17

REVIEW ESSAYS

Currents and Countercurrents: Korean Influences on the Buddhist Traditions of East Asia

Edited by Robert E. Buswell, Jr.Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2005Pp. ix

+

294. $40.00, ISBN 0-8248-2762-7.

REVIEWER

: Chün-fang YüColumbia UniversityNew York, NY 10027

This book came out of a conference, “Korea’s Place in theEast Asian Buddhist Tradition,” held at UCLA in Septemberof 1995 and organized by Buswell, the editor of the volumeunder review. It consists of six chapters plus an introduc-tion. Buswell is the leading scholar of Korean BuddhistStudies in the United States, and in organizing the initialconference and then editing this collection of essays, he hasmade an important contribution to the study of East AsianBuddhism by opening up a new field. After reading thisbook, no one can still accept the myth that there was a one-way transmission of Buddhism from China to Korea and thenJapan. For in truth, Korea played a crucial role in the devel-opment of Japanese Buddhism, but also in that of ChineseBuddhism. Therefore, Buddhism flowed both eastward andwestward. For this reason, the book is felicitously entitled“currents and countercurrents.”

The seven essays make compelling cases for the need tostudy East Asian Buddhism as an integral entity that mustinclude the study of the important contributions made byKorean Buddhist monks and their patrons to the Buddhisttraditions of East Asia. It is unfortunately a fact that this hasnot been the normal practice in the academy. The academic“division of labor” has much to do with the current state ofaffairs. In most graduate programs, students have to chooseto specialize in one of the East Asian Buddhist traditions.When they finish their training and begin to write and teach,it is only natural that the focus would be on the tradition inwhich they themselves specialize. Compared to the study ofChinese or Japanese Buddhism, that of Korean Buddhism hasa more recent history. As a result, fewer scholars specializein Korean Buddhism. One consequence of this is thatalthough an undergraduate introductory course may becalled “East Asian Buddhism,” the actual coverage tends tobe on Chinese and Japanese Buddhism and with very little,if any, time devoted to Korean Buddhism. Because college

students are not exposed to Korean Buddhism early in theircareers, this leads to fewer graduate students choosing topursue this field of study.

This vicious cycle contributes to the current relativeignorance of the Korean Buddhist tradition. Additionally, theway textbooks are written also leads to the current approachto the study of Buddhism. One can pick up any introductorybook on Buddhism, and invariably, one will find that it isorganized according to national boundaries. There is “IndianBuddhism,” “Chinese Buddhism,” “Japanese Buddhism,”“Korean Buddhism,” “Thai Buddhism,” and so on. This divi-sion creates and perpetuates the myth that there is a mono-lithic and self-contained Buddhism in each country.Scholarly monographs do not help either, for most scholarswrite on the Buddhist tradition with which they are familiarand rarely pay attention to its interaction with other Bud-dhist traditions.

The book under review is, therefore, a very timely cor-rective to the traditional way of studying and writing aboutEast Asian Buddhism. It makes us realize both how neces-sary it is to study Korean Buddhism itself as well as to studythe interactions between Korean Buddhism and its Chineseand Japanese counterparts. This is a very important bookand a required reading for students of East Asian Buddhism.

In the “Introduction,” Buswell argues for the “organic”nature of East Asian Buddhism (2). As several essays in thisbook show, some Korean monks came to China to study andnever returned home. Some of them founded a school asMusang did, or became a patriarch like Ch’egwan, who wrotea seminal T’ien-t’ai text. Instead of being a “peripheral”region and serving as a “bridge” for the transmission ofBuddhism from China to Japan, “[Korea] was instead a bas-tion of Buddhist culture in East Asia that played a criticalrole in the evolution of the broader Sinitic Buddhist traditionas a whole” (3). Buswell points out a central fact that modernscholars seem to have forgotten. To the question of whymonks from Korea were able to exert such influence acrossEast Asian Buddhist tradition, he answers that East Asianmonks saw themselves not so much as Korean, Japanese, orChinese Buddhists, “but instead as joint collaborators in areligious tradition that transcended contemporary notions ofnation and time” (8). Korean and Japanese monks wouldmore often identify themselves by their ordination line and

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• VOLUME 33 • NUMBER 1 • JANUARY 2007

18

monastic lineage than by their nationality. This was clearlythe view held by the Chinese Buddhist community, for theChinese compilers of

Biographies of

Eminent Monks

includethe biographies of Indians, Central Asians, Japanese, andKoreans. However, there is no section on Korean monks orJapanese monks. Their biographies were subsumed underthe traditional categories of translators, meditators,thaumaturgists, and so on. Although sometimes the monksare identified by their ethnic origins in their biographies,“they are principally categorized as ‘proselytists,’ ‘doctrinalspecialists,’ and so forth, who may simultaneously also be‘disciple of X,’ ‘teachers of Y,’ or ‘meditators with Z’ ” (9).Both the writers and the subjects of this literature tran-scended national and cultural boundaries.

