Category:University of Hawai'i Press

It is a widely held view, among modern scholars of Mahāyāna as well as within certain of the Mahāyāna traditions themselves, that Prāsaṅgika-Mādhyamika of the sort one finds in such works as Nāgārjuna's Mūlamadhya-makāirika and Vigrahavyāvartanī'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F5F-QINU`"'is the definitive rendition of the Greater Vehicle's ultimate purport. T. R. V. Murti, in his classic study, has called Mādhyamika the "Central Philosophy of Buddhism."'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F60-QINU`"' Kenneth Inada has called Nāgārjuna "the giant among giants" of all Buddhist thinkers.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F61-QINU`"'Bimal K. Matilal has recently argued that "there is a sense in which the Mādhyamika position may be considered logically unassailable," thereby raising it to a status of universal rather than just Buddhist preeminence.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F62-QINU`"' Such judgments abound in the literature of Buddhist scholarship. Nor is it surprising that they should, for they only echo the centuries-old conviction of many eminent Buddhist that Nāgājuna's thought is the most perfect expression of the Buddha's own middle path. The pride of place accorded to it by Tsoṅ kha pa and his dGe lugs pa school is only one of the relatively more recent traditional examples of this tendency.

      There is no doubt excellent reason for such acclaim as this. The clarity, force, and elegance of Nāgārjuna's arguments are undeniable. They can easily overwhelm, and often have. However, the lavish traditional and modern appreciations of Nāgārjuna's thought have not been without untoward consequences for our understanding of other varieties of Mahāyāna. The Mahāyāna is a far more various thing than a reading of the Kārikas, or even of their antecedent Prajñāpāramitā scriptures, would indicate; and the Mādhyamika position has hardly gone unchallenged in Buddhist intellectual history. Indeed, much of the subsequent history of Mahāyāna thought may be read as a cumulative qualification of the Śūnyavāda that one finds in the Perfection of Insight Literature and in Nāgārjuna. Such at least was the case with the Yogācāra and Tathāgatagarbha traditions; and when Buddhism found its way to China, Chinese Buddhist thinkers often expressed a clear preference for the later qualifications or modulations of Mādhyamika rather than for the severity of an unadulterated Nāgārjunism. It may well be that our enthusiasm for Nāgārjuna along with the comparative complexity and inaccessibility of other traditions have predisposed us to give less attention than deserved to the alternative forms of Mahāyāna.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F63-QINU`"' Should this be so, the remarks that follow may be taken as an effort at compensation.
      The criticisms, explicit or implicit, that have been leveled against classical Śūnyavāda are many and diverse. One might undertake to examine the question of whether Mādhyamika is normative for the whole of Mahāyāna by investigating, for example, the claim of the Madhyāntavibhāga that an understanding of emptiness is crude and incomplete unless tempered by an understanding of the reality and potency of constructive imagination. For the Yogācāra authors of this text, emptiness is always and ever coincident with the imagination of the unreal (abhūtaparikalpa; hsü-wang fen-pieh) and it is only the coefficiency of the two principles that can wholly account for the way things really are.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F64-QINU`"' It is in recognition of this—the essential duplexity of reality—that the Madhyāntavibhāga may say, as one would not expect Nāgārjuna to say:

              na śūnyaṁ napi caśūnyam tasmat sarvvam vidhīyate
              satvad asatvāt satvāc ca madhyama pratipac ca sā

              ku shuo i-ch'ieh fa    fei k'ung fei pu-k'ung
              yu wu chi yu ku    shih ming chung-tao i

              Therefore it is said that all dharmas
              Are neither empty nor nonempty,
              Because they exist, do not exist, and yet again exist.
              This is the meaning of the "middle-path."'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F65-QINU`"'

      One might choose also to consider the theory of the "three revolutions of the wheel of the law" found in the Saṁdhinirmocanasūtra:

      Formerly, in the second period and for the sake only of those aspiring to practice of the Mahayana-reckoning on the fact that all dharmas lack own-being, neither arise nor perish, and are originally calm and essentially of nirvāṇa—the Lord turned the Wheel of the Law which is characterized by a hidden intent (i yin-mi hsiang). [But] this too (i.e., like the first turning) had [other teachings] superior to it to which it deferred. It was of a sense still to be interpreted (yu wei liao-id; neyartha), and [thus] the subject of much dispute.
      In the present third period and for the sake of aspirants to all vehicles—reckoning [again] on the fact that all dharmas lack own-being, neither arise nor perish, are originally calm and essentially of nirvāṇa, and have the lack of own-being as their nature-the Lord has turned the Wheel of the Law which is characterized [this time] by a manifest meaning (i hsien-liao hsiang). This is the most rare and precious [of teachings]. There is nothing superior to this Turning of the Wheel of Law by the Lord and nothing to which it defers. It is of truly explicit meaning (chen liao-i; nīthārtha) and not the subject of disputes.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F66-QINU`"'

      The third revolution of the dharmacakra here described is, of course, the annunciation of what was to become Yogācāra Buddhism. The second corresponds to the Śunyavāda of the Prajñāpāramitā canon and, proleptically, to its Mādhyamika systematization. The implication of this passage is that although both dispensations of the law teach emptiness (here called "lack of own-being," "nonarising," etc.), the Prajñāpāramitā and Mādhyamika versions of the doctrine are inchoate, eliptical, imprecise and a source of controversy, whereas the Yogācāra version is definitive, explicit, and not liable to conflicting interpretations.
      A third approach might be to follow the masterful lead of Ruegg,'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F67-QINU`"' Takasaki,'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F68-QINU`"' and Wayman'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F69-QINU`"' in considering the claims of the Tathāgatagarbha tradition to superiority over classical Śunyavāda. The Tathāgatagarbha, after all, is a tradition which argues forcefully that the reality of all things is as much "nonempty" (aśūnya; pu-k'ung) as it is "empty" (śūnya; k'ung)'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F6A-QINU`"' and which employs such un-Mādhyamika terminology in its locutions about reality as "permanence" (nītya; chang), "purity" (śubha; ching), and even "self" (ātman; wo).'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F6B-QINU`"'
      A fourth option, and the one we take here, is to look at the differences among Mādhyamika and the other varieties of Mahāyāna through the eyes of those Chinese Buddhist who, in devising their own systems of thought, were given the opportunity to compare and choose. I refer here to the numerous sixth-and-seventh-century Chinese thinkers who formulated "division of the doctrine" (p'an-chiao) and similar schemes in the course of fashioning new and uniquely sinic schools of Buddhism. Almost without exception these thinkers chose to subordinate Śūnyavāda of the sort one finds in the Perfection of Insight literature and the Kārikās to other kinds of Mahāyāna, often to doctrines and texts of Tathāgatagarbha provenance or association. The Hua-yen p'an-chiao system, for example, relegated Śūnyavāda to the category of "incipient" or "elementary" (shih) Mahāyāna but held the Tathāgatagarbha tradition to be representative of an "advanced" or "final" (chung) Mahāyāna, both of which fell short of the perfection of its own "rounded" or "comprehensive" (yüan) teaching.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F6C-QINU`"'
      A theme that unites all of these challenges to Mādhyamika primacy—the Yoācāra, the Tathāgatagarbha, and the Chinese—is a profound dissatisfaction with the seemingly relentless apophasis of Nāgārjuna and, to a lesser extent, of his sources. All are able to acknowledge Nāgārjuna's caution—that uncritical use of the constructive language of philosophical views is a species of intellectual bondage—but they acknowledge it only as a caution, a corrective to false views. They insist, however, that the way of denial and negation, the unremitting distrust of positive language, is necessary but not sufficient unto enlightenment. It allows one to fend off error but does not actively advance one toward the truth and may even impede the practical religious life by generating more subtle forms of error and by inhibiting compassion. Therefore, the various alternatives to Mādhyamika that we have mentioned took it upon themselves to reassert the salvific value of kataphasis, the spiritual utility of positive and affirmative language. They chose, in short, eloquence over silence.

