KŌANS IN THE DŌGEN TRADITION: HOW AND WHY

DŌGEN DOES WHAT HE DOES WITH KŌANS

Steven Heine
Institute for Asian Studies, Florida International University

Coming Home ‘‘Empty-Handed’’

According to a frequently cited passage in the Eihei kōroku, Dōgen returned to Japan
from his travels in China in the fall of 1227 ‘‘empty-handed’’ (kūshu-genkyō), that is,
without having collected the material artifacts of Buddhism—such as icons, scrip-
tures, relics, and regalia—that preoccupied so many of the other Japanese monks
who visited China.1 Instead, he came back only with his experience of awakening
and his understanding of the Dharma. As Hee-Jin Kim writes, ‘‘Unlike other Bud-
dhists who had previously studied in China, Dōgen brought home with him no
sutras, no images, and no documents. His sole ‘souvenir’ presented to his country-
men was his own body and mind, his total existence, which was now completely
liberated and transformed. He himself was the surest evidence of Dharma.’’ 2
Yet Dōgen’s literary records show that on his return he was by no means empty-
headed (although he may have had a head full of emptiness). Indeed, Dōgen came
back to Japan with a remarkable familiarity and facility with diverse genres of Zen
writings—kōan collections, recorded-sayings texts, transmission-of-the-lamp hagi-
ographies, and monastic regulations—which he used critically and creatively in his
sermons and other works. Dōgen’s great and profound knowledge of Chinese Ch’an
literature, especially kōan records, is symbolized by the legend of the ‘‘One Night
Blue Cliff Record’’ (ichiya Hekiganroku) that he supposedly copied, guided and
assisted by the Mount Hakusan deity, Hakusan Gongen, just before he left China.
Hakusan is in the region where Eiheiji (Eihei Temple) was established and is the
‘‘mother’’ peak in the sacred network of mountains that included the site for Dōgen’s
temple. The question of the authenticity of the ‘‘One Night Blue Cliff Record’’ has
been much debated. It is clear that the reporting of this event developed in Dōgen
hagiographies at a rather late date, thus tending to refute the veracity of the ac-
count.3 Yet a manuscript that was for a long time kept secret and held for centuries
by the Sōtō sect has been inspected by D. T. Suzuki and others in modern times. But
this version differs in the sequence and some of the wording of the cases from stan-
dard versions of the text.4 The impact of the legend—whether or not Dōgen actually
ever copied the Blue Cliff Record—has been to highlight the fact that Dōgen single-
handedly introduced to Japan the kōan tradition. This was expressed through a
variety of texts that he produced in the first half of the thirteenth century, shortly after
the peak period of the creation of kōan collections in Sung China.
What is the most significant and distinctive feature of Dōgen’s use of kōans? One
of the best treatments of this topic remains Kim’s essay, ‘‘ ‘The Reason of Words and

Philosophy East & West Volume 54, Number 1 January 2004 1–19 1
> 2004 by University of Hawai‘i Press
 Letters’: Dōgen and Kōan Language,’’ in which he argues that Dōgen developed a
realizational model of interpretation.5 According to Kim, Dōgen does not necessarily
abandon the instrumental approach that characterizes the D. T. Suzuki presentation
of the Rinzai school emphasis on kōans as a pedagogical means to the end of at-
taining enlightenment. Yet, the realizational model goes beyond this dimension in
expressing the enlightenment experience through the use of—rather than by denying
or negating—language. ‘‘In his treatment of the kōan,’’ Kim writes, ‘‘Dōgen always
posits a duality of meaning: on the one hand, he deeply appreciates the legacy of the
old-paradigm kōan (kosoku kōan) used as an expedient to bring about enlighten-
ment; yet he also wants to lend new significance to the realization-kōan as absolute
truth dynamically present in life.’’ 6
I agree with some key elements of Kim’s argument, particularly as it is shown
that Dōgen’s approach is not based on a dichotomy of zazen training versus kōan
instruction, or of language used in kōan cases and the silence of enlightenment.
Kim is convincing and compelling in his discussion of ‘‘linguistic experimentation
and transformation . . . executed within the realizational milieu of total exertion.’’ 7
However, I also maintain that Kim’s view is somewhat misleading because, while
he emphasizes the diversity in the linguistic styles Dōgen uses in interpreting old-
paradigm kōan cases, he fails to see the remarkable variety of aims and intentions
underlying Dōgen’s utilization of the numerous cases handled in collected sermons
and related works. That is, I will show that Dōgen does not have a single, simple or
uniform method of kōan interpretation, but he varies rhetorical and narrative strat-
egies to bring out particular ideas concerning specific items of doctrine and ritual.
Before demonstrating examples of the hermeneutic diversity in Dōgen’s ap-
proach, I will first provide a brief historical overview of his appropriation of kōan
literature.

The Role of Kōan Interpretation in Dōgen’s Thought

The real proof of Dōgen’s mastery and importation of the kōan tradition of Sung
China is his extensive and creative use of dozens of kōan cases throughout his col-
lected writings, especially the Shōbōgenzō (collection of Japanese vernacular ser-
mons), the Shōbōgenzō sanbyakusoku (collection of three hundred kōans in Chinese
without commentary), the Shōbōgenzō zuimonki (collected evening sermons), and
the Eihei kōroku (collected sermons in Chinese).8 The use of kōans by Dōgen after
his return to Japan can be analyzed in terms of several stages leading up to the
development of a uniquely innovative approach to kōan interpretation.9 One of his
earliest works, the ‘‘Genjōkōan’’ fascicle of the Shōbōgenzō, written as an epistle to
a lay disciple from Kyushu in 1233, uses kōans in two distinctive ways. First, its title
highlights the doctrine that appears in some Sung texts about the ‘‘clear-cut’’ (genjō)
kōan, or the true meaning of kōans disclosed in everyday practice, although this
notion is not explicitly discussed in the main body of the fascicle. Second, the
‘‘Genjōkōan’’ cites a relatively obscure kōan case on the relation between waving
a fan and the circulation of the wind at the conclusion of the fascicle as a way of

2 Philosophy East & West

illustrating a philosophical argument about the inseparability of daily activity and
fundamental reality.
At this early juncture, Dōgen’s approach to interpreting kōans was not particu-
larly novel or unique, although one finds flashes of innovation in the juko or verse
commentaries in the Eihei kōroku as well as the prose commentaries in the Shōbō-
genzō zuimonki. The following example, ‘‘A snake appears in the relic box,’’ is a
kōan-like anecdote from the Hsü kao-seng chuan that Dōgen comments on to de-
liver a message regarding rituals and morality.

A monk was always carrying around with great reverence a golden image of the Buddha
and other relics. Even when in the assembly hall or dormitory, he constantly burned
incense to them and showed his respect with prostrations and offerings. One day the Zen
master said, ‘‘The Buddha image and relics that you are worshiping will be of no use to
you later.’’ The monk disagreed.
The master continued, ‘‘This is the handiwork of demons. You must get rid of these
items at once.’’ The monk grew indignant and started walking off. The master called after
him, ‘‘Open your box and look inside.’’ When the upset monk stopped and looked in the
box, he found a poisonous snake coiled inside.

