The hilarious Hakuin

[siftingtothetruth]

I'm reading The Essential Teachings of Zen Master Hakuin and I'm just dying. This guy is so freaking funny. He wrote in the middle of the 18th century. The book's a teaching in the clothing of a long rant about all the idiots and lazy people who've polluted Zen.

For instance, he just tears into some of the mindless monks who criticize the great Zen writings of the past, e.g., those of the Sixth Patriarch. Here's just one example of his style. It doesn't do it justice though -- you can't get the full effect of his hilarity and wit without reading the whole thing.

I respectfully submit to the "Great Teacher of the Lotus Pond": If you wish to plant yourself out in some hinterland where you can be free to finger your lotus-bead rosary, droop your head, droop your eyelids, and intone the nembutsu because you want to be born in the Land of Lotus Flowers, that is no business of mine. It is entirely up to you. But when you start gazing elsewhere with that myopic look in your eyes and decide to divert yourself by writing commentaries that pass belittling judgment on a great saint and matchless Dharma-transmitter like the Sixth Patriarch, then I must ask you to take the words you have written and shelve them away far out of sight, where no one will ever lay eyes on them. Why do I say that? I say it because the great Dragon King, who controls the clouds that sail in the heavens and the rains that fall over the earth, cannot be known or fathomed by a mud snail or a clam.

[siftingtothetruth]

Another gem:

What do I mean by "blind tortoise"? One of the current crop of irresponsible bungler-priests who regard the koan as nonessential, and the Zen interview (sanzen) as the master's expedient means. While even such men are not totally devoid of understanding, they are clearly standing outside the gates, whence they peer fecklessly in, mouthing words like "Self-nature is naturally pure, the mind-source is deep as an ocean. There is no samsaric existence to cast aside, there is no nirvana to be sought. It is a sheer and profound stillness, a transparent mass of boundless emptiness. It is here that is found the great treasure inherent in all people. How could anything be lacking?"

Ah, how plausible it sounds! All too plausible. Unfortunately, the words they speak do not possess even a shred of strength in practical application. These people are like snails. The moment anything approaches, they draw in their horns and come to a standstill. They are like lame turtles; they pull in their legs, heads, and tails at the slightest contact and hide inside their shells. How could any spiritual energy emerge from such an attitude? If they chance to encounter an authentic monk and are subjected to a sharp verbal attack, they react like Master Yang's pet stork who, when the time came to perform, couldn't even move his neck. There's no difference between them and the fish who lie helpless on the chopping block, dying 10,000 decks in their one life, their fate--whether they are to be sliced and served up raw, or carved into fillets and roasted over hot coals--entirely in the hands of others. And route their ordeal they hadn't even the strength cry out. Can people of this kind be true descendants of the great Bodhidharma? They assure you that there is "nothing lacking." But are they happy? Are their minds free of care?