Shoyoroku Case 15: Yangshan Plants the Hoe — Why Doesn't Zen Engage in Social Service? Autonomy as the Foundation of Salvation

Guishan Lingyou: “Do not focus only on your personal practice. You must interact with people, teach them, and give them benefits.”

From Shoyoroku, Case 15: Yangshan Plants the Hoe

Guishan: “Where did you come from?”
Yangshan: “I came from the rice field.”
Guishan: “How many people are there in the rice field?”
Then, Yangshan stuck his hoe into the ground, stood with his hands crossed, and stayed there.
Guishan: “There are many people at Nanshan, and they are cutting grass.”
Yangshan took the hoe and left.

From Shoyoroku, Case 15: Yangshan inserts the hoe

Introduction: Guishan Lingyou and Yangshan Huiji

Key Point: The main characters are 潙山霊祐 (Guishan Lingyou) and 仰山慧寂 (Yangshan Huiji). They have a master-disciple relationship, and This later became 潙仰宗 (the Guiyang School).

The two main characters in this zen dialogue are Guishan Lingyou and Yangshan Huiji. They have a master-and-disciple relationship. The name of the “Guiyang School” comes from their names.

Guishan Lingyou was from Fuzhou. His family name was Zhao. He became a monk at the age of 15 at Jianshan Temple. His teacher was Master Fachang. At the age of 23, he visited Master Baizhang Dazhi.

Yangshan Huiji was from Guangdong. His family name was Ye. He wanted to become a monk at the age of 15, but his parents did not agree. Two years later, he became a monk under Master Tong at Nanhua Temple. After that, he visited Guishan Lingyou to study Zen.

What is the Guiyang School?: Connecting with each other in silence.

Key Point: The Guiyang School is characterized by the silent exchange of meaning and the mutual understanding of minds.

Then, what is the Guiyang School like? According to 五家参詳要路門  (The Essential Way of Studying the Five Schools), each school has a different focus:

• 曹洞宗 (The Caodong School / Soto-shu) makes the mind clear.
• 臨済宗 (The Linji School / Rinzai-shu) uses sharp words and actions like a sword.
• 雲門宗 (The Yunmen School / Unmon-shu) chooses words and phrases carefully.
• 法眼宗 (The Fayan School / Hogen-shu) focuses on helping others reach enlightenment.
• 潙仰宗 (The Guiyang School / Igyo-shu) makes its function clear.

Source: Dongling Yuanzi (Ed.). 五家參祥要路門 [The Essential Way of Studying the Five Schools], Vol. 2. SAT Daizokyo Database No. 2576.

The style of the Guiyang School is unique. Masters such as 馬祖道一 (Mazu Daoyi), 臨済義玄 (Linji Yixuan), and 徳山宣鑑 (Deshan Xuanjian) used sticks or loud shouts. However, the Guiyang School does not use them. Instead, the master and the disciple connect with each other in silence. They understand each other’s minds without words. They often use mysterious actions, such as drawing a circle or writing a character.

What is 円相 (the Enso)?: The silent recognition of the mind

Key Point: Language and words divide things into parts. On the other hand, 円相 the Enso is a way of expression that does not divide anything. It allows the master and the disciple to understand each other immediately without any explanation.

When people hear about drawing a circle, they think of the Zen “Enso.” Master Nanyang Huizhong began this Enso. He gave this Enso to his attendant, Danyuan. Then, Danyuan gave it to Yangshan. Later, Yangshan showed the Enso to Guishan. By doing this, Yangshan reached 頓悟 (Tongo), or sudden enlightenment.  The opposite of Tongo is 漸悟 (Zengo), or gradual enlightenment.

万松行秀 (Wansong Xingxiu) says, “The Enso contains many things. It includes the relationship between a guest and a host, giving life and taking life, and giving and taking freely. It also shows how things work, what to look at, what is hidden, what is revealed, the true reality, and temporary methods. In other words, it means entering the path of enlightenment and reaching out a hand. It is also about the exchange of teachings between a master and a disciple, the meeting of their wisdom, and the moment when the person’s great power appears.”

Yangshan used the Enso to show that the substance and its function are one. Think of water and waves. Water is the substance, and waves are its function. When water moves, waves appear. However, the waves are still just water.

