5

Life of Prayer and Gratitude

The overwhelming majority of Suzuki’s works on Zen, particularly in the post–Second World War period, focus on the more intellectual aspects of Zen, for example, koan literature, textual history, and developments in its intellectual history, and the philosophical underpinnings of the tradition. At the height of his writing about Zen in English in the 1930s, however, Suzuki did express an awareness of a more complete vision of the tradition that included its liturgical, ritual, and practical aspects. One part of this effort was the publication of The Training of the Zen Buddhist Monk, which gave an illustrated overview of life within a Rinzai Zen training temple. The picture presented in the volume, although ahistorical and rather idealized, covers many of the details of monastic life, ranging from entrance into the monastery, zendo training, work, and liturgy. As with much of Suzuki’s writing on Zen, his main concern is not with the historical development of the institution or the sociology of Zen practice in nineteenth- and twentieth-century Japan. Instead, Suzuki utilizes various aspects of life in a training temple as a way of broaching the questions he deems most central to Zen. In the chapter concerning liturgy in monastic training, for example, we see Suzuki moving quickly from consideration of the daily and annual ceremonies for accruing merit and propitiating the spirits of the deceased to consider examples from koan literature, mostly drawn from the Chanlin leiju, that take as their context such monastic practices as the revolving of the sutras (tendoku) and the making of offerings on behalf of the hungry ghosts. For Suzuki these concrete ritual events become the catalyst for considering the nature of practice and the fate of the person after death.

The chapter presented here was first published in The Training of the Zen Buddhist Monk (Kyoto: The Eastern Buddhist Society, 1934), 45–58. The illustrations for the volume were drawn by Satō Zenchū, a Rinzai cleric who resided at the temple Tōkeiji in Kita-Kamakura. The book was translated into Japanese as Zendō no shugyō to seikatsu by Yokogawa Kenshō (Tokyo: Morie Shoten, 1935) and was republished as Zendō seikatsu (Tokyo: Daizō Shuppan, 1948). The Japanese translation is found in SDZ 17:317–469. The translation of “Life of Prayer and Gratitude” is on pages 390–406.

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I

The life of prayer begins with confession; for prayer, in whatever sense it may be taken, is the expression of an earnest desire which is raised when the devotee feels some thing lacking in himself and seeks to complete himself either through an outside power or by digging deeper into his own being; and the confession consists in frankly recognizing this fact which is in some cases felt as sinfulness. In Buddhist terminology, this means to grow conscious of the heaviness of one’s own karma-hindrances which have been raised in the past by means of body, mouth, and mind. When the devotee is innerly impelled to become conscious of this, he prays. He may not have any definitive knowledge as regards the objective body to which his prayer is offered. This knowledge is not generally essential, because his prayer is the uncontrollable outburst of an intensely intimate desire. In Zen Buddhism prayers are offered to all the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas of the past, present, and future in the ten quarters and also to Mahāprajñāpāramitā.

The confession formula is:

All the evil deeds I have committed in the past are due to greed, anger, and folly cherished since the time beyond calculation,

And have been produced by means of my body, mouth, and mind—

All these I now confess without reservation.

With Zen Buddhists prayer is more in the form of self-reflection and vow or determined will than asking for an outside help in the execution of desires. The following is what is known as the “Bodhisattva’s Vow and Deed”:

When I reflect upon the true character of all things I perceive that it is mysteriously expressive of the virtue of the Tathagata and that the entire universe down to its smallest particles is a ray issuing from him in the most incomprehensible manner. For this reason the ancient masters have cherished a kindly and reverential attitude toward all beings inclusive of birds and beasts. In all the foods and clothes wherewith our body is kept warm and nourished through the twelve divisions of the day we recognize the flesh and blood of our masters; for even these inanimate objects reflect their love and compassion, for which we all feel the deep sense of reverence and gratitude. This being the case, we ought to think most tenderly and kindly toward those who are not sufficiently endowed with intelligence. Even when enemies vilify us or torment us in one way or another, let us consider them Bodhisattvas in disguise, whose loving hearts endeavor by this means to efface the effects of all our evil deeds and thoughts which we have been constantly committing because of our egotism and prejudiced views since the immeasurable past. Let us thus thinking cultivate the virtue of humility in words and deeds and raise with single-mindedness thoughts of devotion. The very moment when thus pure faith is awakened from the depths of our being, a lotus of enlightenment will open up in bloom. Each lotus flower carries a Buddha in it, and wherever there is the Buddha, there is a pure land in full array, and its glory will follow every step of ours. May this way of feeling be shared by all sentient beings and they together with us equally attain to the realization of Sarvajñatā!1

