Zazen Temple
I'll let Ashley speak about our group's experience at the Zazen Temple; she wrote this week's Culture essay in the form of a letter to her parents. I have compressed it.
Dear Mom and Dad,
Although our time in Japan is growing rapidly shorter, we still have a lot of excitement going on. In fact, you would not believe what I did this weekend: :[we] took a trip to stay overnight at a Zen Buddhist temple! Because of hearsay prior to this trip, there had been some fear about what we would be required to do while at the temple. Fortunately, I can assure you that what we did was not as bad as what we heard about, but even so, we had a singular experience learning about the intriguing lifestyle of the Zen Buddhist monk.The name of the temple we visited was Kyoto International Zendo (“zendo” is the Japanese term for Zen temple). “International” because students from around the world are welcome to study there. The temple is admirably tolerant of race, nationality, and even religion. It’s true – you don’t have to be a Buddhist to practice Zen Buddhism. In fact, while we were at the temple, two monks [were] training, one of whom was Siberian, the other German. Both speak English, and the Siberian monk even spoke Japanese fluently.After arriving at the temple at about four in the afternoon, we were greeted by the monk from Siberia, who we later found out has a Japanese name – Genma.
Genma showed us the temple, which was a fairly small, quintessentially Japanese style house. It smelled of incense and wood, though I’m not sure it was made entirely of wood, and it even had the Japanese-style paper doors. It was not like my expectations of a Buddhist temple at all, though I had not been sure what to expect in the first place, to be honest. There was a small kitchen, several rooms where we would be sleeping, and a western style bathroom – joy of joys! The most spectacular room in the temple was not specifically explained to us, but it was an open room that contained the statues, instruments, and other paraphernalia used for chanting and praying. In the back of the temple was a beautifully kept Zen garden, complete with massive carp swimming in a pond.Our first activity of the day was to chant in the Zen Buddhist style. Genma showed us the proper way to enter the part the room where the chanting is done, which is to step in with your left foot, bow, and then walk to your place with your hands together as if praying. When we were sitting at our places, the head of the temple, or the Roshi, entered to start the session. He was a rather large, bald, Japanese man who looked and was dressed exactly the way you would expect a Zen Buddhist master to look – rather like Buddha, to be quite honest. For some time, the Roshi lectured us on the chanting, with Genma translating. Finally, Genma started the chanting in a ridiculous voice. He sounded like a digeridoo [the Australian aboriginal instrument] and I am not even making that up. All of us were required to say the chants together, in time, with relative the same tone of voice, though we didn’t have to imitate the digeridoo. The purpose was to try to sound as unified as possible. It was rather monotonous in more ways than one.The chants we were required to say looked much like this: TO KU RA SHIKI ZODO SHI BUTSU WO NA.
After the chanting we had dinner. Dinner was the most difficult part of our stay at the temple. First of all, dinner was a very formal process. Everything had to be done in a particular way, from the saying of dinner chants, to setting our places, serving the [food], and even cleaning the dishes. The food itself was not particularly unappetizing, but it was different from the type of food we were all used to. [It was a vegetarian meal of steamed rice, a thin soup with greens, fried tofu, and small vegetable pickles. ] I took small portions in case I did not like anything, luckily, because nothing was quite to my taste, though I forced myself to eat it all to be polite.What really made dinner difficult was the cleaning of our dishes. Everyone was required to clean their own dishes at the table using steaming hot water. First, we had some [boiling] water poured into our largest bowl. Then, we had to pick up a small piece of pickled radish with our chopsticks, stick it in the bowl of water, and use it to clean the bowl. After that, we had to pour the same water into our four other bowls and clean those bowls with the radish. Finally, we had to drink the dirty water containing all our old bits of food and then eat the piece of pickled radish. The radish itself was bad enough to begin with but even worse was drinking the water. I wanted to gag, but the dinner table was silent, and the monks were watching us to make sure we followed the proper procedure.Once the ordeal of dinner was over, it was dark and cold, and we were led outside and down the street to another building to perform Zazen, or sitting meditation. I’m sure you can imagine this – it is where you sit with your legs crossed in such a way that each foot rests on the opposite thigh [lotus position]. I had thought Zazen would be particularly awful, but after dinner, I felt like nothing could faze me.