The book’s first two essays concern the Korean impacton Japanese Buddhism and the next four essays focus on theKorean interaction with and contribution to Chinese Bud-dhism. Each chapter brings to light new information andoffers new insight. Chapter one, “Paekche and the Incipiencyof Buddhism in Japan” by J. W. Best, relies on archaeologicalevidence as well as historical documents to show the heavyindebtedness of Japanese Buddhism to Paekche. Afterdescribing the beginnings of Buddhism in Paekche (16-26),Best turns to the introduction of Buddhism to Japan. Someparts of the story are familiar to us. For instance, the intro-duction and early development of Buddhism in Japan wasintimately connected with Paekche’s desire to secure sup-port in its struggle with Silla. Buddhism was therefore madeuse of as a means to achieve diplomatic ends (27).

It is also well-known that Buddhist monks not onlybrought with them Buddhist scriptures and images, but also“books in calendrics, astrology and various magical and div-inatory arts,” as was the case when Kwall

u

k (Jn. Kanroku)arrived at the Japanese court in 602 (34). All religions, notjust Buddhism, manifest themselves in material culture.With the coming of Buddhism, temples, pagodas, and images(and the architects and artisans who designed and madethem) became necessary and pervasive parts of the Japaneseculture. When Prince Sh

8

toku (573-621), leader of thepro-Buddhist party, embarked on a battle against the anti-Buddhist faction at court in 587, he vowed to build a templehonoring the Four Heavenly Kings (Shitenn

8

) for whose pro-tection he prayed. The king of Paekche sent a mission toJapan in 588 following the victory of Prince Sh

8

toku’s cam-paign. Among the delegation, “there were seven artisans, allwith noted specializations, including temple construction,roof-tile production, and casting bronze finials for pagodas”(32). Two temples were built under the supervision of theseartisans. The H

8

k

8

-ji was completed in 596 as a clan templefor the pro-Buddhist Soga. The “walled compound enclosedthree icon halls symmetrically arranged to the north, south,and east of the central pagoda, in a manner distinctly remi-

niscent of the singular Kogury

o

temple site located atCh’

o

ngam-ni in P’y

o

ngyang” (32). Based on archaeologicaldiscovery, Best also tells us that the layout of Shitenn

8

jiconformed to the central axis style of Paekche and “the lotusdecoration used on roof tiles excavated at the Shitenn

8

-jisite, like the earliest roof tiles from H

8

k

8

-ji, also conform tothe characteristic Paekche type” (34). Material culture wasan important medium for the transmission of Buddhism inEast Asia.

Similarly, as Best reminds us, the desire to understandBuddhist teachings and perform Buddhist rituals encour-aged the spread of literacy and stimulated the mastery ofnew artistic and architectural skills and technologiesrequired by those desires. I agree fully with Best’s conclu-sion that “Buddhism can only be properly understood as amultifaceted cultural phenomenon. Its acceptance by a soci-ety is selective, and the effects of its acceptance are trans-formative both of the society and of the religion” (36).

Chapter two, “Ky

o

ngh

u

ng in Shinran’s Pure LandThought” by Hee-Sung Keel, is a detailed analysis of howKy

o

ngh

u

ng (fl. c. 620-700), a Silla monk, influenced thethought of Shinran (1173-1262), the Japanese founder of ShinBuddhism. Shinran quotes Ky

p

ngh

v

ng more often than anyother exegete except T’an-luan (476-542) and Shan-tao (613-81), the two Chinese Pure Land masters whom Shinranrevered most (43). Keel proves his point by analyzing the

Ky

8

gy

8

shinsh

8

(Teaching, Practice, Faith, and Realization),the major work written by Shinran. Aside from his ownviews and scriptural passages, mainly those from the

