China during this period was a country in turmoil. Feuding warlords ruled through fear and intimidation, doing their best to kill their rivals before they were killed themselves. The chaotic environment even corrupted Buddhism. The temple where Dao Shin was sent following the death of his parents was run-down and inhabited by monks who did not abide by any Buddhist precepts or rules. Their every action betrayed the principles of Buddhism. In truth, the "monks" were not true monks at all, but persons that shaved their heads and wore monastic robes in an attempt to escape detection by vengeful warlords. In contrast to those around him, Dao Shin's innate sense of right and wrong was strong and resilient. Thus, he was able to adhere to the Buddhist precepts without being negatively influenced.

In 589, Emperor Wen of the Sui Dynasty finally united China and brought some stability to the country. It was about this time that Dao Shin's life took a turn for the better. One day, as he was carrying two buckets of water to the temple, he overheard villagers talking about a great monk who spent great periods of time in deep meditation. When people talked to the monk, they were always amazed at the wisdom of his enlightened responses.

Upon hearing this, Dao Shin immediately sensed that his future belonged with that monk. Without a second thought, he quickly returned to the temple, set the water down, packed up his few belongings, and left for a new life.

He traveled for many weeks and eventually reached Mount Qian in today's Anhui Province in central China. He walked through meadows and forests and came upon a small hut. He tried to push the door open, but it was tightly closed. He knocked on the door, but no one answered.

In spite of his fatigue, Dao Shin felt sure that his journey had brought him to the right place. Although no one seemed to be home, he had a feeling that his new master lived in this hut. After washing his hands and feet in a nearby creek, he sat down cross-legged and began to wait for the master of the hut to appear.

Dao Shin waited patiently in this position for most of the day. Then, as evening approached, the door of the hut suddenly opened and a middle-aged monk walked out. It was Seng Can (僧璨), the third patriarch of Ch'an Buddhism. Dao Shin, awed by the monk's carefree and serene temperament, immediately prostrated himself.

Seng Can asked him, "What do you want?" Dao Shin replied respectfully, "Master, please kindly teach me the way to emancipate myself from the suffering of the world."

"What are you suffering from?" he asked. Dao Shin was stupefied at the terse question. After a moment's thought, he murmured, "Nothing in particular!"

"If that's the case, do you still need me to free you from anything?" replied Seng Can with an assertive tone.

The master's reply completely emptied out Dao Shin's mind, and he gradually seemed to realize how deluded he was as he had been bothered by intangible worries and perplexities that came and went fleetingly. He respectfully prostrated himself before Seng Can one more time. At this, the reclusive monk turned and walked back into the hut. Dao Shin followed him into the hut and knelt down beside him. Seng Can peaceably asked him a second time, "What do you want?" This time, Dao Shin begged the master to accept him as his disciple.

Seng Can said, "You can leave." Dao Shin countered, "Since there is no one coming, there is no one leaving," which showed that he fully understood the Buddha's teaching that nothing really exists.

Seng Can continued, "Your belongings are still out there." Dao Shin responded, "There is no distinction between outside or inside."

The monk nodded his head and smiled in approval of Dao Shin's wit. He finally agreed to accept the young boy as his disciple.

Seng Can was following the path of a recluse and lived a very simple life. When he wasn't carrying his bowl around the local village begging for food, he was alone in his hut reading Buddhist sutras and meditating.

Meditation was very popular among Buddhist monks at that time. Most monks meditated for several hours each day, but some could sit in silence for days or even weeks. Seeing his master in meditation all day long, Dao Shin was inspired to do the same. However, such dedicated meditation did not come easily. On many occasions, he would begin meditating only to doze off and wake later to find himself lying in bed or sitting with his head between his knees.

Because Seng Can knew how hard it was for the young boy to stay awake, he never scolded him. Even so, Dao Shin was very embarrassed by these incidents. One day, determined to kick the bad habit, Dao Shin vowed before his master, "I will constantly observe the rising of any thought in my mind, and I will never again sleep in a bed." [Some Buddhist masters choose to sleep sitting cross-legged as a part of their ascetic cultivation.]

Seng Can was delighted when he heard the boy's determination to lead an ascetic life, but he also wondered if he should persuade his young disciple to take back his words. After all, Dao Shin was now only 13 years old. He was still growing, and it would be too hard for him to sleep sitting cross-legged. However, as Dao Shin's master, Seng Can realized he should respect the boy's vow and help him in his spiritual cultivation, not interfere with it. Therefore, he said nothing to show his approval or disapproval of Dao Shin's decision.

