Tracking Bodhidharma

by Andy Ferguson

  I can’t conceal my interest, and I tell Chenguang that I know how earthshaking such a discovery would be regarded and sympathize with the idea of keeping it out of the public eye for a time. He seems nervous and now doesn’t seem inclined to reveal any more information than he has already.

  “What institution is in charge of the stele?” I ask.

  He tells me there are several different groups involved, including the local Pukou government and the Nanjing cultural relic bureau. I know that I’ve already gotten more information than I’m entitled to know, so I don’t press my host to compromise himself any more than he has.

  After some more polite conversation, I thank Chenguang for his hospitality and take my leave. I take a few more photos of recent excavation areas, then brace myself for the Mad Hatter ride back to the Pukou bus station.

  DAOXUAN’S VIEW OF NANJING IN THE AGE OF BODHIDHARMA

  In some general comments about the Zen school in the Continued Biographies, Daoxuan suggests clues that indicate Emperor Wu would have sought to meet Bodhidharma. For example, he describes the popularity of the Zen movement that spread in sixth-century China and offers information about the situation in Nanjing in particular:In its initial stage of flowering and being established, Zen naturally reached the court of Emperor Wu. He looked everywhere to find those who studied mind, assembling them in the capital [Nanjing] and judging the strengths or weaknesses of their different arguments. Moreover, he utilized the upper and lower Samadhi Forest Temples on Bell Mountain, where he arranged for monks who practiced stilling the mind to reside and practice.

  At that time, although Buddhism flourished, there was much learned argument, and the swords of words surged like towering waves. This led to an incalculable amount of contention for supremacy. One can say that these monks became very famous, and the result was a genuine belief in true mind.

  If someone were to ask, I’d say that the Zen practiced and promoted [in Nanjing] was the true appearance of Buddha’s teaching. Yet now, at this later time [about 125 years later], the threads of those arguments are no longer spoken of. Now we are in what is called the “Dharma-ending age,” in which adherence to the precepts is our practice. This [precepts practice] is now paramount. And if you ask me to explain this, then I must say that the true teaching that reached China due to the great function of those former [Nanjing] masters was not understood or practiced correctly. As a result within the teachings there developed two types of believers. There was a division between those who are clever and those who are not. If we all could return to the source and experience the profound truth [of Buddha’s teaching], then the virtue of those who study [mind] and the rest of the Buddha world could be unified, as in the true Dharma of the first thousand years [of Buddha’s teaching]. And this would be called realizing the unending true enlightenment of Buddha.

  Daoxuan’s comments offer a unique view of the Buddhism of his age, a time he called the “End of Dharma” (Chinese: mofa). Daoxuan describes the problems of that age. In particular, he says that the importance of observing “mind” was being forgotten, and devotional practice and precepts were essential Zen practice. Daoxuan also described how this undermining of the Dharma would only get worse: “The Zen doctrines will [soon] be corrupted and then propagated everywhere, their meaning diluted with polluted ideas such as ‘form illuminates emptiness,’ which is already much talked about, or [the idea of] ‘experiencing chaos is peace.”’ Daoxuan’s reference to “form illuminates emptiness” is apparently an oblique criticism of the Heart Sutra, which Buddhologist Jan Nattier and others have shown to have gained currency in Chinese Buddhism about the time of Daoxuan’s writing.

  Daoxuan obviously thought that the “Dharma-ending age” had already arrived, and he predicted it would promulgate more false teachings. He states that various false doctrines would enter the religion. This was the time surrounding the creation of tablets at Yunju Temple that I described earlier. To Daoxuan and others, saving the Dharma through such actions was paramount.