Language and words are only secondary ways to express thoughts. If we reach the core of thought, where things are “non-dual” (not two), we do not need words. We can understand each other immediately without any explanation. This is the silent recognition of the mind.

What is 直歳 (Shissui)?: The Work Leader

Key Point: Yangshan Huiji held the position of直歳 (Shissui)  under Guishan Lingyou. The Shissui is an important official who oversees all daily labor and grounds maintenance in the temple.

Now, let us enter the main story. This story is about the time when Yangshan worked as a Shissui under Guishan.

A Shissui is one of 六知事 (the Six Important Officials). The others are 都寺 (Tsusu)・監寺(Kansu)・副寺(Fusu)・維那(Ino)・. 典座(Renzo)・直歳(Shissui). The Shissui is an important official who oversees all daily labor in the temple. His motto comes from Master Baizhang Huaihai: “A day without work is a day without food.”

The Shissui organizes many tasks. These include making miso and soy sauce, cleaning the garden, and repairing temple buildings. This act of organizing labor is called 普請(Fushin). Interestingly, in Japan, this word is still used as a construction term today, even outside of temples (Source: Dehui (Ed.). Chixiu Baizhang Qinggui [Imperial Edition of Baizhang’s Rules of Purity], Vol. 2. SAT Daizokyo Database No. 2025).

What is “in the rice field”?: A state of mind that directs everything toward the practice of reaching enlightenment

Key Point: The “rice field” is a metaphor for a state of mind where one is fully focused on the practice of reaching enlightenment. When Yangshan Huiji was deeply immersed in his personal practice, his master, Guishan Lingyou, advised him: “There are many people at the Southern Mountain cutting thatch.” This was a message to him: “Do not just focus on your own practice; you should also interact with others, guide them, and bring benefit to them.”

Then, when Yangshan finished his hard work in the fields—leading the manual labor and tilling the soil himself—and returned, Guishan asked him, “Where have you come from?”

This is a classic Zen stock phrase or formula. It is not a literal question about his whereabouts. Yangshan responded plainly, “I have come from the rice field.” What is the hidden meaning behind this?

The “rice field” is the focal point here. It represents 心田 (Shinden, the field of the mind) of 向上第一義 (Kojo-daiichigi, The First Principle of Ascending. In the tradition of the Diamond Realm Mandala, the interpretation is divided into two paths: the path of 向上門  (Kojo-mon, the gate of ascending) and 向下門 (Koge-mon, the gate of descending). Kojo-mon is the path to enlightenment through spiritual practice, while Koge-mon is the path of saving sentient beings. Therefore, the “field of the mind of The First Principle of Ascending” refers to a state of mind that prioritizes the practice leading to enlightenment, focusing one’s entire heart and soul toward that purpose.

Guishan continued, “How many people are there in the rice field?” This was not a literal question. It carried a profound meaning: “How many people are there who have truly cultivated their ‘inner field’ (the state of mind) and are ready to benefit others?” Wansong Xingxiu commented on this, pointing out that there were only the father and son (Guishan and Yangshan themselves).

Then, Yangshan thrust his hoe into the ground, stood with his hands folded in 叉手 (shashu, the traditional Chinese gesture of respect, with hands clasped in front of the chest), and stood still. This action demonstrated the Kojo-daiichigi (the First Principle of Ascending)—a state of mind that prioritizes the practice leading to enlightenment, focusing one’s entire heart and soul toward that purpose.

Guishan replied, “There are many people at the Southern Mountain cutting thatch.” This “Southern Mountain” refers to Mount Qin (Zhongnan Mountain) located in Xi’an Prefecture, Shaanxi Province, which was situated south of the capital during the Zhou Dynasty.

南山 (Nanzan, the Southern Mountain) is also known as a symbol of immortality and strength; there is even a phrase, “南山の寿” (Nanzan no Ju, The Longevity of the Southern Mountain), which compares the enduring nature of life or a business to the mountain’s permanence. Thus, by saying this, Guishan meant, “The Southern Mountain is filled with many noble people who are engaged in great work.”

In short, because Yangshan was stubbornly clinging to the “gate of ascending” (kojo-mon) in his response, Guishan warned him: “Those who seek the highest path often fall into the grass—they must become like a fool or a simpleton, practicing ‘humble diligence’ (hiding one’s true light to blend into the dusty world) and engaging in the work of guiding and benefiting others.”