Dao Shin upheld his vow until he died at the age of 71. Until the end of his life, he never again slept in a bed.

One day, Seng Can told Dao Shin to go into the village and beg for food. Because the young disciple had never had a chance to offer food to his master, he was delighted and honored by this instruction.

Before he left for the village, Dao Shin recalled that his master had taught him that monks were like a field of blessings for the public to cultivate. By this, Seng Can had meant that the public could receive blessings by offering food and other things to monks. Dao Shin took this wisdom and carried it further. He felt the rich people in the village already had enough blessings; their wealth was clear evidence of that. But shouldn't the poorest of the village also be granted the opportunity to cultivate blessings as well?

His mind made up, Dao Shin set out to help the poor receive their blessings. He walked into the village and found a dilapidated, run-down shack. Standing outside the decrepit home, he yelled out, "Is anyone home? Can someone give my master and me some food?"

After a moment, a man in tattered, dirty clothes came out. He saw Dao Shin and his empty bowl and said to him, "Little master, as you can see from the clothes I'm wearing, I'm very poor. I can't give you any food."

Dao Shin replied with compassion, "Dear sir, if you can provide me with just a bowl of water, you will receive your blessing."

The man nodded his head with understanding. He turned, went back into the house, and came out a moment later with a little porridge so diluted that it looked like muddy water. "Little master, I know that donating to a monk will give me blessings, but this is all I have to give you."

Dao Shin went to other poor people and asked the same of them. Each was able to donate only a little amount. Eventually, however, the donations added up and the bowl was completely full.

Dao Shin went back to the hut and happily told Seng Can about what he had accomplished. The monk asked what had prompted his decision to collect food from those who had so little. Dao Shin replied, "Master, you told me that we represent a field of blessings to those who donate to us. These people are poor because they lack blessings, so I purposely went to them to receive their offerings. In return, they’ll receive blessings of their own."

Seng Can considered the young monk's logic carefully. He thought to himself, "My young disciple was very kind and acted out of compassion for the poor. Unfortunately, he misinterpreted the Buddha's teaching on this." Seng Can then told his disciple, "Bring the Vimalakirti Sutra (維摩詰經) and read the third chapter."

The sacred text told the story of Maha Kasyapa, one of the Buddha's ten most devoted disciples. Maha Kasyapa had done the same thing as Dao Shin, begging food from the poor to provide them an opportunity to cultivating blessings. However, the sutras went on to explain how Maha Kasyapa was scolded for his actions by Vimalakirti, an enlightened layperson. Vimalakirti explained that monks should make no distinctions between rich and poor, but should treat all people equally. Maha Kasyapa understood his error and became more enlightened as a result of Vimalakirti's instruction.

After reading the chapter, Dao Shin realized that he had made the same mistake as that great disciple. He felt his cheeks grow hot in humiliation and shame. Seeing the embarrassment on Dao Shin's face, Seng Can simply patted him lightly and said to him with a smile, "Remember what the Buddha once said, that the real world of dharma makes no distinction between oneself and others, or between poor and rich."

Then, Seng Can scooped half of the food from the young monk's bowl into his own and began to eat. Dao Shin was about to do the same, but when he brought the bowl to his lips, he sniffed a foul smell. In amazement, he watched his master swallow the food gracefully without making a face, as though there were no odor at all.

Watching his master eat the foul food as though it was a delicacy, Dao Shin was deeply impressed. He realized that Seng Can was applying the lesson he had just learned in the sutras to the food. "Master," he said, "today's events have taught me that I need to study more of the Buddha's teachings. I thought I was doing the right thing by begging food from poor people because I believed that it would help them gain blessings and improve their lives. But you helped me understand my error. I should have treated all people equally, whether rich or poor." Seng Can nodded his head in approval, and Dao Shin continued: "Master, I have also noticed that you didn't hesitate to eat the food I brought back, even though it smelled so awful. You simply ate it as though there were no stench at all. You made no distinction between good and bad food, in the same way that we should make no distinction among people."

Seng Can was pleased at his disciple's new insights. He said to him with a smile, "You are correct, Dao Shin. Eating this food as though it were delicious is a form of spiritual cultivation. Unfavorable and unpleasant episodes, which are bound to occur in our lives, provide the means for challenging the level of our spiritual cultivation and to see how good we truly are. Meditation is important, but meditation is only part of spiritual cultivation. You must also have Right View. I would recommend reading more sutras and commentaries to understand the Buddha's teachings better." From that day forward, Seng Can instructed Dao Shin on what to read.

