Flowers wither, people depart, but intentions remain.
— A reflection on the final pilgrimage of Monk Myungjin from the funeral at Bongeunsa to the cremation at Beopjusa.
On August 25, 2026, at 10 a.m., a clear yet heavy bell tolled in the courtyard of the main hall at Bongeunsa in Gangnam, Seoul. It marked the passing of Monk Myungjin, who unexpectedly passed away at sea near Haye Port in Seogwipo, Jeju, on August 22. He was 76 years old and had dedicated 52 years to the monastic life, having entered the order at the age of 19.
However, this funeral was not just for one temple or one sect. It was a religious and civic ceremony organized by the Jogye Order of Korean Buddhism and civil society. Monks and laypeople from the Buddhist community, as well as representatives from Catholicism, Protestantism, academia, the arts, politicians, laborers, and families of victims from the Sewol ferry disaster gathered at Bongeunsa. The breadth of Myungjin's life and his commitment to a wide world were evident in his final journey.
Do-gong, the president of the Tanseong Buddhist Association, recalled in his eulogy that for Myungjin, social movements and reforming the order were also forms of practice. He believed that as one's practice deepens, so too must one's compassion. If sentient beings suffer, practitioners must also feel that pain, and standing alongside those who are wronged is part of the path. Yeo-jin, the abbot of the Basic Zen Center, reminisced about how Myungjin had once laid down his robe before the Buddha to advocate for reform in the Jogye Order during the 1994 reform movement, concluding with the words, 'Come back as waves and tides.' This sentiment resonated with Myungjin's love for the sea and the way he met his end there.
Professor Kim Se-kyun from Seoul National University summarized Myungjin's life with two concepts: 'great compassion' and 'supporting the weak.' Great compassion means seeing oneself and others as fundamentally one body, accepting others' suffering as one's own. Supporting the weak refers to suppressing the oppression of the strong and aiding those in need. Myungjin's life exemplified these principles. The suffering of the Yongsan evictees, the despair of laid-off Ssangyong Motor workers, and the cries of parents who lost children in the Sewol disaster were not distant issues for him. He visited these places, sometimes offering financial support, sometimes sharing in their grief, and at other times boldly confronting those in power.
The tears shed by government official Jeong Ja during the eulogy reflected this connection. Myungjin encouraged the families of victims to endure, asserting that only through perseverance could they achieve truth and create a safer society. He also offered to voice their frustrations on their behalf. He provided necessary items like vacuum cleaners and sewing machines to support these families. Their sorrow was not rooted in grand ideologies or political slogans but in the loss of someone who had stood by them during their most difficult times.
Father Ham Se-woong from the Catholic Priests for Justice delivered a eulogy that symbolized the significance of the day. Despite their different religious backgrounds, his long-standing relationship with Myungjin was evident. Father Ham spoke of the sea, which, while being the lowest point, accepts all waters, both clear and murky. This idea of humility and acceptance aligns with the Buddhist concept of compassion—lowering oneself to embrace all beings.
The most philosophical tribute came from Professor Kim Yong-ok, who recited a poem titled 'The Dance of Yeongsan.' He viewed Myungjin's passing not merely as the death of a physical body but as a return to the state of 'no thought' he often experienced while free diving in the deep sea. In those moments, when the boundaries of breath and thought blur, names, titles, and memories fade, revealing a state before the concept of 'self' emerged. His poetic expression that 'he entered the realm of extinction without a moment's thought of dying' served as a profound interpretation of a practitioner's death.
Then, Jang Sa-ik sang 'Fallen Flowers' by poet Jo Ji-hoon. The poem reflects on the impermanence of life and the beauty of its transience. Jang's deep and rugged voice filled the courtyard of Bongeunsa. Flowers do not bloom forever, and their beauty lies in their eventual fading. The final line, 'I want to cry on the morning when the flowers fall,' resonated deeply that day, as if it were a tribute to Myungjin. Though one flower has fallen, its place remains for seeds to grow. People may depart, but the intentions and influences they leave behind do not vanish.
After the funeral, Myungjin's remains were taken to Beopjusa in Sokrisan, Chungbuk. This was the temple where he had resumed his monastic path after serving in the Vietnam War and where he received his novice ordination in 1974 under Master Tanseong. Following a ritual at Beopjusa, as his remains were placed in the lotus seat, the traditional call of 'Monk, Hahwa-yo' was made, and the fire was lit. The chanting echoed through the Sokrisan valley as flames and smoke rose to the sky, marking the moment when a human body returns to fire, wind, and earth.
