I expect that at the front of the book which was thrown on the fire were some illustrations of tethered oxen, so that aspirants might ponder their task. Without the book the teaching may become lost.

What I think you're referring to, is the Ten Oxherding Pictures which are a traditional Zen teaching.

The book that was 'thrust into the brazier' was described as 'a book' to which the preceeding generations of teachers had added material. I don't think that it is intended to convey that this book was a scriptural text, and there was no mention of any specific content.

I have given it some thought and have concluded that it works well as a koan because of the juxtaposition of "what are you doing?" and "what are you saying?" and the shock factor conveyed. Rather like the unexpected thwack of a stick on your back. And as you say it is not scripture, but rather a collection of personal thoughts forming a lineage from teacher to student through the generations. So all that is being lost is this lineage some personal thoughts therein and an emotional attachment and significance of such a document.

There is a sense that those significant insights had by the teacher have been conveyed to the student already, verbally. That any significant insights conveyed from the previous generation by the teacher of the teacher along with the six generations before that would have been conveyed only verbally and any attempts to formulate them in the written word in the book would loose some verbal direct transmission and would rather become a confusing distraction from the task at hand.

That's exactly how I see it.

MU!

( I say this while not wanting to reduce the conversation to a negation of conversation, which so often happens to threads about Zen. It would be nice to contribute to a conversation which doesn't end this way)

Like my father keeps reminding me, practice what you preach and were I there in their company when all this transpired I would've loved to point a finger at Shoju and scream at the top of my voice, "tu quoque fallacy!" but that would've been pointless, Zen being about breaking logic not fixing it! :up:

There's a lot of grey areas though...other deeper interpretations seem possible and likelier.

And as you say it is not scripture, but rather a collection of personal thoughts forming a lineage from teacher to student through the generations. So all that is being lost is this lineage some personal thoughts therein and an emotional attachment and significance of such a document.

There is a sense that those significant insights had by the teacher have been conveyed to the student already, verbally. That any significant insights conveyed from the previous generation by the teacher of the teacher along with the six generations before that would have been conveyed only verbally and any attempts to formulate them in the written word in the book would loose some verbal direct transmission and would rather become a confusing distraction from the task at hand. — Punshhh

I see another (additional) dimension, or possibility opened by the burning of the book. Of course the act of burning a book is sacrilegious or at the very least shocking but that’s part of the style. It’s a hyperbole coding for something less shocking: the necessary distance one should take with tradition. Maybe the student wanted to write his own book, based on tradition evidently (the oral teaching of his master is seen by the student as primordial), but also radically departing here or there from tradition. Maybe he was not content with writing comments in the margins of someone else’s book.

:up: I think that is correct.

It was pointed out on Dharmawheel by Meido-roshi that this is not a koan at all, but an anecdote. It was among those published by the very popular Zen Flesh Zen Bones by Paul Reps, which was a best-selling Penguin edition in the 1960's and 70's. (Hence I’ve retrospectively changed the thread title.)

I think that since the successor had no desire to keep the book he hadn't learned everything which the master had to teach. If he had learned everything, then just like those before him, he would have learned the value of the book. But I don't think the master chose an appropriate way to introduce the successor to the book, so it was really the master's fault for failing in teaching.

If he had learned everything, then just like those before him, he would have learned the value of the book. — Metaphysician Undercover

But that doesn't allow for the fact that in Zen/Ch'an Buddhism the basic principle of the practice is 'special transmission outside the scriptures'. It is a 'mind-to-mind' or intuitive grasp of realisation, which comprises Prajñāpāramitā.

This is illustrated in the painting of the Sixth Patriach Hui Neng 'tearing up the sutras':



It seems shocking and even sacreligious but it's part of the iconoclastic approach of Zen. But it's also a paradox, in that while apparently deprecating scriptures, Ch'an/Zen has produced a voluminous literature, spanning centuries.

The Parable of the Raft

In one of the early Buddhist texts (those are the texts that are preserved in Pali, although these have also been translated to Chinese and Japanese where they're referred to as the Agamas), the Buddha compares his teaching (and by implication the whole of Buddhism) to a raft. In this simile, a traveller (the spiritual aspirant) sees 'a great expanse of water, with the near shore dubious & risky, the further shore secure & free from risk, but with neither a ferryboat nor a bridge going from this shore to the other.' The 'great expanse of water' is Saṃsāra, which needs to be 'crossed' in order to arrive at the further shore.

But in the absence of a ferryboat, the traveller says 'What if I were to gather grass, twigs, branches, & leaves and, having bound them together to make a raft, were to cross over to safety on the other shore in dependence on the raft, making an effort with my hands & feet?'

Then, having 'crossed over', the Buddha asks, would the traveller say 'How useful this raft has been to me! For it was in dependence on this raft that, making an effort with my hands & feet, I have crossed over to safety on the further shore. Why don't I, having hoisted it on my head or carrying it on my back, go wherever I like?' What do you think, monks: Would the man, in doing that, be doing what should be done with the raft?"

To which the answer is, obviously, 'No, Lord!'

The simile concludes: 'I have taught the Dhamma compared to a raft, for the purpose of crossing over, not for the purpose of holding onto. Understanding the Dhamma as taught compared to a raft, you should let go even of Dhammas, to say nothing of non-Dhammas."

I think this is one of the seminal texts which differentiates Buddhism from the Biblical religions, and religion generally - even many ritual forms of Buddhism itself - as they do indeed 'put the raft on a pedestal'. (Note also the image of 'the raft' being makeshift, hastily constructed with whatever is at hand. Nothing mass-produced or pre-planned!)

I thought there was no resurrection in Zen!

But that doesn't allow for the fact that in Zen/Ch'an Buddhism the basic principle of the practice is 'special transmission outside the scriptures'. — Wayfarer

What about the value of the "special transmission" which is the act of passing down the book? That is, the act itself. Obviously there is value in this act or it would not have been practiced by one after the other of the chain of masters. But the value is not within the book itself, it's in the act of passing down the book. At Christmas, we tend to give each other gifts, often meaningless things that no one really wants. We say that it is "the thought that counts". And so it is the act of giving which is significant, not the physical thing given.

This act of passing the book, is the 'special transmission outside the scriptures'. If the book is gone, then there will no longer be the act of passing down the thing which has no value, and this particular act of "special transmission" which does have value as an act of special transmission, will cease to be, because an essential part of the act, is the thing given, the book, and it is missing.

What is represented is that in the meaningful interaction between human beings, which is communication, the value, or meaning of the interaction, is not in the physical thing being transmitted (such as words), but it is in the act itself. The physical thing being transmitted, such as words, is absolutely worthless. Nevertheless, the act is dependent on, and cannot proceed without that worthless physical thing, the words, or in that story, the book.

This is the value of "the present". At Christmas, we tend to give each other gifts, "presents", often meaningless things that no one really wants. We sometimes say that it is "the thought that counts". And so it is the act of giving "the present" which is significant, not the actual physical thing which is given. However, without the physical thing there is no present, and no act of giving.

Oh sorry Wayfarer, I got carried away by the words, and posted the post before reading the rest of yours.

I think this is one of the seminal texts which differentiates Buddhism from the Biblical religions, and religion generally - even many ritual forms of Buddhism itself - as they do indeed 'put the raft on a pedestal'. (Note also the image of 'the raft' being makeshift, hastily constructed with whatever is at hand. Nothing mass-produced or pre-planned!) — Wayfarer

This is very similar to what I described above. The particular nature of the physical thing, which is the means, is fundamentally irrelevant. Here it is the makeshift raft, it might be the book, or the words in communication, or the present in my example. However, while the particular nature is irrelevant, the thing itself, is at the same time necessary. What is necessary is that there be something, some physical thing, what is irrelevant is the particular nature of that physical thing. You can look at it both ways. As necessary, put the physical thing on a pedestal. But since the particular nature of that physical thing is irrelevant, then portray it as a ramshackle, makeshift, hastily constructed raft or whatever.

