A Great Refusal: A Small Meditation on the 38th Case of the Blue Cliff Record

I see that on this day in 1294 Pietro de Morrone, Pope Celestine V, citing his “desire for humility, for a purer life, for a stainless conscience, the deficiencies of his own physical strength, his ignorance, the perverseness of the people, his longing for the tranquility of his former life,” resigned the office of pope.

He had served for a fraction over five months.

Among his handful of accomplishments was asserting with papal authority that a pope can resign. His successor, Boniface VIII had him imprisoned, and as best we can tell from this distance, murdered. Boniface’s successor’s successor had de Morrone canonized.

Of such stuff are legends born…

There is, I read in the Wikipedia article a persistent belief that the unnamed figure in the antechamber of hell of whom Dante sings “I saw and recognized the shade of him Who by his cowardice made the great refusal” (Inferno, III, 59–60) is none other than the hapless resigned pope.

I contemplate on this and I find myself of two minds.

There is something wonderful in a person being given it all, and who then renounces it.

And there is something wrong when a person doesn’t step up to the task.

While the first thought, about stepping away from the world is worthy, no doubt; today I’m more called to reflect on that last part, about stepping up to the plate, about doing the job that needs doing…

In the 38th case of the Biyenlu, the Blue Cliff Record, in Joan Sutherland & John Tarrant’s translation, we learn how “Fengxue ws in the government office of Yingzhou province. He stepped up to the rostrum and said, ‘The mind seal of Bodhidharma is like the action of the iron ox. When the seal is removed, the impression remains. When it remains, the seal is violated. If the seal neither remains nor is removed, would it be right to give transmission?”

“At this point, the senior monk Lupi stepped forward and said, ‘I have the activity of the iron ox. However, I ask you not to give me transmission.’


“Fengxue said, ‘I am accustomed to fishing for whales and to calming the great ocean. Today, I am distressed to see a nasty little frog wriggling about in the mud.’ Lupi stood there, hesitating.


“Fengxue shouted and asked, ‘Why don’t you say something?’ Lupi seemed to be debating with himself about what to say.


“Fengxue beat him with his whisk and asked, ‘Do you have anything to say? Say it and I’ll check it for you.’ Lupi was about to speak when Fengxue gave him another blow.


“The Chief Magistrate said, ‘Buddha’s law and the sovereign’s law have the same nature.’


“Fengxue asked, ‘What do you mean?’


“The Chief Magistrate said, ‘When called upon to make a judgment, you must judge. Otherwise, you invite disorder.’


“Fengxue descended from the rostrum.”

A lovely case.

Once one understands that the Iron Ox is some sort of device set into a river, and how it is set open or closed affects the current, we can begin to find our way into the deeper currents of our spiritual lives. Then the various points begin to present and the way is thrown open.

I like Lupi. Clearly an old hand. And he’s got some guts. And, he’s got things a bit mixed up.

I meet a distressing number of people who confuse their egos with the divine. They think if they think right thoughts they’re immune from nature’s ravages. They won’t get sick. They won’t die.

And this has nothing whatsoever to do with the great way.

So, of course, Lupi earns a couple of whacks from the old teacher.

We don’t own or control the iron ox, we understand it. To use a term from my generation, we learn how to go with the flow. Is it open? Flow. Is it closed? Stop.

Mostly the way we have been born into is a dance with the cosmos. It pushes, we nudge. It eddies and we spin in joy or sorrow. But the flow is for always. At least so far as we’re concerned.

Learning to be one with the flow is a great thing. Disengaging from confusing our egos with the flow is a hard thing. But to not do so is a mistake. Caught in our egos, we, again as was said in my generation, just push the stream. And nothing good comes with that…

And, of course, to get trapped in that metaphor of flow with which we’re going is another mistake.

We’re not sprigs on a stream.

This is a pointing.

We’re human beings living in the human world.

Which is, of course, another pointing.

Whatever, in our actual lived lives, we find ourselves presented with circumstances that call upon us to make decisions.

So, what to do? Lupi hesitated. And it earned him those whacks…

I’ve just returned from our Boundless Way Zen five-day Rohatsu sesshin, a step away from the hubbub of the rest of my life into the hubbub of heart and mind and the great investigation.

Here, when we get a little bit of a glimpse we’re invited into conversation with our friends, many of whom have walked the way for a very long time. And we are tested. We stand up and say, I get it, but, hey, you don’t have to confirm it. But what are friends for, and the test is presented. Likely as not we hesitate, and we know what happens when one hesitates…

With a little nudge, maybe a playful whack, we’re sent back to reflect some more.

To tumble into the silence. To confront our hearts and our minds.

To find that place where the current and the sprig are one.

And not one…

Well, now I’m returned.

It’s early morning. I’m in my office. Soon, I must go through a pile of notes and letters as well as something in the neighborhood of three hundred emails…

Now quiet. Now action.

And out of knowing these are one thing,

When called upon to make the judgment,

Make it.