Echō Asks About Buddha

Engo's commentary on the case

Zen teacher Hōgen possessed the working in which pecking within and tapping without occur together, and its corresponding function.² Only thus could he answer this way. He went beyond sound and form and attained great freedom: taking or releasing as the occasion required, killing or bringing to life in his own hands. This was unquestionably extraordinary. Yet many communities discuss this case, and many people interpret it through emotion and conception. They do not know that whenever the ancients set out half a phrase, it was like sparks struck from stone or a flash of lightning. It opened a true road directly. Later people explain, “Echō himself is Buddha; that is why Hōgen answered this way.” Some call it riding an ox while looking for an ox. Others say the question itself is it. What does any of that have to do with the case? Such understanding betrays oneself and gravely wrongs the ancients. To see Hōgen's complete working, you must be someone whom one blow cannot turn around—with teeth like sword trees and a mouth like a basin of blood—who knows the return beyond words. Then there is a little correspondence. If every phrase becomes a conceptual interpretation, the earth is filled with people extinguishing the foreigner's lineage. When the pilgrim Echō awakened here, it was also because he had steadily carried and investigated the matter. Beneath one phrase, it was as though the bottom fell from a bucket. Consider Superintendent Ze in Hōgen's community. He never entered the room for instruction. One day Hōgen asked, “Superintendent, why don't you come in?” Ze said, “Surely you know, Reverend, that I found an entrance with Seirin.” “Try to recount it.” “I asked, ‘What is Buddha?’ Seirin said, ‘The fire-boy comes seeking fire.’”³ Hōgen said, “A good phrase. I fear you misunderstood it. Explain further.” Ze said, “Bing and ding belong to fire. Fire seeking fire means that I myself am Buddha and then go looking for Buddha.” Hōgen said, “Superintendent—you did misunderstand.” Indignant, Ze left his place and crossed the river. Hōgen said, “If that man returns, he can be saved. If he does not, he cannot.” Halfway along, Ze thought, “He is the teacher of five hundred people. How could he deceive me?” He returned to study again. Hōgen said, “Just ask me, and I will answer.” Ze asked, “What is Buddha?” Hōgen said, “The fire-boy comes seeking fire.” At these words Ze greatly awakened. People today only stare and construct explanations. As the saying goes: if the other has no wound, do not injure him. When this kind of case is raised, a longtime practitioner immediately knows where it lands. Under Hōgen it was called “arrowheads meeting point to point.”⁴ There is no need for the Five Ranks of lord and minister or Rinzai's Four Selections. His house style directly treated arrowhead meeting arrowhead: see beneath one phrase and penetrate in the open. Search under the words and you will never find it. When Hōgen taught publicly, his community numbered five hundred and Buddha-dharma flourished. Guoshi Shao had long studied with Sozan and believed he had attained the meaning. He gathered Sozan's writings and portrait and led a group on pilgrimage. When he reached Hōgen, he too did not enter the room; he only sent his students in with the assembly. One day Hōgen ascended the seat. A monk asked, “What is one drop from the Sōkei source?” Hōgen said, “It is one drop from the Sōkei source.”⁵ The monk withdrew bewildered. Shao heard the answer in the assembly and suddenly greatly awakened. Later he taught publicly as Hōgen's successor. He presented this verse: The summit that penetrates mystery is not the human realm. Outside mind there is no dharma; before the eyes, blue mountains. Hōgen confirmed him: “This verse alone can continue my lineage. In future, princes will honor you. I will not equal you.” Look at how the ancients awakened. What principle was there? This mountain monk cannot be the only one to speak. You must marshal your energy throughout all twelve periods of the day and take responsibility in this way. Then one day, extending a hand to help people in the crossroads will not be difficult. Thus the monk asked Hōgen, “What is Buddha?” Hōgen said, “You are Echō.” Where did he let the monk down? Have you not heard Unmon say: Fail to attend when it is raised and you immediately diverge. Begin to deliberate—what kalpa will bring awakening? Setchō's verse below is strikingly clear. See it. Setchō was an expert. At the ancients' hard-to-bite, hard-to-chew, hard-to-penetrate, hard-to-see, gnarled joints, he brought out a verse to make people see. It is unquestionably extraordinary. Setchō knew Hōgen's pivot and knew where Echō landed. He also feared that later people would wrongly interpret Hōgen's words. Therefore he versified the monk's question and Hōgen's answer as: The spring wind in the river country cannot stir it. A partridge calls from deep within the flowers. These two lines are a single phrase. Tell me: where is Setchō's intent? Many in Jiangxi and Jiangnan make two explanations. They say the spring wind line versifies “You are Echō”: even the river country's spring wind cannot stir that news. They say the partridge line versifies the endless discussion in monasteries, like a partridge calling deep in flowers. What does that have to do with it? They do not realize that Setchō's two lines are one phrase. It must be seamless and crackless. He tells you plainly: words are straight, speech is straight, covering heaven and earth. The monk asked, “What is Buddha?” Hōgen said, “You are Echō.” Setchō said, “The spring wind in the river country cannot stir it; a partridge calls from deep within the flowers.” Recommend it here, and you can walk alone in the crimson sky. Make a conceptual interpretation, and it will take three lives and sixty kalpas. Setchō's third and fourth lines are excessively compassionate: for people's sake he discloses everything at once. Echō's awakening on the spot was like this: The three-tiered waves rise high; the fish becomes a dragon. A fool still bails water from the night pond. At Yumen the rapids rise in three tiers. Mengjin is the Dragon Gate, which Emperor Yu cut into three levels. On the third day of the third month, when peach blossoms open, heaven and earth respond. A fish that passes the Dragon Gate grows horns on its head, raises mane and tail, seizes the clouds, and departs. A fish that cannot leap through returns with a mark on its forehead.⁷ Fools who chew the words resemble someone bailing a night pond in search of a fish, unaware that the fish has already become a dragon. Old Master Duan wrote: With one large coin I bought a fried cake. Once I ate it into my belly, I felt no hunger at all. An excellent verse, though extremely plain. Setchō's is exceedingly skillful and never touches the blade or injures the hand. In former days Administrator Qing liked to ask people, “What is ‘the three-tiered waves rise high; the fish becomes a dragon’?” I need not remain there. Instead I ask you: having become a dragon, where is it now?