Myung-jin has passed away.
Myung-jin, who served as the head monk of Bongeunsa Temple and advocated for reform within the Jogye Order of Korean Buddhism, died in the waters off Jeju Island on August 22, 2026. He was 76 years old and had been a monk for 52 years. It is presumed that he suffered an accident while enjoying free diving, as he entered the water after taking a deep breath, never to return to the surface.
This is truly a tragic and heartbreaking event.
Upon hearing the news of Myung-jin's passing, I was reminded of another figure: Ja-seung, who served as the head of the Jogye Order's General Affairs for two terms. Ja-seung passed away in November 2023 in a fire at the Yojangsa Temple in Anseong, Gyeonggi Province. He was 69 years old. Although both monks lived through a significant era in Korean Buddhism, they walked very different paths and are now both gone from this world.
During their lifetimes, the two monks stood at the sharpest opposing points within Korean Buddhism.
One criticized the politicization and power dynamics of the order, while the other exercised strong leadership as the highest administrative authority of Korea's largest Buddhist sect. Notably, during the Lee Myung-bak administration, conflicts surrounding Bongeunsa Temple and the management of the Jogye Order escalated into public confrontations that the entire Korean society observed. Myung-jin openly criticized the relationship between the order's power and political authority, often targeting Ja-seung and the leadership of the time.
The conflict persisted for years. In 2017, Myung-jin faced severe disciplinary action from the Jogye Order, which cited reasons such as damaging the honor of the order and its executive body. Myung-jin countered that he was being punished for criticizing the immorality and wrongdoings within the order. Eventually, he won a legal battle, and after a long dispute, the issue of his monk status was resolved.
However, what does all of this mean now?
There is no longer a head of the General Affairs, nor a head monk at Bongeunsa. The power of the order has dissipated, and there are no opposing factions. There are no winners or losers. Ja-seung is gone, and Myung-jin is gone. All that remains is the fact that the two lived fiercely during the same era.
Here, we are prompted to reflect on the most fundamental questions that Buddhism poses to humanity.
Why do we fight so fiercely? Buddhism teaches us to be wary of greed, hatred, and ignorance, known as the three poisons. The desire for more, the anger and hatred we harbor, and the inability to see things as they truly are. Monks shave their heads and enter the monastic life to rid themselves of these three poisons.
Yet, people live in temples. When people gather, organizations form, and with organizations comes power. Power brings positions and interests, and greed, anger, and ignorance seep into those realms. A practitioner who has left the secular world is not automatically free from human desires. Perhaps ordination is not a declaration that desire has vanished, but rather a vow to struggle against it for a lifetime.
Thus, I do not wish to frame the long-standing conflict between the two monks as a victory or defeat for either side. To say that Myung-jin was entirely right or that Ja-seung was entirely wrong would not be Buddhist. The moment we assign absolute good or evil to humans, we begin another cycle of attachment.
The Heart Sutra states, "Form is emptiness, emptiness is form." What we cling to—status, honor, money, power, victory, and even love and hate—are not eternal realities. They arise and dissipate according to conditions. The power I hold today is not truly mine, nor is the title people call me originally mine.
The position of head of General Affairs is empty, and so is the position of head monk at Bongeunsa. The authority of the order is empty, and even the name of reform can become another attachment the moment we cling to it.
However, the emptiness in Buddhism is not nihilism.
Emptiness is form. Because we have emptied ourselves, we can embrace the world again, and because we have let go, we can love others again. Where I have emptied myself, others can enter, and where hatred has been emptied, compassion can arise. This is the paradox of wisdom.
The Diamond Sutra goes a step further, stating, "One should not dwell anywhere but give rise to the mind there." This means not to cling to any place but to cultivate the mind from there.
Reflecting on this teaching in light of the lives of the two monks, I wonder if Myung-jin did not become fixated on the definition of reform, and if Ja-seung did not become attached to the power and order of the order. And are we not also stuck in our judgments of 'Myung-jin is right and Ja-seung is wrong' or 'Ja-seung is right and Myung-jin is wrong'?
The Diamond Sutra urges us to leave even that position behind.
It also teaches, "All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, like dew and lightning; one should view them like this." Everything that arises according to the conditions of the world is like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, and a shadow, and we are taught to see it this way.
How profound are these words.