Zazen was difficult in that we had to sit in a particularly uncomfortable position for an hour and do nothing but think. I counted my exhalations to pass the time and clear my head, as the Roshi suggested, but I mostly ended up meditating on how badly my legs hurt. Our group was fidgeting so much that we had to be told to “keep still.” After two hours of Zazen meditation (including one break), we finally went back to the first building for tea.Tea was the only informal affair we had on our entire overnight stay. The dispositions of the monks changed almost entirely, and we chatted with them on a number of topics, including their home countries and their decisions to study Zen Buddhism. Tea was a much-needed break, as most of the time in the temple you are required to be silent.We were required to go to bed at nine, at which time the boys were led away to a guest building, while we girls went to another room in the temple. We set up our futons with extra blankets, as the temple has neither air-conditioning in the summer nor heat in the winter. Since none of us were that tired, we spent a lot of time chatting and trying to avoid frigid sleep. The monks would be coming to wake us up at ten to five for the morning service. I had an extremely cold and restless sleep.
Our morning activities were much the same as our evening activities. First, we chanted. Then, we had two more hours of Zazen meditation, although the Zazen was not as difficult the second time around. I think we only ended up doing one hour of meditation, because we went back for breakfast at about seven. At breakfast, we had rice gruel instead of rice and more pickled vegetables. I hardly ate anything because I knew what we would have to do to clean our bowls. I drank my dirty water as I was supposed to, but when the monks were drinking their water and not paying attention, I slipped my nasty pickle into my pocket. I felt very clever indeed when, on the way home, I found that only Judy and I had thought to hide our pickles to avoid eating them. My Zen temple experience was [one] I am not keen to have again, but at the same time, I am glad that I did it. It was a challenge, but it was not impossible. I survived, and now I have an interesting story to tell all the relatives when I am home for Christmas. Please tell everyone at home that I miss them very much! I love you, and I look forward to being home again.
Love,
Ashley
Dear Mom and Dad,
Although our time in Japan is growing rapidly shorter, we still have a lot of excitement going on. In fact, you would not believe what I did this weekend: :[we] took a trip to stay overnight at a Zen Buddhist temple! Because of hearsay prior to this trip, there had been some fear about what we would be required to do while at the temple. Fortunately, I can assure you that what we did was not as bad as what we heard about, but even so, we had a singular experience learning about the intriguing lifestyle of the Zen Buddhist monk.The name of the temple we visited was Kyoto International Zendo (“zendo” is the Japanese term for Zen temple). “International” because students from around the world are welcome to study there. The temple is admirably tolerant of race, nationality, and even religion. It’s true – you don’t have to be a Buddhist to practice Zen Buddhism. In fact, while we were at the temple, two monks [were] training, one of whom was Siberian, the other German. Both speak English, and the Siberian monk even spoke Japanese fluently.After arriving at the temple at about four in the afternoon, we were greeted by the monk from Siberia, who we later found out has a Japanese name – Genma.
Genma showed us the temple, which was a fairly small, quintessentially Japanese style house. It smelled of incense and wood, though I’m not sure it was made entirely of wood, and it even had the Japanese-style paper doors. It was not like my expectations of a Buddhist temple at all, though I had not been sure what to expect in the first place, to be honest. There was a small kitchen, several rooms where we would be sleeping, and a western style bathroom – joy of joys! The most spectacular room in the temple was not specifically explained to us, but it was an open room that contained the statues, instruments, and other paraphernalia used for chanting and praying. In the back of the temple was a beautifully kept Zen garden, complete with massive carp swimming in a pond.Our first activity of the day was to chant in the Zen Buddhist style. Genma showed us the proper way to enter the part the room where the chanting is done, which is to step in with your left foot, bow, and then walk to your place with your hands together as if praying. When we were sitting at our places, the head of the temple, or the Roshi, entered to start the session. He was a rather large, bald, Japanese man who looked and was dressed exactly the way you would expect a Zen Buddhist master to look – rather like Buddha, to be quite honest. For some time, the Roshi lectured us on the chanting, with Genma translating. Finally, Genma started the chanting in a ridiculous voice. He sounded like a digeridoo [the Australian aboriginal instrument] and I am not even making that up. All of us were required to say the chants together, in time, with relative the same tone of voice, though we didn’t have to imitate the digeridoo. The purpose was to try to sound as unified as possible. It was rather monotonous in more ways than one.The chants we were required to say looked much like this: TO KU RA SHIKI ZODO SHI BUTSU WO NA.
