In the old Chinese lunar calendar, on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month (i.e. full moon on the 8th month), many cultures across East Asia celebrate something called the Mid-Autumn Festival. This has various names depending on the country and language:
In Japan, this festival is called formally the Jūgoya (十五夜, “15th night”) festival, but in popular culture is known as Otsukimi (お月見, “moon viewing”). This year, due to the lunar calendar, Otsukimi falls somewhat late on October 6th. This festival is about viewing the moon with friends and family, while enjoying some dango (rice dumplings) using displays like so:
According to this excellent book on Japanese culture, people also decorate such displays with pampas grass (susuki, ススキ), edamamé beans and taro potatoes. Unlike cherry-blossom viewing, people do not usually get drunk.
Chinese moon cakes, called geppei (月餅) in Japanese, are sometimes eaten as well, though it’s more of an exotic treat. Here, moon cakes are easy to obtain, and quite delicious. Highly recommend. We also get the Korean version of dango (tteok, 떡) too.
In any case, Otsukimi is about relaxing, enjoying the autumn vibes with the ones you love. As my family and I live in the Pacific Northwest, weather here isn’t reliable, and so we often get stuck with cloudy weather. But the image of Otsukimi is still popular. You can even find an emoji for it: 🎑.
Also, fun fact: there are traditionally two days of moon-viewing in Japan. The main one is Jūgoya (十五夜, “15th night”), but traditionally there is also a Jūsanya (十三夜, “13th night”) viewing on the 13th night of the ninth (not eighth) lunar month. This year, 13th night falls on November 2nd. On the 13th night of the lunar month, people enjoy chestnuts instead. Traditionally, people felt you should view the moon on both nights, otherwise, according to my book, you only did katamitsuki (片見月, “one-sided viewing”), which wasn’t ideal.
By the way, there is one other tradition around this time that’s specifically Buddhist: Juya-é (十夜会, “ten nights ceremony”), which is ten nights of observance of Pure Land Buddhist practice, starting from October 5th to 14th in the Western calendar. I usually try to recite the nembutsu a full 1080 times using my old Jodo Shu rosary for ten nights. Easier said than done as a parent, but it’s nice to have a challenge from time to time. Traditionally, people try to attend temple services if possible, or just focus on good behavior.
Anyhow, wishing you all a fun Otsukimi, Mid-Autumn Festival, or Juya-e, etc., or all of the above!
This is the last in a series of Japanese-Buddhist sutra books that I wanted to share. I talked about this Soto Zen sutra book, a Rinzai Zen book and a Jodo Shu sutra book. Today, I wanted to share the sutra book I purchased at Asakusa Temple in Tokyo, Japan.
Asakusa Temple (more properly Sensoji Temple, 浅草寺)1 is super famous, and chances are if you have visited Tokyo, you probably went to Asakusa Temple. Asakusa is technically its own Buddhist-sect now, but for much of its history it was a Tendai Buddhist temple that enshrined a legendary statue of Kannon Bodhisattva that supposedly washed up on shore and enshrined in the year 645. This is called the Yanagi no Miei (柳御影, roughly translated “the [sacred] willow image”). The featured photo above shows where it is enshrined at Asakusa Temple.
Not surprisingly, the sutra book’s liturgy focuses on Kannon-related chants. This sutra book is sold in two sizes, but the contents are the same:
The illustration inside the cover depicts the legendary statue :
The liturgy to the left of the illustration is a form of Taking Refuge in the Three Treasures (san-ki-é-mon, 三帰依文) done in a more native-Japanese style, than the Sino-Japanese version I posted here. Both versions are perfectly valid and are chanted.
More examples below are chants that we’ve seen in older posts in right to left order:
the Sangémon (repentance) on the right,
Kaikyoge (verses for opening the sutra) second page from right, and
Unlike other examples I’ve seen, this sutra book posts the entire Kannon sutra, not just the verse section. It’s about 3 times as longer than usual.
Next, we see a classic: the Heart Sutra. This makes sense since the Heart Sutra was spoken by Kannon Bodhisattva, not Shakyamuni Buddha. So. it fits the theme.
Finally on the far left page is a simple recitation chant of devotion to Kannon Bodhisattva: namu kanzeon bosatsu (南無観世音菩薩). I’ve often used that to sign off blog posts, and unlike more esoteric mantras, this is a very common statement of devotion, much like the nembutsu for Amida Buddha. Feel free to chant it in your Buddhist practice!