Dahui’s prayer which is recited daily in the Zen monastery may be said to sum up all that is stirred in the heart of the monk:

My only prayer is to be firm in my determination to pursue the study of Truth, so that I may not feel weary however long I have to apply myself to it; to be light and easy in the four parts of my body; to be strong and undismayed in body and mind, to be free from illnesses, and to drive out both depressed feelings and light-heartedness; to escape every form of calamity, misfortune, evil influence, and obstruction, so that I may instantly enter upon the right way and not be led astray into the path of evil; to efface all the evil passions, to make grow the Prajna, to have an immediate enlightenment on the matter that most concerns me, and thereby to continue the spiritual life of the Buddhas, and further to help all sentient beings, to cross the ocean of birth and death, whereby I may requite all that I owe to the loving thoughts of the Buddhas and Patriarchs. My further prayer is not to be too ill, or to be too suffering at the time of my departure, to know its coming before hand, say, seven days ahead, so that my thoughts may dwell peacefully and properly on Truth; abandoning this body, unattached to any tie at the last moment, to be reborn without delay in the land of the Buddhas, and seeing them face to face to receive from them the final testimony of supreme enlightenment, and thereby enabled to divide myself infinitely in the Dharmadhātu to help universally all sentient beings in their fording the ocean of birth and death. These prayers are offered to all the Buddhas and Bodhisattva-Mahāsattvas of the past, present, and future in the ten quarters, and to Mahāprajñāpāramitā.

Besides these prayers, the monk recites the “Inscriptions on the Right-Hand Side of the Seat” written by Zhongfeng the National Teacher (Zhongfeng Guoshi zuoyou ming).

The Bhiksus in these latter days resemble in form those homeless ones but at heart have no feelings of shame and remorse.

Their bodies are covered with the priestly robe but their minds are tainted with worldly defilements.

They recite with their mouths the sacred scriptures, but they harbor in their minds greed and lust.

During the day they are addicted to the pursuit of fame and wealth, while at night they are drunk with impure attachments.

Outwardly they observe the moral precepts, whereas inwardly they are secret violators of the rules.

Forever busy with worldly affairs, they are neglectful of disciplining themselves for deliverance.

They are devoted so much to the cherishing of idle thoughts that they have already thrown away right knowledge.

1.Have the desire for Truth firmly set up in order to be able to see into your own nature.

2.Cherish deep doubt in regard to the koan you have and be as if biting at an iron ball.

3.Keeping up your erect posture on the seat, never lie down in bed.

4.Cultivate the sense of humility and remorse by reading books and sayings left by the Buddha and Patriarchs.

5.Keeping the body pure in accordance with the Precepts, never get it tainted, and the same is to be said of the mind.

6.Behave yourselves on all occasions with quiet dignity and be in no circumstances rash and boisterous.

7.Talk softly and in a low tone, do not be given up to idle jokings.

8.There may be people who do not believe you, but do not let them deride you.

9.Be always ready to use your dusters and brooms in order to keep the monastery buildings and courts free from dust.

10.Untiringly pursuing the course of Truth, never be addicted to excessive eating and drinking.

Birth and death is the grave event.

Every moment of this life is to be begrudged,

Impermanency will be here too soon,

Time waits for no one.

A rare event it is to be born as human beings,

And we are now born as such;

It is not easy to be able to listen to the Buddha’s teaching.

And we have now listened to it.

This being so, if we do not attain emancipation in this life,

In what life do we expect to emancipate ourselves?

