An Analysis of the Structure, Ethics, and Ontology of the 'Jia Ren' Hexagram in the Zhou Yi
This paper deeply investigates the philosophical implications of the 37th Hexagram, 'Jia Ren' (The Family), in the *Zhou Yi* (Book of Changes), analyzing the relationship between the 'Wind over Fire' trigrams and the Way of the Family, while interpreting the fundamental position of the 'family' within ancient social structures through the lens of early Confucian concepts of 'foundation' (ben).
Section 1: The Logic of the Xu Gua Zhuan: "That which is wounded externally must inevitably return to its family."
The Xu Gua Zhuan states: "Ming Yi ($\text{明夷}$, Darkening of the Light) signifies being wounded. That which is wounded externally must inevitably return to its family; therefore, it is followed by Jia Ren ($\text{家人}$, The Family)."
The Ming Yi hexagram (the thirty-sixth) precedes Jia Ren (the thirty-seventh). Ming Yi symbolizes light being wounded (Li below, Kun above—light covered by Earth), extended to mean a worthy person suffering misfortune in a dark age.
"That which is wounded externally must inevitably return to its family" ($\text{shāng yú wài zhě bì fǎn qí jiā}$, 伤于外者必反其家)—this statement deserves repeated chewing.
Why must one return home when wounded$14 Because the "family" is a person's ultimate safe harbor, their final retreat. In the outside world, a person may encounter injustice, suffer injury, or experience failure—but as long as the home remains, one has a place to heal, a place to rest, and a place to start anew.
The Shi Jing, Bin Feng, Dong Shan describes the feelings of a soldier returning home:
"I went out to the Eastern Hills, lingering and not returning. I come back from the east, and the rain is drizzling. The fruit of the guǒ luǒ hangs down, spreading over the eaves. The earwig is in the room, the spider is at the door. The deer path is trodden, and fireflies glow on the dark paths at night. Is this not frightening$15 It is rather something to cherish!"
"I went out to the Eastern Hills, lingering and not returning. I come back from the east, and the rain is drizzling. The egret cries on the mound, and my wife sighs in the room. She sweeps and cleans the dark corners; I arrive just as she does. There are bitter gourds ripening, and stacked firewood is ready. Since I have not seen her, it has now been three years."
The soldier has been out for many years, enduring hardships, but upon returning, he finds that although the home is somewhat desolate (spider at the door, trampled deer path), he feels "It is not frightening$16 It is rather something to cherish!"—not something to fear, but something to long for! The wife sighs in the room, sweeps, and waits—"Since I have not seen her, it has now been three years"—three years of separation and waiting, all for this moment of reunion.
This poem perfectly illustrates the emotional content of "That which is wounded externally must inevitably return to its family": No matter what one experiences outside, home—the place with a waiting wife and a warm hearth—is always the final destination.