Yangshan instantly understood the meaning of Guishan’s challenge about the noble people cutting thatch on the Southern Mountain. Showing that he grasped the lesson, he picked up his hoe and walked away without a word, as if to say, “Yes, I understand—is this how it should be?”

This interaction embodies the essence of letting go and taking in, the balance between ascending (the spiritual practice of striving for enlightenment) and descending (returning from enlightenment to the secular world to save sentient beings), and the state of being truly free. It represents the dual path of practicing for one’s own realization while guiding others and culminates in a state of perfect and complete fulfillment.

Guishan’s advice to Yangshan can be interpreted as a call to expand his inner state: “Take the power you have cultivated in this rice field, and bring it into the ‘Southern Mountain’—the wider world of society—to live and act accordingly.” It was not a request to change his state of mind, but to extend its reach into the everyday world.

The Core

• I believe that in Zen, altruism (rita) is predicated on autonomy.
• To Yangshan Huiji, who was entirely devoted to spiritual practice, Guishan Lingyou advised, “Engage with people, lead them, and benefit them.”
• Traditionally, Zen practice is interpreted through two dimensions: 向上門 (Kojo-mon, the gate of ascending, which is the path to enlightenment through individual practice) and 向下門 (Koge-mon, the gate of descending, which is the path of saving sentient beings).

My Experience: Why does Zen not engage in social service?

Key Point: The essential difference between social service and guiding and benefiting others lies in whether or not the act is grounded in the activation of one’s own inner, autonomous power.

How does “social service” differ from “guiding and benefiting others”?

It is often said that “Buddhists do not engage in social service.” I have received comments on my blog suggesting, “Why don’t you do something useful for society?” When I replied, “Why don’t you stand up for society yourself?” the response was disjointed. My blog is built on the active concept that anyone can practice Zen anywhere, but it seems that many people remain stuck in a passive attitude, viewing religious figures as “service providers for society” and themselves as “consumers of that service.”

The reason Buddhism is perceived as not engaging in social service is that its fundamental starting point is to detach from society. While Buddhists have historically participated in welfare and public works, these efforts often stemmed from the economic foundation of the imperial court and nobility, or from the personal benevolence of individual practitioners, rather than being an inherent obligation—they were voluntary acts by the practitioners themselves.

Guishan Lingyou’s instruction to Yangshan Huiji—”There are many people on the South Mountain, go and cut grass there”—means that one should not merely be absorbed in solitary practice, but engage with others, guide them, and bring them benefit.

However, this differs fundamentally from what the general public understands as “social service,” because it is rooted in the philosophy of Zen. If a Zen practitioner simply follows the demands of society, they risk becoming nothing more than a “slave to society.” Since Zen is predicated on the activation of one’s own autonomous power, any act of benefiting others must inherently involve encouraging that same autonomy in them. If a Zen practitioner were to engage in the kind of “social service” that merely caters to passive dependence, it would be a profound contradiction of the Zen path.

Through my study of Zen, I have gained, above all, the power to take responsibility for my own life, a lifelong purpose, and the greatest possible measure of freedom. It has been a profound benefit to transform myself from a mere consumer of services into an active participant in life.

I expect that society will continue to label me as “selfish” or “lacking in social service,” but my true hope is that my activities will serve as a catalyst for others to find their own freedom. This is how I strive to practice altruism—by empowering others to stand on their own.

Zen Tips for Modern Life: Autonomy as the Foundation of Salvation

Key Point: If Zen were to engage in social service, its essential contribution would be to incorporate the perspective of awakening the individual’s autonomous power.

When Yangshan Huiji was devoted to solitary practice, his master, Guishan Lingyou, advised him, “There are many people on the South Mountain—go and cut grass there,” implying that he should not merely focus on personal cultivation but engage with others to guide and benefit them. This advice is predicated on the Zen commitment to individual autonomy.

Today, social services are well-developed in our society. While I personally strive to distance myself from society and thus have no standing to judge its current social services, if I were to offer a perspective rooted in Zen, it would be this: if every social activity were to incorporate the vision of “awakening an individual’s autonomous power,” that would be Zen’s greatest possible contribution to society and the key to true salvation.