II

Besides these prayers and admonitions, the sutras are also daily recited in the early morning and in the afternoon. In Japanese and Chinese Buddhism sutra reading performs a double function; primarily as getting in touch with the thought of the founder, and secondarily as creating spiritual merit. The first may better be called sutra study whereas the latter is properly sutra reading or reciting, for the object is just to recite it, not necessarily accompanied by an intellectual understanding or its content. The recitation itself is regarded as meritorious as it is so stated in the sutras. Not only reciting or reading but copying is also merit producing. The sutra reading in the Buddhist monasteries can thus be reckoned as a sort of prayer. The reading, even when its full meaning is not grasped, detaches one’s mind from worldly concerns and self-centered interests. Though negative, the merit herewith gained tends to direct the mind toward the attainment of Sarvajñatā.

The sutra reading is also an expression of gratitude toward one’s teachers, ancestors, and other beings generally. To be grateful in Buddhism means that Sarvajñatā has gained so much toward its realization in the world. In this feeling there is nothing personal, that is, egotistic. The monks, therefore, in their daily exercises which consist in sutra reading, prayer recitation, incense offering, bowing, and so on, express their appreciation of what the Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, patriarchs, teachers, and other personages have done for the Buddhist cause.

The sutras most commonly used in the Zen monastery are (1) the Prajñāpāramitā-hṛdaya Sūtra, known as Shingyō, (2) the Samantamukha-parivarta, known as Kannongyō, which forms a chapter of the Puṇḍarīka Sūtra, and (3) the Vajracchedikā Sūtra or Kongōkyō in Japanese. Of these three, the Shingyō being the simplest is recited almost on all occasions. Besides these Chinese translations, the original Sanskrit texts in Chinese transliteration which is pronounced in the Japanese way are also used; they belong more or less to the Dharani class of Buddhist literature and are altogether unintelligible, even when they are translated.

On some special occasions the Mahāprajñāpāramitā Sūtras in six hundred fascicules are read in the way known as tendoku (zhuandu in Chinese). Tendoku means “to read revolving.” As the sutras are of such a bulk, they cannot be finished within a prescribed period. The six hundred volumes are divided among the monks and each monk reads two or three pages in the beginning and at the end of each volume while the middle part is read by turning over the entire volume for a few times; hence the phrase “read by revolving.” Each volume consisting of one long sheet of strong paper is folded up to so many folios, and when the monks read them “by revolving” the sutras look as if they were so many long narrow pieces of yellow cloth flying in the air. And especially because they recite them at the top of their voices, the whole scene is quite a lively one. The reading of the sutra is full of spiritual benefits not only for readers themselves but for all to whom the merit is dedicated. The first three early mornings of the New Year are devoted to this ceremony at all the Zen monasteries, when not only the welfare of the nation but the peace of the entire world is most earnestly prayed for.

An old lady once sent a messenger with money to Zhaozhou, requesting him to “revolve” the whole Tripiṭaka. Zhaozhou came down from his seat, and, walking around the chair once, said: “The revolving is finished.” The messenger went back to the old lady and reported the proceeding as it happened. The old lady said: “I asked him to ‘revolve’ the entire Tripiṭaka but his ‘revolving’ covers only a half of the Tripiṭaka.”

FIGURE 1. The Revolving of the Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra.

On this, Dahui, one of the great Zen masters of Song, commented: “Some ask, ‘What is the other half?’ others say, ‘Make another round’; or ‘Snap your fingers’ ; still others say, ‘Give a cough’; or ‘Utter a katsu!’ or ‘Clap the hands!’ Those who make these remarks do not know what shame means. As regards ‘the other half,’ do never make such a remark as this: ‘Make another round!’ Even when hundreds of thousands of koṭis of rounds are made, they are, from the point of view of the old lady, no more than a half Tripiṭaka. Even when Mount Sumeru is gone round for hundreds of thousands of koṭis of times, they are, from the point of view of the old lady, no more than a half Tripiṭaka. Even when the great Zen masters of the whole empire walk round the mountain for hundreds of thousands of koṭis of times, they are, from the point of view of the old lady, no more than a half Tripiṭaka. Even when all the mountains and rivers and the great earth and everything that makes up this universe of multiplicities, including every plant and every blade of grass, each endowed with a long broad tongue, unanimously revolve the Tripiṭaka from this day on to the end of time, they are, from the point of view of the old lady, no more than a half Tripiṭaka.” Dahui remained silent for a while and continued:

The beautiful pair of ducks, embroidered in the finest style, is there for you to see as much as you like;

But take care not to deliver up the gold needle that did the work!

