Zen and the Art of Movie Watching

I am a Star Wars fan—a HUGE Star Wars fan.

I’ve seen each of the movies dozens of times, yes, even the prequels. I have learned to accept Jar Jar Binks as part of canon. I was very excited to see J.J. Abrams’ new trilogy and what he would do with my beloved characters. He didn’t let me down with The Force Awakens. While basically ripping off the original Star Wars plot, he was still able to introduce a new group of characters to the Star Wars universe, while treating the old characters with the respect, and screen time, they deserved.

So, to say that I was excited to see The Last Jedi is an understatement. I was, as the kids say nowadays, amped. I purchased tickets for the first showing I could make it to and settled in to what I was sure was going to be another great Star Wars movie. I knew the movie would center around Luke and I also knew it would answer a lot of questions that had been left unanswered from TFA (that’s how we—the real fans—write The Force Awakens) such as who Rey’s parents were and who Snoke really was.

A little over two hours later I left the theater dejected. The movie was definitely not what I had wanted it to be. How dare the director, Rian Johnson, basically disregard all the movies that had come before and create this movie that was only superficially a Star Wars movie. Yeah, it had Stormtroopers and light sabers and Luke Skywalker, but they didn’t do or act how they should have. I know, because I’m a Star Wars fan. I was like Boba Fett falling down the Sarlacc Pit; I had found a new definition of pain and suffering, like being slowly digested over a thousand years.

I was pissed off. I even made a comment that Sunday at my Sangha. At the end of our meditation session we go around the group and say our names and give a high point and low point of the week. When it came around to me, I gave my name and my low point, “I’m Tyson and my low point was that the new Star Wars movie was shit.” Which actually went with the day’s theme because our teacher had just given a dharma talk on Yunmen’s dried shit on a stick koan.

A few days later, after I had read dozens of online reviews and realized that a lot of other people were as upset as I was I started to cool off. Misery loves company. I also read the “professional” reviews that said what a great movie it was. I didn’t understand how the pros’ and nerds’ viewpoints could be so different. So I decided to go see it again.

This time I went on a Wednesday night. It was much less crowded, there was less buzz and energy in the theater. To say I was not “amped” this time would be correct. The movie started, and a little over two hours later, I was…confused. I was confused because I actually enjoyed it. How could I enjoy a movie that just a few days ago I was calling shit during my sangha meeting?

Oh, wait…

The first time I saw it, I carried a lot of stuff into the movie with me (like Luke going into Dagobah’s Dark Side cave). I was a HUGE Star Wars fan. I knew how the movies should go. I expected the director and actors to please me because they owed it to me. I had pretty damn high expectations.

The second time I went to see it I had zero expectations. I went to see it as a neutral observer. I didn’t expect anything from the movie and wasn’t expecting anything from myself—no baggage and no labels. There was nothing to be let down about.

I went in empty.

I’m a terrible Zen student, but even I could figure this out. If I go into a movie with an identity (Star Wars Fan) and I have preconceived notions and expectations (how a Star Wars movie should be) then what else in my life do I do this with? What other areas of my life can I see this pattern happen? I do this with people and places all the time. I know how Joe from work is going to act because he’s this type of person. I know when I go to the grocery I’m not going to like it because there will be long lines and babies crying. Instead of being a clean sheet of paper, I’ve already written in permanent marker what these experiences will be like beforehand. Intellectually, I knew I was doing this before, but for some reason a Star Wars movie was an opening for me where I attained what was happening.

So today when I came to work I had a different relationship to Joe. He didn’t annoy me quite so much with his chipper, “isn’t it a wonderful morning” attitude. I’m not sure how long that will last, but hopefully longer than it took for Han to make the Kessel Run.

