With palms together,
Good Morning Everyone,
Recently, I’ve been caught up in the questions of what it means to study Zen, what it means to become the student of a teacher, and what it means to train for the priesthood. These are important questions in the world of Zen. And they are challenging due to a variety of factors.
First, one does not “study” Zen. For Zen Buddhists, Zen is not a subject to be read about; it is a practice to be experienced. Reading too often fills student’s heads up with “ideas and concepts” and these actually get in the way of true study, which is the study of the Buddha Way, the study of the self. Yet, we read, as reading is what we Westerners do. We want to “know” something. We Google, go to Wiki, read books, journals, and magazines. We watch YouTube videos, movies, and documentaries. But the result is not true “knowing.” Such knowing is shallow and superficial; it can impress, but not sustain. True knowing is something else again. It is eating the watermelon, not describing it. It is riding the bicycle, not talking about it. When we study in Zen, it is to bring consonance between the inside and outside, to come to a unification of body, mind, and environment. As Master Dogen said, ‘to study the way is to study the self’ and in this study, the self falls away. This is as deep as it is dynamic, but it is also quite uncomfortable.
One does not walk into a Zendo and announce that he wants to become a priest and needs a teacher. This is both a complete misunderstanding of “priest” and hubris to boot. A Zendo is not a university and ordination is not graduation. I have found wannabe students to be of three types, broadly speaking: students who enter with eyes set on the credentials of robes and titles; those who approach with humility and deep respect, but still have an ideal in mind; and those who truly don’t know what they want or even why they are in a Zendo in the first place. These descend in terms of challenge. With the most authentic being the last.
The priesthood is not a vocation you train for as one might in a vocational college. It is not a credential. It is a life. Robes are not handed out to be chevrons on a sleeve or a set of letters behind a name. They do not elevate, in fact, they do the opposite. Being a priest is being a priest in a lifelong, complete, and total commitment to selfless service.
After coming to a Zendo, practicing for some time, a student may ask a teacher to create a formal teaching relationship. Please understand, this is not done lightly. Nor is it accepted lightly. It is a commitment to change your life. It is also a very different type of teacher/student relationship than most of us have ever encountered. It is not a friendship. It is not horizontal. In Zen, the teacher has the final word: accept it, chew on it, but don’t walk away from it. The teaching is there to help you, or insist that you let yourself drop away. This often requires intense scrutiny and uncomfortable self-examination. Defensiveness is the tell-tale heartbeat of ego.
Zen teachers can be gruff, funny, contradictory, unassuming, arrogant, compassionate, and dispassionate. But most of all, true Zen teachers care. What do they care about? Mostly about their students coming to a clear mind.
Be well
Good Morning Everyone,
Recently, I’ve been caught up in the questions of what it means to study Zen, what it means to become the student of a teacher, and what it means to train for the priesthood. These are important questions in the world of Zen. And they are challenging due to a variety of factors.
First, one does not “study” Zen. For Zen Buddhists, Zen is not a subject to be read about; it is a practice to be experienced. Reading too often fills student’s heads up with “ideas and concepts” and these actually get in the way of true study, which is the study of the Buddha Way, the study of the self. Yet, we read, as reading is what we Westerners do. We want to “know” something. We Google, go to Wiki, read books, journals, and magazines. We watch YouTube videos, movies, and documentaries. But the result is not true “knowing.” Such knowing is shallow and superficial; it can impress, but not sustain. True knowing is something else again. It is eating the watermelon, not describing it. It is riding the bicycle, not talking about it. When we study in Zen, it is to bring consonance between the inside and outside, to come to a unification of body, mind, and environment. As Master Dogen said, ‘to study the way is to study the self’ and in this study, the self falls away. This is as deep as it is dynamic, but it is also quite uncomfortable.
One does not walk into a Zendo and announce that he wants to become a priest and needs a teacher. This is both a complete misunderstanding of “priest” and hubris to boot. A Zendo is not a university and ordination is not graduation. I have found wannabe students to be of three types, broadly speaking: students who enter with eyes set on the credentials of robes and titles; those who approach with humility and deep respect, but still have an ideal in mind; and those who truly don’t know what they want or even why they are in a Zendo in the first place. These descend in terms of challenge. With the most authentic being the last.
The priesthood is not a vocation you train for as one might in a vocational college. It is not a credential. It is a life. Robes are not handed out to be chevrons on a sleeve or a set of letters behind a name. They do not elevate, in fact, they do the opposite. Being a priest is being a priest in a lifelong, complete, and total commitment to selfless service.
After coming to a Zendo, practicing for some time, a student may ask a teacher to create a formal teaching relationship. Please understand, this is not done lightly. Nor is it accepted lightly. It is a commitment to change your life. It is also a very different type of teacher/student relationship than most of us have ever encountered. It is not a friendship. It is not horizontal. In Zen, the teacher has the final word: accept it, chew on it, but don’t walk away from it. The teaching is there to help you, or insist that you let yourself drop away. This often requires intense scrutiny and uncomfortable self-examination. Defensiveness is the tell-tale heartbeat of ego.
Zen teachers can be gruff, funny, contradictory, unassuming, arrogant, compassionate, and dispassionate. But most of all, true Zen teachers care. What do they care about? Mostly about their students coming to a clear mind.
Be well
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