After these references, another Zen master gave his own idea, saying: “The old lady claims that Zhaozhou has only finished revolving a half of the Tripiṭaka. This is replacing the genuine by the spurious. The only thing that was needed at the time to say was this: Why not take the whole thing in even before Zhaozhou started to walk round the chair?”

III

How the hungry ghosts came to find their place in the scheme of the Zen conception of the world is a subject of special research in the institutional history of Zen in China. Zen in its pure form has the tendency to become acosmistic, but in its “affirmative aspect” it accepts everything that is going on in the world of multiplicities. Even all the polytheistic gods including denizens of the air, of the earth, and of the heavens, and any other beings, who are living only in the realm of superstitional and traditional beliefs, are indiscriminately taken into the system of Zen. Each of them is permitted to have his or her place in Zen according to values given by the popular religions; and this is the reason why Zen has come to harbor so much of what I should call the Chinese Shingon element. The Dhāran.ī-sūtras are recited; ancestors are worshiped; the prosperity of the ruling powers of the time is prayed for—although “to whom!” is the question still to be settled; the protection of the local gods is earnestly sought after; all the rituals in connection with the “departed spirit” observed; and all forms of exorcism are to a certain extent also practiced. The Feeding of the Hungry Ghosts (segaki), which is observed at least twice a year during the Higan Season (“other shore”), is thus one of the excrescences added from the outside; but at the same time the idea of a communion may be said to be noticed here, which is recognized to exist between all living beings and those who are supposed to have passed away. The form is to feed the hungry ghosts, but, as we can glean from the prayer formula, the feeding is in reality sharing food, participating in the same staff of life, which symbolizes the idea of one grand community comprising all the spirits seen and unseen.

The hungry ghosts, preta in Sanskrit, find their place in the six paths (gati) of existence. They are departed spirits, but as they seem to be eternally desiring something to eat because they are hungry, they are known as “hungry ghosts.” Perhaps they betoken the human desire to have, which never knows satiation. If all the greed in the world expressing itself in infinite varieties of form is appeased by the performance of the Segaki ritual, the Pure Land will in no time be an actuality here with us. We are all then hungry ghosts, though not necessarily departed spirits. By feeding the supposedly departed we are feeding ourselves; when they are filled we are filled; no real distinction is to be made between the dead and the living. The living so called are living on the dead, that is, the dead so called are living most lively in the living. Prayer is then for being abundantly fed with Enlightenment, and gratitude is for enjoying this opportunity of realizing Enlightenment together with the “departed spirits.”

FIGURE 2. The Feeding of the Hungry Ghosts.

A tablet dedicated to “all the departed spirits of the triple world” is set up at the center of the altar. Flowers, candles, and incense, together with food, are as usual offered to it. The holy enclosure is protected by the banners bearing the names of the Tathagatas, Bodhisattvas, Arhats, gods, demigods, and other non-human beings. They are supposed, thus invited, to be present at the ceremony and participating in the erection of the mystic effects over the unhappy denizens of Limbo.

When the dramatis personae—Buddhas, gods, and hungry ones—are invited, the Dharanis are read and a prayer is recited to this effect:

It is desired that all the hungry ghosts inhabiting every corner of the worlds filling the ten quarters come to this place and partake of the pure food offered to them. You be filled with it, and when you are fully satisfied, you come here, and see to it that all sentient beings in turn are fed by you. It is also desired that by virtue of this magic food you shall be delivered from the pain you are suffering and be born in the heavens and visit as you will all the Pure Lands in the ten quarters; that you come to cherish the desire for Enlightenment, practice the life of Enlightenment, and in the life to come attain Buddhahood. It is again desired that you protect us days and nights so as to let us attain without hindrances the object of our lives. Whatever merit that is productive of this deed of feeding the hungry ones—let it be dedicated to the universal realization of the Supreme Enlightenment and let every sentient being come speedily to the attainment of Buddhahood. This prayer is offered to all the Buddha and Bodhisattvas of the past, present, and future in all the ten quarters, and to Mahāprajñāpāramitā.