About That Christmas Feast…

Hello, my name is Hae Mun, and I’m a vegetarian. You may already be rolling your eyes and getting ready to skip over the rest of this. I don’t blame you. I hate to be preached at too. But, I’m not going to preach much, I promise. There are no videos attached to this that show baby calves getting tortured or seals getting clubbed over the head.  Although I will share an experience or two of my childhood growing up on the farm. So, if you’re still reading then here we go…

 

Yesterday a pretty well-respected Zen author and psychoanalyst, whose book I have read and enjoyed, posted this on his Facebook page:

 

“Meat eating acknowledges our animal nature, as a fellow animal and part of the food chain, as a link in a net of interdependence. It acknowledges that there is no such thing as purity, as standing apart from suffering and death, with which all forms of life are inevitably entangled. We are called to be mindful of the cost to others of our continued existence. “Seventy-two labors brought us this food, we should know how it comes to us.” Spirituality is already all too entangled with hatred of the physical, of the body, of sexuality, of physical and emotional needs. We cannot (and should not) transcend any of this. Eat meat, have sex, raise children, admit your need for love, remember you are mortal and this embodied life is the only life there is.”

 

Now as I alluded to before, I really try not to preach and lecture about not eating meat. But reading the above quote from a Zen teacher, I was a little flabbergasted. There are several arguments by Buddhists for eating meat. The only two that I agree with are if you have an actual physical ailment that causes you to have to eat animal protein or if like the Tibetans, you don’t have access to vegetables. Other than those, I don’t think you can viably argue that killing another animal for your consumption is ok. And if you think you can, I’ll be glad to rebut those arguments in the comment section. But back to the quote above—wow.

 

It’s really convenient that we humans are at the top of the food chain. Unless we are on an African safari or somehow surrounded by a lost tribe of cannibals, we don’t usually have to worry about being killed and eaten. I don’t think most humans realize how great that is. As I said, I grew up on a farm. We had all kinds of livestock at one time or another. You should hear chickens go crazy when a fox or coyote gets into their coop. You think YOU’RE stressed out when your parents-in-law are in town for the holidays and they are breathing down your neck all the time, imagine if you are a chicken with a coyote literally breathing down your neck with some drool coming out of its mouth. That’s stress. We also had cows. Not cows aren’t extremely smart. Not like pigs. Cows don’t really know to get out of the cold or rain. They will never be able to add 2 plus 2 with their hooves like that horse used to do on Johnny Carson’s show. But one thing they do know, when they are loaded into a trailer and get within a couple of miles of the slaughter house, they know they are about to die. They can literally smell the death. They go crazy. They don’t like that smell. They suffer.

 

So, imagine that aliens come to earth and decide THEY are now the top of the food chain. Let’s say they have an alien-looking knife at my Zen author’s throat. Would he be so arrogant and nonchalant about his circle of life and not standing apart from suffering and death then? I bet he would all of the sudden want to transcend that. What if they said an alien prayer to honor his sacrifice, would that make him feel better about being eaten? He is right, we are animals and we are a part of, not separate of interdependence. But unlike all other animals, we have the knowledge that we are causing suffering when we kill and we have the ability not to kill.

 

I don’t want to die. I do a lot of things every day to avoid death. I know animals don’t want to die because when you chase them, they run. So I don’t eat them. If you can help it, you shouldn’t either (sorry, that’s preachy.) Enjoy that Christmas Tofurky.

DHARMA COMBAT IN THE 21st CENTURY

So this month, two people in the Zen world that I respect are having an internet battle over koans.  This seems to happen in the Zen world every few years or so.  I guess the online  Zen community gets bored at times and needs good old fashioned Dharma Combat.  This month’s combatants  are two people who I have had conversations with over the years: *wrestling announcer voice* Dosho “The Elder Statesman” Port and Brad “Bad Boy of Zen” Warner. Both of these guys have been around the Zen online community for quite a while and I read their blogs religiously—no pun intended.

I actually spent about 6 months on Dosho’s Vine of Obstacles online Zen training course and was able to meet with him via video conferencing  several times over that period. He’s a good dude and knows his stuff. He’s trained in both Soto and hybrid Soto/Rinzai Zen through the years. Keep that in mind for the rest of this post.

Brad is the 21st century version of Ikkyu, that 15th century rascally monk that caused all kinds of problems. He’s written several irreverent books about Zen and has recently (thankfully) tackled translating Dogen’s writings so that the average laymen can understand them. He studied Soto Zen while he was in Japan and received transmission to teach there. As far as I know, he has little to no training in Rinzai Zen. Keep that in mind for the rest of the post.