Anyhow, this sutra book is something visitors to Asakusa Temple would probably overlook without the necessary background (or religious inclination), but it’s a fascinating look at Tendai Buddhist liturgy, but in a way that’s adapted to a particular temple, and to a particular deity.
Namu Kanzeon Bosatsu
P.S. That covers all the sutra books I wanted to cover here in the blog. I own a few more, but they’re not interesting or unique enough to justify another blog post. If I pick up another sutra book, I’ll post again. But if you did enjoy this mini-series, thank you for reading!
1 The words “asakusa” and “senso” are literally just two different ways to read the same Chinese characters.
Recently, I talked about the autobiography of Sayo Masuda, a former bath-house geisha who suffered a very difficult upbringing. Because she was born out of wedlock by a mother who rotated through one man after another, Sayo’s mother had too many kids and no financial support for them. Sayo was thus sold off as a child to indentured labor where she suffered greatly.
Reflecting back on this, she says in her autobiography:
Even now it fills me with anger: I want to rage against the miserable lives we lead, those of us who are born into this world as blots of sin because of a parent’s irresponsibility; I want to cry out that a life like mine must never be repeated. No matter how deep in disgrace, a human being is human, after all. The human spirit wanders ceaselessly in search of light; and if it finds a light of some sort, it strives somehow to get near it, struggling, writhing in anguish. Yet even as it writhes in anguish, it is drowned before it reaches the light. If you have the heart of a human being and you become the parent of a human being, then even if it exhausts every bit of your energy, until that child can walk alone I want you to do your duty as a parent.
Page 18
Speaking as a parent, I feel this too. Kids are born into your care (through your actions, obviously), so you owe it to them to provide the best possible life you can.
Recently, I reread a famous autobiography of a former “bathhouse” geisha titled Autobiography of a Geisha. The geisha in question, Sayo Masuda (1926? – 2008), lived a pretty horrible life and her story as a geisha is far from the glamorous stories normally told in English publications.
The short summary is that Sayo Masuda was a child born from an impoverished mother who cycled through a few husbands, and unable to feed or raise her kids. So, she sold some of the children off to indentured servitude. Sayo was one of them (she didn’t even know her name until her teenage years). The landlord family who took her in was very abusive and did nothing to support or raise her: she was another mouth to feed, and they did the bare minimum to raise her. Sayo never received a formal education, and was thus totally illiterate for life. Later, she was sold again as an indentured servitude to a local geisha house in Nagano Prefecture. Her geisha “mother” similarly abused her for minor infractions and made her work chores all day to support the existing geisha, until she was trained to be one as well.
The term geisha (芸者) is tricky because it means different things to different people. Much of it has been romanticized by Western media, but also by autobiographies like Iwasaki Mineko’s “Geisha, A Life“, which was told from the perspective of a very high-class geisha working in Kyoto.1 Sayo Masuda, by contrast, was a geisha at a provincial red-light district, so there was every expectation that she would be available for sexual favors and would have a danna (“patron”) well before she was 18. What separated provincial geisha from prostitutes mostly was mostly a degree of refinement and artistic skills (song, dance, conversation, etc).
It was a very nasty and cutthroat world she survived in:
Geisha can do horrid, spiteful things: they’ll attack one another tooth and nail, each trying to force the other out of the way. To someone who doesn’t know this world and sees only the surface of it, I suppose we must appear quite carefree; but inwardly were eternally weeping tears of pain and sorrow.
Page 70
Much of the biography covers her struggles to survive in a cutthroat world, but also her increasing shame as she got older, and felt that was not worthy of some of the kind men she would meet. Her sense of despair, guilt, and hopelessness only increased as she got older, and she wondered if she’d ever be more than a nasty, cutthroat geisha.
Diverging a bit, this sense of crushing hopelessness tied with evil is a bit theme in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, too. People who are corrupted and succumb to evil are those who are most often weighed down by guilt (Gollum), desperation (Boromir), or hopelessness (Denethor, steward of Gondor). Frodo the Ringbearer almost succumbs too, if not for the love and optimism of Samwise Gamgee. This is how evil works: not just through raw force, but also by breaking people down.
But I digress.
Sayo Masuda thankfully did have a happy (though bittersweet) ending where she finally found stable employment in spite of her literacy, and friends and family who supported her.
