Bodhidharma's “Vast Emptiness”

Banshō's commentary on the case

Prajñātāra is said to have instructed Bodhidharma: “Sixty-seven years after my death, go to China and set out the great Dharma-medicine, pointing directly for those of superior capacity. Take care not to proceed hastily as it declines beneath the sun. When you arrive, do not remain in the south. People there favor constructed merit and do not see buddha-principle. Even if you reach them, do not stay long.” Thus the tradition tells of his wandering through Liang, crossing into Wei, and remaining delayed for nine years.⁴ In recent times Cizhou entrusted robe and Dharma to Shan. Shan said, “I am not that sort of person.” Cizhou replied, “If you are not, it will not bring calamity upon him.” Because the bond of Dharma-milk ran deep, Shan bent to the matter and accepted. Cizhou warned him above all not to emerge as a teacher casually: reckless advance would bring obstruction. This warning and Prajñātāra's three instructions concerning Bodhidharma's nine years belong to the same moment. Zhaxi's verse says: Not begrudging its passage through autumn frost, One hopes to make the flavor last. Though plucked while still unripe, In the end it will not be fragrant. This can warn those who come later. A person of the original character knows the proper season for appearing and withdrawing. Although Emperor Wu did not accord, his question was incisive. To this day, at inaugural sermons the announcing gavel is struck and the words recited: “Dragons and elephants at the Dharma assembly, attend to the first principle.” Yet does the first principle permit observation? Does it permit Emperor Wu and Bodhidharma's exchange? Banshō says: set aside the first principle. What do you want with holy truth? Tianhuang said, “Exhaust ordinary sentiments; there is no separate holy understanding.” The Śūraṅgama Sūtra says, “If you form a holy interpretation, you will undergo the many deviancies.” When Bodhidharma said, “Vast emptiness—nothing holy,” amid sparks from flint and a flash of lightning, his hand was sure and his eye discerning. Emperor Wu's stubborn drool did not recede; he asked again, “Who is facing us?” From the Liang ruler's side this was well-intended. From Bodhidharma's side it was like being spat upon in the face. He could only offer another “I do not know.” The delicate flower was already quick to fall; then frost was added upon snow. Bodhidharma saw the emperor's eyes fix and move. He immediately turned and followed another road. Whether appearing or dwelling in seclusion, silent or speaking, the ancients made all of it buddha-work. Later Emperor Wu indeed thought of the noble person after he had gone. He reportedly composed an inscription: Seeing him, I did not see; Meeting him, I did not meet. Present and past— Regret and grief. Though I am one ordinary man, I venture to take him later as teacher. After the emperor's flight from danger and Bodhidharma's return west, no one raised the first principle of truth. Fortunately Tendō brings it out for the assembly. “Vast emptiness—nothing holy; the approaching occasion stood far away.” The latter expression comes from Zhuangzi: “far apart, remote from human feeling.” The First Ancestor had little expedient skill at the time. Yet if medicine does not make the patient reel, the illness will not heal. At first he brought down a thunderbolt hand; by now he had already indulged private accommodation. Thus, “Was his success not the axe swung at the nose?” When Zhuangzi passed Huizi's grave, he told the story of a man of Ying with a fly-wing-thin speck of plaster on his nose. Carpenter Shi swung his axe so fast it made wind, shut his eyes, and removed the plaster without injuring the nose; the man stood without changing expression. Since Huizi's death, Zhuangzi said, he no longer had such material to work upon.² “His loss: the steamer fell and he did not turn his head.” Meng Min of the Later Han once dropped the steamer he was carrying and walked on without looking back. Asked why, he said, “It is already broken. What use is looking?” Guo Linzong found him exceptional and urged him to study. The point is that if Emperor Wu had affirmed himself, Bodhidharma would never have bent himself to follow another. Since the Liang ruler did not accord, Bodhidharma brushed out his sleeves, left, and had no regret. In the golden hall he let go without showing a face and spoke half. At Shōrin, with his mouth hung on the wall for nine years, he reached eighty percent. “Autumn clear, the moon turns its frosted wheel” covertly uses Hōgen's line: “At the end, the moon of a frosty night naturally falls into the stream before it,” illuminating a principle carried to the point where comparison ends. “The River of Heaven pales; the Dipper lowers its night handle.” Tendō once said: One point within the ring illuminates the utmost subtlety; Where wisdom has no effort, knowing still remains. Conditions and thought exhausted, no affair is left; At midnight, across the starry river, the Dipper's handle hangs. These two lines are like a mute serving as interpreter: pointing something out while unable to disclose it in speech. How much further removed are teacher-to-student transmission and medicine treating illness. How can the true command be raised in full? How much turtle-hair thread do empty flowers waste? A stone woman idly picks up a henbane needle.