In a village in Japan lived Zen master Hakuin. He was very famous and highly respected. The entire village worshipped and honored him. Songs were sung in his praise. But one day, everything changed. A young woman in the village became pregnant and gave birth to a child. When her family asked whose child it was, she said it was Hakuin’s.
The question is: how long does it take for admirers to become enemies? How long? Not even a moment, because hidden resentment always exists in the hearts of those who praise. The mind only waits for an opportunity. The day admiration ends, resentment begins. Those who show respect can, in a single moment, become those who insult. Those who bow at someone’s feet can, in a moment, be ready to strike them. There is no difference between honor and insult—they are two sides of the same coin.
The entire village descended upon Hakuin’s hut. The respect they had shown for so long was now replaced by suppressed anger. Given the opportunity to insult him, they set his hut on fire and even threw the child there.
Hakuin asked, “What is the matter?”
The villagers shouted, “You ask what the matter is? This child is yours! Do we need to tell you what the matter is? Look at your burning hut, look into your heart, look at this child and this girl. There’s no need for us to tell you—this child is yours.”
Hakuin said, “Really? This child is mine?”
When the child began to cry, Hakuin started singing to calm it. The villagers left him alone near his burning hut. Later, as usual, he went out for alms—but today, who would give him food? Every door was closed to him. The crowd followed, taunting him, throwing stones. He reached the girl’s house—the one who claimed the child was his. He said, “Perhaps I may not get food, but at least give a little milk for this child! If it is my mistake, it will be mine—but what fault does this poor child have?”
The crying child, the angry crowd—this sight was too much for the girl. She fell at her father’s feet and said, “Forgive me, I lied. This child is not Hakuin’s. I named him after Hakuin to protect the real father. I have no relation with him.”
Her father rushed out, fell at Hakuin’s feet, and tried to take the child back.
Hakuin asked, “What is the matter?”
The girl’s father said, “Forgive me, it was a mistake. This child is not yours.”
Hakuin replied, “Really? This child truly isn’t mine?”
Then the villagers said, “Are you crazy? Why didn’t you deny it this morning?”
Hakuin said, “What difference does it make? The child will belong to someone. You already burned one hut—you could have burned another. You enjoyed denouncing one person—you would have enjoyed denouncing another. What’s the difference? The child could belong to anyone, even to me. So what is the problem? What difference does it make?”
The villagers said, “Don’t you realize that everyone insulted you, humiliated you, and demeaned you?”
Hakuin replied, “If I cared about your insults, I would also care about your respect. I do what I feel is right; you do what you feel is right. Yesterday you felt it was right to honor me, so you did. Today you felt it was right not to honor me, so you didn’t. But neither your respect nor your insult concerns me.”
The villagers said, “Sir, you should have thought about how your good reputation would be destroyed.”
Hakuin replied, “I am neither good nor bad. I am simply what I am. I abandoned the idea of being good or bad. The more I tried to be good, the worse I became. The more I tried to avoid evil, the more goodness slipped away. I abandoned the idea altogether. I became completely indifferent. And the day I became indifferent, I discovered that neither good nor bad remained. Something new was born—something beyond goodness, with not even a shadow of evil.”
No comments:
Post a Comment