Whatever this is, Zen never appeals to our reasoning faculty, but points directly at the very object one wants to have. While Gensha on a certain occasion was treating an army officer called Wei to tea, the latter asked, “What does it mean when they say that in spite of our having it everyday we do not know it?” Gensha without answering the question took up a piece of cake and offered it to him. After eating the cake, the officer asked the master again, who then remarked, “Only we do not know it even when we are using it everyday.”[6.44] This is evidently an object lesson. Another time a monk came to him and wanted to know how to enter upon the path of truth. Gensha asked, “Do you hear the murmuring of the stream?” “Yes, I do,” said the monk. “There is a way to enter,” was the master’s instruction.[6.44] Gensha’s method was thus to make the seeker of the truth directly realise within himself what it was, and not to make him merely the possessor of a second-hand knowledge. “Ein begriffener Gott ist kein Gott,” declares Terstegen. It is thus no wonder that the Zen masters frequently make an exclamatory utterance[f131] in response to questions, instead of giving an intelligible answer. When words are used if at all intelligible we may feel that we can somehow find a clue to get at the meaning, but when an inarticulate utterance is given, we are quite at a loss how to deal with it, unless we are fortified with some previous knowledge such as I have at some length attempted to give to my readers.