The narrative, cited in SZ, volume 2, record 1 (DZZ 7 : 64), culminates in a com-
pelling element of melodrama and surprise when the true identity of the snake is
revealed to the monk. The supernatural appearance of the snake is evoked, deliber-
ately yet ironically in setsuwa fashion, to defeat an attachment to a ritual that has
become merely superstitious. This approach to overcoming illusion is an example of
‘‘using poison to counteract poison,’’ to cite a prominent Zen saying about the func-
tion of kōans.
This case also has important implications for understanding the role of rituals in
Zen, especially in regard to the worship of the Buddha in various halls in the mo-
nastic compound. The basic aim in the development of the Zen school’s approach
to religious training was a transition from devotion and worship to meditation and
contemplation. There was also a transition from venerating images of the Buddha as
an otherworldly symbol of enlightenment to respecting and honoring the temple
abbot or master as a concrete, here-and-now, this-worldly appearance of a ‘‘living
Buddha.’’
These transitions also involved a shift from the Buddha Hall as the primary site in
the monastery to the Dharma Hall, where the master delivered his daily round of
sermons. The rules attributed to Pai-chang call for eliminating the Buddha Hall from
the Zen monastic compound and replacing it with the Dharma Hall alone. Dōgen’s
commentary is rather neutral. His own temple, Eiheiji, had both a Buddha Hall and a
Dharma Hall. Dōgen is by no means entirely dismissive of worshiping images and
relics, which he admits have value in representing the power of the Buddha and
delivering the devotee from the effects of evil karma. Yet he also argues, ‘‘expecting
enlightenment by worshiping icons is an error that leads you into the hands of
demons and poisonous snakes.’’
By 1240, Dōgen’s unique approach became evident in many of the fascicles of

Steven Heine 3
 the Shōbōgenzō, and throughout the decade he continued to interpret in often in-
novative and insightful ways dozens of cases in the sermons of both the Shōbōgenzō
and the Eihei kōroku. In many instances, Shōbōgenzō fascicles treat lesser-known
or otherwise untreated passages of encounter dialogues (kien-mondō) cited from
transmission-of-the-lamp histories as kōan cases, as in the ‘‘Raihaitokuzui’’ on ‘‘Mo-
shan opens her mouth,’’ the ‘‘Dōtoku’’ on ‘‘A hermit’s ‘The mountain torrent runs
deep, so the ladle is long,’ ’’ the ‘‘Sesshin sesshō’’ on ‘‘Tung-shan’s ‘Disclosing mind,
disclosing nature,’ ’’ the ‘‘Ikkya myōjū’’ on ‘‘One luminous pearl,’’ the ‘‘Jinzū’’
on ‘‘Kuei-shan turns his face to the wall,’’ the ‘‘Tajinzū’’ on ‘‘The Tripitaka monk
claims to read others’ minds,’’ and the ‘‘Kankin’’ on ‘‘Chao-chou reciting the sūtras.’’
Dōgen’s intensive discussions of previously obscure cases, or cases beyond the
scope of the standard Sung kōan collections, expand the definition and the range of
what constitutes kōan records. Dōgen was eager to introduce the lexicon of Chinese
Ch’an literature so quickly and dramatically at this critical juncture in the history of
Zen Buddhism in Japan, and he took the liberty of selecting encounter dialogues that
he considered particularly relevant for his audience.
At the same time, as a result of this, Dōgen’s texts served not just as a repository
of both well-known and lesser-known kōans. Perhaps the major feature of Dōgen’s
approach to interpretation is his vigorous and sustained effort to modify the rhetori-
cal and narrative structures of numerous kōans and thereby to alter the outcome of
these cases. For example, according to Dōgen, Huang-po did not deserve to slap
Pai-chang in the epilogue to the ‘‘fox kōan,’’ Ma-tsu was correct in sitting still to
become a Buddha in ‘‘polishing a tile,’’ and Hui-k’o’s response was not superior to
the other disciples of the first patriarch in ‘‘Bodhidharma’s ‘skin, flesh, bones, mar-
row.’ ’’ Dōgen’s hermeneutic method lessens the gap between the case seen as a
textual paradigm and the interpretive process, as well as between the winner and the
loser of the encounter. His approach, which turns the structure of cases upside down
and inside out, does violence to conventional readings. This parallels the slapping,
shouting, cutting, and leaping that characterize kōan narratives, and thereby extends
and refines the game of one-upmanship that lies at the root of encounter-dialogical
situations.10 For Dōgen, the loser may well be the winner and the winner often
wins by losing, yet losing is not really winning. Or, the winner may really lose by
winning, or no one either wins or loses—in the end, either no contestant, or at the
other extreme everyone involved, is at once both correct and/or incorrect.
An example of Dōgen’s method is his reading of ‘‘Huang-po’s single staff,’’ cited
in MS case 91 (DZZ 5 : 172) and also included in the Lang-yen yü-lu, which is based
on the symbolism of the Zen staff. According to this case, Huang-po said while
giving instructions to the assembly, ‘‘The ancient Venerables of all directions are all
located on the tip of my staff,’’ and one of the monks prostrated himself. Some time
later, this monk went to the place where Ta-shu was staying and told him about what
Huang-po had said. Master Ta-shu remarked, ‘‘Huang-po may have said that, but
has he actually met all the Venerables in the ten directions?’’ The monk returned to
Huang-po and told him about Ta-shu’s comment. Huang-po reaffirmed his position:
‘‘What I previously said has already become famous throughout the world.’’

4 Philosophy East & West

 Then, some time later, Master Lang-yen remarked, ‘‘Ta-shu seemed to have
excellent perception but he was really blind. The single staff of Huang-po could not
be broken even if everyone in the world chewed on it.’’ In other words, Lang-yen is
skeptical of Ta-shu’s critique of Huang-po. However, in EK, volume 1, record 12
(DZZ 3 : 10), in his characteristic approach of rewriting encounter dialogues the way
he feels they could or should have developed, Dōgen challenges and suggests
reversing Lang-yen’s critical comments. Agreeing with Ta-shu, Dōgen asks, ‘‘Why
didn’t Lang-yen say, ‘Huang-po’s staff can be broken as soon as everyone in the
world sets about trying to break it’?’’
When Dōgen intercedes and alters the rhetoric or the narrative of a kōan in
order to reinterpret drastically the outcome of the case, what is the underlying point
he is trying to make about what kōans mean, and what are the techniques he uses to
make his argument? What is the relation between his style or methods and the con-
clusions or aims of his interpretation? Does he, in the final analysis, support a posi-
tion of radical relativism and the indecipherability of truth claims? An analysis of
various examples of Dōgen’s strategies indicates that there does not appear to be a
single, underlying aim or agenda, such as a promoting a philosophy of relativism.
Rather, he reinterprets kōans to support several different didactic and metaphysical
positions concerning the doctrines, rituals, and practices of Zen monastic life.