Time passed by very quickly as Dao Shin learned from Seng Can. When he was a young man in his early 20s, he often gave public lectures on Buddhism on his master's behalf. One day, Seng Can told Dao Shin that he had decided to journey to southern China, to the region that is now Guangdong Province. He explained that the region lacked a Ch'an master, and he felt compelled to go there and promote Ch'an Buddhism.

Dao Shin wanted to go along, but Seng Can told him that he preferred to make the journey alone. After packing everything needed for the trip, Seng Can took out a carefully folded robe and asked, "Do you know anything about this robe?" Dao Shin shook his head, and Seng Can explained: "This robe was brought to China by our founder, Bodhidharma, who passed the robe on to Master Hui Ke, who in turn passed it on to me [see Bodhidharma's story in the Winter 1999 issue and Hui Ke's story in the Spring 2004 issue of our Tzu Chi Quarterly]. It wasn't easy for Master Hui Ke to receive the robe, nor was it easy for me to receive it from him. However, more difficult than receiving it is to pass it on to someone else qualified enough to receive it. I was very fortunate to encounter you. You have learned well. You have earned yourself the right to receive the robe. Knowing that it is being given to someone who is worthy of the honor relieves my mind of an important matter."

Dao Shin kneeled down, and Seng Can presented the robe to him, along with the Lengqie Sutra (楞伽經). He told him that their Buddhist school, Lengqie Ch'an, was based on this sutra. Seng Can then bid farewell to Dao Shin and departed on his journey. The year was 603.

Three years later, Liangjing Temple was founded on Mount Du in central China. Unfortunately, the new temple lacked a source of drinking water. When a wandering monk lit incense and prayed to the Buddha, a spring magically appeared. When the account of the incident reached Dao Shin, he believed that the itinerant monk must be his master, Seng Can. Missing him dearly, Dao Shin decided to seek him out.

After journeying for weeks, he finally reached the temple. He first went to see the spring that his master had helped bring to the temple. As he was admiring his master's work, someone suddenly called him from behind. He turned around, and there was his master! Seng Can asked with a warm smile, "How are you doing?" Dao Shin prostrated himself before his master and replied, "I'm very well, Master. Would you be kind enough to give talks to the public and to my disciples?" Seng Can assented with a smile.

After some preparation, Seng Can stood under a tree and gave a public lecture on the Lotus Sutra. When he was finished, he asked the audience, "You have seen or heard that many monks passed away while sitting or lying in bed, but have you seen one pass away while standing?" Before anyone could react from the shock of such a strange question, Seng Can folded his hands and passed away, still standing under the tree.

The people were awed by what they saw, and they all prostrated themselves before Seng Can and wailed at his passing. Dao Shin, however, did not cry because he had guessed what was coming. His master normally preferred not to give public lectures, but he had agreed this time, and this seemed to indicate that something extraordinary would happen. Besides, no human could escape the life cycle of birth, aging, illness, and death. The year was 606.

After Seng Can was cremated, Dao Shin returned to the hut, which carried many wonderful memories. But eventually, he realized that he had to start thinking about how he should go about promoting his Lengqie Ch'an. Due to restrictive social conditions, his former masters had spent most of their time in seclusion and had not been able to promote Ch'an among the general public. But times were different now, and Dao Shin felt he should be able to do something. Nevertheless, his first priority was to become an officially registered monk.

At that time, all applicants had to pass a national examination and serve in a temple assigned by the government to become officially registered monks. After that, they were free from taxes and government duties. It was ironic that although Dao Shin had been a monk since childhood and had become the Ch'an patriarch, he was not recognized as an official monk by the government.

Because of his prominent position, it was not hard for him to find someone to recommend him for the examination. In fact, a number of people competed for this honor. The government immediately accepted the recommendation, and Dao Shin passed the test with ease. He was subsequently assigned to serve in Jizhou Temple in Jizhou, in modern Jiangxi Province in central China.

Around this time, Emperor Yang of the Sui Dynasty (隋煬帝) was engaged in a costly but ultimately fruitless military campaign against Korea. The war upset the public so much that they eventually revolted. A group of rebels laid siege to Jizhou in 617. Although the emperor's soldiers prevented the rebels from entering the city, they were not able to drive them away. The frightened people inside the city were cut off from outside assistance. The monks cared for the wounded, prayed for and buried the dead, and distributed the dwindling supply of rice to the starving inhabitants.

