Gateways to awakening surround us at every moment of our lives. The whole purpose of kōan (gong’an, in Chinese) practice is to keep us from missing these myriad opportunities by leading us to certain gates that have traditionally been effective for people to access that marvelous awakening. The forty-eight kōans of the Gateless Barrier ( Wumenguan; Mumonkan) have been waking people up for well over eight hundred years. Chan teacher Guo Gu provides here a fresh translation of the classic text, along with the first English commentary by a teacher of the Chinese tradition from which it originated. He shows that the kōans in this text are not mere stories from a distant past, but are rather pointers to the places in our lives where we get stuck—and that each sticking point, when examined, can become a gateless barrier through which we can enter into profound wisdom.
Guo Gu is a Chan Buddhist teacher and the founder of the Tallahassee Chan Center. For three decades he studied under the late Master Sheng Yen as one of his senior and closest disciples. Guo Gu also teaches at Florida State University as the Sheng Yen Associate Professor of Chinese Buddhism.
I studied with a Koren Zen (Chan) teacher and student of Guo Gu's here in Atlanta, and this was our "textbook" for a few months. Han would feature a different case, gong'an, and critical phrase each week and we would discuss. Most were wildly confusing or frustratingly hilarious, but I had brief moments of insight which passed quickly. 🤣 I return to this book now and then when I feel too confident that I can obtain enlightenment, whatever that means, and when I (whatever that is) need a reminder to just don't know.
Guo Gu is the dharma name for Jimmy Yu, PhD, who was a student of the late Master Sheng Yen, did his graduate studies at Princeton, and currently leads a Chan center in Florida. Passing Through the Gateless Barrier is Dr. Yu’s own translation of the Zen classic known as The Gateless Gate or the Mumonkan, and includes his commentary on the forty-eight koans of which the original is comprised. These were compiled by Chinese master, Ekai, known as Mumon, in thirteenth century China, who also wrote brief comments on each one. (I am using the Japanese terminology with which I am more familiar.) Yu’s writing is fresh, aiming to communicate with a young American readership in new ways by avoiding timeworn phraseology, thereby promising to demonstrate the relevance of Buddhism to modern Western minds. At the same time, he brings to the task his deep knowledge of the Chinese language and of the history and culture of ancient China. His rather long commentaries, using each koan as a starting point, are transcriptions of talks given to students at his Chan Center in Florida. The book is well-written, novel and scholarly; and I found the author’s erudition most impressive and informative. I feel sure his commentaries are of potential benefit both to students and readers in breaking the habit of “self-referenciality” thereby gaining a wiser perspective and consequent relief from self-inflicted “vexations.” At this level the book is excellent, but his advice is like a stone skipped across water: At points it aspires to depth, while never sinking beneath the surface. The koans are inscrutable puzzles, the illogic of which is intended to shake up the mind of the Buddhist practitioner, releasing him from the bondage of delusion. In many instances, Yu seems intent upon demystifying them, as though properly translated they are meant simply as helpful guidance. His motto - It’s all good - sounds like the slogan of a self-help guru - Don’t worry, be happy! Too often Dr. Yu appears to claim that one passes through the gateless barrier unchanged, that one simply awakes to his own natural self, thus equating enlightenment with ignorance. While it is true that nothing changes through sitting meditation, nothing has ever been as we always have thought. Beyond the gateless barrier, therefore, a deeper layer of reality is revealed, applicable to all our perceptions including that of selfhood. That is emancipation: the epiphany that we are not the individual, isolated, tormented beings to which we cling, that stubborn attachment leaving us prey to misery and grief. The old Zen masters did not reveal appropriate responses to the koans their students contemplated in meditation. In contrast, Yu tries to give us all the answers. The famous first koan reads, “Does the dog have buddha-nature?” Master Joshu gives the strangely negative retort, “Mu!” Was his intent to throw us into inextricable perplexity, as Yu believes, to keep us pondering? Or was it perhaps to force our minds to embrace the reality of paradox, accepting that the poles of a dichotomy are not mutually exclusive, that to have and to not have are simultaneous conditions? One is perceived as two; two and one are identity in the ultimately timeless transcendence. Joshu’s act after his master cut the cat in two in the fourteenth koan - putting his sandals on his head and walking away - also bespeaks the illogic of ultimate reality. A duality - head and foot - is a unity. Might that have been the wordless wisdom that would have spared the cat? Instead, the author focuses his commentary on the importance of random spontaneity. Dr. Yu’s erudition is matched only by his audacity. I enjoyed engaging with this work, nonetheless, even while confessing frankly - and with apologies to the author - that I came away even more vexed, which he would no doubt count as success.
It's a book of koans. They are elliptical, obtuse, and purposefully infuriating. You need to be far along in your practice to get anything from this book. If you are ready for the voyage, Master Guo provides an excellent guide.