As I read this, I kept thinking over and over of a famous anecdote from the time of Honen, founder of the Pure Land sect (Jodo Shu) in Japan. Namely, when Honen was exiled to the provinces and encountered a woman of the night. She too lived a nasty, cruel life and wondered if she’d ever find salvation. Honen kindly told her:
“Your guilt in living such a life is surely great and the penalties seem incalculable. If you can find another means of livelihood, give this up at once. But if you can’t, or if you are not yet ready to sacrifice your very life for the true way, begin just as you are and call on the sacred name. It is for just such deluded folk as you that Amida Buddha made that wonderfully comprehensive Original Vow (hongan 本願). So put your full trust in it without the smallest reservation. If you rely upon the Original Vow and repeat the nenbutsu, your ojo is absolutely certain.”
Later, when Honen was pardoned and allowed to return to the capital, he found out that the woman had been inspired to take up the Buddhist path, and died as a nembutsu follower. He reportedly said:
“Yes, it is just as I had expected.”
This sense of redemption is one of the strongest aspects of Pure Land Buddhism to me. The transformation of “bits of rubble into gold” is something that appeals to myself and many others who struggle with teh Buddhist path, or just struggle in life. But the basic theme of Mahayana Buddhism is not just that all beings can be awakened as Buddhas, but given enough time they all will be awakened as Buddhas.
But even going allllll the way back to the earliest sermons (sutras) of the Buddha, we can see the symbolism of a lotus flower growing from the mud:
“Monks, just as a blue, red, or white lotus—born in the water, grown up in the water—stands having risen above the water, unsmeared by the water; in the same way, the Tathāgata—born in the world, grown up in the world—dwells having conquered the world, unsmeared by the world.”
The Puppha Sutta (SN 22:94), translation by Ven. Thanissaro Bhikkhu
And again later in the Amitabha Sutra in the Mahayana tradition, the Pure Land of Amida Buddha is described in terms of its lotus ponds:
The lotus-flowers in the lakes, large as chariot wheels, are blue-colored with blue splendor, yellow-colored with yellow splendor, red-colored with red splendor, whitecolored with white splendor, and (they are all) the most exquisite and purely fragrant.
English translation from the Chinese Version of Kumarajiva by Nishu Utsuki, The Educational Department of the West Hongwanji, Kyoto, Japan: 1924.
To reiterate, the idea of a lotus growing from the mud, unsullied by the mud was both intended to show the potential of all beings to awaken like the Buddha, but also the many colors of lotuses (in my opinion) show the diversity of followers from many walks of life.
Namu Shakamuni Butsu Namu Amida Butsu
1 She also had a pretty high opinion of herself, which was grating to read at times. I seriously doubt her experience is representative of a lot of women in the industry.
Notice the dates of each holiday: odd-numbered month with matching odd-numbered day. Turns out that there’s a reason for this.
In Chinese Taoist numerology, numbers are divided into “yang” and “yin” numbers: odd numbers are yang (陽) because they are considered unstable and dynamic, while even numbers are stable and static, thus yin (陰). But because yin and yang depend on one another, and change into one another, if you add yang and yang together, you get yin. If you add yin and yin together, you get yang.
Thus, it was thought that dates on the calendar with double-yang numbers (7 and 7, 5 and 5, etc) would become yin and thus were inauspicious. Holidays were developed to counteract the yin effect, and that’s why seasonal holidays were held on double-odd dates.
Taoism is not a major influence in Japanese culture (at least in modern times), but it’s interesting so see how it still influences traditions, especially those from antiquity.
Dr Helen J Baroni’s excellent book Iron Eyes covers the life and writings of Obaku Zen master Tetsugen Dōkō (鉄眼道光, 1630–1682). I’ve mentioned it in a fewolderposts, but I wanted to share a couple of Tetsugen’s poems really stood out to me:
41. MEETING AN OLD FRIEND
Separated east and west for twenty years.
You exclusively chant the Buddha’s [name, a.k.a. the nembutsu], while I practice meditation.
We meet together, why argue over high and low.
The wind and the moon originate in the same heaven.
Page 167
The “high and low” refers to the perception that the path of monastic self-discipline (as exemplified by the Zen tradition) is the “high road”, while the “low road” is instead relying Amida Buddha’s compassion to be reborn in the Pure Land. Here, Tetsugen argues that they both reach the same destination in the end, so the distinction doesn’t really matter.
Another poem he wrote is:
44. GIVEN TO THE FAITHFUL BELIEVER JONYU, WHO CHANTS THE BUDDHA’S NAME
The body is healthy, the years pour out; your ears and eyes are [still] clear.
Contented and unselfish, you reject personal glory.
Reflected light, in a single moment you penetrate the self.
For the first time you realize that practitioner and Dharma are complete in one body.1
Page 168
What really strikes me about these two poems is that Tetsugen openly acknowledges that his lay friends and followers recite the nembutsu and he’s totally fine with it.
