Confucius, a Chinese saint. At first, this may sound rather unusual. Is Confucius not known to us as a philosopher? Or, if not as a philosopher, at least as a teacher or political advisor to rulers? These designations may all be true, but in Chinese tradition, Confucius is also perceived rather differently. It was 17th-century Jesuit missionaries who were the first to call him a philosopher, and it was not until the 20th century that, under the pressure of imported Western knowledge, he became known to Chinese intellectuals as a philosopher and teacher. In 1687, three writings from the Confucian canon were published under the title “Confucius, a Chinese Philosopher, or Chinese Wisdom Explained in Latin” (Confucius, Sinarum philosophus, sive Scientia sinensis, latine exposita). It is precisely this image of the Chinese philosopher that still impacts China 250 years later. In fact, he was already regarded as a shengren 圣人 in ancient China a good hundred years after his death. This term, shengren, is often translated as “the Sage;” however, this translation does little justice to the wide range of its connotations. In early writings, the shengren is already being described as an almost cosmic occurrence; for example, when he “combines his power with that of Heaven, in his movements he has no fixed location, he permeates the beginning and the end of all things... shines like the sun and moon.” As one of his disciples says, “Like the sky, he cannot be reached by ascending a ladder” (Lunyu 19.25); if you seek him, he is “sometimes standing behind you and sometimes before you” (Lunyu 9.11); and the only thing that differentiates him from heaven is his “concern” for humankind. This is what the shengren is: initially the seventh in a line of deified cultural heroes, he became, in some traditions, the shengren par excellence.

Prosperi Intorcetta et al., Confucius, Sinarum

philosophus, sive Scientia sinensis, latine exposita

These descriptions developed initially in Chinese scholarly circles, which, on the one hand, saw Confucius as a saint and, on the other, glorified him as a force of nature. As a saint, he is worshipped in temples, which, in contrast to sacred sites of other Chinese religions, are furnished rather plainly and almost devoid of images. The broader tradition depicts him as a man who can predict an enormous downpour of rain when he sees a one-legged bird or the moon entering the Pleiades. He is seen as a farsighted man who can identify a magic horse at a long distance (whereas his disciple only sees a piece of silk with something that looks blue). Miraculous signs precede his birth: a unicorn brings a message written on jade, dragons dance around the house, the rulers over the five planets appear, and his mother hears heavenly music with a voice saying that the ruler of heaven has sent down the shengren.

Many of these images allude in numerous cultures to the wellknown characteristics of saints: unity with nature, maybe even power over nature; the “gift of foreknowledge, the miraculous blaze of light” (Wolfgang Speyer); and most notably, the numinous apparitions at his birth. However, the term saint has to be used carefully, as it might be misinterpreted. The Catholic Church sees saints as advocates and intercessors between man and God. They are often responsible for certain needs and afflictions of the faithful; Saint Roch, for example, is responsible for curing the plague and other illnesses; Saint Anthony of Padua is responsible for finding lost things; and so on. Many saints are martyrs, i.e., witnesses to their faith. Since the 12th century, a person can only become a saint by papal canonization. In ancient China, a number of parallels can be found—not for Confucius, however: The numerous figures in the temples of Chinese folk religion, often labeled gods, share a few similarities with Christian saints: they are usually more or less historical figures, many of them have died violent deaths, and some were acting as intercessors with higher spiritual authorities. A considerable number of them were virtuous civil servants. There is historical evidence of canonization processes—not by a pope but by the imperial family. These saints also stand out as being responsible for certain daily life hardships.

All of the above is not true of Confucius. If I continue calling him a saint, it is because the Western terms “philosopher” or even “sage” simply do not do justice to the image of Confucius as shengren in Chinese tradition. Confucius himself may not have founded a religion, but he acts as an outstanding figure in Chinese religious history, rooted both in the secular and sacred worlds. To get a better understanding, we have to turn for a few moments to the historical person of Confucius.