So now that you have a little background of the two combatants, I’ll let you know what they are fighting over: did Dogen espouse the use of koans in his teaching?  Now, you would think this would be an easy cut and dry question. You just read all of Dogen’s writings and Boom! there’s your answer. But, you would be wrong. Both Brad and Dosho have studied Dogen’s writings. Dosho says “yes he most definitely did” and Brad says “no he most definitely did not”. So then the question is, who are we to believe?  MU! That is not the question! I’ll explain why in a little bit.  But first…

This battle seems to have been going on for the last 700 or so years. Dogen really didn’t like Dahui Zonggao (a Rinzai reformer of koans) and it looks like Dahui felt the same about Dogen. For Zen Masters, they said some nasty stuff about each other. Luckily, Dosho and Brad aren’t slinging any mud (although Brad has been known to do so in the past—just look at some of his old Youtube videos where he uses a sock puppet.) So during the last seven or so centuries Dogen’s Soto school and Dahui’s Rinzai school have been arguing about how best to reach enlightenment and that argument has come down to us today via Dosho and Brad.

Going back to that argument, Dosho says here that Dogen taught koan study while he was alive. Dosho himself has spent a number of years after receiving Soto transmission studying koans with a couple of different teachers. He now teaches koan study himself. So Dosho has been on both sides of this argument. Brad says here that Dogen didn’t teach koans as a path to enlightenment. Brad, if I remember correctly, has only studied Soto Zen and has extremely limited knowledge of koan study. He says he solved one once and his Soto teacher said, “yeah, that’s a good answer.” I don’t think that qualifies you as a koan master. So from an experience side, Dosho wins this round. His study in both Soto and in the Harada-Yasutani-Yamada koan lineage gives him the bona fides to talk about the pros and cons of koan introspection.

So for round two, let’s look specifically at Dogen’s teachings.  Again, Dosho spent the first part of his Zen life studying with a great Soto teacher. He also went to Japan to get a taste of the monk life at a real life Zen temple. According to his blog, he is doing some translating of Japanese texts. So I would say Dosho qualifies to give his opinion on Dogen. What about Brad? Well, his teacher wrote the first, and for a while the only translation of Dogen’s work in English. And if memory serves, Brad was involved in the periphery of that work. Brad lived in Japan for years and is semi-fluent in Japanese.  Brad is currently half-way through his promised four volume work of translating Dogen into something I can understand (thanks again for that Brad.) So he has studied Soto Zen and has indirectly and directly translated Dogen’s writings into English.  Sorry Dosho, but I have to score this round to Brad.  But it was close.

So for the third and final round let’s look at one of my favorite subjects, inherent biases. Brad has a history of being stubborn. I don’t think I have ever seen him change his opinion on anything. And when he has an opinion he is very vocal about it and charges at you with it. And he’s sold a lot of books and amassed a nice following by doing things that way. Brad’s main studies have been in the Soto lineage and he has Soto transmission. Soto’s current company line is that Dogen didn’t use koans and that is what Brad’s teacher thought and taught as well. So Brad may be biased to think that since he didn’t use koans that they are no good and therefore there was no way that Dogen would advocate their use. Dosho on the other hand has done extensive Zen work both without koans and with koans. He currently personally believes that koan study is the bees knees and the best route to enlightenment. So Dosho is predisposed to believe that Dogen would use koan study because Dosho himself likes it. I rule this round a tie. My guess is that both Dosho and Brad are biased in their views and are personally invested in their arguments and this could influence their interpretation of what Dogen wrote. While we hope as Zen practitioners that we can see through most of our biases, we are still human.

So that is one round for Dosho, one round for Brad and one round ends in a draw. So, who wins? Neither. And that is the answer to this koan. Neither Brad’s position or Dosho’s position matters in anything more than an academic way. Who cares if Dogen advocated koan study. The point should be that there is a school that doesn’t use it and a school that does. WHAT WORKS BEST FOR YOU?