Rhetorical and Narrative Strategies of Interpretation

Dōgen uses a variety of strategies to alter the rhetorical and/or narrative structure of
kōans in order to provide a way to diverge from the conventional interpretations of
the case. The most extreme example is when Dōgen deftly rewrites the case of Ma-
tsu polishing the tile. In the original version in CCL, volume 5, Ma-tsu appears to be
struggling to gain enlightenment when he is criticized by his teacher Nan-yüeh for
prolonged sitting in meditation, which is likened to the attempt to make a mirror
by polishing a tile. But in Dōgen’s version in MS case 83 and KS ‘‘Kokyō’’ (DZZ 1 :
237–239), he is already enlightened at the time of their conversation. This reverses
the traditional view that Ma-tsu is foolhardy in his vain effort to sit in zazen, an
approach that emphasizes sudden awakening and the futility of continual cultiva-
tion. According to Dōgen, ‘‘When polishing a tile becomes a mirror, Ma-tsu becomes
a Buddha. When Ma-tsu becomes a Buddha, Ma-tsu immediately becomes Ma-tsu.
When Ma-tsu becomes Ma-tsu, zazen becomes zazen. That is why the tradition
of making a mirror by polishing a tile has been perpetuated through the bones and
marrow of the ancient Buddhas. That being the case, there is an ancient mirror
(kokyō) by virtue of the act of polishing [a tile].’’ Dōgen’s rewriting of the case jus-
tifies his emphasis on the practice of just-sitting as the unity of practice-cultivation
(shushō ittō), and his method illustrates the interconnectedness of interpretive style
and substance, as well as philosophy and polemics.
Dōgen uses two main rhetorical techniques: (1) atomization, which involves
breaking down key passages into their basic linguistic components of individual
kanji or kanji compounds and analyzing or rearranging the lexical components of

Steven Heine 5
 speech,11 and (2) capping phrases (jakugo), which is the composition of brief, pithy,
and allusive commentaries on particular words or passages in kōan cases.12 An ex-
ample of a capping phrase is a two-line kanbun verse Dōgen wrote as a comment on
the contradictory sayings attributed to Ma-tsu in two kōans dealing with the doctrine
of Mind as an indicator of fundamental reality, one asserting that ‘‘Mind itself is
Buddha’’ and the other offering the negation ‘‘No Mind, no Buddha’’ (WMK cases 30
and 33). According to Dōgen’s verse (EK 10.63c):
‘‘Mind itself is Buddha’’—difficult to practice, but easy to explain
‘‘No mind, no Buddha’’—difficult to explain, but easy to practice.

The method of atomization is seen in several prominent Shōbōgenzō fascicles, es-

pecially ‘‘Sesshin sesshō,’’ ‘‘Shinfukatoku,’’ ‘‘Sokushin zebutsu,’’ and ‘‘Muchū setsu-
mu.’’ In this approach Dōgen twists and turns the meaning of words by taking
them out of their original context and then isolating and changing or reversing their
meaning, following this by reinserting them back into the kōan narrative now seen in
a new conceptual light. A key example focuses on a case known as Tung-shan’s
‘‘Disclosing mind, disclosing nature,’’ in which Tung-shan reveals an affinity with
death. This kōan is included in Dōgen’s MS case 62 (DZZ 5 : 158–160) and is also
the basis of an entire Shōbōgenzō fascicle, KS ‘‘Sesshin sesshō’’ (DZZ 1 : 449–456).
The kōan record revolves around several subtle wordplays. One time, when Tung-
shan was traveling with Shen-shan Seng-mi, whose name literally means ‘‘mountain
god,’’ he pointed to a roadside temple and said, ‘‘There is someone inside the temple
who is disclosing mind, and disclosing nature.’’ The way this transpires suggests a
mysterious intuition that connects Tung-shan to the preacher in the chapel. The term
used for ‘‘disclosing’’ (setsu) can also be translated as ‘‘explaining,’’ ‘‘preaching,’’ or
‘‘giving discourse,’’ and the terms ‘‘mind’’ (shin) and ‘‘nature’’ (shō) are often used
interchangeably to refer to the fundamental level of reality.
Shen-shan responds, ‘‘Who is it?’’ This could be interpreted as a simple, inno-
cent question—or it could also be rendered as a philosophical declarative ‘‘It is
who.’’ Tung-shan then says, ‘‘When I just heard your simple question, elder brother,
I attained a state of perfect death,’’ indicating a condition of deep meditation beyond
the dichotomy of life and death. Shen-shan asks, ‘‘Who is disclosing mind, and dis-
closing nature?’’ This again could be understood as a declarative, ‘‘The one disclos-
ing mind and disclosing nature is who.’’ In response to the question Tung-shan says,
‘‘It is he who is alive within the realm of death.’’
In his extensive commentary on this relatively obscure case, Dōgen continues
the wordplay through an atomization that divides the act of disclosure into four cate-
gories represented by his characteristic literary technique of changing the order of
characters in a four-character phrase: ‘‘disclosing mind of no person,’’ ‘‘no person
disclosing mind,’’ ‘‘disclosing mind is itself the person,’’ and ‘‘this person itself is
disclosing mind.’’ Basing his argument largely on a sectarian agenda, Dōgen praises
the handling of Shen-shan’s questions by Tung-shan (one of the founders of his Sōtō
lineage) and criticizes Lin-chi (founder of the rival Rinzai sect) for misrepresenting a

6 Philosophy East & West

duality between mind as representative of evanescent individuality and nature as
symbolic of substantive universality.
Dōgen’s approach to altering the narrative structure of kōans often involves
interceding in or extending the original narrative as well as presenting a demy-
thological interpretation of supernatural elements in the narrative. An example of
interceding in the narrative structure is found in Dōgen’s interpretation of the fol-
lowing case, ‘‘A Hermit’s ‘The mountain torrent runs deep, so the ladle is long’’:

A monk built a hermitage at the foot of Mount Hsüeh-feng and lived there for many years
practicing meditation but without having his head shaved. Making a wooden ladle, the
solitary monk drew and drank water from a mountain torrent.
One day, a monk from the monastery at the top of the mountain visited the hermit and
asked, ‘‘What is the meaning of Bodhidharma’s coming from the West?’’ The hermit
responded, ‘‘The mountain torrent runs deep, so the handle of a wooden ladle must be
appropriately long.’’ The monk reported this to the master of Hsüeh-feng Temple who
declared, ‘‘He sounds like a strange character, perhaps an anomaly. I’d better go at once
and check him out for myself.’’
The next day, Master Hsüeh-feng went to see the hermit while carrying a razor and was
accompanied by his attendant monk. As soon as they met he said, ‘‘If you can express the
Way, I won’t shave your head.’’ On hearing this, the hermit at first was speechless. But
then he used the ladle to bring water to have his head washed, and Hsüeh-feng shaved
the hermit’s head.

Verse Commentary
If someone asks the meaning of Bodhidharma coming from the West,
It is that the handle of a wooden ladle is long, and the mountain torrent runs deep;
If you want to know the boundless meaning of this,
Wait for the wind blowing in the pines to drown out the sound of koto strings.

