The Story of Chinese Zen (review)

In The Story of Chinese Zen, Nan Huai-chin seeks to rewrite the history of Zen because he believes that a historical misinterpretation has led to the diverting of Zen from its original purpose. Although the reinterpretation of a historical event is at the heart of this book, there are at least two major subtexts running through it that are key to the shaping and strengthening of Nan's core argument. In order to provide a proper background to this argument these subtexts will be discussed first.

In Nan's reassessment of Zen history, it is important to see the perspective from which he views the historical process. Nan follows a traditional Chinese view here, similar to what can be found in the Chinese histories, where commentators describe an ideal age (usually that of the early dynasties—to which Confucius, for example, refers in the Analects) that is followed by an age of gradual deterioration. Nan sees Zen in much the same way: the "original" Zen (the Zen of the first five patriarchs) is the true, unadulterated Zen, while the Zen that follows, beginning with the sixth patriarch, gradually becomes misinterpreted and debased. Why it does so will be discussed shortly, but for Nan this debasement does not center on the sudden/gradual debate; in fact, Nan sees too much attention being given to this debate and not to the other important changes that occurred when Hui-neng became the sixth patriarch.

The other important subtext that runs through the book is that Zen can be understood only when one understands the Chinese cultural context in which it developed. Nan asserts that what Zen produced "was a form peculiar to Chinese culture in terms of its mode of teaching, its terminology, and its manner of expressing the highest truths, going so far as even absorbing, combining, and borrowing terms and modes from Confucianism and Taoism" (p. 133). Later in the book, Nan compares Zen to Chinese Neo-Confucianism, stating that "we can see they are on the same track, and it is only the wheels on their carts that are different" (pp. 204-205). Nan's belief that "you must first have your own foundation of basic Confucian, Buddhist and Taoist learning" (pp. 131-132) reflects the importance that he sees in contextualizing Zen within its Chinese background and environment.

With these two subtexts noted, we can turn to the heart of Nan's argument. Essentially, he seeks to shift the focus of debate from the rift that occurred at the time of the sixth patriarch and the debate between the Southern and Northern schools of Chan—with their respective emphases on sudden and gradual enlightenment—to looking at why this debate became so important to begin with. For Nan, too much emphasis has been placed on the sixth patriarch, and not enough on the fourth and fifth patriarchs: "In reality, the Zen that influenced central and northern China from the early T'ang dynasty to the time of its full flourishing was mostly empowered by teachers and disciples who were descended from the fourth and fifth patriarchs, including the sixth patriarch's elder colleague Shen-hsiu" (p. 107). Nan goes on to say that the sixth patriarch is important not because of his association with the disagreement between the sudden and gradual approaches but because Hui-neng changed the exclusive, scholarly language of Buddhism (accessible only to the educated elite) into a vernacular form that was accessible to the masses:

[T]he sixth patriarch was unschooled and illiterate, so whenever he was communicating the Zen mind essence he did not use the format of interpreting doctrines according to writings, glossing characters, and annotating scriptures. He just used ordinary expressions to point at the reality of mind with direct precision, which happened to accord with the principle of seeking realization through direct transmission, and reception of clarifying mind. . . .

(p. 115)

However, this new accessibility to Buddhism, Nan posits, led...