  What follows in Daoxuan’s text is noteworthy. He specifically praises some of the other “former masters” of the Zen school:A large number of records tell of those [Zen] teachers’ different doctrines, their arguments and thinking ... During the period of the first [Northen] Qi emperor [circa 505—560 CE] [the monk] Seng Chou [the third abbot of Shaolin Temple] was unique, whereas the [Northern] Zhou dynasty [circa 570] in the northern plain [Shanxi and Hebei] honored [a teacher named] Seng Shi. These monks in high places brought [Zen’s] influence even to the powerful, causing Emperor Xuan Di [ruled 550—559] to give up power and hide out at Cloud Gate [Mountain] and Prime Minister Meng to lose his position and take refuge at Fu Temple.

  Then Daoxuan speaks specifically of Bodhidharma (I quoted some lines of this passage earlier, but the complete passage is especially important):Another [monk] of this sort was Bodhidharma. He converted [people] and established the Zen doctrines in the Yang-tse and Luoyang regions. His “wall-gazing” practice of the Mahayana is the highest [teaching]. Those who came to study with and honor Bodhidharma were like a city. But while there were many who lauded Bodhidharma, only a few really understood [his teachings] and dedicated themselves to their practice. He had a loyal following who would listen to him speak. His teachings were not of good and evil. One might describe his teaching to be that the truth and the false [affairs of the world] are like two wings, [or] two wheels on the cart of emptiness. Bodhidharma would not remain in places of imperial sway. Those [in high places] who desired to see him could not draw him near. His plan was quiet contemplation, and so he ceased speaking. He regarded the two doctrines [meditation and scripture] as two tracks from the same vehicle, and [Bodhidharma] was honored in the [pure practice Zen teachings] of Seng Chou [Shaolin’s third abbot].

  Bodhidharma’s Dharma was the mysterious and deep doctrine of emptiness. It should be honored [as the principle whereby] the emotional affairs [of people’s lives] are quickly exposed [as to their actual nature]. But the nature of [Bodhidharma‘s] deep principle is difficult to fathom. Therefore things [of the world] entrap people. If one can utilize [a proper understanding of] mind, then it will stop outflows [delusions] and make them like billowing clouds. Using such a method will resolve one’s difficulties. [Bodhidharma’s] method is far from [what is found in] scriptures. It can be effective. When you compare it to the “Ten Stages leading to Bodhisattva-hood” [a doctrine then widely studied] you will find the latter to be inferior and slow.

  Those who enter the Zen gate in the morning expound it in the evening. It is said that it is the source of everything. Attaining this profound spiritual samadhi [one can] illuminate and penetrate hindrances. It is the ultimate limit of what can be understood or realized through wisdom and knowledge.

  There are no delusions of the mind that this [teaching] cannot illuminate. It reveals the mind tossed in the karmic waves, and it calms the swells of fear, manifesting samadhi. It is thus called the knowledge that arises through samadhic power.

  [Bodhidharma’s teaching] maintains that an external doctrine only leads to confusion, and will not easily allow one to solve one’s obstructions [to gaining enlightenment]. I personally often practice [Bodhidharma’s teaching]. The doctrine he espoused is the truth. Through it, delusions of true and false, death and difficulty, are understood. It is difficult to penetrate and eliminate [ideas of] true and false, form and delusion. Delusive states are avoided only through understanding “mind only.” Clinging to what is before one is not the practice of mind. All [Bodhidharma’s disciples] were able to speak of the Way through [knowledge of] this practice.

  Daoxuan seems to be of two minds about Bodhidharma’s teachings. On the one hand he says that Bodhidharma’s teaching is “difficult to fathom.” Yet he also says that “Those who enter the Zen gate in the morning expound it in the evening.” Here we see the same Sudden Enlightenment teaching idea that is associated with the Southern Zen school, the line regarded as springing from Bodhidharma that p
assed down through Chinese and East Asian history.