This kōan is cited in EK, volume 9, case 71 (DZZ 4 : 230), and it is also included in
MS case 183 (DZZ 5 : 218). Although it does not appear in the major Sung kōan
collections, the case is contained in a wide variety of sources including transmission-
of-the-lamp records, especially the Tsung-men t’ung-yao chi, volume 8, and the
Tsung-men lien-teng hui-yao, volume 3, as well as the Cheng-fa yen-tseng (Jpn.
Shōbōgenzō) kōan collection of master Ta-hui. In addition to citing it in the EK and
MS collections, Dōgen discusses the case in several KS fascicles, including ‘‘Gyōji,’’
‘‘Bodaisatta shishōbō,’’ and especially ‘‘Dōtoku.’’
In an extensive discussion in the Shōbōgenzō ‘‘Dōtoku,’’ Dōgen characteristi-
cally alters the significance of the hermit’s status by remarking that Hsüeh-feng
should not and would not have asked or expected the irregular practitioner to ‘‘ex-
press the way’’ (dōtoku) unless he already knew that the hermit was enlightened.
Unlike his interpretation of a case, cited below, in which he asserts the literal mean-
ing of the dialogue that refutes the Tripitaka monk’s supranormal powers, this time
Dōgen reverses the literal standpoint in both the EK verse commentary and the KS
prose commentary by arguing that the hermit should not be considered a pratyeka

Steven Heine 7
 Buddha and should be acknowledged for his authentic spiritual status. Although
Dōgen accepts the hermit’s authenticity, he also agrees that the silent response
indicates the superiority of Hsüeh-feng despite the hermit’s considerable spiritual
attainment. Hsüeh-feng earns the right to test and domesticate the hermit. The EK
verse commentary steers from endorsing or disputing the spiritual powers of the
irregular practitioner, who has been adopted through the master’s administration of
the tonsure into the legitimate Zen lineage.
Another approach to altering the narrative structure is the technique of demy-
thologization, which changes the focus and direction of the reading of the text. This
approach is seen in Dōgen’s interpretation of ‘‘Kuei-shan turns his face to the wall,’’
another rather obscure kōan that became the basis for a lengthy discussion in the
Shōbōgenzō. The original case deals with the interpretation of a master’s dream by
two disciples:
Kuei-shan was lying down one day when he was approached by Yang-shan with a
question. The master, still lying down, turned his back to Yang-shan. Yang-shan asked,
‘‘Why do you behave like that with one of your disciples?’’ As the master started to stand
up, Yang-shan went to leave the room. The master called out, and Yang-shan turned his
head. The master said, ‘‘Let me tell you about a dream. Please listen.’’ Yang-shan lowered
his head and listened to the master’s dream. The master said, ‘‘Please interpret the dream
for me.’’ Yang-shan took a bowl of water and a towel to the master. The master scrubbed
his face, and then sat for a while.
Then Hsiang-yen came into the room. The master said, ‘‘Just now Yang-shan demon-
strated a supreme ability in supranormal powers. This ability is not like that of the
Hinayanists.’’ Hsiang-yen said, ‘‘I was in the other room, but I clearly perceived this.’’ The
master said, ‘‘Now it’s your turn to interpret.’’ Hsiang-yen made a cup of tea and brought
it to the master.
Then the master said, ‘‘You two disciples have supranormal powers that are beyond the
abilities of Sariputra and Maudgalyayana.’’

This kōan, which was contained in CCL, volume 9 (TSD 51 : 265c), and other
transmission-of-the-lamp records such as the Tsung-men t’ung-yao chi, volume 4,
and Tsung-men lien-teng hui-yao, volume 7, is cited in MS case 61 (DZZ 5 : 158),
and it is also discussed extensively in the KS ‘‘Jinzū’’ fascicle (DZZ 1 : 392–402).
Unlike other kōans, such as ‘‘The sermon from the third seat’’ (WMK 25 and TJL 90),
in which Yang-shan’s dream of bodhisattva realms is fanciful and mythical, the
dream imagery here has an esoteric quality. The dream of Kuei-shan that Yang-shan
is asked to interpret becomes the basis for a possible intuitive, occult connection
between master and disciple, who are especially known for their strong emotional
attachment as the core members of the Kuei-Yang house or lineage. The content and
nature of the dream itself is never disclosed, and this heightens the sense of mystery
and uncertainty surrounding the oneiric experience as well as Yang’s interpretation
of it.
The challenge and responses, however ironic, occur in the context of a tradition
in which it was taken for granted that masters and disciples enjoyed a distinctive
intuitive bond. In some of the more prominent examples, second patriarch Hui-k’o

8 Philosophy East & West

was led to find Bodhidharma by the vision of a spirit, Chü-chih established his con-
nection with the master who taught him the One Finger method through a dream,
and Dōgen was led to discover his mentor in China by a dream that took place at a
time of disillusionment when he was on the verge of returning prematurely to Japan.
Yet, in the KS ‘‘Jinzū,’’ Dōgen offers a thoroughly demythological interpretation of
the current case by arguing that the so-called supranormal powers are minor abilities
compared to the genuine mystical insight of a disciple receiving transmission into
the teachings of his master. Dōgen evokes the saying attributed to Layman P’ang that
genuine supranormal powers are nothing other than ‘‘carrying water and chopping
wood.’’
The case of ‘‘Te-shan and the woman selling rice cakes’’ is an example of an
interpretation at once extending the narrative structure and atomizing the rhetorical
structure. The case deals with Te-shan’s comeuppance at the hands of an elderly
laywoman:

Te-shan was traveling to the south in search of the Dharma when he came across a
woman on the roadside selling refreshments and asked, ‘‘Who are you?’’ She responded,
‘‘I am an old woman selling rice cakes.’’ He said, ‘‘I’ll take some rice cakes.’’ She said,
‘‘Venerable priest, why do you want them?’’ He said, ‘‘I am hungry and need some
refreshments’’ (Chin. tien-hsin, Jpn. ten-shin).
She said, ‘‘Venerable priest, what are you carrying in your bag?’’ He said, ‘‘Haven’t you
heard I am ‘King of the Diamond Sūtra’? I have thoroughly penetrated all of its levels of
meaning. Here I have my notes and commentaries on the scripture.’’
Hearing this the old woman said, ‘‘I have one question. Venerable priest, may I ask it?’’
He said, ‘‘Go ahead and ask it.’’ She stated, ‘‘I have heard it said that according to the
Diamond Sūtra, past mind is ungraspable (Chin. hsin-p’u-hua-te, Jpn. shinfukatoku),
present mind is ungraspable, and future mind is ungraspable. So, where is the mind (hsin/
shin) that you wish to refresh (tien/ten) with rice cakes? Venerable priest, if you can
answer, I will sell you a rice cake. But if, venerable priest, you cannot answer, I will not
sell you any rice cake.’’
Te-shan was struck speechless, and the old woman got up abruptly and left without
selling Te-shan a single rice cake.

This kōan is cited in the prose commentary section of PYL case 4 (TSD
48 : 143b–144c), and it is discussed as the main topic of the KS ‘‘Shinfukatoku’’ fas-
cicle (DZZ 1 : 82–86) on the ‘‘Ungraspable Mind.’’ Dōgen’s commentary tries to
reverse the conventional understanding by criticizing the woman as well as Te-shan.
Dōgen points out that while Te-shan thought that he was ‘‘checking out’’ the old
woman, it turned out that she had checked him out and found him wanting. He
challenges Te-shan for not asking in response to her query, ‘‘I cannot answer your
question, what would you say?’’ But Dōgen then suggests that she should have said,
‘‘Venerable priest, if you cannot answer my question, try asking me a question to see
if I can answer you.’’ He is quite critical of the old woman as well as those who
automatically praise her handling of Te-shan. According to Dōgen, it is not clear that
the woman is enlightened—she is a marginal figure who can challenge Zen monks,
but should not be considered the equal of a Zen master. Dōgen seems particularly

Steven Heine 9
 reluctant to sanction the authority of a laywoman, although in his interpretation in
‘‘Raihaitokuzui’’ he praises a nun and attacks monks who deny the abilities of legit-
imately ordained women.
Through a combination of atomization and narrative extension, Dōgen argues
that Te-shan should have said, ‘‘If you say so, then don’t bother to sell me any rice
cakes.’’ Or, to be even more effective, he could have turned the tables on the
woman by inquiring, ‘‘As past mind is ungraspable, present mind is ungraspable, and
future mind is ungraspable, where is the mind (hsin) that now makes the rice cakes
used for refreshment (tien)?’’ Then, the woman would confront Te-shan by saying,
‘‘You know only that one cannot refresh the mind with a rice cake. But you do not
realize that the mind refreshes the rice cake, or that the mind refreshes [or liberates]
the mind.’’ And just as Te-shan is feeling overwhelmed and bewildered she would
continue, ‘‘Here is one rice cake each for the past ungraspable mind, the present
ungraspable mind, and the future ungraspable mind.’’ If he should fail to reach
out his hand to take the rice cakes, she should slap him with one of the cakes and
say, ‘‘You ignorant fool, don’t be so absent-minded.’’ Dōgen concludes by argu-
ing, ‘‘Therefore, neither the old woman nor Te-shan were able to hear or express
adequately the past ungraspable mind, the present ungraspable mind, or the
future ungraspable mind.’’ Yet, despite Dōgen’s playful, probing critique of the old
woman, it seems clear that she has prevailed over the monk with one of the most
effective puns in the history of Zen literature that is replete with diverse styles of
wordplay.