Glad you asked. I spent the first half of my (so far limited) meditation life not using koans. I had my first kensho experience without the aid of them. I am currently working with koans. I don’t like them. But enough people I trust tell me that I should keep going so I do. I am currently using a traditional method and have recently started attending a sangha that uses koans in a group discussion setting. That group is interesting and isn’t “solving” koans in the traditional sense. But I don’t feel like my practice has changed that much with koans. That wasn’t the experience Dosho and many others have had. They benefited from koan study. And that’s great. Use koan study if you want to. If you don’t want to, don’t use it. It doesn’t matter what Dogen or Dahui  or the Buddha said or didn’t say about koans. Be a lamp unto yourself.

For the record, I am not trying to hold myself up in any sort of way to the level that Dosho and Brad are.  They are both transmitted teachers who have been doing this for a long time. I respect both of them very much and am glad they are available to us. So my weighing them in this post is just for fun, although I do think my ultimate point has some validity. But I certainly understand if you, Dosho, and Brad don’t think it does.

Love Letter To The Sangha

Reprinted from my post on The Tattooed Buddha 

So I have been meditating almost daily for 7 years. But I have a dirty little secret. Ok, I have several dirty little secrets, but only one that I am prepared to share with you readers. I don’t like to meditate. Yes, you read that right. I really don’t like to.  I have to talk myself into it most days and when I do finally force myself on the pillow I am ready to get up almost immediately.

This wasn’t always the case.  When I first started 7 years ago by going to a beginners’ Zen retreat I was a little scared, but excited. I had been an intellectual Zen student for over 15 years. I had read many wonderful books about Buddhism in general and Zen in particular. I knew it was right for me. But I only read and rarely sat my ass on a cushion. So I was excited to find out that there was a Zen group in my area. I couldn’t wait to do the actual practice. I learned very little at the retreat (by design—those damn enigmatic Zen teachers ya know). But they did put me on a zafu and zabuton and force me to sit still for 15-30 minutes at a time for half a day. It flew by. I’m an introvert, so what better way to spend time with people than having them sit next to me and not be allowed to say anything to me? Plus, it was startling to see the tangled mess that was my mind. I was hooked.

After fast and furious 6 months of meditating once or twice daily I started to notice results. Now in Zen, we aren’t supposed to have a goal with meditation and any benefits you see because of meditation shouldn’t be discussed. They are purely incidental to the BIG AWAKENING. And we definitely can’t talk about that! But dammit, I did have results. I actually noticed things going on around me. I was actually listening to people instead of just hearing them. I was able to see that I was causing suffering in others and was able to at least cut that down some.

All great right? Other things happened too over the first couple of years. And I enjoyed being on the cushion. But sometime, somehow, it started to change. After a few years it wasn’t so fun anymore. I started making excuses about why I couldn’t sit that day. All of the sudden I was too busy. Or didn’t feel good. Or my knee hurt too bad from trying to twist myself into the pretzel full lotus position. I had any number of excuses to not sit and my practice went first to almost daily to a couple of times a week to whenever I felt like it. And I didn’t feel like it most of the time.

But throughout this time I kept going to my weekly Sangha meetings. I started enjoying those more and more. I began to interact with the other members even though, for me, it was painful to do. If it hadn’t been for my Sangha, I am pretty sure I would have given up meditation. But being around other dedicated practitioners, my compassionate teacher, and new people who were just beginning on the path, got me back on the cushion “full time”. I am thankful for them.

Now back to my dirty little secret. Even though I’m meditating once or twice a day almost daily, I don’t enjoy it. It’s still a burden for me most days. But when I have those days where I really, really, REALLY don’t want to do it, I think about how I’m not as big an asshole because of it and how much better I can be if I continue to do it. And I think of my Sangha.  The great group of people that come help me sit on Sundays. Some I’ve known for years. Some I see one time and they never come back. But they all have courage and it forces me to be courageous each time I stare down at the cushion before I sit. My Sangha is my motivation. So if you see any of my Sangha members, thank them for helping me to not be as big an asshole as I used to be.