It’s assumed in Japanese Buddhism that a sect practices meditation, or chanting, but not necessarily both. It’s also assumed that Zen people only hang out with Zen people, Pure Land Buddhists with Pure Land Buddhists, etc. There were exceptions: people like Ikkyu and Rennyo who were friends despite totally different practices and backgrounds, but you don’t hear about these often. Yet, in spite of this image, Tetsugen clearly was open to lay people practicing the Pure Land path and saw no conflict with this.
This makes more sense when you consider that Obaku Zen, a cousin of the Rinzai Zen sect, came to Japan from Ming-Dynasty China, when Zen and Pure Land thought had largely reconciled there. The excellent writings of Chinese monk Ouyi Zhixu (蕅益智旭, 1599–1655)2 and Yunqi Zhuhong (雲棲袾宏, 1535–1615)3 are typical of the thought at the time: both Zen and Pure Land Buddhism are different ways of approaching the same Dharma (e.g. Buddhism). One blends into the other.
Even modern Chan (Chinese Zen) teachers such as my favorite, Yin-shun (印順, 1906–2005), had no trouble recommending the nembutsu alongside other practices. In his book The Way to Buddhahood, he wrote:
If therefore, one is timid and finds it difficult to practice the bodhisattva-way, fearing that one will fall into the Two Vehicles or that following the karmic forces will cause one to drift apart from the Buddha Way, then chanting Amitabha Buddha is most secure! It is a wonderfully skillful means that can best embrace and protect those sentient beings who are beginners so that they do not lose their faith.
page 249
But I digress.
It should be noted that Tetsugen in particular was raised in the more native Jodo Shinshu-sect Buddhism and even went to Kyoto to train as a priest but eventually decided to pursue Obaku instead. So, perhaps he still had some connections toward his religious upbringing.
Nonetheless, all this is to say that Obaku Zen, having inherited such an outlook from Chinese Buddhism, takes Amida Buddha as its ideal, but sees Amida in more Zen terms. One is not required to see Amida that way upfront; it just comes in time with practice. Come as you are, and don’t worry if it doesn’t make sense. Someday, it will.
Namu Shakamuni Butsu Namu Amida Butsu
1 According to Dr Baroni’s footnotes: Kihō, can also be translated as “opportunity and Dharma,” in Pure Land thought, it means that while the sentient beings believe in the Buddha, the Buddha’s power saves sentient beings. Personally, I like to think this relates to Shoku’s comment about the Three Karmic Bonds, too.
2 Pronounced like “Oh-ee Jih-shoo” in English
3 Pronounced like “Yoon-chee Joo-hohng” in English
Recently, I found myself stuck in one of my usual nerd “rabbit holes” of trying to make sense of Zen lineages in Japanese Buddhism, but this led to a more complicated rabbit hole of making sense of the source “Chan” (Zen) lineages in China. This started after reading my new book on Rinzai Zen, which included a nice chart. At first, I tried to emulate and translate that chart in Canva, but then I realized it was missing some critical details, so I kept adding more. This is the result (click on the image for more detail):
Let’s go over this a bit so it makes more sense.
The premise behind all Zen sects regardless of country and lineage is that Zen started when the historical Buddha, Shakyamuni, supposedly held a flower up to his disciples and said nothing. Everyone was confused except his disciple Maha-Kashyapa who smiled in understanding. From here, according to tradition, the teachings were passed down from teacher to disciples for 28 generations in India, culminating in a monk named Bodhidharma who came to China.
A painting of Bodhidharma at Sojiji temple (head of Soto Zen sect) in Kawasaki, Japan. Taken by me in 2010 (?).
The history up to this point is somewhat vague, and possibly apochryphal, but easy to follow.
This continues for a few more generations in China, until you get to a monk named Hui-Neng (Enō in Japanese)1 who is the supposed author of the Platform Sutra, a Chinese text. As the 6th “patriarch” of the lineage in China, he establishes what we know today as “Chan Buddhism” or Chinese Zen.
Things become more complicated a couple generations later as two descendants: Mazu Daoyi2 and Shitou Xiqian3 directly or indirectly found different schools of Chan Buddhism. This is known as the Five Houses of Chan period during the Tang Dynasty. Thus, the entire Chan/Zen tradition as we know it today is derived from Hui-neng and transmitted through these two men.