On Reinterpreting the Outcome of Kōan Narratives

In reinterpreting and reversing the conventional reading of the kōan cases, what is
Dōgen’s point? Does he espouse an underlying philosophy of relativism, in which
the outcome of every case can invariably be examined from diverse perspectives
with no clear winner in the contest, or do we find a different approach advocated for
each of the cases, so that in some instances a winner can be upheld although this
may vary from the conventional view? In other words, does Dōgen’s approach to
kōans have a single main agenda or a variable series of references?
My analysis suggests that Dōgen’s approach can be understood in terms of two
overriding and interrelated themes: (1) didactic concerns with moral and ritual issues
in the monastic system including communal labor, asceticism, continual cultivation,
gender, and the role of scriptures and sermons, and (2) metaphysical concerns with
crafting a doctrine of nonduality or the equalization of all views based on the notions
of emptiness and the use of expedient pedagogical means. Some of the conclusions
Dōgen seeks to show are evident in the cases cited above—for example, his support
for an irregular practitioner, his critique of the female opponent of Te-shan, his
advocacy of demythology, and his refutation of a reliance on silence over scriptures.
The cases cited below reveal more fully diverse components of Dōgen’s approach to
reinterpreting the outcome of encounter dialogues.
A key example of didacticism is found in Dōgen’s interpretation of an obscure

10 Philosophy East & West

case, ‘‘Nan-ch’üan sweeping on a mountain,’’ emphasizing a ‘‘let us cultivate our
garden’’ ethic that evokes Pai-chang’s ‘‘no work, no food’’ injunction:
One day Nan-chüan was doing his chores and sweeping on the mountain. A monk
approached him and asked, ‘‘Tell me the way to get to Mount Nan-chüan.’’ Nan-chüan
raised his sickle and said, ‘‘I bought this for thirty cents.’’ The monk retorted, ‘‘I did not
ask about the price of the sickle. What I asked about was the path to Mount Nan-chüan.’’
Nan-chüan said, ‘‘Now, let me get back to chopping down weeds.’’

Verse Commentary
The novice came and went on Mount Nan-chüan,
But, in trying to reach the peak, he had a wonderful experience,
He heard Nan-chüan’s remark about the sickle and it affected him deeply,
We should keep listening to this dialogue for years to come.

This kōan appears in EK, volume 9, case 81 (DZZ 4 : 238). It focuses on the impor-
tance of communal labor in the self-definition of the Southern school during its
formative period in T’ang China. A wandering monk—referred to in the verse com-
mentary as a ‘‘novice’’ (literally ‘‘water and clouds’’)—sees Nan-chüan and, appar-
ently without recognizing him, asks the way to the master’s mountain. His asking for
the mountain means the same as if he were asking for the person. The monk does
not expect that an abbot would be engaged in manual labor, and so he does not
realize that he has just met the master he is looking for. When the monk does not get
the point of Nan-chüan’s initial response that emphasizes the importance of working
hard with simple tools, the master dismisses the wanderer and gets back to his chore
of chopping down weeds. Note that the master’s indirect reproach is not the kind of
harsh verbal or physical reprimand one might expect, and Dōgen’s verse commen-
tary suggests that the monk probably did have an experience of sudden awakening
stemming from this encounter.
Dōgen’s highlighting of yet another obscure kōan, ‘‘Hsüan-sha’s ‘One luminous
pearl,’ ’’ focuses on the role of an irregular monk and the issue of demythologization
in a case characterized by the winning of a game of one-upmanship over paradoxi-
cal expressions by a forest ascetic:
A priest asked master Hsüan-sha Tsung-i of Fu-chou district, ‘‘I have heard that you often
say, ‘The whole universe in ten directions is one luminous pearl.’ How are we to under-
stand the meaning of this?’’ Hsüan-sha replied, ‘‘The whole universe in ten directions is
one luminous pearl. What is the point in trying to understand the meaning?’’
The next day Hsüan-sha asked the priest, ‘‘The whole universe in ten directions is one
luminous pearl. How do you understand the meaning of this?’’ The priest said, ‘‘The
whole universe in ten directions is one luminous pearl. What is the point in trying to
understand the meaning of this?’’
Hsüan-sha taunted him, ‘‘I see you have been struggling like a demon in the cave of a
black mountain.’’

This kōan is cited in MS case 15 (DZZ 5 : 132), and it is also included with extensive
commentary in the KS ‘‘Ikkya myōjū’’ fascicle (DZZ 1 : 76–81). According to tradi-
tional accounts, Hsüan-sha throughout his career wore a patched robe made of

Steven Heine 11
 coarse fiber that he mended but never replaced. With a minimum of formal training
he eventually became the successor of Hsüeh-feng and was known for his single-
method teaching based on the phrase ‘‘one luminous pearl,’’ which means that there
is a jewel amid the dusty world of samsāra or that the samsaric world itself has a
˙
bright, jewel-like quality. The reference to the cave of demons, whether implying
supernaturalism or anti-supernaturalism, or praise or criticism of the monk’s attitude,
must be understood in terms an awareness that caves were the likely lair of Hsüan-
sha, the forest ascetic. Dōgen’s KS demythological prose commentary stresses a
nondual outlook that legitimates the irregular practitioner, as in ‘‘Dōtoku’’ and EK
9.71, by asserting, ‘‘Forward steps and backward steps in a demon’s black mountain
cave are nothing other than ‘one luminous pearl.’ ’’
In his interpretation of the obscure ‘‘Nan-chüan is greeted by the Earth-deity,’’
Dōgen employs both a demythologization and a re-mythologization to argue for the
need for continuing practice in a sectarian context:

Nan-chüan happened to be traveling through a vegetable garden when the monk

charged with stewarding the garden came prepared to greet him. Nan-chüan said, ‘‘I
usually travel without being noticed. How is it that you were prepared to receive me?’’
The monk replied, ‘‘Because last night the Earth-deity [or protector-spirit of the monastery
compound] informed me you would be coming by.’’
Nan-chüan said, ‘‘I must be lacking in the power of spiritual cultivation. That is the
only explanation for why the Earth-deity saw me.’’ The monk said, ‘‘But you have already
attained great wisdom. I do not understand why the Earth-deity could have seen you
coming.’’
Nan-chüan thought, ‘‘I’d better go and make an offering of rice to the Earth-deity.’’

