III
After Bodhi-Dharma, Hui-k‘ê (486–593)[4.35] was the chief exponent of Zen Buddhism. He was already a learned scholar before he came to his teacher for instruction, not only in the Chinese classics but in Buddhist lore. No amount of learning however satisfied him; indeed he seems to have had a sort of enlightenment in his way, which he wanted to be testified to by Dharma. After he left the master, he did not at once begin his preaching hiding himself among the lower strata of society. He evidently shunned being looked up to as a high priest of great wisdom and understanding. However, he did not neglect quietly preaching the Law whenever he had an occasion. He was simply quiet and unassuming, refusing to show himself off. But one day when he was discoursing about the Law before a temple gate, there was another sermon going on inside the temple by a resident priest, learned and honoured. The audience however left the reverend lecturer inside and gathered around the street-monk probably clad in rags and with no outward signs of ecclesiastical dignity. The high priest got angry over the situation. He accused the beggar-monk to the authorities as promulgating a false doctrine, whereupon Hui-k‘ê was arrested and put to death. He did not specially plead innocent but composedly submitted, saying that he had according to the law of karma an old debt to pay up. This took place in A.D. 593, and he was one hundred and seven years old when he was killed.
According to Tao-hsüan, Hui-k‘ê’s eloquence flew directly from his heart, not encrusted with learning or scholarly discourse. While he was preaching in an important city on the meaning of Zen, those who could not rise above “the letter that killeth” took his teaching for heresy, as the words of a devil devoid of sense. Especially among them a master of meditation called Tao-hüan[4.36] who had about one thousand followers about him, at once assumed an offensive attitude towards Hui-k‘ê. He sent one of his disciples to the Zen exponent, perhaps to find out what kind of man he really was. As soon as the disciple learned what was the teaching of the so-called heretic, he was so deeply impressed by this man that he was converted into a Zen advocate. Tao-hüan despatched another of his followers to call the first one back, but he followed the example of the predecessor. Several other messengers were sent one after another, but the result was altogether discouraging. Later when Tao-hüan happened to meet his first messenger, he asked; “How was it that I had to send for you so many times? Did I not open your eye after taking pains so much on my part?” The former disciple however mystically answered; “My eye has been right from the first, and it was through you that it came to squint.” This stirred the master’s ire, and it was through his machination, writes Tao-hsüan, that Hui-k‘ê had to suffer official persecution.
This story taken from Tao-hsüan’s Biographies varies from that in the Tao-yüan’s Records, but they both agree in making Hui-k‘ê a martyr at the hands of his enemy. There is no doubt that in the Zen teaching of Bodhi-Dharma and his first Chinese disciple, Hui-k‘ê, there was something that was unintelligible to most of the Buddhists of the time who had been trained either in the abstract metaphysics or in the tranquillising exercises, or in the mere morality, of Buddhism. The exponents of Zen then must have emphasised the truth to be awakened in one’s inner consciousness, even at the expense of the canonical teaching as is variously elucidated in the Sutras and Śastras, many of which in translations had already been in circulation. This must have excited the conservatists and literalists.
Like Bodhi-Dharma, Hui-k‘ê did not leave any literary writing though we know from their biographies that both had their sermons collected and in the case of Hui-k‘ê “classified,”[f94][4.37] whatever this may mean. The following extracts preserved however may throw light on the teaching of Hui-k‘ê. A lay-disciple called Hsiang wrote a letter to Hui-k‘ê:[4.38] “Shadow follows a body and echo rises from a sound. He who in pursuit of the shadow tires out the body, does not know that the body produces the shadow; and he who attempts to stop an echo by raising his voice, does not understand that the voice is the cause of the echo. [In a similar way] he who seeks Nirvana by cutting desires and passions is to be likened to one who seeks a shadow apart from its original body; and he who aspires to Buddhahood thinking it to be independent of the nature of sentient beings is to be likened to one who tries to listen to an echo by deadening its original sound. Therefore, the ignorant and the enlightened are walking in one passageway; the vulgar and the wise are not to be differentiated from each other. Where there are no names, we create names, and because of these names judgments are formed. Where there is no theorising, we theorise, and because of this theorising, disputes arise. They are all phantom creations and not realities, and who knows who is right and who is wrong? They are all empty, no substantialities have they, and who knows what is and what is not? So we realise that our gain is not real gain and our loss not real loss. This is my view and may I be enlightened if I am at fault?”
To this Hui-k‘ê answered: “You have truly comprehended the Dharma as it is; the deepest truth lies in the principle of identity. It is due to one’s ignorance that the mani-jewel is taken for a piece of brick, but lo! when one is suddenly awakened to self-enlightenment, it is realised that one is in possession of the real jewel. The ignorant and the enlightened are of one essence, they are not really to be separated. We should know that all things are such as they are. Those who entertain a dualistic view of the world are to be pitied, and I write this letter for them. When we know that between this body and the Buddha there is nothing to separate one from the other, what is the use of seeking after Nirvana [as something external to ourselves]?”
Next to Hui-k‘ê came Sêng-ts‘an (died 606),[4.39] who succeeded as the third patriarch. The interview between master and disciple took place in this manner: A layman of forty troubled with fêng-yang[f95] according to the Records, came to Hui-k‘ê and asked;
“I am suffering from fêng-yang; pray cleanse me of my sins.”
“Bring your sins here,” said Hui-k‘ê, “and I will cleanse you of them.”