      In what follows we offer for consideration one example of the rejection of an exclusive apophasis in favor of a disciplined kataphasis. We will examine the argument of a brief but important text entitled Discernments of the Dharma-Element of the Avataṁsaka (Hua-yen fa-chieh kuan-men)'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F6D-QINU`"' attributed to Tu-shunq (557-640),'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F6E-QINU`"' the reputed "first patriarch" of China's Hua-yen (Avataṁsaka) school of Buddhism. This very influential text has been put to many uses in the history of East Asian Buddhism, both within and without the Hua-yen tradition. It is, of course, not simply a text "about Buddhist theories of language." But without denying the broader range of its meanings we do suggest that it does serve our particular purpose well; it offers a significant vision of the place of language in the religious life. (Gimello, "Apophatic and Kataphatic Discourse," 117–20)

No abstract given. Here are the first relevant paragraphs:

Buddhism has a profound and thoroughly developed set of teachings on human being. One might well argue that the question of human being is the question par excellence with which the Buddhist tradition as a whole struggles. According to the traditional account, for example, the point of departure for the Buddha's own search, discoveries, and teachings was the dilemma of the human condition. Moreover, vast numbers of Buddhist texts speak out of or address human experience as such, consciously focusing upon it as the source of both question and answer. Nonetheless, many questions a modern Westerner asks as a matter of course about human being are not directly addressed in the Buddhist texts. There are of course important reasons for this. Our concept of and assumptions about human individuality are profoundly different from Buddhist views of the same. Our two worlds of discourse about the value and meaning of finite bodily existence, the course of history, the meaning of suffering, and the nature of possible human greatness are set up on entirely different foundations. Thus, for a contemporary Westerner to ask the question "What is a person? What is a human being?" of a Buddhist text is to set oneself up to receive an answer that does not satisfy the intent of the question. Yet, while Buddhist views and assumptions differ so markedly from our own, Buddhist texts reveal in their own way a preoccupation with the human condition as intent as that of our own hyperindividualistic, anthropocentric culture.
      With such a shared fixation, it is inevitable that persons on both sides of the cultural boundaries will attempt to gain light from the other side on this subject, despite the incommensurability of each other's questions and answers. The present essay is one such attempt: not an East-West comparison, but an effort to address a Buddhist text from the perspective of cross-cultural philosophy (still, despite the name, a thoroughly Western enterprise) . Herein I will engage in dialogue the Buddha Nature Treatise (Chinese: Fo Hsing Lun^a; hereafter, BNT), a text representative of the Buddha nature tradition that contains an extensive discussion of the concept of Buddha nature, a crucial component, if not the most crucial component, of the East Asian Buddhist concept of human being. I will attempt to wrest from the text answers to two categories of questions-it s view of the ontological nature of human being and its view of the existential status of human beings. In the course of the discussion I will ask such questions as: What roles do individuality and freedom play in the view of human being portrayed in this text? What value, if any, does an individual human personality possess? Is there anything of value in human history? Clearly, the text itself does not speak in these terms; these are the questions of a twentieth-century, philosophically inclined American. In order to bridge the cultural gap, I will first give a summary account of the text's concept of Buddha nature in its own terms and in its own format. Then, acknowledging that the text itself neither speaks this language nor shares my concerns, I will put my questions to the text and attempt to extract from the text its implications for the subject of my concern. In other words, I cannot claim that the author of the BNT does make the statements I will give as responses to my questions about human being, but I do claim that these views are implicit in and follow from the statements he does make about Buddha nature. Granting that human freedom requires us to expect the unexpected, nonetheless, I believe that if the author of the BNT were here today and could engage in dialogue with me, as long as my interlocutor remained consistent, something close to the views I will articulate in the course of this essay would emerge. (King, "Buddha Nature and the Concept of Person," 151–52)

The issue of sinification—the manner and extent to which Buddhism and Chinese culture were transformed through their mutual encounter and dialogue—has dominated the study of Chinese Buddhism for much of the past century. Robert Sharf opens this important and far-reaching book by raising a host of historical and hermeneutical problems with the encounter paradigm and the master narrative on which it is based. Coming to Terms with Chinese Buddhism is, among other things, an extended reflection on the theoretical foundations and conceptual categories that undergird the study of medieval Chinese Buddhism.

Sharf draws his argument in part from a meticulous historical, philological, and philosophical analysis of the Treasure Store Treatise (Pao-tsang lun), an eighth-century Buddho-Taoist work apocryphally attributed to the fifth-century master Seng-chao (374–414). In the process of coming to terms with this recondite text, Sharf ventures into all manner of subjects bearing on our understanding of medieval Chinese Buddhism, from the evolution of T’ang “gentry Taoism” to the pivotal role of image veneration and the problematic status of Chinese Tantra.

The volume includes a complete annotated translation of the Treasure Store Treatise, accompanied by the detailed exegesis of dozens of key terms and concepts. (Source: University of Hawai'i Press)

No abstract given. Here are the first relevant paragraphs:

Critical Buddhism was inevitable. That it was given voice by prominent Japanese scholars noted for their work in non-East Asian Buddhism was also inevitable. That it has provoked strong, even hostile, reactions was inevitable as well. Inevitable means that the causes and conditions that gave rise to Critical Buddhism can be analyzed and understood to show that it has a context, a history, and a necessity. Critical Buddhism is necessary. Thinking about what arises through causes and conditions, especially in terms of how that impacts on cultural and social realities, is a principal component of both Critical Buddhism and Buddhism properly practiced.
      This essay will examine some—but certainly not all—of the factors that have contributed to Critical Buddhism. Some arguments and observations will be offered that, while not retellings from the writings of the Critical Buddhists, run parallel to them. These parallels, which I offer as supplements, recast some of their arguments and focus on issues and areas germane to their undertaking. After discussing the inevitability of Critical Buddhism in the context of twentieth-century Japanese Buddhist scholarship, I will turn to some of the events that took place in China during the seventh and eighth centuries that were decisive for the prevalence in East Asia of the type(s) of Buddhism they criticize. This will be followed by a critique of what has happened to the notion of enlightenment in East Asian Buddhism, particularly in the Ch’an and Zen traditions, with reference to the problem of hongaku (original enlightenment) and the authority of lineage transmission. Then, stepping back into a wider context, I will suggest that, far from being the idiosyncratic, misguided departure depicted by its detractors, Critical Buddhism is the inevitable revisiting of a theme that has been central to Buddhism since its onset. All the above points concern inevitabilities: the trajectory and accomplishments of Japanese scholarship in this century coupled with the crisis of Buddhism in the modern world; the decisive historical events that have established a pervasive ideological underpinning in East Asian Buddhism that Matsumoto and Hakamaya have labeled dhātu-vāda, combined with the exclusion of other, counteracting Buddhist tendencies found elsewhere in the Buddhist world, such as Buddhist logic; the undermining of certain foundational Buddhist notions, such as enlightenment, as a result of or in tandem with the growth of dhātu-vāda ideology; the persistent self-criticism and self-reevaluation that Buddhism has subjected itself to, often glorifying the critique and the critics (Nāgārjuna being the most famous example)—all these points have made it inevitable that Critical Buddhism appear today in Japan (and elsewhere). Finally, while examining an aspect of Matsumoto’s critique of The Record of Lin-chi, I will suggest some tactical distinctions that should be considered by those critical of Critical Buddhism (Lusthaus, "Critical Buddhism and Returning to the Sources," 30–31)

