When the other monk finished speaking Ãcariya Mun con-
tinued:
“So what do you have to say for yourself? It’s not that I want
to find fault with you for no good reason. But as soon as I close
my eyes I have to watch your antics blocking my view for the rest
of the night. Why would a monk behave like that? It dismays me
to see it every night. I want to know what kind of sinister motives
you may have for persisting in such conduct. Or do you think that
my own intuition, which has always been reliable in the past, is
now playing ticks on me, and contaminating you in the process?
I want you to tell me the truth. If it turns out that you’re inno-
cent, my intuition being at fault, then that means I’m just a crazy
old monk who doesn’t deserve to live with a group of students
like this – I will only lead them astray. I’ll have to run off and
hide myself away like some lunatic, and immediately stop teach-
ing others. Should I persist in teaching such crazy knowledge to
the world, the consequences would be disastrous.”
The other monk again encouraged his friend to speak up.
Finally, the former boxer moved to answer Ãcariya Mun. In a
ghostly, trembling voice, he blurted out, “I’m a boxer”, and then
fell silent.
Ãcariya Mun sought confirmation: “You’re a boxer, is that
right?”
“Yes.” And that was all he said.
“Right now you’re a monk; so, how can you also be a boxer?
Do you mean you traveled here boxing for money along the way,
or what?”
By this time, the monk’s mind was in a daze. He could offer
no coherent response to Ãcariya Mun’s inquiries. The other monk
jacob rumans
(Jacob Rumans)
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