The Zen Master's Throne

When Master Foguang gave teachings, held discourses, or met with students in mind-to-mind encounter, he always sat on a throne in the Dharma Hall. To everyone in the monastery, the throne was a symbol of the Dharma and a mark of awakening—so it was also called the Dharma Seat.

Once, Master Foguang was invited south to propagate the Dharma and was away for several days. The attendant kept to his daily routine, sweeping the Dharma Hall. The master's throne, in particular, was polished until not a speck of dust remained.

One day, after the midday walking meditation, the attendant was astonished to find the Director of Guests sitting on Master Foguang's throne, chatting with some visitors. Since the man was the Director of Guests, the attendant didn't dare say anything, but his heart was troubled. By dinnertime, the Director of Chanting had casually settled onto the throne too, closing his eyes to meditate. Seeing this, the attendant grew even more uneasy, thinking: That's the Zen master's throne! How can they treat it with so little respect?

Over the next several days, the Robes-and-Bowl Officer, the Head of the Halls, and the Incense-and-Lamp Keeper, one after another, found excuses to receive visitors in the Dharma Hall—and each naturally sat down in Master Foguang's throne.

One day, after the hall service ended, the attendant was on his way to clean the Dharma Hall when he noticed the Director of Guests, the Head of the Halls, the Incense-and-Lamp Keeper, and other senior officers chatting inside. The Director of Guests, in particular, was still sitting in Master Foguang's throne. The attendant could no longer contain the indignation he had been holding back for days, and he couldn't help asking: "Venerable officers, do you know what this place is?"

The Director of Guests answered: "The Dharma Hall."

"What is the Dharma Hall for?" the attendant asked.

The Head of the Halls replied: "It's where Master Foguang gives teachings, expounds the Dharma, and meets with students in mind-to-mind encounter. Who doesn't know that?"

The attendant, clearly displeased, asked once more: "If that's the case, how can you sit here so casually, chatting about anything and everything, and sit on the master's throne without the slightest respect?"

The officers answered in unison: "But the master isn't home!"

The attendant blurted out: "Since the master is away, you're acting in his place—you're all serving as abbot. Please begin by giving me a teaching and a mind-to-mind encounter!" The assembly was left speechless.

In the world, family members protect their kin, citizens their country, and devotees their faith. In this koan, it is the attendant protecting his master. Yet protecting the master isn't necessarily the attendant's role alone. The "master," in essence, is what we today call the center of leadership. Any country, any organization, should strengthen its center of leadership—otherwise, disorder will spread from top to bottom, and chaos will follow. The Zen master's throne symbolizes the authority of the Buddhadharma and the value of having a center. This attendant was not merely protecting his master—he was protecting the Dharma itself.