Wŏnhyo (617–686) is the dominant figure in the history of Korean Buddhism and one of the most influential thinkers in the Korean philosophical tradition. Koreans know Wŏnhyo in his various roles as Buddhist mystic, miracle worker, social iconoclast, religious proselytist, and cultural hero. Above all else, Wŏnhyo was an innovative thinker and prolific writer, whose works cover the gamut of Indian and Sinitic Buddhist materials: Some one hundred treatises and commentaries are attributed to him, twenty-three of which are extant today. Wŏnhyo’s importance is not limited to the peninsula, however. His writings were widely read in China and Japan, and his influence on the overall development of East Asian Mahâyâna thought is significant, particularly in relation to the Huayan, Chan, and Pure Land schools. In Cultivating Original Enlightenment, the first volume in The International Association of Wŏnhyo Studies’ Collected Works of Wŏnhyo series, Robert E. Buswell Jr. translates Wŏnhyo’s longest and culminating work, the Exposition of the Vajrasamâdhi-Sûtra (Kŭmgang Sammaegyŏng Non). Wŏnhyo here brings to bear all the tools acquired throughout a lifetime of scholarship and meditation to the explication of a scripture that has a startling connection to the Korean Buddhist tradition. In his treatise, Wŏnhyo examines the crucial question of how enlightenment can be turned from a tantalizing prospect into a palpable reality that manifests itself in all activities. (Source: University of Hawai'i Press)

Soon after the inception of Buddhism in the sixth or fifth century B.C.E., the Buddha ordered his small band of monks to wander forth for the welfare and weal of the many, a command that initiated one of the greatest missionary movements in world religious history. But this account of a monolithic missionary movement spreading outward from the Buddhist homeland of India across the Asian continent is just one part of the story. The case of East Asian Buddhism suggests another tale, one in which the dominant eastward current of diffusion creates important eddies, or countercurrents, of influence that redound back toward the center. These countercurrents have had significant, even profound, impact on neighboring traditions.
In East Asia perhaps the most important countercurrent of influence came from Korea, the focus of this volume. Chapters examine the role played by the Paekche kingdom in introducing Buddhist material culture (especially monastic architecture) to Japan and the impact of Korean scholiasts on the creation of several distinctive features that eventually came to characterize Japanese Pure Land Buddhism. The lives and intellectual importance of the monks Sungnang (fl. ca. 490) and Wonch’uk (613–696) are reassessed, bringing to light their role in the development of early intellectual schools within Chinese Buddhism. Later chapters discuss the influential teachings of the semi-legendary master Musang (684–762), the patriarch of two of the earliest schools of Ch’an; the work of a dozen or so Korean monks active in the Chinese T’ient’ai tradition; and the Huiyin monastery. Source: University of Hawai'i Press

In "The Way of the Dialetheist: Contradictions in Buddhism," Yasuo Deguchi, Jay Garfield, and Graham Priest (hereafter DGP) claimed that in certain parts of the Buddhist tradition contradictions are to be accepted as literally true. I shall confine my remarks to the case of Indian Madhyamaka, more specifically the Madhyamaka of the Mūlamadhyamakakārikā of Nāgārjuna (MMK) and its four extant Indian commentaries. About East Asian Buddhism I am not qualified to speak. The DGB thesis might also be thought to apply to Indian Yogācāra and Tathāgatagarbha thought, but those cases would require separate treatment. What I shall claim is that the Madhyamaka of Nāgārjuna and his commentators is best interpreted as rejecting the claim that a contradiction might be true. More recently DGP seem to have conceded that the interpretation of Madhyamaka that I favor is "orthodox" while their own is "heretical." So apparently we do not disagree as to which interpretation was more commonly accepted in the tradition. There remains a disagreement as to which is the more philosophically defensible. In defending the view I favor I shall be engaging in a considerable amount of textual exegesis, for which I feel I should apologize in advance. What I seek to show is not only that no Madhyamika accepted the dialetheist view that contradictory statements can be true, but also that their position makes good philosophical sense when understood within the confines of classical logic. My working assumption (which I believe I share with DGP) is that the Madhyamikas under discussion were astute philosophers who were well aware of the further implications of the methods they used. Given this assumption, textual exegesis becomes an important component in the investigation of the question at issue between us.

No abstract given. Below are the first relevant paragraphs:

A monk asked Zhaozhou: ‘‘Does a dog have buddha-nature?’’ Zhaozhou replied: ‘‘No.’’

This pithy exchange between an unidentified Buddhist monk and the Tang dynasty Chan master Zhaozhou Congshen (778–897) is perhaps the best-known example of a Chan gong’an, or ‘"public case." Although the passage occurs in a collection of Zhaozhou's sayings supposedly compiled by his disciples, its notoriety is due to a Song dynasty master, Wumen Huikai (1183–1260), who placed this exchange at the beginning of his famous gong’an collection, Gateless Barrier of the Chan Tradition (Chanzong wumen guan, 1228).[1] Wumen’s compilation, consisting of forty-four such exchanges and anecdotes accompanied by Wumen’s comments, is one of the most important works of Chan literature. And as the first case in Wumen’s collection, "Zhaozhou’s dog" became the single most influential gong’an in the Chinese Chan, Korean Son, and Japanese Zen traditions. It is often the first and sometimes the only gong’an assigned to monks, and many traditional commentators claim, following Wumen’s lead, that this single gong’an holds the key to all others.
      Wumen’s work was neither the earliest nor the most comprehensive compilation of Chan cases. Indeed, the Gateless Barrier is relatively short and straightforward in comparison to two earlier collections, the Blue Cliff Record of Chan Master Foguo Yuanwu (Foguo Yuanwu Chanshi Biyan lu), published in 1128, and the Congrong Hermitage Record of the Commentaries by Old Wansong on the Case and Verse [Collection] by Reverend Jue of Tiantong [Mountain] (Wansong laoren pingzhang Tiantong Jue heshang songgu Congrongan lu), published in 1224. The cases that make up these texts are each based on an individual anecdote, verbal exchange, or quandary known as the benze (original edict), to which has been added comments in prose and verse brushed by later masters. Whereas the Gateless Barrier contains forty-four such anecdotes accompanied by a brief comment and verse by Wumen, the Blue Cliff Record and Congrong Hermitage Record each contain one hundred cases including several layers of appended judgments, verses, and interlinear glosses. (The same "original edict" may appear in two or more collections, but the exegesis will invariably differ. More will be said about the structure of these collections below.) Many more gong’an collections gained currency in China, and the Chan tradition would come to speak of seventeen hundred authoritative cases (although this number was probably not meant to be taken literally). By the end of the Song the gong’an had assumed a central role in the ideological, literary, and institutional identity of the Chan school.
      Popular books on Chan and Zen Buddhism present gong’an as intentionally incoherent or meaningless. They are, it is claimed, illogical paradoxes or unsolvable riddles intended to frustrate and short-circuit the intellect in order to quell thought and bring the practitioner to enlightenment. This understanding of gong’an is allied with a view of Chan as an iconoclastic and anti-intellectual tradition that rejects scripture, doctrine, philosophy, and indeed all forms of conceptual understanding in favor of unmediated or "pure" experience. Gong’an are intended, according to this view, not to communicate ideas so much as to induce a transformative experience. To grasp at the literal meaning of a Chan case is to miss its point.
      Recently scholars have begun to question the instrumental view of Chan that underlies this approach to Chan cases, arguing that it is based on a misreading of the historical and ethnographic record.[2] Chan ranks among the most ritualistic forms of Buddhist monasticism, and a master’s enlightenment is constituted within a prescribed set of institutional and ritual forms.[3] Moreover, the notion that Chan is designed to induce a nonconceptual or pure experience can be traced in part to late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Japanese intellectuals such as D. T. Suzuki and Nishida Kitarō, who were culling from Western sources, notably William James.[4] The notion that Chan is anti-intellectual and repudiates "words and letters" is belied by the fact that the Chan tradition produced the largest literary corpus of any Buddhist school in East Asia.[5] This corpus consists in large part of "recorded sayings" (yulu) and "records of the transmission of the flame" (chuandenglu) texts—texts recounting the careers and teachings of past patriarchs from which the original edicts were drawn.
      Scholars now appreciate that Chan is more complex than early apologists and enthusiasts cared to admit; it is no longer possible to reduce Chan practice and Chan literature to a mere means intended to engender a singular and ineffable spiritual experience. Accordingly, scholars of Chan gong’an have begun to attend to the institutional context and literary history of the genre,[6] and one scholar has devoted an entire monograph to the folkloric themes that appear in a single case.[7] Be that as it may, little progress has been made in deciphering the doctrinal and exegetical intent of Chan gong’an; it would appear that scholars remain reluctant to treat gong’an as a form of exegesis at all. This reluctance may be due to the enduring legacy of an earlier apologetic mystification of the gong’an literature. The primary objective of this chapter is to demonstrate that such reluctance is misguided and that it is indeed possible to recover the original meaning and doctrinal purport of at least some of the cases. The task is not easy, however, as the cases are philosophically subtle and hermeneutically sophisticated, and the authors of the collections delighted in obscure allusions, clever puns, and deft wordplay. (Sharf, "How to Think with Chan Gong’an," 205–7)