Verse Commentary
He once traveled freely, his presence unnoticed by others;
He could not be distinguished from a god or demon;
But finally caught, he confessed that he had lost his spiritual power,
Though in the beginning his comings and goings were far from any crowd.

This kōan, originally contained in several of the transmission-of-the-lamp records

including CCL, volume 8 (TSD 51 : 257c), is cited in EK, volume 9, case 63 (DZZ
4 : 224). This case appears in the record of master Hung-chih (TSD 48 : 34b), the
original compiler of the cases that appear in the TJL collection. It is also included in
MS case 19 (DZZ 5 : 134), and is discussed extensively in Dōgen’s KS ‘‘Gyōji,’’ part 1
(DZZ 1 : 145–170).
The discursive function of the case, whether mythological or demythological,
lies in the context in which it is cited and interpreted. For example, when used in
transmission-of-the-lamp texts such as the CCL it contributes to the genealogy of
the master by establishing the authenticity of his credentials. The case is also men-
tioned in Dōgen’s ‘‘Gyōji’’ fascicle, the closest his Shōbōgenzō writings come to the
transmission-of-the-lamp genre. He retells the history of his lineage in light of the
doctrine of ‘‘sustained zazen practice’’ (gyōji), which has the spiritual power to
support Buddhas and sentient beings, heaven and earth, self and other. Early in the

12 Philosophy East & West

fascicle, Dōgen refers to masters Ching-ching and I-chang as being notable because
they cannot be perceived by the native gods. Then he contrasts Nan-chüan, who has
been spotted, with Hung-chih, before whom a local deity is literally stopped in its
tracks. The god’s feet will not budge, recalling the ‘‘immovable robe’’ in the legend
of Hui-neng’s escape from his opponents in WMK in case 23.
On the one hand, Dōgen seems to be scoring a sectarian point on behalf of
Hung-chih, a predecessor of his mentor Ju-ching, while denigrating a master from a
rival Rinzai lineage. Up to this stage, Dōgen is operating within, although at the
same time refashioning, the standard mythological framework. But he then ration-
alizes demythology by commenting that the real meaning of being seen or not seen
lies not in supranormal power in the literal sense but in the perpetuation of authentic
discipline. This requires an ongoing process of detachment from, or casting off, con-
ventional pursuits. Yet even Dōgen’s turn to an anti-supernatural interpretation
reveals an assumption of the efficacy of the indigenous spirit world. His verse com-
mentary in the EK version is basically noncommittal about—but certainly does not
deny—the issue of supernaturalism.
In highlighting and interpreting ‘‘Mo-shan opens her mouth,’’ Dōgen returns to
the issue of gender as also seen in ‘‘Shinfukatoku,’’ discussed above, and ‘‘Kankin,’’
discussed below. The case emphasizes the role of a female practitioner who appears
superior in both rank and wisdom to her male disciple:
Chih-hsien was sent by his master, Lin-chi, to study with Mo-shan. On their first meeting
she asked, ‘‘Where have you come from?’’ Chih-hsien answered, ‘‘The Mouth of the
Road’’ (the literal meaning of the name of his village). Mo-shan retorted, ‘‘Then why
didn’t you close your mouth when you came here?’’ Chih-hsien prostrated himself and
became her disciple.
Some time later he challenged her by asking, ‘‘What is the Summit of the Mountain’’
(the literal meaning of the name Mo-shan)? She replied, ‘‘The Summit of the Mountain
cannot be seen.’’ ‘‘Then who is the person on the mountain?’’ he demanded. ‘‘I am nei-
ther a male nor a female form,’’ she responded. ‘‘Then,’’ he asked, ‘‘why not transfigure
into some other form?’’ ‘‘Since I am not a fox spirit, I cannot transfigure.’’
Once again Chih-hsien bowed and decided to serve as supervisor of Mo-shan’s temple
garden for three years, proclaiming her teaching the equal of [that of] Lin-chi.
This kōan, which originally appeared in CCL, volume 11 (TSD 51 : 289a), is cited in
the KS ‘‘Raihaitokuzui’’ fascicle (DZZ 1 : 302–315), and it is also included in abbre-
viated fashion in Dōgen’s EK, volume 9, case 32 (DZZ 4 : 202). There are other ver-
sions of the narrative in various transmission-of-the-lamp records that have different
outcomes and ways of treating the question of whether the monk in the end defers to
the authority and superiority of the nun, whose wisdom is expressed in ingenious
wordplay.13
Dōgen devotes a complete fascicle of the Shōbōgenzō to the case of Mo-shan
and related anecdotes about the role of nuns. While he is critical of some of the
Zen grannies who are lay and perhaps occult practitioners, as in his commentary on
Te-shan and the rice cake, he defends Mo-shan, who is ordained, and severely
attacks monks who reject the authority of women as ‘‘ignorant fools who deceive

Steven Heine 13
 and delude secular people’’ and therefore ‘‘can never become bodhisattvas.’’ Dōgen
comments that he was struck by the ‘‘skin, flesh, bones, marrow’’ transmission story
of first patriarch Bodhidharma, who interviewed four people, including a woman,
before selecting his successor by transmitting his marrow, and Dōgen supports Mo-
shan’s authority.
However, several factors call into question whether Dōgen is entirely consistent
in his acceptance of a lineal model for women. First, in other fascicles, particularly
‘‘Shukke kudoku,’’ written late in his career, he tends to consider nuns unequal to
men. Also, even in ‘‘Raihaitokuzui,’’ he makes ironic references that may undercut
his support for women. For example, he announces that legitimate teachers can be
found ‘‘whether man or woman, ancient or modern, stone pillars or shapeshifting
foxes.’’
One of Dōgen’s favorite cases, ‘‘Pai-chang meditates on Ta-hsiung peak,’’ is
used as a vehicle to enunciate his own views on monastic rituals, especially the
priority of sermons:
A monk asked Pai-chang, ‘‘What is the most extraordinary thing?’’ Pai-chang said, ‘‘Sit-
ting alone on Ta-hsiung Peak.’’ The monk bowed, and Pai-chang hit him.

This case is cited in PYL 26 (TSD 48 : 166c–167b), and it gained prominence be-
cause it served as a topic for important commentaries by Dōgen and his Chinese
mentor Ju-ching. Ju-ching reconsidered the leading query and rewrote the response
as, ‘‘It is only to eat rice in a bowl at Ching-tsu-ssu Temple on Mount T’ien-t’ung.’’
He thereby shifted the focus from solitary zazen to everyday activities, as well as
from Mount Pai-chang to his own mountain temple.
Dōgen reflected on this case at least five times in his works. In the earlier writ-
ings, the KS ‘‘Kajō’’ and ‘‘Ho-u,’’ he cites Ju-ching’s comments approvingly. But
during a later sermon, Dōgen spontaneously rewrote the case by raising his staff,
then throwing it down, and stepping off the dais. In EK 2.148 from 1245, he com-
ments on the value of wielding the Zen stick, which metaphorically encompasses all
aspects of reality. According to the record of the sermon, ‘‘Dōgen said, ‘I would
answer by raising high my stick at Daibutsu Temple in Japan,’ and he put the stick
down and stepped off the dais.’’ Several years later, he again rewrote the case with
the remark that the most extraordinary thing is delivering sermons at Eihei Temple. In
EK 5.378 he says, ‘‘I [Eihei abbot] will go to the lecture hall today.’’ Finally, in EK
6.443, from 1251, he asserts, ‘‘It is attending jōdō sermons on Kichijōzan.’’ This is
intriguing in that Dōgen is primarily known for his emphasis on zazen meditation
through the doctrine of ‘‘just sitting’’ (shikan taza) rather than for delivering sermons,
whereas Pai-chang is known for stressing sermons in his monastic-rules text, which
makes little mention of the need for sitting meditation. On the other hand, Dōgen
often praised Ju-ching for his charismatic sermons, and Dōgen himself gave night-
time sermons that became the KS ‘‘Kōmyō’’ and ‘‘Shohō jisso’’ fascicles.
While the kōans discussed above focus on moral issues such as communal
labor, continuing practice, and attitudes regarding gender, Dōgen’s reading of ‘‘The
Tripitaka monk claims to read others’ minds’’ delivers a message about the role of