In fact, this feeding of the hungry ghosts and other spiritual beings is practiced daily at the meal time. Before the monks begin to take up their bowls of rice, they pick out about seven grains of it called saba and offer them to those non-human beings. The idea is perhaps partly thanksgiving and partly sharing good things with others.

Do those departed ones really come and hover about us? When Daowu had a feast prepared in commemoration of his late master Yaoshan, a monk asked: “Why do you have this feast for your late master? Does he really come to take it?” Said Daowu, “How is it that you monks have the feast prepared?”

When Danyuan set up a feast for Chu the National Teacher on his death-day, a monk asked, “Will the Teacher come, or not?”

Yuan said, “I have not yet attained the art of mind reading.”

“What is then the use of setting up the feast?”

“I don’t wish to discontinue the doings of the world.”

When a similar question asked of Ren of Baishui he said, “Have another offering ready.” Did the master take the questioner for one of the hungry ghosts?

These statements by the masters do not seem to be very illuminating from our worldly relative point of view. Let us see what they say at the time of their departure about their own destination. Or, when observe the manner in which they take leave of their earthly existence, it is perhaps possible for us to gain something of an insight into the whereabouts of the departed. On the twenty-fifth of December, Pu, of Heshan, said to his attendants: “When a master dies it is customary for his Zendo followers to put up a special meal for him; but in my opinion this is altogether unnecessary. When I am to die, let me have your offerings before and not after my departure.” The monks thought he did not quit his joking even in his old days. They asked, “When will you pass away?” “I pass away when you all have had your offerings made to me.” A curtain was set up in his bedroom, behind which he sat; all the ceremonial vessels were placed before him, the eulogies were read, and food was offered him in due reverence. Pu the master had a good appetite and consumed all the food offerings, showing no symptoms of an early departure. The ceremony continued for some days until everybody in the monastery, including his immediate disciples down to all the coolies, duly paid his respect to the master who was thus treated as one really passed away. On New Year’s day all the ceremony in connection with a death came to an end. The master said to the monks, “The time is come; tomorrow when it ceases to snow I will go.” On the following day the weather was fair, but it began to snow, and when this stopped he passed away, quietly sitting and with incense burning.

When Xiu of Zhuozhou was about to die, he had a bath, and afterward ordered to have a cup of tea brought to him. When he finished the tea, the attendant proceeded to carry the tea tray away; but the master withdrew the tray and said, “Do you know where I am bound for?” “No, master, I do not know.” Whereupon the master handed the tray over to the attendant monk, saying, “Go on, you do not know where I am bound for.” When the monk came back after putting away his tray, he saw the master already passed out.

When Ren of Shushan was asked where he was bound for after his death, he said, “Lying on his back in the heather, his four limbs point to the sky.”

Mo of Wuxie, before his death, had a bath and incense burned. Quietly sitting in his seat, he said to the monks: “The Dharmakaya remains forever perfectly serene, and yet shows that there are comings and goings; all the sages of the past come from the same source, and all the souls of the world return to the One. My being like a foam is now broken up; you have no reason to grieve over the fact. Do not needlessly put your nerves to task, but keep up your quiet thought. If you observe this injunction of mine, you are requiting me for all that I did for you; but if you go against my words, you are not to be known as my disciples.” A monk came out and asked, “Where would you depart?” “Nowhere.” “Why cannot I see this ‘nowhere’”? “It is beyond your senses. This said, the master peacefully passed out.

The Zen master’s end was not always so peaceful; sometimes there were some who struggled hard to drop this “begging bag” (bonangzi). When Zhen, of Cuiyan, was at the point of death, he suffered terribly, rolling on the straw matting which was spread over the ground. Zhe the attendant was in tears as a witness of this agonizing scene and said to the master, “While yet strong, you made all kinds of defamatory remarks on the Buddha, on the Fathers; and what do we see now?” The master gazed for a while at the attendant and scolded, “You too make this remark?” He now got up, and assumed a cross-legged posture, and, ordering the attendant to burn incense, quietly gave up the ghost.2