Notes

My thanks to Charlotte Furth and Elizabeth Horton Sharf for their comments and suggestions on earlier drafts of this chapter and to Ling Hon Lam for his meticulous editorial attention.
1. T 2005:48.292c20–24. The exchange is also featured in case no. 18 of the Wansong Laoren pingzhang Tiantong Jue heshang songgu Congrongan lu, T 2004:48.238b21–39a28. Textual details concerning Zhaozhou’s recorded sayings (Zhaozhou Zhenji Chanshi yulu) will be found below.
2. Faure, The Rhetoric of Immediacy and Chan Insights and Oversights; Foulk, "Myth, Ritual, and Monastic Practice"; Sharf, "The Zen of Japanese Nationalism," "Whose Zen?" and "Experience."
3. Foulk and Sharf, "On the Ritual Use"; Sharf, "Ritual."
4. Sharf, "Whose Zen?"
5. On the sometimes controversial place of literary endeavors in the Song monastic institution, see esp. Gimello, "Mārga and Culture"; and Keyworth, "Transmitting the Lamp," 281–324.
6. See esp. Heine and Wright, eds., The Kōan.

7. Heine, Shifting Shape.

In Book 10 of his Confessions Augustine marvels as he meditates on the qualities of the memoria in human beings:

Great is the power of memory, exceeding great, O my God—an inner chamber large and boundless (penetrale amplum et infinitum)! Who has plumbed its depths? Yet it is a poer of mine, and apertains unto my nature; nor do I myself grasp all that I am (nec ego ipse capio totum, quod sum). . . . A great admiration rises upon me; astonishment seizes me. And men go forth to wonder at the heights of mountains, the huge waves of the sea, the broad flow of the rivers, the extent of the ocean, and the courses of the stars, and omit to wonder at themselves (et reliquunt se ipsos).

This concern with the memoria, and its function in the human mind, was to be one of the most important spiritual legacies Augustine would leave to the Latin, and especially monastic, Middle Ages. In fact, it would be possible to say without much exaggeration that the entire history of monastic spirituality in the Latin Middle Ages (at least until approximately A.D. 1200) is the record of the development of understanding of the power of memoria. A central reason for this is that memoria was described as a faculty that worked by recalling the human person to the knowledge and intuition that they were created in the image and likeness of God. Thus the words of Genesis 1:26–27 stand at the beginning of an entire spiritual tradition: "God said let us make man in our own image, in the likeness of ourselves. . . . God created man in the image of himself, in the image of God he created him, male and female he created them." Augustine frequently exhorts himself, as in Confessions 7.10, to "return to myself" (redite ad memet ipsum). This was also the continual refrain of the Cistercian author of the twelfth century, William of St. Thierry, in his Golden Epistle, and it serves as one of the themes on which he builds this work. William's treatise, folloing in the path of Augustine, is a call to discover the image and likeness of God in the individual person.

      In the presentation to follow I would like to set out two spiritual traditions for us to consider: the image-likeness tradition based on Genesis 1:26 and developed by the Latin and Greek Fathers of the Church until approximately A.D. 1200, and the tathāgatagarbha teachings on Buddha-nature in Mahayana Buddhism, which flourished in India and then spread to Tibet and other parts of the Far East in the first six centuries C.E. I shall do this bby presenting two texts: the Golden Epistle of William of St, Thierry, and the Ratnagotravibhāga (third to fifth centuries A.D.), variously attributed to Saramati or Maitreya. My thesis here is that while the language and concepts used in these two treatises are different, and the two worldviews of which they are representative also vary widely, we can find nonetheless underlying themes that express central concerns of each tradition, especially concerning the brith of a basic nature in the person, and the inability of either sin or defilements (kleśa) to cover over that nature that is coming to birth. (Groves, "Image-likeness and Tathāgatagarbha," 97–98)

Dōgen Zenji was a Japanese Zen Buddhist teacher born in Kyōto, and the founder of the Sōtō school of Zen in Japan after travelling to China and training under the Chinese Caodong lineage there. Dōgen is known for his extensive writing including the Treasury of the Eye of the True Dharma or Shōbōgenzō, a collection of ninety-five fascicles concerning Buddhist practice and enlightenment.

The primary concept underlying Dōgen's Zen practice is “oneness of practice-enlightenment”. In fact, this concept is considered so fundamental to Dōgen's variety of Zen—and, consequently, to the Sōtō school as a whole—that it formed the basis for the work Shushō-gi, which was compiled in 1890 by Takiya Takushō of Eihei-ji and Azegami Baisen of Sōji-ji as an introductory and prescriptive abstract of Dōgen's massive work, the Shōbōgenzō (“Treasury of the Eye of the True Dharma”).