One day, the rebels cut off the water supply to the city. When Dao Shin heard about the crisis, he and his followers went out into the city to assess the situation. At one point, he approached a well and saw indeed that it was dry. He silently began to meditate over the well. To everyone's amazement, water gushed into the bottom of the well and gradually the well filled up. Other wells in the city began filling too. People shouted with joy and relief when they saw the water. The magistrate of Jizhou came in person to thank Dao Shin for his great help; he even knelt down before him and begged him to pray to the Buddha to fight off the bandits.

Dao Shin hesitated at the magistrate's request. He believed that all events, including this one, happened because of karma. By living in the same city, the inhabitants of Jizhou shared a common karma, the sum of all the good and bad things they had done, and that karma had led to the consequence of their being surrounded by the rebels. On the other hand, refusing to lend a helping hand to relieve the citizens from their misery went against the Buddha's tenet of compassion for all living beings.

With a sigh, Dao Shin told the magistrate that the citizens of Jizhou could defeat the bandits by reciting the Prajna Paramita sutra. Hearing this, the magistrate gathered everyone in a plaza and had them recite the sutra. Although they were exhausted after having been trapped in the city for more than 70 days, the people suddenly became excited and energetic at the thought of being free.

The rebels, on the other hand, were confused. The food should have run out by now, and the inhabitants should have been desperate for water. However, the rebels were receiving reports that the bells in the city temples were being struck and water was again flowing in the city. The rebels concluded that deities were aiding the city, so they gave up and retreated.

The inhabitants of the city cheered at their good luck. Jizhou Temple became the most popular place in town, and the people experienced a renewed faith in Buddhism. Dao Shin was pleased at the outcome, but he felt there were better places for spiritual cultivation and the time had come for him to leave Jizhou. He and his followers went to Mount Lu, also in Jiangxi Province.

Dao Shin and his disciples journeyed to Dalin Temple on Mount Lu. The temple had been founded by Zhi Kai (智鍇), a disciple of Master Chih Yi (智顗, see the Spring 2001 issue of our Tzu Chi Quarterly). Zhi Kai had learned the Tientai philosophy from Chih Yi, as well as the Sanlun philosophy, and the monks at Dalin Temple practiced both schools of Buddhist philosophy simultaneously.

Most Buddhist sects believe that meditation gives rise to wisdom. However, the Tientai notions of meditation and wisdom go one step further: practicing meditation is not considered as important as cultivating wisdom by comprehending the conditional and impermanent existence of everything, including our lives and any material gains we may make. Practitioners meditate to uphold the Middle Way and give up attachments to both the "have" or "have not" aspects of life. Additionally, followers of Tientai must extensively study the Lotus Sutra and then put into practice its emphasis on "walking on the Path of the Boddhisattvas" by taking concrete action to help the needy.

Sanlun Buddhism, on the other hand, stresses two major doctrinal points: the elimination of evil or wrong concepts and the promotion of right concepts, and the advancement of the Middle Way.

In Sanlun philosophy, the terms "right" and "evil" have unique meanings, different from their use in ordinary discourse. The idea of evil or wrong refers to "obtaining something," while the idea of right refers to "obtaining nothing." Thus, "to eliminate evil or wrong concepts" is to remove any thought of obtaining something, even the idea that the pious should be rewarded for their faith, a motivation inherent in other religions and in other Buddhist sects. In contrast, the idea of "obtaining nothing" promotes the meaning of Emptiness inherent in Sanlun doctrine.

According to Sanlun philosophy, these two ideas are actually complementary and should not be thought of as polarities. To put it simply, it might be said that only when one is free from all attachments may one also be free from all wrong.

The second major doctrinal point of Sanlun Buddhism tries to articulate the Middle Way. Zhi Kai believed that the Middle Way was the real foundation of Buddhism and that all the sutras merely expressed it with different approaches. Nothing in the universe has its own fixed nature--that is, nothing is self-created, independent, or capable of existing permanently. Since nothing is permanent in its own right, everything arises from conditions created and terminated according to previous causes or chance meetings of certain circumstances.

Dao Shin was very happy to visit Dalin Temple, because this gave him an opportunity to learn both schools of thought at the same time. He felt that learning the Sanlun and Tientai philosophies would be a good complement to his Ch'an.