LargerPure Land S

9

tra

, Shinran assembled quotations from thewritings of Indian and Chinese masters. Keel finds that inthis work, thirteen passages come from Ky

o

ngh

u

ng’s com-mentary (53) and thirty-nine places show a possible influ-ence of Ky

o

ngh

u

ng (61).However, to say that there is influence does not mean

that they share the same views. Keel delineates the differ-ences between Silla Pure Land thought during the seventhand eighth centuries, of which Ky

o

ngh

u

ng was clearly aproduct, and that of both Chinese Pure Land tradition andthe new Pure Land teaching of Shinran. These can be sum-marized as follows. First, whereas Chinese Pure Land Bud-dhism of the seventh and eighth centuries focused on the

Contemplation S

9

tra

, Korean Pure Land Buddhism centeredinstead on the

Larger

and

Amida

S

9

tra

. For Shinran, the

Larger S

9

tra

reveals the highest truth of the Pure Land path(63). Second, the so-called three vows, namely the eigh-teenth, nineteenth, and twentieth vows in the

Larger S

9

tra

,were not emphasized that much in Chinese Pure Land, butthey were by Silla commentators, thereby directly influenc-ing Japanese Pure Land and particularly Shinran. Central toShinran’s thought was the “conversion via the three vows.”Shinran named the three vows “gate of universal vow,”

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• VOLUME 33 • NUMBER 1 • JANUARY 2007

“essential gate,” and “true gate,” respectively. According toShinran, one must discard the essential gate, which stressesone’s meritorious deeds to proceed to the true gate, whichadvocates the recitation of Buddha’s name or

nembutsu

. Butin order to be born in the Pure Land, one has to discard thisin turn to enter the gate of the universal vow, which calls forthe absolute reliance on the grace of Amida Buddha (64).

Although Ky

o

ngh

u

ng also emphasized the three vows,he differed from Shinran on one major point. The

LargerS

9

tra

divides those who are born in the Pure Land into threeclasses: high, middle, and low. Ky

o

ngh

u

ng thought that theeighteenth vow was for the higher class because it excludedthose who commit the five deadly sins and slandered theright dharma. The nineteenth and twentieth vows were forpeople of the middle and low classes. Shinran, on the otherhand, is completely different. Not only does he not recognizeany difference in class or rank in the Pure Land, but as wesee in the previous discussion, the eighteenth vow is notmeant for those of higher capacity but for all who relinquishself-power in order to rely on other-power (64).

A third difference between Silla Pure Land thought andboth Chinese Pure Land tradition and the new Pure Landteaching of Shinran is this: the Chinese did not provideindividual names to the forty-eight vows, but the Koreansdid, and this practice was followed by the Japanese PureLand Buddhists, including Shinran (63).

There are other differences between Shinran and hisKorean coreligionist as well. For instance, while Ky

o

ngh

ungunderstood the Pure Land practice as consisting of the sixperfections, Shinran subsumed all of them under the singlepractice of nembutsu, which is ultimately Amida’s gift tosentient beings. This is because in Shinran’s soteriology ofother-power, Amida brings his own merits to fulfillment insentient beings instead of the latter accomplishing meritsthemselves (57). This study is a nice proof of Best’s thesisthat the reception of Buddhism is always selective. AlthoughShinran was very familiar with Kyonghung’s ideas, he didnot accept his views wholeheartedly. Furthermore, in Keel’sview, instead of saying that Shinran read his own ideas intoKyonghung’s text as a modern scholar does, “it would be justas accurate to say that Shinran ‘heard’ a resounding con-firmation of his other-power soteriology in the latter’swords” (59).

Chapter three, “Korea as a Source for the Regenerationof Chinese Buddhism: The Evidence of Ch’an and Son Liter-ature” by John Jorgensen, is the longest one in the book. Thetext and the notes are of equal length, each running thirty-seven pages. Jorgensen offers a wealth of information anddiscusses several issues that are not always directly relatedto each other in this erudite essay. The main thesis is thatKorea, being identified as the Eastern I (Tung-i) from the timeof the Han, was viewed as the “homeland of the Chün-tzu”

(Kunja Hyang) by both Chinese and Koreans. It wasregarded as a source of life, and it was humane, soft, andcompliant (91). This idea was not only found in historicalchronicles such as History of Han and Old T’ang History, butalso in the indigenous s9tra about the Prince Moonlight.