The physical body may disappear, but the questions remain. The inquiries Myungjin posed to our society and Korean Buddhism are now the responsibility of the living.
Who was Myungjin?
— From the Zen hall to the streets, and the reconciliation with Master Jasung.
It is difficult to define Monk Myungjin's life in a single phrase. He was a Zen master, a reformer of the order, a social activist, and a unification advocate. He served as the abbot of Bongeunsa and was a vocal critic of both the order and political power. To some, he was a respected practitioner, while to others, he appeared overly political. Understanding him requires transcending the simplistic dichotomy of progressive versus conservative, activist versus practitioner.
Born in 1950 in Dangjin, Chungnam, he was ordained at Haeinsa in 1969. After serving in the Vietnam War, he resumed his monastic path at Beopjusa in 1974 and participated in the reform movement of the Jogye Order in 1994. He served as a member and vice-chairman of the Central Council and was the abbot of Bongeunsa from 2006 to 2010. A pivotal moment in his life came when he learned about the truth of Gwangju in the 1980s. While reflecting on his own mind in the Zen hall, he began to question whether a practitioner could seek enlightenment in isolation while the world suffered. This inquiry shattered the walls of the Zen hall, transforming the world into his practice space.
For him, practice was not limited to seated meditation. Sitting alongside the weak and speaking out against injustice were also forms of practice. He participated in the Buddhist democratization movement and social activism in the 1980s and took a leading role in the reform of the order in 1994. Even while serving as a member and vice-chairman of the Central Council, he continued to critique the power structures within the order.
However, another significant figure in Myungjin's life was Master Jasung. The two represented dramatic opposites in modern Korean Buddhism. Jasung was at the center of the powerful order as the head of the General Affairs Office, while Myungjin criticized that power from within and outside. Their conflict erupted in 2010 over the transition of Bongeunsa to a directly managed temple by the General Affairs Office. Myungjin alleged that the Lee Myung-bak government and the order's leadership were attempting to oust him from Bongeunsa, leading to his departure that year. Subsequent investigations revealed that the National Intelligence Service had been monitoring Myungjin's activities and statements, expanding the issue beyond internal conflict to the relationship between political and religious power.
In 2017, he received the harshest punishment of expulsion from the Jogye Order for his criticisms of the leadership. Myungjin fought back, this time in a civil court. The court ruled that the expulsion was problematic, and both the first and second trials favored Myungjin. In 2026, neither side appealed, restoring his status. However, by the time he regained his status, Jasung had already passed away in 2023, and now Myungjin has followed him.
We do not wish to judge the conflict between the two based on earthly standards. It is also important to avoid concluding that Myungjin was right in all matters and Jasung was wrong in all. The reality of managing a large order involves complexities of organization, administration, finance, and politics that cannot be resolved solely by a practitioner's ideals. Jasung likely had his own realities and responsibilities. Myungjin was not a perfect human either; he spoke harshly and faced criticism for his political biases. What matters is not the victory or defeat of either but the questions they left behind: How much power is necessary for religious authority? How far should religion distance itself from political power? When the stability of an organization conflicts with a practitioner's conscience, which should take precedence?
Now both men are gone. There is no longer a head of the General Affairs Office or an abbot of Bongeunsa. There are no ranks, positions, or organizational power. So, is there any reason for the two to quarrel again in the afterlife? I hope instead that they sit together and laugh. If Myungjin were to say, 'I may have gone too far,' Jasung might respond, 'I guess I was too attached to my position,' and they would share a hearty laugh.
The ultimate goal of Buddhism is to transcend discrimination. The labels of you and me, winner and loser, reformist and realist, progressive and conservative are merely constructs of human creation. The Diamond Sutra teaches, 'One should not be attached to anything but give rise to the mind.' Myungjin and Jasung should now be free from the hatred and attachments that bound them. This would be the most fitting reconciliation for two practitioners.
Myungjin's practice group was named 'Danji Bulhoe' (Just Knowing Not Meeting), which reflects the idea of knowing only that one does not know. This aligns with Socrates' saying, 'I know that I know nothing.' The moment one believes they know everything, they fall into dogmatism. When politics, religion, or media believe they alone possess the truth, they become dangerous. Recognizing one's ignorance is not a sign of weakness but the beginning of wisdom.
* This article has been translated by AI.
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