No Saints, Only Sinners

Each week after zazen has concluded we go around the group and say our names and are asked to share a high and low point of the week if we are so inclined. This was instituted a couple of years ago because one of the complaints we heard from newbies that came to our group was that it was a “cold atmosphere” and not very inviting. Well, I think that pretty much sums up Zen, but I digress. 

This week during the high/low point discussion, several people brought up that they came to Zen to escape from a strict Christian upbringing. This is a thread that comes up in our group fairly frequently, and it happened to me to a lesser extent. I was sent to a Southern Baptist Sunday school because they were the only church that sent a bus by our farmhouse. Our mother shipped my brother and me there every Sunday and I’m convinced she only used the church as an unpaid babysitter for a couple of hours.  She grew up Catholic and never went to church as an adult. She abruptly stopped sending us when I came home one day and told her that she was going to Hell because she smoked cigarettes. 

But it seems like many of the people that visit our Sangha have had a much more traumatic experience with The Church. During these stories you can feel the pain and anguish in their voices as they share this with complete or almost complete strangers. On the flip side we have two members that are still active in their respective churches and seem very content and ok with their Christian Sanghas. 

I often wonder if in China there are people that go to Christian churches and tell how they were scarred in childhood by their experiences at the local Buddhist temple. They think Christianity is the salve that will heal them like a lot of American converts believe Zen will do for them. I think a lot of the newbies that come to our Sangha are unaware that there are plenty of Americans across the country that have been emotionally scarred by Zen in general and some of the teachers of Zen in particular. Are there Imams, Rabbis, and Pujaris that have been embroiled in controversies that have hurt their congregants? Should we expect more from our religious leaders than we expect out of ourselves? After all, they are supposed to be closer to God(s). 

I got into Zen because I read about the saintly Zen patriarchs that were serene, emotionless bastions of limitless wisdom.  I wanted to be one of those. Luckily I met a teacher that was 100% human and my idea of infallibility was quickly dispelled. Those saintly beings don’t exist in any religion. Some are going to help us. Some are going to hurt us. Some are going to do a good deal of both.

Whose False Comfort?

I just read an article that was originally posted on lionsroar.com titled “The False Comfort of the Familiar,” written by Jules Shuzen Harris. The article asks why people of color are not present in Buddhist sanghas. He states:

“There is a basic human tendency to seek comfort in the known, in a familiar world that mirrors our prior experiences. Because of this, people naturally tend to self-segregate and align themselves with others with whom they find similarity, familiarity, and comfort. As a result, we find a notable lack of significant racial, ethnic, and economic diversity in many communities—including Buddhist communities.”

I unfortunately agree completely with the above statement. We are still, to some degree, a tribal species, no matter how much we try not to be. My disagreement with Mr. Harris is that he seems to throw the blame, for lack of a better word, on the current Buddhist community. He asks:

“As Buddhists, we would do well to ask ourselves, where is no-self when we surround ourselves with people we feel most comfortable and aligned with, consciously or not? How genuine is our bodhisattva vow to save all sentient beings when we seek out the company of certain beings and avoid others?”

As the person who is the unofficial – and maybe self-appointed – head of bringing new members to our sangha*, I look at this a different way. (And yes, I’m a middle aged white male.) On the rare occasion that we get person of color in our sangha they rarely come back. We would LOVE to have them back. Our sangha has addressed this several times. But until we have consistent POC visitors, there are no “others with whom they find similarity, familiarity, and comfort.” Therefore, this is a self-fulfilling prophecy. There are very few POC in American sanghas. POC won’t feel comfortable coming to an “all-white” sangha, so POC will not come to American sanghas. Until some brave souls get over their discomfort and say “fuck it, I’m staying,” POC will continue to be sparse in our communities. 

I’ve been to an all-black Baptist church. The people were extremely nice and I was never made to feel unwelcome. But I wouldn’t go to an all-black church on a regular basis. I look at it as “theirs.” I feel like I would be infringing on their space and their community. This may all be in my head, of course. I don’t really know how they would feel. But until I take the time to find out from them, it’s my issue, not theirs. By the way, I realize there is historically more to this situation than what we face in Buddhist communities.

