It is a disheartening and somber state of affairs when the abbot of Shaolin Monastery, the former Shi Yongxin, is in the midst of a cataclysmic fall from grace. He is under serious and lurid accusations (some of them made by former monks) of allegedly engaging in improper relationships with multiple women, fathering children with several of them, embezzling money from a temple-run company, and maintaining a fleet of luxury cars. The Buddhist Association of China (BAC), the all-powerful network that oversees Chinese Buddhism, said in an online statement on 28 July that Shi’s certificate of ordination would be revoked due to his actions severely undermining the reputation of the Chinese Buddhist community and severely damaging the image of Buddhist monastics.
Shi Yongxin was born Liu Yingcheng in 1965. He is referred to here as Liu since Shi is his monastic surname. As he has been defrocked, many Anglophone media outlets are incorrectly continuing to refer to him as “Shi.” Liu also has had his companies deregistered, with the BAC supporting an all-out erasure of the former 30th abbot’s institutional footprint. CNN reports that disturbing and unbecoming headlines have surfaced over the years, among them Liu’s acceptance in 2006 of a one-million-yuan (US$140,000) car from a local government as thanks for supporting tourism. In 2015, Liu faced similar charges to the current accusations, which Shaolin Temple decried as “vicious libel.” (RTHK) This time, however, Liu’s political fortunes seem to have been exhausted, with the BAC expressing strong support for the investigation and subsequent actions taken. Shaolin Temple is no longer in control of its own fate.
Coming only weeks after Thailand was embroiled in a monastic scandal surrounding Ms. Golf and other sexual and financial indignities, the disrobing of Liu and the disgrace of China’s most famous Buddhist temple is evocative of our Dharma-ending age (Skt: pashcima-kala). While not explicitly mentioned in the various texts that discuss the decline of the Dharma, surely one indication of this epoch is when monastics cannot distinguish between dana and entangled business interests, and find themselves struggling to make simple moral choices that could have made life much more straightforward.
Scandals are rife within all three vehicles of Buddhism, but it is striking that these most recent have occurred within two traditions where there are no ifs or buts about celibacy: the Thai tradition, which relies on the Theravada Vinaya for understanding ecclesiastic law, and the Chinese Chan school, which has historically used the Dharmaguptaka Vinaya as its reference point for monastic conduct. In both monastic codes, the very first parajika (Skt., Pali: committing of an act that entails instant expulsion from the order) is that of sex in any manner. As the Dharmaguptaka Vinaya states:
If a bhikṣu has the same training as other bhikṣus, and if he does not renounce the training (huan jie 還戒) and does not express his weakness with regard to the training (jie lei bu zi hui 戒羸不自悔), and then has impure conduct and indulges in sexual intercourse, even if it is with an animal, this bhikṣu [commits] a pārājika and [is] not [allowed to] live in the community. (Taisho p. 1428, 571a21–24)
The Buddha made it clear that sex itself is not a problem in lay society. He ensured that monks and nuns can transition back into that world if they realize the monastic life is not for them. There are many examples of former monks within both Mahayana and Theravada vehicles falling in love and disrobing to engage in romantic relationships. As Buddhist scholar Ann Heirman has written in a monograph contribution to Buddhism & Law: “The former monk, now a layman, can as such engage in sexual intercourse as long as he has previously withdrawn from his monastic community. Since he is no longer considered a monk, he cannot commit a parajika offense.” (Heirman 161)
The Tang dynasty-era monastic commentator Daoxuan (596–667 CE) even notes that the Dharmaguptaka Vinaya not only allows unhappy monastics to renounce their origination and return to family life, but even permits them to re-enter the monastic sangha no more than seven times if they regret their disrobing. (Heirman 188) This seems to be rather generous leeway, given the immense life choices ordination and disrobing both entail.
In light of these clearly delineated rules and the relative freedom with which men and women can make life choices about entering or leaving monasticism, why do so many monks in China, Thailand, and elsewhere commit parajika in such a way that almost tempts fate? Why not be clear-minded about one’s path in life—that of a celibate individual, or that of a worldly, sexual being—and act accordingly?
