Essays in Zen Buddhism

by Daisetz Teitaro Suzuki

’Tis this the Mighty Monk proclaims.”

It is said that on hearing this exposition of the Dharma, there arose in the mind of Śāriputra a clear and distinct perception of the Dharma that whatever is subject to origination is subject also to cessation. Śāriputra then attained to the deathless, sorrowless state, lost sight of and neglected for many myriads of kalpas.

The point to which I wish to call attention here is this: Is there anything intellectually remarkable and extraordinary and altogether original in this stanza that has so miraculously awakened Śāriputra from his habitually cherished way of thinking? As far as the Buddha’s Dharma (Doctrine) was concerned, there was not much of anything in these four lines. It is said that they are the substance of the Dharma; if so, the Dharma may be said to be rather devoid of substance, and how could Śāriputra ever find here a truth concrete and efficient enough to turn him away from the old rut? The stanza which is noted for having achieved the conversion of not only Śāriputra but Maudgalyāyana, has really nothing characteristic of Buddhistic thought, strong enough to produce such a great result. The reason for this, therefore, must be sought somewhere else, that is, not in the formal truth contained in the stanza, but in the subjective condition of the one to whose ears it chanced to fall and in whom it awakened a vision of another world. It was in the mind of Śāriputra itself that opened up to a clear and distinct understanding of the Dharma; in other words, the Dharma was revealed in him as something growing out of himself and not as an external truth poured into him. In a sense the Dharma had been in his mind all the time but he was not aware of its presence there until Aśvajit’s stanza was uttered. He was not a mere passive recipient into which something not native to his Self was poured. The hearing of the stanza gave him an opportunity to experience the supreme moment. If Śāriputra’s understanding was intellectual and discursive, his dialogue with Ānanda later on could not take place in the way it did. In the Saṁyutta-Nikāya, iii., 235f, we read:

Ānanda saw Śāriputra coming afar off, and he said to him; “Serene and pure and radiant is your face. Brother Śāriputra! In what mood has Śāriputra been to-day?”

“I have been alone in Dhyana, and to me came never the thought: I am attaining it! I have got it! I have emerged from it!”

Here we notice the distinction between an intellectual and a spiritual understanding which is Enlightenment. When Śāriputra referred to the cause of his being so serene, pure and radiant, he did not explain it logically but just stated the fact as he subjectively interpreted it himself. Whether this interpretation of his own was correct or not takes the psychologist to decide. What I wish to see here is that Śāriputra’s understanding of the doctrine of “origination and cessation” was not the outcome of his intellectual analysis but an intuitive comprehension of his own inner life-process. Between the Buddha’s Enlightenment which is sung in the Hymn of Victory and Śāriputra’s insight into the Dharma as the doctrine of causation, there is a close connection in the way their minds worked. In the one Enlightenment came first and then its expression; in the other a definite statement was addressed first and then came an insight; the process is reversed here. But the inadequacy of relation between antecedent and consequence remains the same. The one does not sufficiently explain the other, when the logical and intellectual understanding alone is taken into consideration. The explanation must be sought not in the objective truth contained in the doctrine of causation, but in the state of consciousness itself of the enlightened subject. Otherwise, how do we account for the establishment of such a firm faith in self-realisation or self-deliverance as this? “He has destroyed all evil passions (āsava); he has attained to heart-emancipation (ceto-vimutti) and intellect-emancipation (pannā-vimutti), here in this visible world he has by himself understood, realised, and mastered the Dharma, he has dived deep into it, has passed beyond doubt, has put away perplexity, has gained full confidence, he has lived the life, has done what was to be done, has destroyed the fetter of rebirth, he has comprehended the Dharma as it is truly in itself.”[f34]

This is why the Laṅkāvatāra-Sūtra tries so hard to tell us that language is altogether inadequate as the means of expressing and communicating the inner state of Enlightenment. While without language we may fare worse at least in our practical life, we must guard ourselves most deliberately against our trusting it too much beyond its legitimate office. The Sutra gives the main reason for this, which is that language is the product of causal dependence, subject to change, unsteady, mutually conditioned, and based on false judgment as to the true nature of consciousness. For this reason language cannot reveal to us the ultimate signification of things (paramārtha). The noted analogy of finger and moon is most appropriate to illustrate the relation between language and sense, symbol and reality.

If the Buddha’s Enlightenment really contained so much in it that he himself could not sufficiently demonstrate or illustrate it with his “long thin tongue” (prabhūtatanujihva) through his long peaceful life given to meditation and discoursing, how could those less than he ever hope to grasp it and attain spiritual emancipation? This is the position taken up by Zen: To comprehend the truth of Enlightenment, therefore, we must exercise some other mental power than intellection, if we are at all in possession of such. Discoursing fails to reach the goal and yet we have an unsatiated aspiration after the unattainable. Are we then meant to live and die thus tormented for ever? If so, this is the most lamentable situation in which we find ourselves on earth. Buddhists have applied themselves most earnestly to the solution of the problem and have finally come to see that we have after all within ourselves what we need. This is the power of intuition possessed by spirit and able to comprehend spiritual truth which will show us all the secrets of life making up the content of the Buddha’s Enlightenment. It is not an ordinary intellectual process of reasoning, but a power that will grasp something most fundamental in an instant and in the directest way. Prajñā is the name given to this power by the Buddhists, as I said, and what Zen Buddhism aims at in its relation to the doctrine of Enlightenment is to awaken Prajñā by the exercise of meditation.

We read in the Saddharma-puṇḍarīka: “O Śāriputra, the true Law understood by the Tathagata cannot be reasoned, is beyond the pale of reasoning. Why? For the Tathagata appears in the world to carry out one great object, which is to make all beings accept, see, enter into, and comprehend the knowledge and insight gained by the Tathagata, and also to make them enter upon the path of knowledge and insight attained by the Tathagata.... Those who learn it from the Tathagata also reach his Supreme Perfect Enlightenment.”[f35] If such was the one great object of the Buddha’s appearance on earth, how do we get into the path of insight and realise Supreme Perfect Enlightenment? And if this Dharma of Enlightenment is beyond the limits of the understanding, no amount of philosophising will ever bring us nearer the goal. How do we then learn it from the Tathagata? Decidedly not from his mouth, nor from the records of his sermons, nor from the ascetic practise, but from our own inner consciousness through the exercise of dhyana. And this is the doctrine of Zen.

Enlightenment and Spiritual Freedom