I gave this talk on August 29, 2024, during our Full Moon Zen sesshin. A recording follows the text.

This is Case 1 in The Blue Cliff Record:

Emperor Wu of Liang asked the great master Bodhidharma, “What is the highest meaning of the holy truths?” Bodhidharma said, “Empty, without holiness.” The Emperor said, “Who is facing me?” Bodhidharma replied, “I don’t know.” The Emperor did not understand. After this Bodhidharma crossed the Yangtse River and came to the king­dom of Wei.

Later the Emperor brought this up to Master Chih and asked him about it. Master Chih asked, “Does your majesty know who this man is?” The Emperor said, “I don’t know.” Master Chih said, “He is the Mahasattva Avalokitesvara, transmitting the Buddha Mind Seal.” The Emperor felt regretful, so he wanted to send an emissary to go invite (Bodhidharma to re­ turn). Master Chih told him, “Your majesty, don’t say that you will send someone to fetch him back. Even if everyone in the whole country were to go after him, he still wouldn’t re­ turn.”

So let’s contrast Emperor Wu and Bodhidharma again, this time focusing on their respective moments of coming and going.

It must have been an even bigger deal to visit an emperor back then than it is now. Today many of the handful of monarchs that remain in the world are part of constitutional democracies. Their power is limited, not absolute. Emperor Wu’s temporal power was comparatively unlimited.

I have a bit of personal experience with the type of encounter described in this koan. Several years ago I attended an event at Buckingham Palace with my wife, Esther, who is British. It was the 50^thanniversary celebration for a scholarship program Queen Elizabeth created in memory of John F. Kennedy. Each year the Kennedy Scholarship allows a cohort of British college students to enter graduate programs in the U.S. after they receive their undergraduate degrees in the U.K. All past recipients of the scholarship, Esther among them, were invited to the anniversary celebration. 

The queen wasn’t there, but she sent Prince William to represent her. Esther had told me for weeks before the event that I was obliged to bow if we met him. Having grown up in the U.S., I’m rather allergic to the idea of monarchy, so I bristled at the thought of bowing. 

(Yes, I get the irony. Now I bow all the time as a Zen teacher.)

I was incredibly relieved when this prince, who now is next in line to be king, offered me his hand and said, “Hi, I’m William. And you?” Perhaps that’s the less formal, 21^st century equivalent of saying, “Who is this standing before me?” as Emperor Wu asked Bodhidharma. 

Now, imagine I had said, “I don’t know,” when William asked who I was, just as Bodhidharma responded to the emperor. That certainly would have drawn an awkward laugh! William could have been forgiven for moving on rather quickly to meet the next guest if I’d done that.

But that’s exactly what Bodhidharma did when Emperor Wu asked him to say something about himself. Bodhidharma responded honestly—and, he’s also testing the emperor. Can the emperor see Bodhidharma, and himself and all else, from the Absolute perspective?

We don’t know whether the emperor was receiving other guests that day, so we don’t know whether he moved on quickly, as I expect William would have done had I responded to him like Bodhidharma responded to Emperor Wu. We do see that the emperor didn’t know what to make of Bodhidharma’s unusual response to his rather ordinary question. Can you blame him?

In fairness to Bodhidharma, and unlike me as I met William, the emperor would have had some idea why everyone was talking about this wandering monk now in his presence. The emperor’s question seems to invite Bodhidharma to say more about why people consider him so remarkable. “I’ve heard so much about you from others. Your teaching is unconventional. Who do you say you are?”

Some notes on this koan I have say that, according to Harada Roshi, a famous 20^th century Rinzai teacher, Bodhidharma was very interested in teaching the emperor, but he was disappointed by the emperor’s lack of understanding. Harada Roshi says that’s why Bodhidharma departed. If any of you doing koan work ever thinks Fran or I is dismissive when we don’t think you’ve quite yet penetrated a koan, just remember Bodhidharma’s appraisal of Emperor Wu! The emperor was given just one chance, and he blew it by Bodhidharma’s standards. No wonder the guy has a reputation for being a curmudgeon.

Bodhidharma evidently thought there was someplace better to be; someplace to go; a better use of his time. According to legend, he goes away to occupy an abandoned temple with a few students. Perhaps that truly was a better use of his time and energy. Who knows whether we’d have the Zen tradition, and so whether we’d be sitting her today, if Bodhidharma had given the emperor a second chance.

The emperor feels regret and wants to chase after Bodhidharma. Chih says there’s no point sending a messenger. Bodhidharma wouldn’t return. From a relative perspective, Bodhidharma won’t return because he thinks his time is better spent elsewhere. From an absolute perspective, Avalokiteshvara doesn’t come or go. Compassion pervades the whole universe, existing right here and now.

So the emperor and his messengers stay put. Bodhidharma certainly had given the emperor much to reflect upon. And there truly was nowhere for the emperor to go. Nowhere he needed to go. Just as Bodhidharma found his proper place teaching other wanderers and laying the foundation for the Zen tradition—building the temple in which we now practice—the emperor continued to perform his function at that point in history, including building physical temples in which others could practice.

There is merit in the emperor’s temple-building from a relative perspective—and I hope he also came to know there is no merit from an absolute perspective. No cosmic scorecard. I hope we also grasp this teaching.

And I hope and trust Bodhidharma understood this about his own life’s work, too. He meritoriously committed himself to helping others discover there’s no ultimate merit. That was his karma. His function was no more important than an emperor or cobbler or baker or candlestick maker.

The universe grants each of us admission irrevocably. We can’t be kicked out, nor get an upgrade.