According to tradition, Confucius was born in 551 BC and died in 479 BC. Several sources provide information on his life, none of them fully reliable: First of all, there is the Lunyu, the collection of his sayings and deeds (the Analects). Recent research, however, dates the texts’ compilation long after Confucius’ death, to the second century BC, during the Early Han dynasty. By this point in time, about 2,000 of Confucius’ sayings were already in circulation—perhaps as many as are credited to him in the Western world today, which were, of course, never uttered by him. Another early source is the Records of the Grand Historian by Sima Qian (approx. 145-90 BC), which dedicates a biography to him. Other sources come from later years, but most certainly include older material, even if some scholars of today hold the extreme position that Confucius—or at least the sayings and deeds credited to him—are an invention of the Han dynasty. Between 532 and 502 BC, he worked as an overseer for the granaries and in other menial jobs such as field warden. His political ascent in his home state of Lu (which today is part of Shandong province) only started after his fiftieth birthday. However, it soon ended after only three years when the Duke of Lu accepted a present from a neighboring state in the form of 80 singing girls and 100 horses, a gift that outraged Confucius. His short political career was followed by thirteen years of wandering through five states of the ancient Chinese world. During this time, he tried to familiarize the respective rulers with his ideas of good governance and correct moral behavior—with little success, however. Four years before he passed away, he returned to Lu, where he suffered two personal disasters: his son died, as did his favorite disciple.

Confucius enjoyed little success during his lifetime. We might even call him a “loser,” a fact that makes him even more likable, because a goodly number of great founding figures were branded with the stigma of being losers by their adversaries. As mentioned before, we should not see him as a representative of a systematic philosophy. Instead, Confucius is seen as a role model because of his education, his readiness of mind, and, in particular, his emotions and impulsiveness. Far more, the situations in which and through which he acted qualify him as an important founding figure. He was also blessed with a sense of humor. Christoph Harbsmeier, a sinologist from Oslo, wrote a paper on the “laughing Confucius,” so I would like to give you a few examples of this “Confucius Ridens.” A villager said of Confucius: “Great indeed is the philosopher Kong! His learning is extensive, and yet he does not render his name famous by any particular thing.” The Master heard the observation and said to his disciples, “What shall I practice? Shall I practice charioteering, or shall I practice archery? I will practice charioteering.” (Lunyu 9.2) A rather flippant remark, not meant very seriously, but one can still find a good measure of self-mockery in this statement by a man who spent much of his life wandering from state to state as an itinerant political consultant, away from home, and surrounded by his truly devoted followers. At a time when Confucianism was long established, many later commentators did not understand remarks like the one above and used their whole battery of knowledge in order to read some deeper meaning into them. Others have at least acknowledged that Confucius used “subtle words” (weiyan 微言), and does irony not need subtlety? Many things mentioned here remind us of humorous saints from different traditions, for example, Philip Neri (1515-1596) or the legendary Nasreddin Hodja.

Sima Qian, “The Hereditary House of

Confucius,” Records of the Grand Historian

Many of Confucius’ sayings must not be taken out of context; otherwise, they either sound too profound or, as is more often the case, too trivial. When his valued disciple Ran Boniu became ill, Confucius paid him a visit and said, “We are losing him. It is fate, alas! That such a man should have such a sickness! That such a man should have such a sickness!” (Lunyu 6.10) Western sinologists have tried to extract a philosophical attitude towards fate and fatalism from this story, but it is precisely the repetition of the last sentence, a common characteristic of Confucius’ sayings, that shows the impulsive emotionality of a desperate man in this precise situation. This emotional presence can also be seen in the following occurrence: A civil servant asked one of his disciples about Confucius, but the disciple did not give him an answer. Later the Master said: “Why did you not say to him, ‘He is simply a man who in his eager pursuit of knowledge forgets his food, who in the joy of its attainment forgets his sorrows, and who does not perceive that old age is approaching?’” (Lunyu 7.19) Another source reports that Confucius once lost sight of his disciples and stood alone in front of the city gate. A passer-by told one of the students about “a man standing by the east gate, with a forehead like Yao,” and so on (other fabulous descriptions follow), but last of all, “having the disconsolate appearance of a stray dog.” When Confucius heard this, he laughed and sighed: “The bodily appearance is but a small matter, but to say I was like a stray dog—Capital! Capital!” (Kongzi jiayu 22.8). Impulsiveness can also be directed towards others; he considered, for example, contemporary politicians to be “small rice baskets, not worth being taken into account” (Lunyu 13.20) and feigned illness in order not to receive a visitor. Hardly had the man left his house when Confucius got out his lute and started singing, making sure that the rejected visitor could hear him (Lunyu 17.20)