Fully utilizing this belief, Silla promoted itself as thecountry of humaneness and righteousness and differentiateditself from all the other states on the Chinese periphery (89).Son monks and their patrons went further to suggest thatKorea was a source of the regeneration of Confucianism and,by extension or in parallel, of Buddhism (91). In addition,Silla also presented itself as the earthly Pure Land. The kingwas compared to Rakyamuni Buddha and the royal house tothe k atriya clan and their songgol (holy bone) lineage to thatof the Rakya tribe. Shamanistic ritual groves and sanctuarieswere the sites of prehistoric ruined monasteries dating fromthe era of the seven buddhas where even Rakyamuni taught(93).

This myth turned Korea into the birthplace of Buddhism.Korea thus not only offered hope for the regeneration ofConfucianism but was also the source from which Buddhismwould be reintroduced to China. Jorgensen devotes muchspace to the regeneration motif found in T’ang and FiveDynasties Ch’an and Son literature (94-109). He also dis-cusses the careers of Musang, Vich’pn and Ch’egwan, whichare treated more fully by Bernard Faure and Chi-wah Chanin their chapters. According to Jorgensen, Korean influenceon Chinese Buddhism was greatest from the Sui to the firstdecades of the Northern Sung (79), roughly coinciding withthe period of Silla power and self-confidence (81). By the timeof the tenth and eleventh centuries, when the Sung kao-sengchuan and Ching-te ch’uan-teng lu were compiled, all theregeneration themes disappeared (107).

Why was this the case? Jorgensen suggests rightly thatpolitics had a great deal to do with this. When China under-went the turmoil of the Hui-chang persecution of 842-45 andthe rebellion led by Huang Ch’ao in the 870s and the politicaldisunity and chaos ushered in by the following Five Dynas-ties period, the thesis of the “western flow” of Buddhismcarried persuasive power (105). However, when China wasreunified under the Sung, it started “to reassert Chinesecultural hegemony and to reject foreign influence” (107).Indeed, it was precisely with the Wu-yüeh Kingdom thatKoryo carried out frequent and fruitful exchanges of monksand texts. This was facilitated by the geographical proximitybetween the two states as well as the large expatriate Koreancommunity living in this region.

In the beginning of the essay, Jorgensen makes an inter-esting observation, saying that in contrast to Korea andKorean Buddhism, “Japan and its Buddhism made no lastingimpression on its neighbors, either China or Koreas, untilthe 1870s” (76). The reason he gives is twofold. The first is

s.

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because of the Japanese attitude that “there was nothing newto be learned from the Chinese persisted into the earlyNorthern Sung” (78). This is curious. If, indeed, there weresuch a xenophobic attitude, how do we explain why Japanesemonks such as Saich8 and Kukai tried so hard to go to T’angChina? Jorgensen himself states that the twenty Japanesemissions to China during the T’ang included monks. Hefurther states that the names of 120 Japanese monks whowent to China during the Northern Sung are known and that220 monks went to China during the Yuan. Concerning thelatter, however, he makes a rather condescending observa-tion that “the majority of them were ordinary, mediocre Zenmonks” (78). The second reason why Jorgensen thinks thatJapanese monks did not make a contribution to ChineseBuddhism is perhaps more plausible: “Japanese Buddhistactivity on the Chinese mainland was sporadic and short-lived, hardly conducive to making a solid contribution toChinese Buddhism” (79).

Chapter four, “Ch’an Master Musang: A Korean Monkin East Asian Context” by Bernard Faure, is a model ofexcellent scholarship and superb writing. Musang (Ch. Wu-hsiang, 680-756, alt. 684-762) was the third son of a Sillaking and was tonsured in his native land. He arrived inCh’ang-an in 728 and received an audience with EmperorHsüan-tsung. Instead of going back to Korea, he went toSzechwan and remained there for the rest of his life, servingas the abbot of Ching-chung ssu. According to the Li-tai fa-pao chi (774), he was recognized as the third patriarch ofSzechwanese Ch’an and the founder of the Ching-chungschool of Ch’an (157). Ching-chung ssu, together with the Ta-sheng-tz’u ssu, were the two great temples in Ch’eng-tu untilthe ninth century. It had an ordination platform and wasauthorized to grant an ordination certificate. Musang had aclose connection with the state and local officials who werehis patrons. He was a great ascetic and was known for histhaumaturgic powers, enabling him to become a “tiger-tamer.” Faure thinks that this image of Musang should beplaced in the iconographical context of the cult of the SixteenArhats, that of “arhats with tigers,” a cult that had its originin Szechwan (156). Musang’s teaching was summarized bythe three phrases wu-i (no-remembrance), wu-nien (no-thought), and wu-wang (no-forgetting), which he equatedwith morality, meditation, and wisdom.