14 Philosophy East & West

supranormal powers in monastic life and also points to a philosophical doctrine of
relativism:

The Tripitaka master Ta-erh came to the capital all the way from India and proclaimed, ‘‘I
have the Dharma-eye that reads others’ minds.’’ Emperor Tai-tsung ordered the National
Teacher Hui-chung to put him to a test. When the Tripitaka monk saw the National
Teacher he at once bowed and stood to his right side.
The National Teacher said, ‘‘Do you have the power to read others’ minds?’’ The monk
responded, ‘‘No, far from it.’’ ‘‘Tell me where I am right now.’’ ‘‘You are a National
Teacher. How can you see the boat race in the West River?’’

This kōan, which originally appeared in CCL, volume 5 (TSD 51 : 244a), is cited in
Dōgen’s EK, volume 9, case 27 (DZZ 4 : 198–200), and it is also the main subject
of the KS ‘‘Tajinzū’’ fascicle (DZZ 2 : 41–252). Dōgen refutes what evolved as the
typical interpretation—which seems to reverse the overt meaning of the dialogue—
that the Tripitaka monk’s first two answers are actually correct and that even the
silent response in the third part of the dialogue may be considered acceptable.
Dōgen considers several commentaries by leading masters that justify why the Tri-
pitaka master was silent at the end of the encounter. For example, he discusses
Chao-chou’s remark that the Tripitaka monk did not see the National Teacher in the
third question because the master ‘‘was standing right on the monk’s nostrils’’ and
was therefore too close to be perceived. He also considers another comment that the
National Teacher had gone into a state of samādhi or profound absorption and was
imperceptible to the monk. According to Dōgen, all of these are convoluted ways of
trying to reconcile the monk’s inability, and he returns to a literal reading of the case.
Dōgen maintains an iconoclastic view with several components. According to
Dōgen, supranormal powers do not lead to and are not really the result of enlight-
enment, and therefore they are not comparable in merit to everyday activities and
simple chores, such as chopping down weeds. Also, reading minds is symbolic of
intuitive insight, which is beyond having or not having powers, and knowing about
others is actually based on self-knowledge. Therefore, reading the mind of another
can only take place on the basis of ‘‘reading one’s own mind’’ (jijintsū), or realizing
one’s true nature. The first two lines of Dōgen’s verse commentary refer to similar
situations of mind reading in other Zen dialogues or Chinese Buddhist anecdotes,
and the final lines reiterate the National Teacher’s critique of Ta-erh as someone
who is fundamentally deceptive.
Dōgen’s interpretation of the ‘‘The World Honored One ascends the high seat’’
uses atomization in support of the equalization of all points of view:

Pointer
A single lute string is plucked and he can name the whole tune. Such a person is hard to
find even if you search for a thousand years. Like a hawk chasing a hare, the race goes to
the swiftest. He expresses the universe of discourse in a single word, and condenses a
thousand great worlds into a speck of dust. Is there anyone who can live the same way
and die the same way, penetrating each and every hole and crevice? Now consider this.

Steven Heine 15
 Main Case
One day the World Honored One took the high seat to preach the Dharma. Mañjuśrı̄
struck the gavel and said, ‘‘Clearly understand the Dharma of the King of Dharma. The
Dharma of the King of Dharma is just like this.’’
Then the World Honored One got down off his seat.

Prose Commentary (selected passage)

This took place before the World Honored One had raised the flower. From the begin-
ning at Deer Park to the end at Hiranyavati River, how many times did he need to use the
jeweled sword of the Diamond King? At this particular time, if there had been someone in
the assembly with the true spirit of a patchrobed monk and with a supreme understand-
ing, then it would have been possible to later avoid the sticky situation of having to raise
the flower.

This kōan, originally contained in CCL, volume 11 (TSD 51 : 283b), and other
transmission-of-the-lamp records, is cited from PYL case 92 (TSD 48 : 216b–216c). It
is also included in TJL case 1 (TSD 48 : 227c–228b), MS case 141 (DZZ 5 : 200), and
the kōan collection of master Ta-hui. In addition, this case is discussed extensively in
Dōgen’s KS ‘‘Osaku sendaba’’ fascicle (DZZ 2 : 253–258).
Like numerous other commentaries on this case, including the PYL and TJL,
Dōgen’s discussion deals with the notion of ‘‘Saindhava,’’ which evokes an ancient
Sanskrit story of a king who asked his retainer for four items—a wash, a meal, a
drink, and a ride—and is given, in an immediate, intuitive response, water, salt, a
chalice, and a horse, respectively. Saindhava refers to an intuitive connection be-
tween master and disciple, but the commentaries caution against understanding this
in a literal or facile way. The PYL mentions another kōan: When a monk asked
Hsiang-yen, ‘‘What is the king asking for Saindhava?’’ Hsiang-yen said, ‘‘Come over
here,’’ and the monk went. Hsiang-yen said, ‘‘Don’t be such a fool!’’ The monk later
asked Chao-chou, ‘‘What is the king asking for Saindhava?’’ ‘‘Chao-chou got off his
meditation seat, bent over, and folded his hands.’’ Dōgen cites this account and also
tells the irreverent story of Nan-chüan, who saw his disciple coming and decided
to up the ante about Saindhava by commanding him, ‘‘The pitcher is an object. It
contains some water. Bring the water over to this old priest without moving the
object. But the monk brought the pitcher to the master and poured water all over
him.’’ Dōgen distances himself from the ritual implications and comments exclu-
sively on the metaphysical significance of this act, ‘‘We must study the water in the
pitcher and the pitcher in the water. Was it the water that was being moved, or was it
the pitcher that was being moved?’’

Conclusions: Tours, Détours, Rétours

Dōgen’s interpretation of the following kōan, ‘‘Chao-chou recites the sūtras,’’ dem-
onstrates many of the elements previously discussed. These include the rhetorical
strategies of atomization and narrative intercession/extension as well as drawing
conclusions that derive from reinterpreting the meaning of ritual in light of the doc-
trines of relativism and multiperspectivism:

16 Philosophy East & West

 In the district of Chao-chou, an old woman sent a message to the master with a donation
and a request that he recite the entire collection of Buddhist sūtras. Hearing of this, the
master stepped down from his seat and walked around the chair one time. Then he said,
‘‘I have finished reciting the collection of sūtras.’’
The messenger returned to the old woman and told her what happened with Chao-
chou. The old woman said, ‘‘I asked Chao-chou to recite the complete collection of
sūtras. Why did he recite only half the sūtras?’’