Part of the problem is that Buddhism, and Zen in particular, has a problem with proselytizing. We don’t “recruit.” Mr. Harris mentions reaching out to people of color and different socioeconomic classes, but does not suggest a path to doing that. Our sangha has a website, Facebook page, and a Meetup.com page. That’s about all the reaching out we do. Part of the reason is, again, we don’t proselytize. But I also don’t even know how we would effectively increase our awareness in specifically non-white  communities. And even if I did, I would feel somewhat guilty trying to take away from other faith communities.

We are open to everyone at our sangha. We are present for all sentient beings. We are all too aware of the lack of diversity, but don’t people of color have some obligation in this too? I don’t think we are consciously or unconsciously excluding minorities from our sanghas. I think minorities are somewhat excluding themselves. Let me know what you think and give me some ideas your community has used to try to solve this problem.

*As always, the views of my blog in no way should be seen as representative of my sangha or my teacher. 

Don’t Know. Don’t Know. Dooooooon’t Knooooooowwww

As with most great ideas I have had in my life, I find that someone else has already had them. Very often I’m a day late and a dollar short.
 
There are several purposes to this site. Mainly it was pushing back to the overly vocal liberal thought police that are pervading American Zen. But the secondary reason for this site is to show that in most cases, taking one side over the other, especially in politics is wrong.
 
So as I’m reading Zen Confidential by Shozan Jack Haubner ‘s Zen Confidential I come across this:
 
“But ultimately my Zen practice is not political: my politics are beholden to and part of the bigger picture that is my practice. I try to embrace both sides of the issue, then, and search for a personal resolution not in a logical argument for either but in an unspoken and embodied synthesis of the two-“
 
Now, nevermind that he was talking about the one issue that I don’t think there should be a compromise on–abortion. But that is how I wish most people, and especially Buddhists would approach most issues. Before trying to defend yourself, ask how and why the other side came up with their opinion. Is there anything of theirs I can incorporate into mine? Do I HAVE to be right on this? Is there room for compromise? Keeping that “don’t know” attitude.
 
Reading today’s American Zen blogs, I sadly find little of this.

Left Wing Buddha, Right Wing Buddha

I’d guess that if you asked most American Zen teachers if the Buddha was a Democrat or a Republican, the majority would answer that the dharma transcends politics. And they would be correct. But I believe they’d secretly be thinking that the Buddha was a card carrying liberal. I personally don’t know how you can read about the Buddha and not think he was a Libertarian. “Be a lamp unto yourself” could be the most libertarian statement of any major religion.  

My Buddhist friend (everyone should have one) and I were discussing this subject. He thinks most people see the dharma through their particular political lens. Me, I’m a little more cynical. I think that statement is too passive. I think people actively bring their politics into the dharma. I wasn’t alive when the hippies in the Northeast and California started converting en masse, but it set up the American Zen we see today. Well, that and all the New York psychoanalysts that also came to it. But that’s a post for another time.  

This is not a uniquely American Zen problem. Last weekend, I attended a local interfaith event for Pride Month where the themes were “unlearn fear and hate” and “building bridges.” Our mayor, who is openly gay, was there. This event was organized by a local Catholic parishioner and many clergy from the Big Three (Christianity, Judaism, and Islam) attended. My Zen teacher joined the group last year. The main speaker was a local Rabbi whom I’ve heard speak many times. I’ve also had personal conversations with him and he’s a very charismatic guy with a wonderful sense of humor. His speech started off great, talking about how important it is to include everyone, regardless of race, creed, religion, or sexual orientation. He mixed in some Jewish sayings with some Jewish humor. And then, bam! Out of nowhere he started deriding the current President, his cabinet members and the people who voted for him. I was dumbstruck. An event dedicated to building bridges and this is how he honors that theme?  

There are better ways to talk about inclusion. I don’t know why this is so hard for our American religious leaders to understand. And to our Zen leaders, once again, I ask you where the political ramblings of Dogen, Rinzai, Bodhidharma, and the Buddha are in the historical record? If the ancestors stayed out of politics, why do we as a sangha feel we need to be involved?  

