the property attached to it was in the hands of the creditors, and the priestly belongings were mortgaged to the merchants.”—This was the beginning of Hakuin’s career.
There are many other notable ones, the history of Zen abounds with such instances. The idea however is not to practise asceticism, it is the “maturing,” as they have properly designated, of one’s moral character. Many serpents and adders are waiting at the porch, and if one fails to trample them down effectively, they raise the heads again and the whole edifice of moral culture built up in vision may collapse even in one day. Antinomianism is also the pitfall for Zen followers, against which a constant vigil is needed. Hence this “maturing.”
IX
In some respects, no doubt, this kind of education prevailing at the Zendo is behind the times. But its guiding principles such as simplification of life, not wasting a moment idly, self-independence, and what they call “secret virtue,” are sound for all ages. Especially, this latter is one of the most characteristic features of Zen discipline. “Secret virtue” means practising goodness without any thought of recognition, neither by others nor by oneself. The Christians may call this the doing of “Thy Will.” A child is drowned, and I get into the water, and it is saved. What was to be done was done. Nothing more is thought of it. I walk away and never turn back. A cloud passes, and the sky is as blue and as broad as ever. Zen calls it a “deed without merit,” and compares it to a man’s work who tries to fill up a well with snow.
This is the psychological aspect of “secret virtue.” When it is religiously considered, it is to regard and use the world reverentially and gratefully, feeling as if one were carrying on one’s shoulders all the sins of the world. An old woman asked Jōshu,[7.34] “I belong to the sex that is hindered in five ways from attaining Buddhahood; and how can I ever be delivered from them?” Answered the master, “O let all other people be born in heaven and let me, this humble self, alone continue suffering in this ocean of pain!” This is the spirit of the true Zen student. There is another story illustrating the same spirit of longsuffering. The district of Jōshu where this Zen master’s monastery was situated and where he got his popular title, was noted for a fine stone-bridge. A monk one day came up to the master and asked,[7.35] “We hear so much of the splendid stone-bridge of Jōshu, but I see here nothing but a miserable old rustic log-bridge.” Jōshu retorted, “You just see the rustic log-bridge, and fail to see the stone-bridge of Jōshu.” “What is the stone-bridge then?” “Horses go over it, asses go over it,” was Jōshu’s reply. This seems to be but a trivial talk about a bridge, but considered from the inner way of looking at such cases, there is a great deal of truth touching the centre of one’s spiritual life. We may inquire what kind of bridge is represented here. Was Jōshu speaking only of a stone-bridge in his monastery premises, which was strong enough for all kinds of passengers over it? Let each one of us reflect within himself and see if he is in possession of one bridge over which pass not only horses and asses, men and women, carts heavy and light, but the whole world with its insanities and morbidities, and which is not only thus passed over but quite frequently trampled down and even cursed,—a bridge which suffers all these treatments, good as well as despised, patiently and uncomplainingly. Was Jōshu referring to this kind of bridge? In any event we can read something of the sort in the cases above cited.