  Notably, this passage of the Continued Biographies offers a rare insight into the state of Zen during and immediately after Bodhidharma’s life. It indicates that Bodhidharma must be considered a central player in the debate about the nature of the mind, a debate that Emperor Wu entertained and encouraged. It should be pointed out, however, that Daoxuan, who was not a Zen monk, held an understanding of Bodhidharma’s teaching that was not the same as that of later generations of Zen teachers. The latter appear to have avoided talking about emptiness because they realized that such metaphysical doctrines unduly confuse people. Daoxuan’s view that Bodhidharma’s teaching was the “mysterious and deep doctrine of emptiness” may indirectly indicate that later Zen evolved away from Bodhidharma to become something less metaphysically oriented. Daoxuan himself provides the reason why this evolution would occur when he criticizes the idea of “form illuminates emptiness.” This may be an oblique criticism of the metaphysically heavy Heart Sutra that gradually gained a foothold in the Zen tradition. When Daoxuan wrote these words around the year 650, the Prajnaparamita Sutra promoted extensively by Emperor Wu was widely studied. Daoxuan’s criticism may have been directed against the metaphysical nature of that and other scriptures. Ironically, its text, still widely chanted in the Zen world, says “form is nothing other than emptiness, emptiness nothing other than form.” In my view, Daoxuan declares that Zen’s true meaning and teachings, as taught by Bodhidharma, would be widely corrupted and undermined by this idea during Daoxuan’s life and the ages that followed.

  It is particularly surprising that Daoxuan, who was the most important monk of the Precepts school in his era, compares that school unfavorably to Zen teachings on the nature of the mind. He indicates that sole reliance on the precepts is inferior to the Zen masters who came previously, and that this turn toward the precepts is indicative that the “Dharma-ending age” had now arrived.

  How did Daoxuan, a towering figure of China’s Precepts school, gain such a deep appreciation for doctrines about the nature of “mind” ? During the period after the year 640, when Daoxuan wrote his Continued Biographies, he resided in China’s capital city of Chang An (now the city of Xian). Daoxuan personally assisted the famous monk Xuan Zang in translating new Yogacara (Yogis) teachings that the latter had brought back from India. Thus, Daoxuan’s exposure to “mind” teachings was extensive, and he understood the relationship between such Yogi ideas and the Zen school. He seems to have understood that Zen was the best vehicle for the spread of “mind” teachings in China.

  Thus, textual evidence left by Daoxuan reveals a Zen tradition that, in its origins, was truly “outside of scriptures.” Even Daoxuan, who was not of the Zen tradition, honored early Zen highly and deplored that its mind teachings were forgotten after Bodhidharma and its other early teachers passed from the scene.

  36. Changlu Temple

  The sun shines on the solitary green peak.

  The moon floats above the cold creek waters.

  When the sublime mystery of the ancestors is understood,

  You will never again turn to your small mind for peace.

  —Zen Master Qingliao (1089—1151) of Changlu Temple, addressing the monks

  “The entire great earth is a gate to liberation. If you push on it, you can’t enter it. How can the white-haired monk standing before you compel you to enter? When you reach this place, why do you let your nostrils be in someone else’s hand?” The master paused, and then said, “If you want to see the moon in the sky, put down your oar.”

  Zen Master Miaojue (taught circa 1170 CE) of Changlu Temple

  THE YANG-TSE RIVER, clear of fog and smog, spreads wide beneath the Nanjing Bridge. The white rocks of the Mufu Mountains along the southern bank of the river stand out in the bright noon sun. The 606 bus line is tightly crowded with people, pressing on me from all sides.

  I’m on my way to the remains of Changlu Temple in the Six Harmonies district. It’s the place on the far side of the Yang-tse River from the Mufu Mountains where I visited Bodhidharma’s Nanjing cave. It lies in an ancient (first records date to 559 BCE) fishing and farming area, but is not too heavily populated now. It was by Changlu Temple that, according to legend, Bodhidharma came ashore after crossing the Yang-tse river on a “single blade of grass,” escaping from Emperor Wu’s agents. According to the book Temples of Nanjing, there’s only one building left from the old temple, and the site now houses a middle school.