Despite the novelty, Faure suggests that Musang’sCh’an was rather conventional and very different from theantinomian, iconoclastic teachings of Wu-chu, who claimedto be Musang’s successor, took the three phrases as his owninvention, and founded the Pao-t’ang school of Ch’an (158).Musang was not only a Ch’an patriarch in China but was alsoknown in Tibet. Tsan-ning praised Musang and stressed thelatter’s relationship with Emperor Hsuan-tsang in the SungKao-seng chuan.

By contrast, neither the Tsu-t’ang chi (Record of thePatriarchal Halls), an important history of Ch’an that waspartly written in Korea, nor the Samguk yusa (Memorabiliaof the Three Kingdoms), the most authoritative history ofKorean Buddhism, mention him (163). Just like anotherfamous Korean ascetic monk, Chijang (Ch. Ti-tsang), whose“flesh-body” was the main object of worship on Mt. Chiu-hua, Musang received the same silent treatment from theKorean chroniclers. What was the reason? Faure suggeststhat “Koreans who ‘went native’ and never returned to thepeninsula, like Musang . . . were destined to remainunknown to their own tradition” (165). But to what extentcould we say that Musang regarded Korean Buddhism as his“own tradition?” After all, Musang founded a new Ch’anschool and was embraced by the Chinese Buddhist commu-nity as one of their own. Might he not be a perfect exemplaryof the kind of East Asian Buddhists who had transcended thenational boundary, as Buswell describes in the introduction?

Chapter five, “Wonch’uk’s Place in the East Asian Bud-dhist Tradition” by Eunsu Cho, is about another expatriateKorean monk who was more famous in China than in Korea.Wonch’uk (613-96) is usually regarded as one of Hsüan-tsang’s (602-64) chief disciples and a competitor of K’uei-chi, the disciple who succeeded their teacher and becamethe second patriarch of the Fa-hsiang School. He has notreceived much attention from scholars, and Cho explainswhy: 1) his philosophy is complex; 2) the unavailability ofhis writings (one of his major works, Haesimmilgypng so, acommentary on the Sa dhinirmocana-s9tra, has not beenpreserved in its entirety, and his commentary on the Ch’eng-wei-shi lun, probably his most representative work, is lost);and 3) his teaching lineage did not continue after his death(at least in China, if not in Tibet and Korea) (174).

Cho argues persuasively that the legend aboutWonch’uk’s alleged “eavesdropping” on Hsüan-tsang’s pri-vate lecture to K’uei-chi so that Wonch’uk could write thecommentary on the Ch’eng-wei-shi lun was just a rumor thathad no historical basis. This was recorded for the first timesome three hundred years after his death by Tsang-ning inthe Sung Kao-seng chuan, but the stupa inscription aboutWonch’uk written in 1115 did not even mention this story,not to say refute it (175). Why did this story arise? Thefabrication is thought to stem from the jealousy of K’uei-chi’sdisciples. Yet there is no evidence that K’uei-chi andWonch’uk were hostile to each other.

The main body of the essay is devoted to several impor-tant contributions of Wonch’uk to Buddhist philosophy. Firstof all, according to Cho, unlike the traditional view, whichsees Wpnch’vk’s theory as a compromise betweenParam5rtha’s (499-569) Yog5c5ra and Hsün-tsang’s Fa-hsiang thought, he agrees with neither but builds his ownpositions based on his personal interpretation of the key

m.

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concepts of Yog5c5ra Buddhism. While Param5rtha posits aninth consciousness that is immaculate, Hsün-tsang doesnot accept it. Like the latter, Wonch’uk also rejects the ninthconsciousness. However, unlike Hsün-tsang, who believesthat the eighth consciousness is tainted, Wpnch’vk regardsit as “being tainted but at the same time pure in its true-nature” (182).