The power we cling to throughout our lives is but a flash of lightning. Honor is like morning dew. Organizations are bubbles, and human relationships gather and disperse according to conditions. The authority of the head of General Affairs and the reputation of a reformer will become just a few lines in history books a hundred years from now.
The vast worldview of the Flower Garland Sutra shows that all existence does not stand alone but exists interdependently. It is often summarized in the teaching, "All is created by the mind." When the mind is filled with hatred, the other becomes an enemy, and when compassion arises in the mind, yesterday's enemy can become today's ally.
The Bodhisattva of the Lotus Sutra sees the potential for Buddhahood in everyone they meet and respects them. They do not only respect those who share their views but also seek to see the Buddha-nature even in those who insult or harm them.
This is where the challenge of religion lies.
It is easy to read scriptures. It is easy to memorize them. However, seeing the Buddha in someone who has attacked you is difficult. It is easy to speak of compassion in the temple, but hard to relinquish power. It is easy to preach non-attachment, but hard to let go of one's position and honor. It is easy to talk about emptiness, but truly emptying the thought of 'I am right' is incredibly difficult.
This is not just a story for monks.
It applies to pastors and priests, politicians, businesspeople, and journalists. It applies to all of us. As religion and organizations grow, we must be even more vigilant. If we speak of God while seeking power, talk of the Buddha while harboring hatred, and proclaim the truth while insisting we are right, religion can transform into the most un-religious organization at any moment.
The lives and deaths of Myung-jin and Ja-seung may leave us with the greatest teaching here.
The two fought fiercely. They envisioned different forms of Korean Buddhism. One called for reform, while the other led the order. It is up to future generations to determine which side's merits and faults will be recorded more prominently in history.
However, death has placed both of them on the same level.
Birth, aging, sickness, and death. The Buddha left the palace and set out on his journey because of these four words. In the face of the human fate of being born, aging, falling ill, and dying, there is no difference between a king and a beggar, a head of General Affairs and an ordinary monk.
We can now imagine meeting the two monks in our minds.
Ja-seung stands at a crossroads in the Nirvana he crossed first. Myung-jin, who left the waters of Jeju, follows that path. The two meet again.
At first, they may gaze at each other for a moment. They were two who fought so fiercely while alive. But there is no General Affairs office there. There is no Bongeunsa. There are no council members or authority. There is no government or politics. There are no excommunications or reinstatements. There are no reporters to record who won.
Only two practitioners remain.
Ja-seung may first join his hands in prayer. "Myung-jin, have you arrived?" Myung-jin will also smile and join his hands. "You were here first."
And that is the end.
In that moment, the two may finally see how small the conflicts that lasted for decades in this life truly were. The person they hated so much was merely a fleeting connection, and the position they fought to protect was just a chair they borrowed for a moment.
Thus, the final mantra of the Heart Sutra resonates even more profoundly today.
"Gate, gate, paragate, parasamgate, bodhi svaha."
Let us go, let us go. Let us go beyond that hill. Let us all cross over to Nirvana and attain enlightenment.
We do not read this as a call to death. We interpret it as a call to cross from greed to compassion, from anger to forgiveness, and from ignorance to wisdom. It is a call to move from 'I' to 'we,' from power to service, and from attachment to freedom.
Myung-jin has gone. Ja-seung has gone. We too will eventually go. So, while we are alive, what are we clinging to so tightly, what are we hating so deeply, and why do we leave such profound wounds on each other?
The greatness of religion does not lie in grand temples, high positions, or numerous followers. The reason for the existence of religion is to reduce human greed, calm anger, and break ignorance, making one a little more free and compassionate.
Isn't that the path the Buddha left for us 2,500 years ago?
Form is emptiness, emptiness is form. Existence is emptiness, and from emptiness, life arises again.
Now, let us also let go of the long-standing dispute between the two monks. Let history record who was right, and let us lay down our own greed, hatred, and ignorance before the spirits of these two practitioners.
And may the two now join their hands in prayer for each other. Myung-jin, Ja-seung. If there is any reconciliation left undone in this life, may it be fulfilled there.
Gate, gate.
Let us go, let us go.
Let us cross over that hill.
And finally, let us meet again in the freedom of Nirvana, where there is no hatred, no resentment, and no power.
* This article has been translated by AI.
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