After the chanting we had dinner. Dinner was the most difficult part of our stay at the temple. First of all, dinner was a very formal process. Everything had to be done in a particular way, from the saying of dinner chants, to setting our places, serving the [food], and even cleaning the dishes. The food itself was not particularly unappetizing, but it was different from the type of food we were all used to. [It was a vegetarian meal of steamed rice, a thin soup with greens, fried tofu, and small vegetable pickles. ] I took small portions in case I did not like anything, luckily, because nothing was quite to my taste, though I forced myself to eat it all to be polite.What really made dinner difficult was the cleaning of our dishes. Everyone was required to clean their own dishes at the table using steaming hot water. First, we had some [boiling] water poured into our largest bowl. Then, we had to pick up a small piece of pickled radish with our chopsticks, stick it in the bowl of water, and use it to clean the bowl. After that, we had to pour the same water into our four other bowls and clean those bowls with the radish. Finally, we had to drink the dirty water containing all our old bits of food and then eat the piece of pickled radish. The radish itself was bad enough to begin with but even worse was drinking the water. I wanted to gag, but the dinner table was silent, and the monks were watching us to make sure we followed the proper procedure.Once the ordeal of dinner was over, it was dark and cold, and we were led outside and down the street to another building to perform Zazen, or sitting meditation. I’m sure you can imagine this – it is where you sit with your legs crossed in such a way that each foot rests on the opposite thigh [lotus position]. I had thought Zazen would be particularly awful, but after dinner, I felt like nothing could faze me.
Zazen was difficult in that we had to sit in a particularly uncomfortable position for an hour and do nothing but think. I counted my exhalations to pass the time and clear my head, as the Roshi suggested, but I mostly ended up meditating on how badly my legs hurt. Our group was fidgeting so much that we had to be told to “keep still.” After two hours of Zazen meditation (including one break), we finally went back to the first building for tea.Tea was the only informal affair we had on our entire overnight stay. The dispositions of the monks changed almost entirely, and we chatted with them on a number of topics, including their home countries and their decisions to study Zen Buddhism. Tea was a much-needed break, as most of the time in the temple you are required to be silent.We were required to go to bed at nine, at which time the boys were led away to a guest building, while we girls went to another room in the temple. We set up our futons with extra blankets, as the temple has neither air-conditioning in the summer nor heat in the winter. Since none of us were that tired, we spent a lot of time chatting and trying to avoid frigid sleep. The monks would be coming to wake us up at ten to five for the morning service. I had an extremely cold and restless sleep.
Our morning activities were much the same as our evening activities. First, we chanted. Then, we had two more hours of Zazen meditation, although the Zazen was not as difficult the second time around. I think we only ended up doing one hour of meditation, because we went back for breakfast at about seven. At breakfast, we had rice gruel instead of rice and more pickled vegetables. I hardly ate anything because I knew what we would have to do to clean our bowls. I drank my dirty water as I was supposed to, but when the monks were drinking their water and not paying attention, I slipped my nasty pickle into my pocket. I felt very clever indeed when, on the way home, I found that only Judy and I had thought to hide our pickles to avoid eating them. My Zen temple experience was [one] I am not keen to have again, but at the same time, I am glad that I did it. It was a challenge, but it was not impossible. I survived, and now I have an interesting story to tell all the relatives when I am home for Christmas. Please tell everyone at home that I miss them very much! I love you, and I look forward to being home again.
Love,
Ashley
posted by Judith Brodhead at 12/09/2006 08:53:00 AM
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