ANY of you have doubtless had the rare pleasure of reading Arthur Waley's translation of the 16th century Mahayanist novel, Monkey. You will remember how Tripitaka bursts into lamentation when he sees the dead emperor looking just like a live man. 'Alas, poor Emperor,' he cried, 'in some forgotten existence you doubtless did great wrong to one that in this incarnation has now confounded you, and brought you to destruction. You were torn from wife and child; none of your generals or counsellors knew, none of your officers were aware. Alas, for the blindness of your queen and prince that offered no incense, no tea to your soul!' Here he broke down, and his tears fell like rain. 'Master,' said Pigsy, 'what does it matter to you that he is dead? He is not your father or grandfather, why should you weep over him?' 'Disciple,' said Tripitaka, 'for us who are followers of Buddha compassion is the root, indulgence the gate. Why is your heart so hard?' ' This little episode from a fascinating tale may well serve to remind us of a facet of Buddhism often played down in Christian criticism. We are accustomed as Christians to look for inadequacies and errors in other faiths, for we have sought from the foundation of our faith to achieve world redemption. But redemption cannot be effectually sought unless lack or incompletion exists in those who may become the subjects of our redemptive efforts. In consequence of the perception of weakness, much emphasis has often been placed on a basic concern with self-interest in Buddhism. Discovery of this basic self-concern has obscured the mutuality and regard for the welfare of others which was so conspicuous in Gautama Buddha's personal life and became so significant in Mahayana Buddhism. It would be fruitless either to deny that self-concern is present in all forms of Buddhism, or to affirm that Buddhism has generally departed from the principle so clearly and early stated in the Dhammapada:
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Jan 1, 1963
Hisao Inagaki 
Open Access