Dōgen is a profoundly original and difficult 13th century Buddhist thinker whose works have begun attracting increasing attention in the West. Admittedly difficult for even the most advanced and sophisticated scholar of Eastern thought, he is bound, initially, to present an almost insurmountable barrier to the Western mind. Yet the task of penetrating that barrier must be undertaken and, in fact, is being carried out by many gifted scholars toiling in the Dōgen vineyard. (Source: University of Hawai'i Press)

This annotated translation of an early ninth-century essay by the Hua-yen and Ch'an master Kuei-feng Tsung-mi (780-841) provides the nonspecialist with a window through which to survey the landscape of medieval

Chinese Buddhist thought. Unlike other more technical expositions of Buddhist teachings, Inquiry into the Origin of Humanity (Yuan Jen lun) does not presuppose a detailed knowledge of Buddhist doctrine. In a brief and accessible fashion, it presents a systematic overview of the major teachings within Chinese Buddhism. The organizational framework used by Tsung-mi, moreover, represents one of the primary methods devised by Chinese Buddhists to organize and make sense of the diverse body of teachings they received from India. Finally, Tsung-mi's essay is especially noteworthy in that it sheds light on the interaction of Buddhism with the

indigenous intellectual and religious traditions of Confucianism and Taoism. Peter N. Gregory's commentary, which follows a running translation of the work, will help bridge the temporal and cultural gap separating contemporary Western readers from the text's intended medieval Chinese audience. (Source: back cover)

Original enlightenment thought (hongaku shiso) dominated Buddhist intellectual circles throughout Japan’s medieval period. Enlightenment, this discourse claims, is neither a goal to be achieved nor a potential to be realized but the true status of all things. Every animate and inanimate object manifests the primordially enlightened Buddha just as it is. Seen in its true aspect, every activity of daily life—eating, sleeping, even one’s deluded thinking—is the Buddha’s conduct. Emerging from within the powerful Tendai School, ideas of original enlightenment were appropriated by a number of Buddhist traditions and influenced nascent theories about the kami (local deities) as well as medieval aesthetics and the literary and performing arts.

Scholars and commentators have long recognized the historical importance of original enlightenment thought but differ heatedly over how it is to be understood. Some tout it as the pinnacle of the Buddhist philosophy of absolute non-dualism. Others claim to find in it the paradigmatic expression of a timeless Japanese spirituality. According other readings, it represents a dangerous anti-nomianism that undermined observance of moral precepts, precipitated a decline in Buddhist scholarship, and denied the need for religious discipline. Still others denounce it as an authoritarian ideology that, by sacralizing the given order, has in effect legitimized hierarchy and discriminative social practices. Often the acceptance or rejection of original enlightenment thought is seen as the fault line along which traditional Buddhist institutions are to be differentiated from the new Buddhist movements (Zen, Pure Land, and Nichiren) that arose during Japan’s medieval period.

Jacqueline Stone’s groundbreaking study moves beyond the treatment of the original enlightenment doctrine as abstract philosophy to explore its historical dimension. Drawing on a wealth of medieval primary sources and modern Japanese scholarship, it places this discourse in its ritual, institutional, and social contexts, illuminating its importance to the maintenance of traditions of lineage and the secret transmission of knowledge that characterized several medieval Japanese elite culture. It sheds new light on interpretive strategies employed in pre-modern Japanese Buddhist texts, an area that hitherto has received a little attention. Through these and other lines of investigation, Stone problematizes entrenched notions of “corruption” in the medieval Buddhist establishment. Using the examples of Tendai and Nichiren Buddhism and their interactions throughout the medieval period, she calls into question both overly facile distinctions between "old" and "new" Buddhism and the long-standing scholarly assumptions that have perpetuated them. This study marks a significant contribution to ongoing debates over definitions of Buddhism in the Kamakura era (1185–1333), long regarded as a formative period in Japanese religion and culture. Stone argues that "original enlightenment thought" represents a substantial rethinking of Buddhist enlightenment that cuts across the distinction between "old" and "new" institutions and was particularly characteristic of the medieval period.

(Source: University of Hawai'i Press)

A collection of essays on the "critical Buddhism" (hihan bukkyō) movement started by Hakamaya Noriaki and Matsumoto Shirō that swept Japanese academia from the late 1980's onward.

Ryogen and Mount Hiei focuses on the transformation of the Tendai School from a small and impoverished group of monks in the early ninth century to its emergence as the most powerful and influential school of Japanese Buddhism in the last half of the tenth century—a position it would maintain throughout the medieval period. This is the first study in a Western language of the institutional factors that lay behind the school's success. At its core is a biography of a major figure behind this transformation, Ryogen (912–985). The discussion, however, extends well beyond a simple biography as Ryogen's activities are placed in their historical and institutional context.
      Unlike the recluses and eccentrics that have so often attracted Western readers of Buddhism, Ryogen was a consummate politician and builder. Because he lost his major monastic sponsor at an early age, he was forced to find ways to advance his career with little support. His activities reveal much about the path to success for monks during the tenth century. Skill in debate, the performance of Esoteric Buddhist ritual, and strategic alliances with powerful lay and monastic figures were important to his advance. In 966 Ryogen was appointed head of the Tendai School and served until his death nineteen years later. He has been vilified at times for his loyalty to his own faction within Tendai at the expense of other groups. Careful analysis of the political and social factors behind his attitudes, however, places his activities in their appropriate context.
      The study concludes with a discussion of the ordinations and roles of nuns during the early Heian period. An examination of Ryogen's close relation with his mother helps define the ambiguities of a school that prohibited women from the precincts of its temple yet performed rituals to insure safe childbirth and frequently attracted their patronage. A number of primary sources are translated in the appendices. (Source: University of Hawai'i Press)

A remarkable collection of essays, Shōbōgenzō, "Treasury of the Eye of True Teaching," was composed in the thirteenth century by the Zen master Dôgen, founder of the Sôtô Zen school in Japan. Through its linguistic artistry and its philosophical subtlety, the Shōbōgenzō presents a thorough recasting of Buddhism with a creative ingenuity that has never been matched in the subsequent literature of Japanese Zen. With this translation of thirteen of the ninety-five essays, Thomas Cleary attempts to convey the form as well as the content of Dōgen's writing, thereby preserving the instrumental structure of the original text. Together with pertinent commentary, biography, and notes, these essays make accessible to a wider audience a Zen classic once considered the private reserve of Sōtō monks and Buddhologists. (Source: University of Hawai'i Press)

The universality of Buddha-nature is a doctrine accepted by all Chinese schools of Buddhism. The Wei-shih (Fa-hsiang, Vijñaptimātratā) school of Hsüan-tsang, for reviving the notion that the icchantika is agotra, devoid of this seed of enlightenment, had been summarily dismissed as "Hīnayānist" for that reason. The idea of "the enlightenability of the icchantika" is associated with the later-named "Nirvāṇa School," a group of scholars in the Southern Dynasties (420–589) that chose to specialize on the Nirvāṇa Sūtra, the Mahāyāna scripture narrating the last day and teaching of Śākyamuni on earth. The person credited with discovering this doctrine, before even the full sūtra was available to vindicate his stand, is Chu Tao-sheng (375?–434), perhaps better known for his stand on "sudden enlightenment." The school as such flourished best in the Liang dynasty (502–557); but because it was then aligned with scholarship focusing on the Ch'eng-shih-lun (Satyasiddhi?) by Harivarman, it came under criticism when the latter was denounced as Hīnayānist in the Sui dynasty. It is usually said that the T'ien-t'ai school, based on the Lotus Sūtra, superseded the Nirvāṇa school by incorporating many of its ideas, while the Ch'eng-shih school suffered irredeemably under the attack of Chi-tsang of the San-lun (Three Treatise or Mādhyamika) school at the same time. Henceforth, the Nirvāṇa school faded away while its old association with the Ch'eng-shih tradition was judged an unnecessary mistake.'"`UNIQ--ref-00001DC8-QINU`"' This article will introduce three moments from the history of this Nirvana school, showing the main trends of development and, somewhat contrary to traditional opinion, justifying the necessity for the detour into Harivarman's scholarship. Emphasis will also be put on the interaction between Buddhist reflections and the native traditions. (Lai, "Sinitic Speculations," 135)