 

Communal Zen

There have been a couple of blog posts discussing private or communal Zen at No Zen In The West  and a response by Dosho Port, who I briefly studied with and highly recommend his Vine Of Obstacles training website.

I personally don’t think it is either/or.  I think it should be left to the individual practitioner.  So I guess considering that statement, maybe i lean more toward it being personal.  But this weekend I was able to attend a kido retreat where we chanted Friday afternoon and Saturday.  Sure, you can chant at home by yourself.  But to me this retreat represented the best of communal Zen.  To be able to forget your own voice and only be aware of the Sangha’s voice.  It was pretty powerful stuff.

My Personal Zen requires a Sangha.  I don’t find any irony in that statement.

American Bodhisattvas and Engaged Buddhism

Disclaimer — this is an unedited version of a post.  I am going ahead and putting it up because I will be gone for the next 3 days.  I wrote it last weekend but haven’t had a chance to get back to it and refine it.  So it may come off more harsh than I intend for it to, and of course it will be filled with spelling, formatting, and grammatical errors.  Please forgive all of those.

This post loosely ties into a recent post at No Zen In The West that I encourage everyone to read.

American Bodhisattvas and Engaged Buddhism

Before you save the world you must first save yourself.

Before you try to save the world, learn to make an omelet. 

I couldn’t find the author to attribute the above quotes to.  I’ll get back to them in a minute.

What is a bodhisattva?  Wikipedia tells me a “bodhisattva is the Sanskrit term for anyone who, motivated by great compassion, has generated bodhicitta to attain buddhahood for the benefit of all sentient beings.” And without getting stuck in a Wikipedia hyperlink vortex, bodhicitta ‘may be translated as “awakening mind” or “mind of enlightenment”’  In every traditional explanation that I could find of what a bodhisattva is, it is always some variant of someone who helps save others and get them to enlightenment. 

So why in Zen circles do I constantly see and hear people refer to a bodhisattva as anyone that does any generous act?  See a person give a dollar to a homeless man? “Ah, what a great bodhisattva!”.  See a person rescue a kitten from a tree? “Ah, how wonderful!  What a bodhisattva!”  Are these actions true actions of a bodhisattva?  Or are they just people being nice to their fellow sentient beings?  Is there a difference?

I think American Zen is getting sidetracked.  I commented on a popular Zen blog the other day that I don’t know how much good we are doing by feeding the homeless.  I stopped there but should have completed my thought.  I promise I am not that inhumane.  I just come from the school that you should teach a man to fish.  You can feed him while you’re teaching him, but by just feeding him you are not helping him in the long run.  He will always be dependent upon someone else.

So that brings me to “Engaged Buddhism”.  Engaged Buddhism has taken a life of its own since being brought over from the West.  What started there as Humanistic Buddhism, which was a way for our Asian brothers to bring Buddhism literally back to life from the death rituals it had devolved into, has been turned into social charity work.  That in and of itself isn’t a bad thing.  But it seems the focus of American Zen is switching from the permanent cessation of suffering of all sentient beings (the original job of the bodhisattva) to the temporary alleviating of suffering of perceived downtrodden and political activism on behalf of those perceived downtrodden.  I think American Zen is the further watering down of the Dharma.

I believe a bodhisattva’s job is to help people learn how to fish on their own, not just to give them their next fish.  Both are important.  But there are plenty of people and organizations that can help you get that next fish.  How many can help you learn how to fish and cook for yourself?  And Heaven forbid I bring a Theravada point up, but shouldn’t we save ourselves first THEN save the world?  We have to make several omelets ourselves before we can become a chef and make them for others.  Pardon all of my mixed metaphors and parables. 

Zen is about attaining enlightenment.  Over and over again.  Then helping others do the same.  Don’t lose sight of this.

So am I wrong?  Just misguided?  Is a bodhisattva just a really nice person?  Or is a bodhisattva a person whose focus should be primarily on helping others realize enlightenment?