I have shown you a less familiar Confucius, one whose characteristic traits as presented here certainly would not have been enough by themselves to make him the “Saint of Ten Thousand Generations,” as he is referred to later. But these very characteristics give you an idea of the deep impression this important man must have made on his contemporaries. Of course, Confucius is also the teacher who wants to use the models of the long gone Golden Age as an example of just government, who gives priority to the ideal of the exemplary person (junzi 君子), who no longer has to be an aristocrat, who defines the four virtues of humanity (ren 仁), justice (yi 义 ), morality (including the correct conduct for ritual behavior, li 礼 ), and wisdom (zhi 智), and who categorizes his “ages” in a certain order as an example to his contemporaries and ensuing generations: “At fifteen, I had my mind bent on learning. At thirty, I stood firm. At forty, I had no doubts. At fifty, I knew the decrees of Heaven. At sixty, my ear was an obedient organ for the reception of truth. At seventy, I could follow what my heart desired without transgressing what was right.” (Lunyu 2.4) In fact, Confucius seemed at times to be of the opinion that celestial intentions were embodied in his person; when he encountered difficulty at the border between two states, he exclaimed, “Was not true culture embedded in me? What can the people of Kuang do to me?” (Lunyu 9.2)

Lunyu 2.4

This is the other side of the coin that we have to examine if we want to understand the master’s later glorification: Confucius, it will be said, “put the world in order through his writings.” The same Chinese character, wen 文 , is used for the words “writing,” “culture,” and “pattern.” Confucius is credited with editing the canonical books of what will later be called Confucianism. This marks his substantial contribution to the continuing tradition. He is a cultural hero of the written word, the culture of writing, and the “pattern” that shapes traditional China, or at least those civil servants and rulers educated in accordance with the Confucian model. The organization of rituals, which is attributed to him, marks him as the founder of the Confucian state religion and ritualized interpersonal modes of behavior. The Book of Changes, which he is said to have edited, marks him as the first cosmologist; the Book of Odes makes him a poet; the Spring and Autumn Annals of his home state Lu the first historian; and the Book of Documents the guardian of statecraft and of the worldview of his ancestors. In the line of Confucian cultural heroes, or rather “saints” shengren, one was responsible for inventing the cultivation of land, another developed systems for controlling water, another invented the concept of filial piety, and so on. In this line, Confucius himself is the founder of the culture of writing. As I tried to show in the beginning, more and more marvelous traits have been attributed to him: his aura develops a cosmic character, he is increasingly glorified, and in him, the Confucian statesmen and scholars realize their own apotheosis, proclaiming the loser to be the “uncrowned king,” as they will later call him. One may object that the label “saint,” due to the cultural burden of the term in the Western world, may or may not be suitable for their ancestor, but a shengren he is without doubt. The Jesuits, who proclaimed him a philosopher (and by so doing denied him his “sainthood”), incidentally used the Chinese word sheng in order to describe everything that expresses Christian holiness. So I might not be entirely wrong in designating Confucius as a Chinese saint.

Plaque at the Hall of Great Perfection bearing the

inscription “Teacher’s Model for Ten Thousand

Generations” at the Imperial College in Beijing

As you all know, the Confucius Institute does not demand holiness. However, I do hope that it will be able to fulfill the whole range of reason, impulsive emotionality, cultural depth, and creative power for which the name Confucius stands. Having the name Confucius as part of the Institute’s name should not be an empty reference to this most famous of Chinese persons, but should be a mission and a mandate.

作者简介：

Michael Lackner is Senior Professor of Sinology at the Friedrich-Alexander-University of Erlangen-Nuremberg. From 2009 to 2023, he was the director of the International Consortium of Research in the Humanities “Fate, Freedom, and Prognostication”. Since 2022, Lackner is the speaker of the Center for Advanced Studies “Alternative Rationalities and Esoteric Practices in a Global Perspective”. Lackner’s research revolves around Chinese intellectual history, the Jesuit mission in China, scholarly practices of literati in the Song and Yuan dynasties, and traditional ways of prediction in China.

Lackner has a prolific body of work, with over twenty monographs authored or edited and nearly a hundred academic papers. Recognizing his academic achievements, he was elected as a fellow of the National Academy of Sciences Leopoldina in Germany in 2013. In 2014, he received the highest humanities award, the "Outstanding Scholar of Light and Culture," from Fudan University. In 2017, he was awarded Taiwan's highest research prize, the "Du Congming Award," and in 2020, he was honored as an honorary fellow of the Open University of Hong Kong. In 2021, he received the Special Contribution Award from the China Book Association.

（本文刊载于《走进孔子（中英文）》2023年第5期。本刊出版版权所有，未经允许，不得转载本刊文字及图片。）