In the nearly four decades that have passed since the end of World War II, the study of East Asian Buddhism has made rapid, manifold, and significant advances in the West. One general effect of its remarkable progress, apart from the enormous increment it has produced in the sheer quantity of knowledge, has been to draw the study of Buddhist thought and history away from the obscure periphery of scholarship on China, Japan, and Korea into the very center of those fields of academic focus. Students of East Asian history and culture, therefore, are no longer so inclined as they once were to follow traditional prejudices—e.g., the residual biases of Confucianism or of the European Enlightenment—in regarding Buddhism as an entirely arcane subject beyond the pale of, say, sober Sinology or main-stream Japanology. Rather, it is now widely recognized that Buddhism is a subject worthy of study not only in its own right, as a subtle and sophisticated system of religious belief and practice, but also because of the variety of very consequential roles it has played in the formation of East Asian society and civilization. Conversely, Buddhist Studies itself has begun to outgrow that part of its previous isolation which was self imposed. Buddhist scholars, that is to say, are now less inclined than they once were to abstract their subject from its various, complex, and ever-changing cultural contexts. They are as much interested in exploring the web of its relationships with other components of East Asian civilization as they are in tracing the intricacies of its philology and the internal patterns of its thought.
      The factors contributing to this change in the nature and place of East Asian Buddhist Studies are too numerous to list in their entirety, and it is likely that not all of them are yet fully understood. No doubt influential are the new definitions of Religious and Intellectual History that have been entertained throughout the academy. New designs of advanced graduate training in the relevant disciplines and areas have surely also had their effects. However, two rather more specific factors deserve special notice, particularly in view of their relevance to the work here at hand. The first of these that needs to be appreciated is the extent to which western scholars of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean Buddhism have put themselves wisely in debt to Japanese scholarship. The Japanese have led the field of East Asian Buddhist Studies for several generations, and in recent decades they have succeeded in adding to the breadth and depth of their traditional learning in the subject a measure of critical sophistication in Philology and History that has set the standard which all others in the field must match. No

serious work on East Asian Buddhism is now being done in Europe or America that has not been deliberately informed by the Japanese model. The other particular factor to be noted is the importance of the discovery and exploitation of previously unknown or very little known primary sources of information. Foremost among these, of course, are the manuscripts and xylographs of the now well known Tun-huang trove. Of a significance for the study of East Asian Buddhism comparable to the significance of the Dead Sea Scrolls for the early history of Judaism and Christianity, these texts have had especially revolutionary effects upon our knowledge of the origins and early phases of Ch'an (Zen). Again, it has been Japanese scholars who have taken the lead in editing, analyzing, and interpreting the hundreds of these texts in Chinese and Tibetan that bear on the early history of Ch'an, but now French scholars are also making very important contributions, and for some years yet to come the study of early Ch'an will continue to be one of the most exciting frontiers of advancement in East Asian Buddhist Studies wherever conducted. Also to be considered are the many other primary sources, apart from the Tun-huang materials, that have come to light in the past forty years or so and are now attracting scholarly attention. One thinks particularly of texts discovered in Korean monastic libraries or in hitherto little explored Japanese collections. These too have helped stimulate the growth and redefinition of East Asian Buddhist Studies that is currently underway.
      It is the belief of the editors of the present volume that the essays which comprise it exemplify the trends sketched above. They either broach new topics or address older topics from new theoretical and methodological perspectives, and they are based in large measure on primary literature—much of it from the Tun-huang collection—which has been only recently discovered or which has previously eluded extended investigation. Moreover, all five of the essays are written by scholars who owe much to their Japanese teachers and who try to emulate those teachers in philological and historiographical rigor.
      Ch'an and Hua-yen (Kegon) Buddhism have been chosen as the dual focus of this group of studies essentially for three reasons: First, because they are major traditions of East Asian Buddhist thought and practice which were roughly contemporary with each other in their origins and which influenced each other in important ways during the early centuries of their development. Second, because they both loom large as examples of the East Asian transformation of Buddhism, i.e., of the remarkable process by which that originally Indian tradition took on the shape and substance first of a Chinese, and later of a Korean and a Japanese, religion; as such they serve as valuable

case studies in one of world history's most fascinating examples of religious change. Third, because they happen to be the subjects of some of the best work now being done, here and abroad, in the field of Buddhist Studies and so can serve well to index the changes underway in that field
      The articles by Broughton, Gómez and McRae deal with early Ch'an and are based on texts in Chinese and Tibetan that were found among the Tun-huang manuscripts. All three shed substantively new light on the rise of what was to become one of the most crucial East Asian developments of Buddhism. The articles by Gregory and Gimello treat somewhat of Ch'an but mostly of Hua-yen—the latter especially in its "classical" phase during the eighth and ninth centuries, although they give some attention also to its later influences in other traditions of East Asian Buddhism. The Hua-yen articles are based primarily on materials which have long been available in standard editions of the Chinese Buddhist canon but which have been studied hardly at all in the West and only in the most preliminary way even in Japan. It is hoped that they will show, among other things, that the Hua-yen tradition is something more than its conventional reputation as a purely theoretical and rather cerebral form of Buddhism might lead one to believe.
      Four of the five articles are much revised and expanded versions of papers delivered in 1980 at a Conference on East Asian Buddhism held in Los Angeles under the sponsorship of the Kuroda Institute for the Study of Buddhism and Human Values. The fifth, that by Luis Gómez, was especially solicited for the volume well after the conference. All of the articles were designed to comprise a collection that would serve not to introduce, survey, or sum up a field of study but to communicate new and ongoing advanced research. This will be the purpose also of the series, Studies in East Asian Buddhism, which this volume inaugurates. (Gimello, preface, 1983)

In The Buddha Within, Dr. S. K. Hookham reworks her dissertation (Oxford, 1986) outlining the Shentong'"`UNIQ--ref-00001703-QINU`"' tradition in Tibet and its view of ultimate reality. "Shentong" (gzhan stong, other-empty) is a term used in Tibet to refer to a view of ultimate reality as a wisdom consciousness empty or free of the illusory phenomena of conditioned existence. Such a view owes heavily to the description of ultimate reality in the Tathāgatagarbha Sūtras and in the tantras. One of the earliest proponents of this view was the Jo-nang-pa scholar, Dolpopa Sherab Gyaltsen (dol-po-pa shes-rab rgyal-mtshan, 1292-1361), whose massive study titled The Mountain Dharma: An Ocean of Definitive Meaning (ri chos nges don rgya mtsho) outlined this doctrine, extensively citing from sūtra and tantra in support of his position. The Shentong position advanced by Dolpopa and later by such figures as the seventh Karmapa (1454-1506), the Sakya scholar, Sakya Chogden (gser-mdog paṇ-chen Śākya mchog-ldan, 1428-1507), and most recently by one of the founders of the Rimay (ris med, nonsectarian) movement of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries,'"`UNIQ--ref-00001704-QINU`"' Jamgon Kontrol Lodro Thayay ('jam-mgon kong-sprul blo-gros mtha'-yas, 1813-1899), was the object of sustained critique by scholars of other schools-notably those of the Geluk-pa tradition-who advanced what is called a "rangtong" (rang stong, self-empty) view of ultimate reality. These scholars held the ultimate truth to be an existent object of knowledge cognized by a wisdom consciousness. Such an object of a wisdom consciousness is held to be a nonaffirming negative—the absence of the inherent existence of any given phenomena, most importantly the self. Shentong advocates argue that this view of ultimate reality fails to account adequately for the qualities associated with a Buddha's wisdom, although it does account for the nature of illusory phenomena. (Need, "Review of The Buddha Within," 585)

A methodical examination of Indian teaching about the tathāgatagarbha (“Buddha-nature”) and foundational Buddhist teachings about 'not-self' (anātman). In 2021 The Buddhist Self was awarded the Toshihide Numata Book Award.