One day, Dao Shin and several others walked to Donglin Temple, the other major temple on Mount Lu. Zhi Jing (智淨), a monk from Dalin Temple, told them about the history of Donglin Temple. It had been founded by Hui Yuan (慧遠, see the Fall 2000 issue of our Tzu Chi Quarterly), who had also established the famous Pure Land sect which encouraged followers to chant the name of Amitabha Buddha to reach the Buddha's Pure Land. Zhi Jing asked Dao Shin if his special practice of Ch'an would set up a similar chanting method for practitioners. Dao Shin said he would like to, because chanting Amitabha was similar to meditation in that both focused on bringing tranquility and concentration to the mind.

Dao Shin then asked Zhi Jing to teach his people how to chant Amitabha. "If you want to carry out the practice," Zhi Jing said, "you should find yourself a quiet place. There is no need to imagine the Buddha's appearance. Simply focus and chant the Buddha's name. You must sit up straight without slouching and repeat the name continuously. Eventually, you will see all the buddhas of the past, present, and future. The merit of chanting the name of one buddha is as boundless as chanting the names of all the buddhas. All buddhas are equal because they all teach people how to attain enlightenment. Once you understand this, you will understand that every buddha's manifestation of wisdom and compassion is also the same. As a result, your every thought and action will be in concord with the teachings of all the buddhas."

While visiting Mount Lu, Dao Shin decided to do two things that would greatly impact the development of Ch'an Buddhism in China. The first was when he decided to combine the Maha Prajnaparamita Sutra (大般若波羅蜜多經) and the Lengqie Sutra in his promotion of Ch'an. He made this decision because he felt that the concept of Emptiness in the Maha Prajnaparamita Sutra was essentially the same as the concept of Tathagata Store propounded in the Lengqie Sutra. Tathagata Store refers to the inborn, pure buddha-nature that each one of us holds within. Although one's Tathagata Store may be temporarily masked by one's worries, distractions, or desires, it is never altered by them.

The second thing he decided to do was to combine the Bodhisattva Precepts with Ch'an. Because disciples of Lengqie Ch'an practiced their spiritual cultivation in ascetic seclusion, this form of Buddhism was not widely accepted by the public. In contrast, the Bodhisattva Precepts had become very popular. Dao Shin felt that the only way to promote the Lengqie Ch'an philosophy among the public was to combine it with the precepts. He felt that the fusion of the two philosophies was only natural. The precepts were designed to uphold the buddha-nature as the governing force that kept people from making errors. In the same way, Ch'an stressed discipline of the mind to keep it from wondering off the right track.

At about this time, the spring at the Liangjing Temple, which had stopped flowing after Seng Can passed away, started flowing again. Dao Shin took this as a sign that his duty of promoting Lengqie Ch'an was about to begin. One morning as he was gazing at the mountains and pondering where his mission would take him, he saw auspicious purple clouds forming over his hometown. When a white cloud extended from the purple cloud, he smiled--he knew what to do.

He returned to Dalin Temple and informed all the monks there of his decision to leave. The monks were sad to see him go, but they wished him the best. Dao Shin prayed for them, and then he and his disciples set out on their journey.

In 624, Dao Shin and his disciples settled down in Mount Potou in modern Hubei Province. Local people cheerfully donated money and time to build a temple, named "Zhengjue Temple," for Dao Shin.

One day, an official escorted by a troop of soldiers arrived at the gate of Zhengjue Temple. They had been ordered by Emperor Taizong of the Tang dynasty (唐太宗) to bring Dao Shin to the capital. Three times before, Dao Shin had refused to meet the emperor. If he refused again, the heartless ruler, who had usurped the throne by murdering his brothers, had ordered the soldiers to behead the monk and bring his head back.

Again, Dao Shin rejected the Emperor's summons. He told the official and soldiers that he was too old to travel and would most likely die on his way to the capital anyway.

"Very well, you asked for it," the official remarked as he ordered the executioner to behead the monk. Although everyone present in the temple was in shock over what was unfolding before them, Dao Shin was as calm and peaceful as ever. Just as the executioner was about to swing his blade down to chop off Dao Shin's head, the official suddenly halted the execution. In contrast to his initial arrogance, he politely asked Dao Shin how he could remain so calm when his life was being threatened. Dao Shin replied, "The body has no fixed nature, so it has no real birth or death. This is why I am not afraid." Admiring the wisdom and courage of the monk, the official promised that when he returned to the capital, he would plead with the emperor on Dao Shin's behalf.

When Emperor Taizong learned what had happened, he too felt that Dao Shin was indeed an enlightened master who could not be so easily bullied. He even decided to send presents to the old monk instead.