What about the value of the "special transmission" which is the act of passing down the book? — Metaphysician Undercover

The point of Zen is 'transmission outside words and letters'. It's an esoteric tradition so what is 'transmitted' is strictly speaking indescribable, certainly not a written text, even though Zen has them.

It's all rather hard to reconcile with your style of Aristotelian logic but The Logic of the Diamond Sutra: A is not A, therefore it is A has a stab at it.

The point of Zen is 'transmission outside words and letters'. It's an esoteric tradition so what is 'transmitted' is strictly speaking indescribable, certainly not a written text, even though Zen has them. — Wayfarer

The way I described it, the thing transmitted is not the written text. What is transmitted from one person to the other, is the meaning within the act of giving the book. That is the nature of meaning. The physical object is actually irrelevant, and the meaning is within the act. Yet the physical object is still necessary to perform and complete the act.

So for example, when we speak, the thing transmitted is not the physical words, just like in the story, the thing transmitted is not the book. There is meaning within the act of passing the book, which the book itself, as a physical object is irrelevant toward, just like there is meaning in the act of giving a present at Christmas, which the actual physical object given is irrelevant toward.

The book is merely a symbol representing the meaning involved within the act of giving the book. It means that the master has chosen the successor, or something like that, like an act of anointment. So the book itself is actually meaningless, and might well be burned. However, at the same time, the book is a necessary part of that act and without it that same act with the same meaning cannot be carried out anymore.

I suspect an actual Zen practitioner would be chuckling at all the philosophical positions in this conversation.

BBC: "Zen is not a philosophy or a religion. Zen tries to free the mind from the slavery of words and the constriction of logic."

Zen tries to free the mind from the slavery of words and the constriction of logic." — jgill

The point of Zen is 'transmission outside words and letters'. — Wayfarer

It means that the master has chosen the successor, or something like that, like an act of anointment. — Metaphysician Undercover

The succession of the Sixth Patriarch, Hui Neng, is a very lengthy story and not one which can easily be summarised, but I'll give it a try.

Hui Neng was an illiterate rice farmer. (Say what you like about China, it has produced many of them.) One day he visited the market and overheard someone preaching the Diamond Sutra (which is the subject of the reference given above.) He immediately was struck by the profound truth of this Sutra, and asked where he might go to learn more about it. He was directed to a monastery, where, upon admission, and being an illiterate rice farmer, he was given the job of pounding rice in the monastery kitchen.

After some time, word went around that the current Abbott was due to retire, and was seeking a successor. Applicants were encouraged to pen a verse expressing their understanding of Dharma on the wall of the monastery.

Shen Xui, who was by all accounts the designated successor, wrote:

The body is the Bodhi Tree,
The mind is like a mirror bright.
At all times we must polish it.
So not to let the dust alight.

(The Bodhi Tree is the tree under which the Buddha realised enlightenment, and a symbol thereof.)

Hui Neng, being illiterate, couldn't read the poem, but had someone read it to him, and immediately composed a rejoinder, which he had someone write up for him:

Fundamentally there is no bodhi-tree
Nor a stand of mirror bright.
Since all is empty from the start,
Where can any dust alight?

When the Abbott was read the two verses, he knew immediately that Hui Neng's verse was superior, but the politics of the situation favoured Shen Xui, Hui Neng not even being ordained, and so a succession struggle ensued, but ultimately Hui Neng became the Sixth Patriarch. The account of his awakening and succession is immortalised as the Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch. There's a scholarly account here.

@Wayfarer

Zen tries to free the mind from the slavery of words and the constriction of logic — jgill

I have this conception of the world of ideas being like houses in a quaint village. A person, if either as an honored guest or a passing beggar, gets the opportunity to visit these wonders of human ingenuity - fantastic designs evincing a delicate balance between efficiency and beauty, at once simple and complex and so on - and marvel at their form and figure but...there comes a time when fae must say faer goodbyes...and take to the streets, among others who too have left the comfort of their homes, and out in the open, in the cold air of winter or the blazing sun of summer, the houses no longer offer sanctuary. I suppose ideas are like oases in the desolate desert of reality, there only to offer brief respite, an occasion to smile and exchange pleasantries, but the greater part of the human journey is spent traversing the unforgiving, harsh, and dismal sands.

