The Two Words: "Is That So?"

In a small coastal village in Japan, wooden houses huddled together beneath the shadow of distant mountains. Zen Master Hakuin, respected by all for his pure life, lived in a simple hut where he sat in meditation and taught the Dharma to the villagers. Nearby lived a family who sold food supplies. They had a beautiful daughter named O, a young woman with jet-black hair and clear, innocent eyes.

One day, O’s parents discovered that she was pregnant. Furious, they questioned her harshly. O wept uncontrollably but refused to name the man responsible. After days of intense pressure, she finally blurted out the name: “Zen Master Hakuin.”

O’s parents were stunned into silence. They could not believe that the most holy practitioner in the region could commit such a depraved act. Rage erupted within them. They rushed to the master’s hut, their faces flushed red and their hands trembling. They pointed directly at him and shouted, “You! You are a monk, yet you have done this evil thing to my daughter! She is pregnant! Speak! What do you intend to do?”

Master Hakuin sat still, his gaze lowered, showing neither surprise nor anger. He simply uttered two words: “Is that so?”

O’s parents were bewildered by his calm demeanor. Having no further words, they returned home, their hearts still heavy with resentment. Rumors spread throughout the village. The reputation of Master Hakuin collapsed completely. Those who once revered him now looked upon him with contempt. Yet, he offered no defense and gave no explanation.

When the baby was born, O’s parents brought the child to the master. They thrust the infant into his arms, saying, “This is your child! You must raise it!” Master Hakuin gently lifted the baby, looked at its peaceful sleeping face, and again said only: “Is that so?”

He cared for the child wholeheartedly. He asked neighboring mothers for milk, bought cloth diapers, tiny clothes, and food for the infant. Although shunned by the entire village, he remained serene, raising the baby for a full year without a single word of complaint.

A year later, O could no longer bear the torment of her conscience. She went to her mother, tears streaming down her face, and confessed: “Mother, I lied. The true father of the baby is not Zen Master Hakuin, but a young fishmonger from the market.”

O’s mother was shocked. She hurried with her husband to the master’s hut. They fell to their knees, bowing repeatedly in apology: “Master, we were blind! We falsely accused you! Please forgive our sins! We wish to take the baby back to raise ourselves!”

Master Hakuin maintained his tranquil expression. He gently held the baby, handed it back to them, and for the third time, he said only two words: “Is that so?”

There was no reproach, no trace of resentment. He turned back into his hut, sat down, and continued his practice, as if nothing had ever happened.