As word spread of what had happened, Dao Shin became even more famous. More and more people came to him seeking wisdom and enlightenment. However, Dao Shin felt that it was about time to pass the status of Ch'an patriarch to his successor.

Dao Shin remembered that when he had been named the fourth Ch'an patriarch, Master Seng Can had told him that finding a worthy successor was very difficult. Fortunately, Dao Shin had been planning for several years to find a successor.

One day, soon after arriving on Mount Potou, Dao Shin went down the mountain and met a seven-year-old boy. Dao Shin asked him his name, and the child replied, "I have no name." Dao Shin smiled and asked again, "You don't have a name?" The child replied, "The nature of a name is empty, so why bother having a name?"

At the child's answer, Dao Shin sensed he might have found a brilliant new disciple. He asked the child to take him to his mother. Thinking that her son would have a bright future with the famous Dao Shin, she consented to his request to take her son as his disciple.

The child's name was Hong Ren (弘忍). Dao Shin took the boy in as a disciple, and began testing and training him in the way of Lengqie Ch'an. After many years, he wondered if the young man was ready to be named the next patriarch.

In 643, Dao Shin saw a group of disciples debating whether one buddha could be more influential than the others. Hong Ren was also there listening to the exchange, but he simply smiled and refrained from offering his opinion. When the monks had finished talking, Dao Shin asked Hong Ren, "Why were you so quiet throughout the debates? Didn't you have anything to say?" Hong Ren replied, "No, master."

"Then you're no different from a rock!" Dao Shin retorted, indignant that Hong Ren had no better answer.

Hong Ren replied calmly, "Only when one goes through pragmatic cultivation can one answer that question." Seeing the wisdom in the young disciple's answer, Dao Shin nodded his head with satisfaction and walked away.

That evening, Dao Shin walked to Hong Ren's room and pushed the door. The door, unlocked, swung open. The old monk realized that Hong Ren had left the door unlocked on purpose because he was wise enough to understand what his master had intended to do. He walked in and found Hong Ren fully dressed. The young monk prostrated himself before Dao Shin and said, "I should have gone to see you." Dao Shin replied, "That's okay, it's all the same."

Dao Shin continued. "Hong Ren, I'm going to pass the patriarch's robe to you and name you the next Ch'an patriarch." No further words were necessary. In silence, Hong Ren prostrated himself again before his master.

After that, both monks continued to work as though nothing had happened. Dao Shin went to Niutou (Cow Head) Mountain, in today's Jiangsu Province in eastern China, to help establish another branch of his Ch'an school. This new school came to be known as "Cow Head Ch'an." Having finished his work here, Dao Shin returned to Mount Potou.

By this time, the great monk was 70 years old. One day, he told Hong Ren that he was ready to pass away. Hong Ren was not surprised at his master's announcement. He knew very well that enlightened monks remained in the world because they still had work to accomplish. Once everything was completed, they had no reason to keep their bodies. He asked Dao Shin, "Master, do you want me to see you off?"

"Yes, thank you," replied Dao Shin with a smile. "I only hope that people in the future will remember the Ch'an masters of today. I hope they won't believe they have attained enlightenment when they haven't and act foolishly. Tomorrow I want you to look for a place to build a stupa where I can live after I'm done with this body."

Hong Ren immediately started planning the construction of the stupa. All the monks in the temple knew that the stupa was being constructed for Dao Shin, because they sensed that he was about to pass away. But they were uncertain and concerned as to who would be named the next patriarch. One disciple finally broached the topic directly with Dao Shin: "Master, you should choose a disciple who will be able to lead us into the future."

Dao Shin was saddened to hear this. He had asked Hong Ren to teach them many times, and now he was building a stupa. "Isn't it obvious who my successor is?" thought Dao Shin. "Is this what the Founding Master Bodhidharma predicted when he said that fewer and fewer people in the future would attain true enlightenment? Many of these people know the Ch'an terms and use them often in their conversations, but do they really understand the essence of Ch'an?" Unable to resolve these questions, Dao Shin sighed and told the disciple that he had chosen Hong Ren as the next patriarch. That put an end to all the rumors and speculation.

The stupa was completed in 651, when Dao Shin was 71. He gave one final lecture in which he told his students that the Buddha's teachings were aimed at relieving people of their suffering. They had to work hard to teach this truth to the public. When he had finished his lesson, he sat cross-legged in front of his disciples and peacefully passed away.

*This article is mainly based on Master Dao Shin (道信大師傳), published by Foguang Culture, 2000.