Bokushū's “After Three or Four Shouts”

Engo's commentary on the case

In general, supporting and establishing the ancestral teaching requires the eye and activity of a teacher grounded in the fundamental matter. Bokushū's edge was like lightning. He loved testing scripture lecturers. Ordinarily, half a phrase from him resembled a thicket of thorns: there was nowhere to put hand or foot. The moment he saw a monk arrive, he would say, “A ready-made case—I spare you thirty blows.” On seeing another monk he called, “Reverend!” The monk turned his head. Bokushū said, “Board-carrying fellow.” He also instructed the assembly, “Before there is a place of entry, you must attain a place of entry. Once you attain a place of entry, do not betray this old monk.” Bokushū often served people this way. The monk in the case also knew how to carve and polish a performance, but he began with a dragon's head and ended with a snake's tail. Had it not been Bokushū, he might have created considerable confusion. Bokushū asked, “Where have you recently come from?” and the monk shouted. Tell me: what was his intent? The old fellow did not hurry. Slowly he said, “This old monk has taken one shout from you.” It sounds as though he accepted the monk's words on one side; it also sounds like a test. He leaned aside to see what the monk would do. The monk shouted again. Similar, but not yet it. The old fellow had already pierced his nostrils. Bokushū asked, “After three shouts or four, what then?” Sure enough, the monk had no words. Bokushū struck him: “You plunderer of emptiness!” Where one tests a person exactly, the moment he opens his mouth you know the sound. A pity. The monk's silence provoked Bokushū's verdict. If Bokushū asked you, “After three shouts or four, what then?” how should you respond so that he cannot call you a plunderer of emptiness? Here, a person who knows survival and extinction, distinguishes fortune and danger, and plants both feet on solid ground—who cares what comes after three shouts or four? Only because the monk had no words could the old fellow decide the case according to the charge. Listen to Setchō's verse. Setchō unquestionably has a place where he serves people. Without an expert, a shout is merely random shouting. Thus an ancient said: sometimes one shout does not function as a shout; sometimes one shout functions precisely as a shout; sometimes a shout is like a lion crouched on the ground; sometimes it is like the diamond king's precious sword.³ Xinghua said, “I see all of you shouting beneath the east corridor and shouting beneath the west. Never shout at random. Even if you shout Xinghua up to the Heaven of the Thirty-three and he falls back down without a breath remaining, wait until I revive and I will tell you, ‘Still not there.’ Why? Xinghua has not yet scattered real pearls from within the purple gauze curtain for you. Why do you only shout at random?” Rinzai said, “I hear that all of you imitate my shout. Let me ask: a monk comes from the east hall and another from the west. Both shout together. Which is guest and which host? If you cannot distinguish guest and host, you must not imitate this old monk again.”⁴ Therefore Setchō writes, “An expert knows the working's transformations.” Though Bokushū contained the monk, the monk did have a point that recognized transformation. Where was it? Zen teacher Lumen Zhi marked the monk: “One who knows the Dharma is afraid.” Gantō said, “If we speak of battle, each stands at the turning point.” Huanglong Xin said, “Exhaustion brings change; change brings passage.” This small point is where the patriarchs sit and cut off every tongue beneath heaven. Recognize transformation, and as soon as the case is raised you know where it lands. Some say, “Why care about Bokushū's three or four shouts? Just keep shouting—thirty shouts, twenty shouts, until Maitreya descends.” This is called riding the tiger's head. With such a view, they certainly do not know Bokushū and remain far from seeing the monk. Someone riding a tiger's head needs a knife in hand and the capacity to transform.⁵ Setchō says that otherwise both become blind fellows. He resembles a long sword leaning against the sky, its whole authority severe. Understand Setchō and a thousand, ten thousand places are understood at once. You see that the rest of his verse is only a footnote. Then he says, “Who is the blind fellow?” Is the guest blind? The host? Are guest and host both blind? “He picks it up and shows everyone beneath heaven.” This is the living place. Setchō has finished the verse at once; why then say he shows it to everyone? Tell me: how do you look? Open your eyes and you are caught; close them and you are caught. Can anyone escape?