Perhaps the question answers itself: perhaps people think they can “get away with it,” or in a more generous assessment, they convince themselves that the violations of the precepts are for higher causes. This could be particularly evident from the financial side. Consider how Liu took Shaolin Temple to dizzying new heights of wealth from the beginning of his abbot-ship in 1989. Both inside and outside of China, his ambition in turning Shaolin into a multimillion-dollar business attracted fierce criticism from followers “who saw excessive commercialization as corrupting the spiritual integrity of the religious institution.” (CNN) Perhaps this spread the Shaolin message, and even the ideals of Chan Buddhism. However, whatever interest and goodwill generated over the decades is now compromised by the rot at the top.
If the charge of “embezzling and misappropriating project funds and temple assets” (China Daily) is accurate, then it will be evident that no real effort was made to separate the “brand” of Shaolin from the daily life of the temple, leading to a toxic and unsustainable entanglement of corporate interests (including at least five listed companies) and monastic activities. Recent proposals concerning the creation of a “Buddhist bank” in Thailand are explicitly aimed at addressing the urgent need to reform temple finances, and disentangle monks’ personal financial interests from operational funds and expenses related to the temple institution. A Chinese equivalent might possibly be set up under the supervision of a state-owned bank. Whatever the Chinese government decides, the decades-long commercialization of Shaolin will likely take a back seat to overdue reforms.
Shaolin was one of the earliest temples to set up its own website in 1996, and since 1998, has set up multiple ventures in branding, such as martial arts classes, broadcasting, online marketing, and collaboration with Chinese film stars in movies about Shaolin. Liu no doubt was hungry for the Shaolin IP to dominate the world. But his “CEO-monk” persona collapsed under the weight of its own contradictions.
Liu ultimately was unable to be true to his Vinaya and saw no need to disrobe so that he could be a woman-loving, power-hungry business executive. This would have been common, almost expected, in the secular, corporate world. But because we are in the age of pashcima-kala, Liu’s story ends as a tragedy about a monk felled by hubris and a lack of self-insight, whatever his good intentions may have been.
In an age of demographic decline across the board for Buddhists, and a deepening crisis of faith in traditional religions, Liu has hastened the Dharma’s decay, and thrown away yet more of its representatives’ precious credibility.
References
Heirman, Ann. 2016–17. “Withdrawal from the Monastic Community and Re-ordination of Former Monastics in the Dharmaguptaka Tradition,” in Buddhism, Law & Society Vol. 2. New Jersey: Rutgers. 159–96.
Junjirō, Takakusu and Watanabe Kaigyoku. (eds.). 1924–34. Taishō shinshū daizōkyō 大正新修大蔵經. Tokyo: Taishō Issaikyō Kankōkai.
See more
Shaolin abbot disrobed for ‘extremely bad behaviour’ (RTHK)
China’s Shaolin Temple scandal: disgraced head monk defrocked, firms deregistered (The South China Morning Post)
Money, sex and a Buddhist monk: Head of China’s famed Shaolin Temple under investigation (CNN)
Abbot Shi Yongxin under investigation for alleged criminal offenses: Shaolin Temple (China Daily)
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The case of Liu Yingcheng (formerly Shi Yongxin) is not a Buddhist crisis—it is a secular scandal that unfolded behind monastic walls. To associate his downfall with the “Dharma-ending age” is to mistakenly elevate Shaolin to a position of doctrinal authority it no longer holds, and arguably has not held for centuries.
Shaolin Temple today functions less as a custodian of the Dharma than as a cultural brand—deeply entangled in tourism, entertainment, and commerce. Its decline, therefore, reflects not the collapse of the Buddhadharma but the inevitable decay of institutions that trade awakening for influence. From a Yogācāra perspective, this event exemplifies the karmic formations (saṃskāra) that arise from distorted perception (viparyāsa). When the collective mind clings to the illusion that visibility equals authenticity, institutions like Shaolin become vessels for projection—not liberation. To mourn the fall of Liu as a Buddhist tragedy is to misunderstand the Dharma’s nature. The Dharma does not fall with temples, abbots, or titles. It is not bound to architecture or administrative roles, but to mind, intention, and practice. If we are truly in the pashcima-kāla—the Dharma-ending age—then let us not hasten its decay by confusing performative Buddhism with lived realization. Let us be discerning. A robe and a website do not the Dharma make.