:up: Imaginative writing!

Thanks for the explanation Wayfarer, it's appreciated. I think we all need to apprehend that there is so much meaning in actions which are not a use of words; words are just an accessory of convenience. If we fail to grasp this we do not understand the first thing about meaning.

I understand the urge, but this is a bit like people here discussing whether quarks do X, without studying physics and math. I mean, sure, some people here have meditated for a long time, I guess. But there is a discussion of what a story from a quite different culture means, meant to help people who have been meditating for decades. So, it's doubly culturally removed or perhaps trebly culturally removed. If you have been meditating, well get back to it. If not, start. I mean, if you are interested. If Buddhism is for you, then avoiding this dicussion is then also for you.

I think we all need to apprehend that there is so much meaning in actions which are not a use of words; words are just an accessory of convenience. — Metaphysician Undercover

:up:

One of my favourite Buddhist authors, Gudo Wafu Nishijima, always stressed that Sōtō Zen, the school established by Dogen, was very much a philosophy of action. That is expressed in Zen culture, through the arts of calligraphy, cooking, martial arts, and many other facets of everyday life.

I mean, if you are interested. If Buddhism is for you, then avoiding this dicussion is then also for you. — Coben

That's quite a condescending remark. I have endeavoured to present, and to stay true to, Buddhist sources throughout this discussion. Insofar as it's 'a discussion', then no, it's not meditation, nor is it living in a Zen monastery, but then, this is an Internet philosophy forum.

That's quite a condescending remark. — Wayfarer

Not if it's good advice. Then it would be good advice.

I have endeavoured to present, and to stay true to, Buddhist sources throughout this discussion. Insofar as it's 'a discussion', then no, it's not meditation, nor is it living in a Zen monastery, but then, this is an Internet philosophy forum. — Wayfarer

One can point just as well in an internet forum.

So your advice is that it's best to ignore this thread? In which case, you're not following your own advice. :wink:

Which also wouldn't make my advice wrong. But here's the thing: I am not a Buddhist and don't share some of the core goals with Buddhism. I don't mind interfering with what Buddhist practice is intended to lead to. So, I'm not being inconsistant. If you're really interested in achieving Buddhist goals, avoid the discussion.

Thanks for the :up: You're very generous with your compliments :smile:

I like your interpretation of the dhamma as a raft, to be used to cross the ocean of samsara and then to be discarded. What Shoju did makes complete sense from that perspective. In the profession that I'm familiar with that's what we call a disposable syringe - the medication once delivered, the syringe is to be disposed immediately, coincidentally they're incinerated. Did Shoju prefigure disposable syringes? I don't know.

It also reminds me of Hercalitus who's supposed to have said that the road up is also the road down and indeed it is, right? To cling to the dhamma after having attained nirvana would be akin to maintaining the road to it but then there's the chance, no matter how small, that a Buddha might take the same road back to samsara. Enlightenment is supposed to be a one-way trip - the aim is to reach one's destination and stay put like an immigrant and not to sightsee and, at some point, return where you were like a tourist.

What do you make of the following Zen quote:

Before one studies Zen, mountains are mountains and waters are waters; after a first glimpse into the truth of Zen, mountains are no longer mountains and waters are no longer waters; after enlightenment, mountains are once again mountains and waters once again waters. — Dogen

?

Thanks. G'day.

I've come to reconsider what I said yesterday. I no longer believe that the physical object as a symbol (spoken word, written word, book, gift, or whatever) is a necessary requirement for a meaningful action. I now think that a meaningful action does not require the use of symbols or signs. This is contrary to the Western way of looking at meaning in general, as an aspect of language, and more specifically contrary to semiotics which attempts to reduce all meaningful activity to a usage of signs.

Even in Christian religions strong importance is placed on love, and love is judged by its actions. These actions are very meaningful but they do not necessarily employ the use of symbols. And if we look to what is considered to be the supreme act of love, the creative act of God, we find that there are physical objects involved, the creation, but the objects are not meant to be signs or symbols. Therefore we have very good examples of meaningful acts which do not necessarily involve the use of symbols, so the assumption that meaning requires the use of symbols or signs is unwarranted.