  Six Harmonies is named after a mountain in the area, which in turn is named after an old Taoist cosmological idea that divided the universe into six directions (up, down, and the four compass points of west, south, east, and north). So Six Harmonies means, in effect, “everything” in harmony.

  And everything would be in harmony today, except the bus seems to be belching exhaust fumes up past the trap door that covers the front-mounted engine. I suppose that the U.S. antismoking laws have made me more than normally sensitive to any kind of air pollution, for I seem to be the only person gagging on the smell. Luckily I’m squeezed close to an open window at the right front of the bus and can hang my head outside to catch a few gulps of fresher Yang-tse River air.

  We travel the wide, four-lane divided road for about twenty minutes. When I boarded the bus, I asked the ticket seller to tell me when my stop appears, and now she waves at me to let me know that the upcoming intersection is my goal. There’s no real pull-over spot on the four-lane road, so I hustle off the bus quickly, afraid to let it stop for long in the fast traffic while the traffic light is green. There’s a taxi sitting near the intersection waiting for a fare, so I hop in and tell the driver to take me to Changlu Middle School. He turns the car around and heads south across flat land toward the Yang-tse River, the Mufu Mountains now a distant crest on the horizon. The countryside is open, and there are some large industrial plants dotting the area. I judge them to be petrochemical processing plants with a lot of large white tanks and pipes, topped by flare stack towers that flame brightly even at midday.

  “There’s a lot of industrial plants out here,” I say to the driver.

  He nods. “This place is all becoming an industrial-production area,” he says. “There’s more plants here all the time.” He’s surprised I speak Chinese and wants to learn what I’m up to. “Why do you want to go to the school?” he asks.

  “I want to see what remains of the old temple that was at that place,” I tell him. “It’s supposed to be a famous place where Bodhidharma crossed the Yang-tse on a single blade of grass. Have you heard of that legend?”

  The driver smiles broadly. Then I notice the little Kwan Yin statue on his dashboard.

  “I know,” he says. “I grew up near here. Are you a professor?”

  “No. Just someone interested in history. I like traveling around and visiting places like this.”

  We enter a small town. There’s a sign on a modern looking building that says LONG REED VILLAGE MEDICAL CENTER. I notice a slight chemical smell in the air. A few moments later the driver turns east and almost immediately we roll up to a gate next to a sign that says LONG REED MIDDLE SCHOOL. Since it’s Sunday, both the school and the gate are closed. However, there’s a guard shack at the side of the gate. I tell the driver he should wait, and then I get out to talk to the guard. When I explain what I’ve come to do, the guard seems unimpressed. He says there’s no way I can go into the premises on a Sunday. The taxi driver, who has gotten out of the taxi and is now listening to the conversation, chimes in and supports my story, saying that I’m a foreign guest and it shouldn’t hurt for me to go in and take a look around.

  After some give-and-take the guard turns and picks up a telephone through the window of the guard shack. He dials a number and then talks for a minute to someone on the other end. Then he hands me the phone and tells me that the principal of the school is on the line. I say hello, and a woman asks me who I am and what I’m doing. I explain that I’d like to see any remains from the
old temple that used to be on the premises. I tell her I do research about old temples and this one is particularly interesting. We talk for a minute more and her initial hesitancy seems to dissolve. Finally she says that since I’ve come to see their place, they should be flattered that I’m interested. She tells me to hand the phone back to the guard. A minute later he puts down the phone to tell me that he’ll give me a tour of the premises himself.

  The taxi driver joins us, and the three of us walk through the gate into the school grounds. Although this old temple site is supposed to be where Bodhidharma came ashore after crossing the river from Nanjing, the river is too far away across the flatland to be seen. The guard explains that the course of the river has changed, and now it’s a few miles away, off toward the Mufu Mountains that sit in the distance. Anyway, he says, he thinks the original location of the temple may have been abandoned after a flood washed it away.