What Are You Doing? What Are You Saying?
Traditionally, a master devises his teaching to a select pupil, entitling them to pass the teching on to the next generation. Of course Zen should be imparted in this way, from heart to heart. The one who received such a gift would keep the matter hidden, only revealing through his mastery and not by pronouncement. Never would a teacher claim "I am the successor of So-and-so." Making such a claim would disprove it.
The Zen master Mui-jian had only one successor. His name was Shuja. After Shuja had completed his study of Zen, Mui-jian summoned him. "I am getting on in years," he said, "and you, Shuja, are the only one who will carry on my teaching. Here is a book that has been passed down from master to master for generations. I have added many annotations. The book is very dear, and I am giving it to you to represent your carrying of my legacy."
"If the book is such an important thing, you should keep it," Shuja replied. "I received your Zen without it and am content."
"I know." said Mui-jian. "Still, this work has been carried from master to master for generations, so you should take it as a symbol of having received my teaching. Here."
The two were speaking before a hearth. The instant Shuja felt the book in his hands he thrust it into the flames.
Mui-jian, in uncharacteristic anger, yelled: "What are you doing?"
Shuja yelled back: "What are you saying?"
dcj commentary: Shuja didn't have the same level of attachment to the book.