Furthermore, if we classify some meaningful acts as requiring the use of symbols, we will find that in a hierarchy of importance, these acts of using symbols are the lower levels of meaning. The meaningful acts of true love and creation which do not necessarily require the use of symbols are of a higher importance.

So look at Hui Neng's poem. He first dismisses symbolism as not fundamental. He then takes us to the nothingness which precedes creation, and all such symbolism, implying that the fundamental acts of creation are of greater importance than the acts which use symbols. Notice, that he was an illiterate farmer. Being nevertheless very wise, he probably recognized that the activity which creates agricultural produce, is of greater importance and therefore fundamentally more meaningful than the activity which uses words. And through his legendary actions we can find a demonstration that meaning is based in a form of activity which is other than a usage of symbols or signs.

I like your interpretation of the dhamma as a raft, to be used to cross the ocean of samsara and then to be discarded — TheMadFool

That's not my interpretation, it's canonical. As I said before, I think it’s one of the most distinctive ideas in Buddhism, I can’t think of a parallel in the Biblical religions.

It also reminds me of Hercalitus... — TheMadFool

Many similarities have been noted between Buddhist and process philosophy, of whom H. was an exponent. But that only goes so far.

What do you make of the following Zen quote: — TheMadFool

Pfhorrest asked about that recently. It’s a saying by Master Dōgen, a much later Buddhist master who was the originator of Sōtō Zen. It's a very pithy aphorism about the transformation of the understanding that the Zen practitioner goes through: first, naive realism (mountains are mountains); then the 'realisation of śūnyatā' (everything is inter-dependent, 'mountains' [i.e. anything] have no essential being); but then an integrated understanding, whereby mountains are seen as mountains again, albeit with subtle and mature insight.

So look at Hui Neng's poem. — Metaphysician Undercover

That's a valiant attempt, but I don't think it quite penetrates the radical meaning of Huineng's stanzas. Zen places a lot of emphasis on 'subitism' which is a sudden and radical transformation or conversion. The gist of Huineng's stanza is that insight into the emptiness (śūnyatā) e.g. lack of intrinsic reality, of all things, is itself the transformation that is sought. There is no person whose actions and discipline lead to an increasing wisdom, the very idea of the being who is to be perfected is itself undercut.

Actually the IEP article on Huineng is useful. It notes, under the heading non-duality:

[An] important theme that Huineng preaches concerns the fundamentally “non-dual” nature of existence. This, too, is prone to be misunderstood. Huineng never espouses a mushy notion that “All is One” so much as challenge the assumption that a person stands apart from her/his immediate situation. His target is the self-conscious sense of separation that tends to arise out of deliberative thinking and living. Thus, his focus is not so much theoretical as practical; one must not get caught up in speculative thought but realize ("make rea"l) Buddha, one’s true nature, and act accordingly. This fundamental unity comes through in his famous dharma verse through which he won Hongren’s robe. By countering Shen Xiu’s verse and with it's implied assumptions of duality, Huineng graphically tells us that we must not think of our minds as something distinct that “we” must polish to reflect truth. Rather, we are truth, immediately and directly.

My take is, our lives are generally the consequence of failing to realise this important and always-already fact!

He then takes us to the nothingness which precedes creation, and all such symbolism, implying that the fundamental acts of creation are of greater importance than the acts which use symbols. — Metaphysician Undercover

Kind of. That is a comparison from the Western understanding of 'wisdom uncreate' which is similar in some ways. There is an early D T Suzuki book, Mysticism Christian and Buddhist, which compares Meister Eckhardt's 'nichts' and the 'abyss' of St John of the Cross to the Buddhist 'śūnyatā', the teaching of emptiness. Alas, Suzuki's theosophically-influenced analyses are no longer fashionable in Buddhist studies, but for those who are more familiar with Western cultural idioms, it does at least provide some touch-points between two vastly different traditions.

Which also wouldn't make my advice wrong.

Who is to know if your advice is right, or wrong?