This makes him contradict his teacher in the interpre-tation of an important key concept in Yog5c5ra philosophy.This concerns the icchantikas, who, in orthodox Yog5c5ra asadvocated by Hsün-tseng, belong to one of five types ofhuman beings who could never achieve enlightenment.Wonch’uk, on the other hand, argues that the icchantikadoctrine is a “skillful means that was preached in order tomotivate some people so that they would increase theirefforts to transcend existence” (183). He states that every-body inherently possesses the Buddha-nature or thetath5gatagarbha. But some people unfortunately have notrealized this potential for enlightenment. It is in this lightthat he regards the help of the Buddhas and bodhisattvas asa necessary means that enables everybody to become a Bud-dha. As Cho concludes, this innovative and optimistic viewintroduced a “new paradigm” into the debate over the natureof a human being as good or evil. Wonch’uk complicates thepicture by introducing “skillful means,” or the concept of a“direct cause,” and “the conditions to help it come to fulfill-ment” (184).

A third contribution lies in his unique interpretation ofthe “three turnings of the wheel,” a concept found in theSa dhinirmocana-s9tra used to explain Buddha’s teachingcareer. K’uei-chi and other Chinese Fa-hsiang scholars sawthis hierarchically: the first turning is the Four Noble Truthsrepresented by the H7nay5na, the second turning is the teach-ing of nonsubstantiality represented by the Madyamaka, andthe third turning is the teaching of consciousness-only rep-resented by the Yog5c5ra. This type of classification of teach-ing of course privileges the Yog5c5ra, which is upheld as themost advanced teaching of the Buddha (184). Wonch’uk, how-ever, wanted to reconcile Madyamaka and Yog5c5ra. He didnot believe that these teachings represented different“stages” or “times” as K’uei-chi insisted. Rather, “as long asthey satisfy the common purpose of the Buddhist teaching,that is, enabling sentient beings to become enlightened, theyare valid and equal to each other” (187).

In addition to his contribution to the Chinese Yog5c5raphilosophical tradition, Wonch’uk also influencedTsongkhapa and his Gelug-pa successors in Tibet via theTibetan translation of his commentary on the Sa dhinir-mocana-s9tra (193).

Finally, although he was regarded to be a Yog5c5ra mas-ter, his theory of chiao-t’i or the essence of the Buddha’sword, a rather arcane subject that Cho devotes five pages to

m.

m.

elaborate (188-92), was inherited by Fa-tsang, the Hua-yenpatriarch, who “transformed the theory of chiao-t’i into anexplicitly Chinese theory and used it to construct a distinc-tively Chinese Buddhist identity” (192). According to Cho,Wonch’uk made his greatest impact on Chinese Hua-yenBuddhism. This is because “Hua-yen teaching could not havedeveloped into the influential school that it became withoutborrowing from the sophisticated doctrinal frames ofYog5c5ra Buddhism as developed by a scholiast likeWonch’uk” (201). Instead of focusing on sectarian differ-ences, it is a salutary corrective when Cho reminds us that“Fa-hsiang and Hua-yen doctrinal development was carriedout within a shared intellectual culture in reaction to thereligious concerns of T’ang Buddhist society. These twoschools established their own agendas while interacting andborrowing from each other” (188).

Chapter six, “The Korean Impact on T’ien-t’ai Buddhismin China: A Historical Analysis” by Chi-wah Chan, concen-trates on four Korean monks who played critical roles in theT’ien-t’ai renaissance of the early Sung. They are Chijong,Vit’ong (931-88), Ch’egwan and Vich’on (1055-1101). Duringthe Hui-ch’ang persecution of Buddhism, there was an exten-sive destruction of Buddhist texts, images, and material cul-ture in general. By the tenth century, only fragments ofT’ien-t’ai texts could be found. There was therefore a senseof urgency to recover the lost texts from Korea and Japan.Fortunately for the future of Buddhism, the kings of Wu-yüeh were devout Buddhists and sent envoys abroad for thispurpose. Koryo, on the other hand, was also interested inconsolidating its institutional foundation by establishingT’ien-t’ai or Ch’ont’ae Buddhism in Korea (227). It was underthese favorable conditions that these four Korean monkscame to China. Of the four, Vit’ong and Ch’egwan were mostimportant for the revival of Chinese T’ien-t’ai, althoughVich’on was most eminent and well-known in Korea.Vit’ong was originally trained in Hua-yen Buddhism,

which had existed in Korea for four hundred years (244). Hecame to China in order to study Hua-yen. However,impressed by the T’ien-t’ai teaching while visiting the Ch’anmaster Te-chao on Mt. T’ien-t’ai, he decided to study T’ien-t’ai instead. He never returned to Korea. He was the teacherof Chih-li and Tsung-shih (963-1032), two masters who wereresponsible for reviving Sung T’ien-t’ai Buddhism. He was aPure Land practitioner, and so were Chih-li and Tsung-shih.Indeed, the combined practice of Pure Land and T’ien-t’aibecame a hallmark of Chinese Buddhism from this timeonward (230).