This kōan, which appears in transmission-of-the-lamp records on Chao-chou’s teach-

ings, is cited in MS case 74 (DZZ 5 : 164) and it is also discussed briefly in Ta-hui
yü-lu, volume 9, and more extensively in Dōgen’s KS ‘‘Kankin’’ (DZZ 2 : 320–342).
The main question Dōgen considers is whether Chao-chou is really in the wrong,
and how this affects our understanding of the role of reciting rituals in the monastic
routine. He reverses the conventional interpretation of the case. Dōgen says that
Chao-chou walking around his chair really did represent the whole of the Buddhist
sūtras, whereas the old woman was merely lost in her concern for the relative num-
ber of scriptures recited. At the same time, in contrast to this line of interpretation
that is critical of the woman, Dōgen suggests that perhaps the old woman really
wanted to see Chao-chou walk around the chair backwards, or in the opposite di-
rection, to expose his appreciation of absurdity.
The ‘‘Kankin’’ also contains several other versions of the narrative culled from
the transmission-of-the-lamp records. In one version, Master Shen-chao of Mount
Ta-sui in I-chou also walks around the chair. But this time the old woman is criti-
cized for not saying, ‘‘I asked him to recite the entire collection of the sūtras. Why
did the master worry himself so much?’’ In another version, master Tung-shan Wu-
pen first bows to the messenger who returns the bow, but then he walks around the
chair with the officer and asks the officer if he understood. When the messenger
replies ‘‘no,’’ Tung-shan says, ‘‘Why can’t you understand that I have read a sūtra
with you?’’ In a fourth version, Dōgen relates how his Chinese mentor Ju-ching, who
was once asked to read a lengthy sūtra and deliver a sermon, drew a big circle in the
air with his fly whisk and said, ‘‘Now I have read it for you!’’ Then he cast away the
fly whisk and descended from the dais.
In the rest of the ‘‘Kankin’’ fascicle Dōgen spends time outlining and analyzing
the precise way the ritual of sūtra reading is to be conducted, including minute
details about preparing and serving food as well as the time and place for the read-
ing. But he also discusses other dialogues that highlight the futility and absurdity of
the ritual. These are the reversals and re-reversals, the tours, détours, and rétours
(turns, de-turns, and returns) that characterize the use of kōans in the Dōgen tradi-
tion. In one example that is particularly intriguing for its irreverent tone, master
Yüeh-shan is known for forbidding the recitation of sūtras and yet one day is dis-
covered reading a sūtra himself. When asked by a disciple why he is doing precisely
what he does not allow others he responds, ‘‘I am only trying to cover my eyes with
the sūtra!’’
Dōgen’s handling of this case highlights the point underlying his interpretation
of a wide variety of kōans: that there is no underlying point in that each particular

Steven Heine 17
 instance is unique and discrete. At the same time, the absence of an underlying point
is not the point in that he is not necessarily endorsing a notion of radical relativism.
Unlike Kim, who argues that Dōgen unifies the absolute and relative, my suggestion
is that he dispenses with or casts off both the distinction and the unification. This is
not based on constructing yet another meta-level of relativist metaphysics, but rather
on the fact that each kōan provides an opportunity to explore a different arena of
interpretive method and thematic intention. That is, the interpretation of a kōan for
Dōgen is designed to be suited to that case and to the issues surrounding it, and
this is not necessarily part of a general pattern regarding an overall approach to all
kōans.

Notes

The following abbreviations are used in the text and Notes:

CCL Ching-te ch’uan-teng lu (Jpn. Keitoku dentōroku). 1004. In TSD, vol. 50.
DZZ Dōgen zenji zenshū. 7 vols. Tokyo: Shunjūsha, 1988–1993.
EK Eihei kōroku. 1236–1253. In DZZ, vols. 3–4.
KS Kana Shōbōgenzō. 1231–1253. In DZZ, vols. 1–2.
LL Lin-chi lu (Jpn. Rinzai roku). Twelfth century. In TSD, vol. 47.
MS Mana Shōbōgenzō. 1235. In DZZ, vol. 5.
PYL Pi-yen lu (Jpn. Hekiganroku). 1163. In TSD, vol. 48.
SZ Shōbōgenzō zuimonki. 1236. In DZZ, vol. 6.
TJL Ts’ung-jung lu (Jpn. Shōyōroku). 1224. In TSD, vol. 48.
TSD Taishō shinshū daizōkyō. 85 vols. Tokyo: Taishō Issaikyō Kankōkai, 1924.
WMK Wu-men kuan (Jpn. Mumonkan). 1228. In TSD, vol. 48.
1 – EK 1.48, in DZZ 3 : 34, according to the Monkaku edition (in the Manzan edi-
tion this passage appears in EK 1.1). The main exceptions are, of course,
Dōgen’s transmission seal (see Busso shōden bosatsukai kyōju kaibun, in DZZ
6 : 212–231) as well as Myōzen’s relics (see Myōzen oshō kaichō okugaki, in
DZZ 7 : 236–237, and Shari soden-ki, in DZZ 7 : 216–218); other possibilities
include the robe and portrait of Ju-ching.
2 – Hee-Jin Kim, Dōgen Kigen—Mystical Realist (Tucson: University of Arizona
Press, 1975), p. 46.
3 – Satō Shunkō, ‘‘Hakusan shinkō to Sōtō-shū kyō shi,’’ twenty-part series, Sanshō
(1990–1991): 556–575. See also Bernard Faure, Visions of Power: Imagining
Medieval Japanese Buddhism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995).
4 – Daitō, who was said to have copied the CCL in forty days, ‘‘must have been
aware that he was not only transcribing the history of Zen but participating in it
as well’’ (Kenneth Kraft, Eloquent Zen: Daitō [Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i
Press, 1993], p. 48).

18 Philosophy East & West

 5 – Hee-Jin Kim, ‘‘ ‘The Reason of Words and Letters’: Dōgen and Kōan Language,’’
in Dōgen Studies, ed. William R. LaFleur (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i
Press, 1985), pp. 54–82. See also G. Victor Sōgen Hori, ‘‘Kōan and Kenshō in
the Rinzai Zen Curriculum,’’ in The Kōan: Texts and Contexts in Zen Buddhism,
ed. Steven Heine and Dale S. Wright (New York: Oxford University Press,
2000), pp. 280–315; Hori applies Kim’s analysis back to the Rinzai approach.
6 – Kim, ‘‘ ‘The Reason of Words and Letters,’ ’’ p. 56.
7 – Ibid., p. 60.
8 – Kagamishima Genryū, ed., Dōgen in’yō goroku no kenkyū (Tokyo: Shunjūsha,
1995).
9 – Some of the discussions of cases also appear in Steven Heine, Opening a
Mountain: Kōans of the Zen Masters (New York: Oxford University Press,
2001).
10 – This recalls yet contrasts with the kind of ritual violence examined in Maurice
Bloch, Prey into Hunter: The Politics of Religious Experience, The Lewis Henry
Morgan Lectures (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987).
11 – See Bernard Faure, The Rhetoric of Immediacy: A Cultural Critique of Chan/
Zen Buddhism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), pp. 113–114, and
Kim, ‘‘ ‘The Reason of Words and Letters.’ ’’
12 – Daitō was especially known for his use of capping phrases; see Kraft, Eloquent
Zen.
13 – Miriam Levering, ‘‘Dōgen’s Raihaitokuzui and Women Teaching in Sung
Ch’an,’’ Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 21 (1)
(1998): 77–110.

Steven Heine 19