When Nan-yin Yê-gu (Nan-yüan Hui-yung)[6.33] was once asked what the Buddha was, he said, “What is not the Buddha?” Another time his answer was, “I never knew him.” There was still another occasion when he said, “Wait until there is one, for then I will tell you.” So far Nan-yin does not seem to be so very incomprehensible, but what follows will challenge our keenest intellectual analysis. When the inquiring monk replied to the master’s third statement, saying, “If so, there is no Buddha in you,” the master promptly asserted, “You are right there.” This evoked a further question, “Where am I right, sir?” “This is the thirtieth day of the month,” replied the master. Ki-su Chi-jo (Kuei-tsung Chih-ch‘ang) was one of the able disciples of Baso (Ma-tsu).[6.34] When he was weeding in the garden, a Buddhist scholar versed in the philosophy of Buddhism came to see the master. A snake happened to pass by them, and the master at once killed it with a spade. The philosopher-monk remarked, “How long I have heard of the name of Kisu, and how reverently I have thought of it! But what do I see now but a rude-mannered monk?” “O my scholar-monk,” said the master, “you had better go back to the Hall and have a cup of tea over there.” Kisu’s retort as it stands here is quite unintelligible as far as our common-sense knowledge of worldly affairs goes; but according to another informant Kisu is reported, when he was reproached by the monk, to have said this, “Who is the rude-mannered one, you or I?” Then said the monk, “What is rude-mannered?” The master held up the spade. “What is refined? “He now assumed the attitude as if to kill the snake. “If so,” said the monk, “you are behaving according to the law.” “Enough with my lawful or unlawful behaviour,” demanded the master, “when did you see my killing the snake anyway?” The monk made no answer.[6.34a] Perhaps this is sufficient to show how freely Zen deals with those abstruse philosophical problems which have been taxing all human ingenuity ever since the dawn of intelligence. Let me conclude this part with a sample sermon delivered by Goso Hōyen (Wu-tsu Fa-yen); for a Zen master occasionally, no, quite frequently, comes down to the dualistic level of understanding and tries to deliver a speech for the edification of his pupils. But being a Zen sermon we naturally expect something unusual in it. Goso was one of the ablest Zen masters of the twelfth century. He was the teacher of Yengo (Yüan-wu) famous as the author of the _Hekiganshu_. One of his sermons runs thus[6.35]: