Passing Through Zen
A Christian Adventure Along the Spiritual Path
Garth Stanton, who spent thirty years as a chemist at Chevron Research in Richmond, California, before retiring in 1992, had an early interest in monastic and contemplative life dating from his days at a high school run by the Xaverian Brothers in Bardstown, Kentucky, not far from the Trappist Abbey of Gethsemani. He later drifted away from his religious roots but Zen brought him back to these, so that he can claim, “I am now a Catholic (Zen) Christian, not by birth or by permission but by choice.” He is an active member of his local Catholic parish and does his Zen practice mostly at Green Gulch Farm in Sausalito, California. His writing has been primarily poetry, two of his poems being included in the following article.
“No, no—Poetry is serious! Zen is not serious!”
Reading this quotation, in a flash, I had passed through Zen!
Gary Snyder, the well—known poet, had given up poetry for six years to study Zen in the belief that “Zen is serious, poetry is not serious.” But, the dying Zen Master, Oda Sesso—roshi, had set him straight as to where his true self needed to be.1
All who take up Zen as their meditative practice must pass through Zen in order to continue on the Way, to realize Zen. What do I mean by “passing through Zen”? Perhaps a parable from the Christian tradition may help explain the phrase.
Jesus refers to two types of people in the parable of the servants who were given a certain amount of money and were instructed to take care of it until the master returned. Two of them took the money and invested it—the other buried it so as to not risk losing any of it (Mt. 25:14-30). The poor fellow who buried the money got tossed out into the cold for his trouble—those who made the money work for them were praised and rewarded.
In a church or a Buddhist sangha (community) these are those who resist any change, have a fortress mentality, and are fiercely loyal to institutional norms and forms. They allow fear to govern their thinking and actions. They become, not models of stability but rather, stuck. This observation is expressed in the poem entitled “Zen Playpens”:
Zen Playpens
They keep us
To the form
Prescribed.
There are koans
for play
And the sangha
For comfort.
Especially enticing
Are the fun-house mirrors
That reflect
Our own delusions.
In the playpen
We are fed
And our diapers changed.
Who could want more than that?
It’s a safe place,
This playpen,
Circumscribed
With friendly bars.
The clever ones learn
To put the blocks
Together skillfully,
Becoming playpen masters.
Acclaimed by their peers,
Given the deference due them—
Seats of honor and such
Complete the mirror’s image.
True Masters,
Leaving the playpen,
Are rarely seen or heard.
That’s Zen without toys!2
The other type of person looks upon life as a continuing adventure—risky, because they don’t know where they are going. They are being called to seemingly impossible destinations. Uncertainty, doubt, is a feature of this path because the ego-mind is scared (for good reason) that its existence is threatened by the growing presence of the intuitive mind—the true self. It is this true self—“the self which is only self”3—that can connect with transcendence. I believe it is the purpose of any contemplative technology to free the intuitive mind from its shackles. But the danger is, if we make something out of Zen, it imprisons us and we become lost on the Way. We have to give up Zen formalism as an object, even as we practice within it, in order to become our true selves. Thus, as in the opening story, poets are poets and masters are masters.
There is the well-known metaphor of Zen being a raft which one takes to cross over from the shore of delusion to the shore of realization.4 It is not a conclusion of the journey but a point in the journey, where one continues on the Way and begins one’s practice in earnest. Doubts are over or at least clearer—one is convinced and begins to experience one’s true self—this is happiness! In the case of this Christian, at least, these doubts have been blown away by my love and faith in my experience of the Beloved. Is satori mine? No—maybe it will happen some day, maybe not. Nevertheless, I realize Zen and see that it is part of all traditions if one searches for the truth deeply enough. Zen is part of me, but I can now leave the raft of formalism, of teaching and practice, behind as I step onto the other shore and continue on the Way, practicing in the form but not being bound to it, grateful to the members of the sangha for their support and encouragement.
Truly, we don’t trod the Way by ourselves! And yet, paradoxically, we do. Robert Kennedy, in his book Zen Gifts for Christians, observes that Zen teaches us “that we must be self-reliant and never be satisfied only to follow the instructions of our teachers. We must grow beyond them.” This “does not necessarily mean to be better than the teacher. Rather, to ‘go beyond’ … means to stand on one’s own feet, to be totally self-reliant so that while grasping one’s master’s teaching one still owns the personal expression of it.”5 Again, perhaps the poetic voice can best express paradox in a poem entitled “Just Passing Through”:
Just Passing Through
I once thought
How wonderful it would be
After I attained the state
Of perfect equanimity.
Beginners are like that
And many “experts” too,
Saying to themselves—and others,
Look what Zen has done for me!
The furniture is in place
With wardrobe to match.
Sangha gathered around my nest—
What a wonderful place to be!
Then, stumbling across a master
One day, unexpectedly,
I noticed no furniture or garb,
Nothing to show Zen was her game.
Laughing good-naturedly,
She stepped on to the further shore,
Saying, “Don’t worry about me and Zen,
I’m just passing through!”
And blossoms whispered around her head6
It can be noted that the very same process must occur in Christian contemplative practice or in any other legitimate contemplative tradition. Fr. Kennedy again observes: “Can we Christians not hear in this Zen gift Christ’s words: ‘I am the way, the truth and the life (John 14:6)? Can this Zen gift of no God outside ourselves help us to really understand that we are Christ himself?”7 Speaking for myself, this is a shock. But, one is ready, then, to venture out and interact with all in the human family who seek truth. This is where ecumenical practice goes beyond dialogue into brotherhood and sisterhood. Thus, Thomas Merton could say of Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Zen Master, “he is my brother.”8
It is in this “passing through Zen” context that the Christian practitioner can welcome Zen into his or her spiritual practice, to profit from the many gifts Zen has to offer. Christianity need not be afraid of Zen—only of itself when it strays from the “way, the truth and the life” that Jesus came to show us.
For, how could I know what the Buddha and Jesus are all about other than by walking in their footsteps?
Reading this quotation, in a flash, I had passed through Zen!
Gary Snyder, the well—known poet, had given up poetry for six years to study Zen in the belief that “Zen is serious, poetry is not serious.” But, the dying Zen Master, Oda Sesso—roshi, had set him straight as to where his true self needed to be.1
All who take up Zen as their meditative practice must pass through Zen in order to continue on the Way, to realize Zen. What do I mean by “passing through Zen”? Perhaps a parable from the Christian tradition may help explain the phrase.
Jesus refers to two types of people in the parable of the servants who were given a certain amount of money and were instructed to take care of it until the master returned. Two of them took the money and invested it—the other buried it so as to not risk losing any of it (Mt. 25:14-30). The poor fellow who buried the money got tossed out into the cold for his trouble—those who made the money work for them were praised and rewarded.
In a church or a Buddhist sangha (community) these are those who resist any change, have a fortress mentality, and are fiercely loyal to institutional norms and forms. They allow fear to govern their thinking and actions. They become, not models of stability but rather, stuck. This observation is expressed in the poem entitled “Zen Playpens”:
Zen Playpens
They keep us
To the form
Prescribed.
There are koans
for play
And the sangha
For comfort.
Especially enticing
Are the fun-house mirrors
That reflect
Our own delusions.
In the playpen
We are fed
And our diapers changed.
Who could want more than that?
It’s a safe place,
This playpen,
Circumscribed
With friendly bars.
The clever ones learn
To put the blocks
Together skillfully,
Becoming playpen masters.
Acclaimed by their peers,
Given the deference due them—
Seats of honor and such
Complete the mirror’s image.
True Masters,
Leaving the playpen,
Are rarely seen or heard.
That’s Zen without toys!2
The other type of person looks upon life as a continuing adventure—risky, because they don’t know where they are going. They are being called to seemingly impossible destinations. Uncertainty, doubt, is a feature of this path because the ego-mind is scared (for good reason) that its existence is threatened by the growing presence of the intuitive mind—the true self. It is this true self—“the self which is only self”3—that can connect with transcendence. I believe it is the purpose of any contemplative technology to free the intuitive mind from its shackles. But the danger is, if we make something out of Zen, it imprisons us and we become lost on the Way. We have to give up Zen formalism as an object, even as we practice within it, in order to become our true selves. Thus, as in the opening story, poets are poets and masters are masters.
There is the well-known metaphor of Zen being a raft which one takes to cross over from the shore of delusion to the shore of realization.4 It is not a conclusion of the journey but a point in the journey, where one continues on the Way and begins one’s practice in earnest. Doubts are over or at least clearer—one is convinced and begins to experience one’s true self—this is happiness! In the case of this Christian, at least, these doubts have been blown away by my love and faith in my experience of the Beloved. Is satori mine? No—maybe it will happen some day, maybe not. Nevertheless, I realize Zen and see that it is part of all traditions if one searches for the truth deeply enough. Zen is part of me, but I can now leave the raft of formalism, of teaching and practice, behind as I step onto the other shore and continue on the Way, practicing in the form but not being bound to it, grateful to the members of the sangha for their support and encouragement.
Truly, we don’t trod the Way by ourselves! And yet, paradoxically, we do. Robert Kennedy, in his book Zen Gifts for Christians, observes that Zen teaches us “that we must be self-reliant and never be satisfied only to follow the instructions of our teachers. We must grow beyond them.” This “does not necessarily mean to be better than the teacher. Rather, to ‘go beyond’ … means to stand on one’s own feet, to be totally self-reliant so that while grasping one’s master’s teaching one still owns the personal expression of it.”5 Again, perhaps the poetic voice can best express paradox in a poem entitled “Just Passing Through”:
Just Passing Through
I once thought
How wonderful it would be
After I attained the state
Of perfect equanimity.
Beginners are like that
And many “experts” too,
Saying to themselves—and others,
Look what Zen has done for me!
The furniture is in place
With wardrobe to match.
Sangha gathered around my nest—
What a wonderful place to be!
Then, stumbling across a master
One day, unexpectedly,
I noticed no furniture or garb,
Nothing to show Zen was her game.
Laughing good-naturedly,
She stepped on to the further shore,
Saying, “Don’t worry about me and Zen,
I’m just passing through!”
And blossoms whispered around her head6
It can be noted that the very same process must occur in Christian contemplative practice or in any other legitimate contemplative tradition. Fr. Kennedy again observes: “Can we Christians not hear in this Zen gift Christ’s words: ‘I am the way, the truth and the life (John 14:6)? Can this Zen gift of no God outside ourselves help us to really understand that we are Christ himself?”7 Speaking for myself, this is a shock. But, one is ready, then, to venture out and interact with all in the human family who seek truth. This is where ecumenical practice goes beyond dialogue into brotherhood and sisterhood. Thus, Thomas Merton could say of Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Zen Master, “he is my brother.”8
It is in this “passing through Zen” context that the Christian practitioner can welcome Zen into his or her spiritual practice, to profit from the many gifts Zen has to offer. Christianity need not be afraid of Zen—only of itself when it strays from the “way, the truth and the life” that Jesus came to show us.
For, how could I know what the Buddha and Jesus are all about other than by walking in their footsteps?
1. Quoted by Gail Sher, One Continuous Mistake (New York: Penguin, 1999), p. 149.
2. Verse by the author, with thanks for the inspiration and most of the very last line to Uchiyama—roshi and his practice of “sesshins without toys” in Opening the Hand of Thought: Approach to Zen (London: Arkana, 1993), pp. 78ff.
3. Ibid., p. 79. “The true self that is just itself, naked, not wobbling about relative to others and full of desires, but settled in itself.”
4. Quoted by Thich Nhat Hanh, Old Path White Clouds: Walking in the Footsteps of the Buddha (Berkeley, Calif.: Parallax Press, 1991), p. 384.
5. Robert E. Kennedy, S.J., Zen Gifts to Christians (New York: Continuum, 2000), pp. 36—37.
6. Verses by the author.
7 Kennedy, p. 100.
8. Quoted by Jim Forest, Living with Wisdom (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1991), p. 193.
2. Verse by the author, with thanks for the inspiration and most of the very last line to Uchiyama—roshi and his practice of “sesshins without toys” in Opening the Hand of Thought: Approach to Zen (London: Arkana, 1993), pp. 78ff.
3. Ibid., p. 79. “The true self that is just itself, naked, not wobbling about relative to others and full of desires, but settled in itself.”
4. Quoted by Thich Nhat Hanh, Old Path White Clouds: Walking in the Footsteps of the Buddha (Berkeley, Calif.: Parallax Press, 1991), p. 384.
5. Robert E. Kennedy, S.J., Zen Gifts to Christians (New York: Continuum, 2000), pp. 36—37.
6. Verses by the author.
7 Kennedy, p. 100.
8. Quoted by Jim Forest, Living with Wisdom (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1991), p. 193.
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