Luis O. Gomez, in "The Direct and the Gradual Approaches of Zen Master Mahayana: Fragments of the Teachings of Mo-ho-yen," edits and translates the sayings and works preserved in Tibetan in scattered fragments of the Ch'an master Mo-ho-yen, who took part in a dispute between Chinese Ch'an teachers and Indian Madhyamika teachers in Tibet in the last half of the eighth century. An attempt is made to reconstruct the original texts and sort them into five genres. Not all the fragments attributed to Mo-ho-yen are included, but this is the most comprehensive work to date.
     In the analysis of the texts, the author suggests that Mo-ho-yen's doctrinal position was that of an extreme non-dualist who thought practice came after enlightenment. Consequently Mo-ho-yen denied the value of means to that enlightenment, yet he still had to allow for a means for people of lesser abilities. This admission probably gave his opponents grounds for criticism.
      There is a glossary of Tibetan terms and their Chinese equivalents based on a comparison of the fragments in Tibetan with the Chinese of the Tun-wu Ta-sheng cheng-li chüeh which depicts Mo-ho-yen's side of the dispute (for which it may have been profitable to consult Hasebe Koichi's edition from the Pelliot and Stein Chinese manuscripts, the "Toban Bukkyō to Zen", Aichigakuin Daigaku bungakubu kiyō no. 1). Gomez in fact suggests that terminological ambiguity was one source of misunderstanding between the Chinese and Indian parties. Recently R.A. Stein has begun work on the Tibetan translations of Chinese and Indian vocabulary ("Tibetica Antiqua", BEFEO 72, 1983) which sheds more light on the subject. For example, lun and mdo (Gomez p. 87, notes 23 and 39), or gzhung and gzhun (Gomez p. 140) are interpreted slightly differently by Stein (pp. 175-6 and p. 179 respectively). (John Jorgensen, "Review of Studies in Ch'an and Hua-yan," JIABS 9, no. 2 (1986): 177–78).

One of the most important arguments made by the exponents of Critical Buddhism is, as Matsumoto Shirõ asserts in the title of one of his papers, that "The Doctrine of Tathāgata-garbha Is Not Buddhist." In brief, the claim made by Matsumoto and Hakamaya Noriaki is that tathāgata-garbha or Buddha-nature thought is dhātu-vāda, an essentialist philosophy closely akin to the monism of the Upaniṣads. In Matsumoto and Hakamaya’s view, only thought that strictly adheres to the anti-essentialist principle of pratītyasamutpāda taught by Śākyamuni should be recognized as Buddhist. Buddha-nature thought, being a dhātu-vāda or essentialist philosophy, is in fundamental violation of this requirement and consequently should not be regarded as Buddhist. On the basis of this reading of Buddha-nature thought, Matsumoto and Hakamaya proceed to make the several subsequent claims documented in this volume. Since the assertion that Buddha-nature thought is dhātu-vāda is such a foundational claim, I will focus my remarks upon this one point in their corpus, though at the end of this chapter I will have a few words to say regarding their charge that Buddha-nature thought is to blame for the weakness of Japanese Buddhist social ethics.
      I propose in this paper to challenge Matsumoto and Hakamaya’s reading of Buddha-nature thought. In my understanding, while Buddha-nature thought uses some of the terminology of essentialist and monistic philosophy, and thus may give the reader the impression that it is essentialist or monistic, a careful study of how those terms are used—how they actually function in the text—leads the reader to a very different conclusion. I will attempt to demonstrate that Buddha-nature thought is by no means dhātu-vāda as charged, but is instead an impeccably Buddhist variety of thought, based firmly on the idea of emptiness, which in turn is a development of the principle of pratītyasamutpāda
      In making my remarks I draw upon the exposition of Buddha-nature thought given in the Buddha-Nature Treatise (Fo hsing lun), attributed to Vasubandhu and translated into Chinese by Paramārtha.'"`UNIQ--ref-00001D4E-QINU`"' The Buddha-Nature Treatise is a particularly useful text to consult in this matter inasmuch as it constitutes a considered attempt, by an author of great philosophical sophistication, to articulate the Buddha-nature concept per se and to explain both its philosophical meaning and its soteriological function. Indeed, the author is savvy enough to have anticipated the criticisms that this concept would face, including the particular criticisms leveled in our time by Matsumoto and Hakamaya, and to have effectively countered them in the 6th century CE. In this chapter, then, I will consider some of these criticisms in turn and see how the author of the Buddha-Nature Treatise defends as Buddhist the concept of Buddha-nature and the language in which it is expressed.'"`UNIQ--ref-00001D4F-QINU`"' (King, "The Doctrine of Buddha-Nature Is Impeccably Buddhist," 174–75)

Hakamaya Noriaki and Matsumoto Shirõ are convinced that tathāgatagarbha theory and the Yogācāra school share a common framework that they call dhātu-vāda or "locus theory." The word dhātu-vāda itself is a neologism introduced by Matsumoto'"`UNIQ--ref-0000209B-QINU`"' and adopted by Hakamaya.'"`UNIQ--ref-0000209C-QINU`"' They argue that the dhātu-vāda idea stands in direct contradiction to the authentic Buddhist theory of pratītyasamutpāda or "dependent origination," which in turn leads them to consider tathāgata-garbha and Yogācāra theories to be non-Buddhist. In their opinion, not only these Indian theories but also the whole of "original enlightenment thought" (hongaku shisõ) in East Asia fell under the shadow of the dhātu-vāda idea,'"`UNIQ--ref-0000209D-QINU`"' with the result that most of its Buddhism is dismissed as not Buddhist at all.'"`UNIQ--ref-0000209E-QINU`"'
      The idea of dhātu-vāda is thus an integral part of the Critical Buddhism critique and as such merits careful examination in any evaluation of the overall standpoint. Since Matsumoto first found the dhātu-vāda structure in Indian tathāgata-garbha and Yogācāra literature, we need to begin with a look at the texts in question. My approach here will be purely philological and will limit itself to the theoretical treatises (śāstras). (Yamabe, introductory remarks, 193)

Read more here:

Although Ch'an Buddhism has a long history, the name of the Ch'an School (ch'an-men^a or ch'an-rsung^b)'"`UNIQ--ref-000001F2-QINU`"' was a relatively late development. It was Tsung-mi^c (780-841),'"`UNIQ--ref-000001F3-QINU`"' the great Master of Kuei-fung who, for the first time, adopted the term in the ninth century A.D. It is interesting to note that it was the same monk-scholar who used the School of Mind (hsin-tsung^d)'"`UNIQ--ref-000001F4-QINU`"' as a synonym of the Ch'an school. Tsung-mi was a scholar of buddhist thought who had personal experience in the broad-ranging knowledge of Ch'an traditions. He collected relevant materials and wrote extensively in an effort to analyze the doctrine and practices of the tradition. His identification of the Mind with the Ch'an indicates that, in his opinion, the Mind was the central focus of the school. Although Tsung-mi contributed a good deal to the understanding of Ch'an Buddhism, his contributions remained almost unknown for a thousand years; it is only during the last two decades that scholars have gradually come to recognize his contribution. with considerable astonishment and admiration. This article is an attempt to describe, analyze and assess Tsung-mi's thesis that the doctrine of Mind is the central focus of Ch'an Buddhism and that the Mind itself is the absolute. (Jan, "The Mind and the Buddha-Nature," 467)

The idea of Buddha-nature was first made popular in China in the early fifth century with the translation of the Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇasūtra (hereafter cited as MNS),'"`UNIQ--ref-00001EC1-QINU`"' and since then, it has remained one of the central themes of Chinese Buddhist thought. Already in the fifth and early sixth centuries, a wide variety of theories on the Buddha-nature had begun to appear, but extant information about them remains scanty and scattered.'"`UNIQ--ref-00001EC2-QINU`"' It is in the writings of Ching-ying Hui-yüan (523–592),'"`UNIQ--ref-00001EC3-QINU`"' the Yogācārin, and in Chi-tsang (549–623), the Mādhyamika, that we find the earliest available full-scale treatments of the subject. Hui-yüan and Chi-tsang hold a number of views in common with respect to the question of Buddha -nature:

'"`UNIQ--poem-00001EC7-QINU`"'

Nevertheless, given their very different theoretical upbringings and doctrinal affiliations, it is inevitable that they would carry to their explanations of the Buddha-nature concept some of the basic principles and assumptions of their respective philosophical traditions. In examining and comparing the Buddha-nature teachings of Hui-yüan and Chi-tsang our present study attempts to show how the Buddha-nature concept has come to assume divergent significances when read in the context of the two main streams of thought in Mahāyāna Buddhism: Yogācāra and Mādhyamika. (Liu, "The Yogācāra and Mādhyamika Interpretations of the Buddha-nature Concept in Chinese Buddhism," 171)

This study of Tsung-mi is part of the Studies in East Asian Buddhism series. Author Peter Gregory makes extensive use of Japanese secondary sources, which complements his work on the complex Chinese materials that form the basis of the study. (Source: University of Hawai'i Press)

No abstract given. Here are the first relevant paragraphs:

In the tradition of Buddhism which has been transmitted to China and Japan, we can see two basically different streams of thought in the Yogācāra philosophy. Although this fact is well-known among Japanese scholars, it does not seem to be widely known among American, European, and Indian scholars. In order to understand correctly the Yogācāra philosophy, however, the clear understanding of these two streams of thought, their mutual differences, and their relation to the theories of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu is indispensable
      One of these two streams was introduced into China by Hsuang-tsang. Although the thought of this stream can be known through the works of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu as translated by Hsuang-tsang, it can be known in its most all-inclusive and systematic form in the Ch'eng wei shih lun of Dharmapāla.[1] This stream of thought continued from the time of Hsuang-tsang to the present day. Happily, it did not die out in China and Japan where its study was continued and where present-day scholars are well acquainted with it. There is no unclear point as regards the more important aspects of this stream of thought.
      The other stream of thought, represented by the works of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu as translated by Buddhasānta, Bodhiruci, Paramārtha, Dharmagupta, Prabhākaramitra, and others, was introduced into China before the time of Hsuang-tsang. The translations of these masters, unlike those of the other stream, were not widely studied and the actual nature of its thought is difficult to determine. With the exception of Paramārtha, there are only one or two translated works of each of these masters. And, even in the study of their works, it is not possible to determine the differences from the other stream of Yogācāra thought.
      Paramārtha, however, translated a great many of the important works of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu. And, with the discovery and publication of the Sanskrit texts, eminent scholars of Japan have done comparative studies based on the Sanskrit original and the Chinese and Tibetan translations in order to determine the extent to which the stream of thought introduced into China before the time of Hsuang-tsang differs from that stream which was introduced by Hsuang-tsang. The results of this research clearly show that there is a fundamental difference between the theory introduced by Paramārtha and that of Hsuang-tsang. The importance of this difference lies in the fact that the theories introduced by Paramārtha and Hsuang-tsang are both said to be the theories of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu. If the theories of Paramārtha and Hsuang-tsang are fundamentally different, the problem arises as to which transmission is faithful to the theories of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu; or, if they are both separate traditions, what was the theory of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu? This has been the focus of attention of present-day Japanese scholars doing research in the Yogācāra philosophy. As the studies of the Yogācāra philosophy by Western and Indian scholars have been lacking in knowledge of these two streams of thought, their interpretations of the central problems of the Yogācāra philosophy have been ambiguous and often erroneous and do not show a clear understanding of it. Their understanding of the Yogācāra philosophy is not in accord with the theory of either one of these two streams of thought. And, because the differences between their interpretations and the two streams of thought are not clear, one cannot find a clear-cut understanding of the theories of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu.
       It is my aim in this paper to present the differences of interpretation of these two streams of thought relating to the theories of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu which were transmitted to China and to examine the question of which of the two streams is faithful to the thought of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu. As this paper cannot possibly deal with the whole of the Yogācāra philosophy, it will deal with only a few of the essential points. (Ueda, preparatory remarks, 155–56)

Read more here . . .

Notes

1. Dharmapāla and others, Ch'eng wei shih lun,^P Taishō-Daizōkyō, Vol. 31, No. 1585. French translation: "Vijñaptimātratāsiddhi," by Dharmapāla, translated from Chinese into French by La Vallée Poussin (Paris, 1928-1929).

Wǒnch'ǔk (613–696) was an influential Korean expatriate scholar-monk active during the seventh century in T'ang dynasty China. Considering his impact on contemporary Chinese Buddhist thought as well as on later Tibetan and Japanese Buddhist developments, it is surprising that Wǒnch'ǔk has yet to receive the attention he deserves from the academic world, including Korean scholarship. Possible explanations for this neglect are the complexity of his philosophy and the fact that one of his major works, Haesimmilgyǒng so, a commentary on the Saṃdhinirmocana-sūtra (The Sūtra of the Explanation of Profound Mysteries), has not been preserved in its entirety.[1] Moreover, Ch'eng wei-shih lun shu, or Sǒngyusingnon so in Korean, his commentary on the Ch'eng wei-shih lun (Vijñaptimātratāsiddhi-śāstra; Treatise on the Completion of Consciousness-Only)[2]—probably his most representative work—has been lost. Despite this dearth of extant materials, what does remain unequivocally demonstrates Wǒnch'ǔk's impact on Chinese interpretations of Indian Yogācāra theories, an area of doctrine that was the subject of fervent contention among noted Sinitic scholiasts. Wǒnch'ǔk stands at the juncture between the period dominated by the translation of Indian and Central Asian Buddhist texts and the era when "Chinese Buddhism" coalesced into a distinct tradition. Given the diverse notions of "Chinese" identity evident during the cosmopolitan T'ang dynasty, during which China subsumed many different cultures and territories, I am also interested in exploring how a figure like Wǒnch'ǔk can be viewed as representing a more abstract notion of "Sinitic" identity. (Cho, introductory remarks, 173)