Ch’egwan brought lost T’ien-t’ai texts back to China atthe request of Wu-yüeh king, although Chan did not specifywhat these texts were (231). Even more important, he wroteT’ien-t’ai ssu-chiao i (The Four Fold Teachings of T’ien-t’ai),an essential text containing the key teachings of T’ien-t’ai

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that has been used down the ages. He was also the sixteenthpatriarch of the T’ien-t’ai school (Jorgensen, however, saysthat he was the thirteenth patriarch [86]).Vich’on, unlike the two discussed so far, did not make

such an impact on Chinese Buddhism. However, Chanclaims that he made an invaluable contribution to Hua-yenBuddhism because he brought some lost Hua-yen texts toChina and gave them to Ching-yüan, his Chinese mentor inHua-yen Buddhism (233).

Chapter seven, the last chapter, “Vich’on’s Pilgrimageand the Rising Prominence of the Korean Monastery inHang-chou during the Sung and Yüan Periods” by Chi-chiang Huang, centers on one Korean monk’s trip to Chinain 1085 and on the impact he had on both Chinese andKorean Buddhism. Vich’on was trained in Hua-yen Bud-dhism. Hwaom (Hua-yen) represented mainstream Bud-dhism in eleventh-century Korea and, being an authority ofthis tradition, he often participated in the debates betweenscholars of different schools. “Feeling that he was unable toresolve some of the issues raised in these debates, he delvedinto the commentaries on the Hua-yen ching then circulatingin Sung China which was the center of Buddhism in EastAsia. He was able to procure Buddhist texts and news fromseafarers and merchants who traveled between Korea andChina, and spent large amounts of money doing so” (244).He was not officially allowed to travel to China because therising power of the Liao in the northeast made Koryo reluc-tant to establish a relationship with the Sung. However, aftera successful secret trip to China and return to Korea, Vich’onwas well received by the Koryo court, which favored theestablishment of the T’ien-t’ai school in Korea and continuedto provide financial support to Hui-yin ssu, the temple whereVich’on had stayed in Hang-chou. For all practical purposes,the temple became a Koryo temple, as the name “Kao-li ssu”indicates (251).

It is interesting to note that although Vich’on went toSung for the stated purpose of studying Hua-yen, he becameconverted to T’ien-t’ai and became a de facto founder of this

school in his home country. His reason for doing so wasphilosophical, while the Koryo king’s decision to supportthis school was based on political considerations. T’ien-t’aiwas seen as being able to provide “an integrated traditionover a diversity of Buddhist schools” (242). Vich’on’s trip tothe Sung brought great benefits to Hua-yen Buddhism inHang-chou. Upon his return to Korea, the king of Koryosent three sets of Hua-yen Sutra in gold print to the temple[Kao-li ssu] and funds for building the canon hall and the“Seven Patriarch Hall.” The latter is significant becauseamong the texts sent to Hang-chou, there were copies ofcommentaries written by the four Hua-yen Patriarchs, Chi-yen, Fa-tsang, Ch’eng-kuan, and Tsung-mi, whose writingshad been lost in China and which Sung Hua-yen scholars hadtried but failed to retrieve (253).

In return, “Hang-chou also exported printing plates ofHua-yen Sutra weighing more than 2900 catties and shippedthem back to Korea” (255). It would have been helpful tomake clear to the reader that while the s9tra text was avail-able in China, the commentaries written by the T’ang patri-archs had been lost. On the other hand, while Sung masterscontinued to write commentaries on the s9tra, they were notalways available to monks in Korea. This would explain whyVich’on had to travel secretly to Hang-chou to get access tothe commentaries, and why Korea could export the commen-taries written by the T’ang patriarchs back to Hang-chou.The flow, therefore, was both ways, and it benefited theBuddhist traditions in both countries.

In summary, Currents and Countercurrents: Korean Influ-ences on the Buddhist Traditions of East Asia covers the trav-els of Korean monks in East Asia and their contributions toSinitic Buddhism during the period from the seventh to thetwelfth centuries. Several chapters treat the same monksfrom different angles and emphasize different dimensions oftheir thoughts and activities, thus providing a relatively fullpicture of these personages. I cannot offer any criticism ofthis book but only the plea for more studies of this kind andcaliber.