Out of the five houses, the Hongzhou,4Lin-ji and Cao-dong5 all survive in some form. The others are gradually absorbed into the Lin-ji school, which in the long-run is what becomes the most widespread form of Chan Buddhism in China. The Cao-dong school is the one exception, while the Hongzhou school’s success in Korea helps establish 8 out of 9 of the “Nine Schools of Seon (Chan)”6 in Korea. It through Bojo Jinul’s efforts in Korea that these nine schools are unified into the Jogye Order (homepage) which absorbed other Buddhist traditions in Korea into a single, cohesive one.
Meanwhile, in Japan, the Lin-ji and Cao-dong schools find their way to Japan where the names are preserved, but pronounced different: Rinzai and Soto respectively. Rinzai’s history is particularly complicated because they were multiple, unrelated transmissions to Japan often spurred by the Mongol conquest of China. Of these various Rinzai lineages, the two that survive are the “Otokan” Rinzai lineage through Hakuin, and the “Obaku” lineage through Ingen, but eventually the Otokan lineage absorbed the Obaku lineage. Today, Rinzai Zen is more formally called Rinzai-Obaku, or Rinnou (臨黄) for short. This is a bit confusing because Rinzai came to Japan under a monk named Eisai, and his lineage did continue for a while in Japan especially in Kyoto, but the lineage from the rival city of Kamakura ultimately prevailed and absorbed other Rinzai lineages. Obaku Zen arrived pretty late in Japanese-Buddhist history, and as you can see from the chart has some common ancestry with Rinzai, but also some differences due to cultural divergence and history.
Soto Zen’s history is quite a bit more streamlined as it had only one founder (Dogen), and although it did grow to have rival sects for a time, Keizan was credited for ultimately unifying these though not without some controversy even into the 19th century.
Anyhow, to summarize, the entire tradition started from a legendary sermon by the Buddha to Maha-Kashyapa, and was passed on over successive generations in India to a legendary figure who came to China and starting with Hui-neng became a tree with many branches. Yet, the roots are all the same. Speaking as someone who’s relatively new to the tradition, I realize while specific liturgy and practices differ, the general teachings and intent remain the surprisingly consistent regardless of culture or label.
Hope this information helps!
P.S. I had trouble deciding which term to use here: Zen or Chan or Seon since they all literally mean the same thing, but are oriented toward one culture or another. If this all seems confusing, the key to remember is that the entire tradition of Zen/Chan/Seon (and Thien in Vietnam) is all one and the same tree.
P.P.S. I realized that I never covered the Vietnamese (Thien, “tee-ehn”) tradition, but there’s so little information on it in English (and I cannot read Vietnamese), that I will have to differ that to another day.
1 Pronounced like “hwey-nung” in English.
2 Pronounced like “ma-tsoo dow-ee” in English.
3 Pronounced like “shih-tow shee-chee-yen” in English.
4 Pronounced like “hohng-joe” in English.
5 Pronounced like “tsow-dohng” in English.7
6 The Korean word “Seon” is pronounced like “sawn” in English. It is how the Chinese character for Chan/Zen () is pronounced in Korean Language.
7 If you made it this far in the post, congrats! I had to put so many footnotes in here because the Pinyin system of Romanizing Chinese words is a little less intuitive than the old Wade-Giles system. Pinyin is not hard to learn. In fact, I think Pinyin is better than the old Wade-Giles system (more “what you see is what you get”), but if you don’t learn Pinyin it can be confusing.better This is always a challenge with a writing system that strictly uses ideograms (e.g. Chinese characters). How do you write 慧能 into an alphabetic system that foreigners can intuitively understand. Also, which foreigners? (English-speaking, French-speaking, Spanish-speaking, etc). Anyhow, if you are interested in learning Chinese, I highly recommend learning Pinyin anyway because it’s quick and easy to pick up. BTW, since I posted about Hokkien recently it also has two different Rominzation systems: Pe̍h-ōe-jī (old, but widespread) and Tâi-lô (Taiwan’s official revised system).
Recently, I wrote about a Soto Zen sutra book I purchased some years ago, and it’s still one of the best books I own. Today, I wanted to highlight another Japanese-Buddhist sutra book that I had for years, but never really understood what it was about.
The book is available online here, among other places. The book was published by Nanzenji temple, a major Rinzai Zen temple, and I found it at a Kinokuniya bookstore here in the US in the Japanese-language section. It is titled 私の般若心経 (watashi no hannya shingyō, “My Heart Sutra [book]”)
The sutra book is really small, and easily fits in the palm of my hand. As the website description states, this is designed to that one can carry it on one’s person as a charm, but also use it for home liturgy. Pretty clever. I’ve seen such “sutra book charms” before but usually they are very small, and the print is lower-quality, since it’s meant to be carried, not read. This by contrast is very nice quality.
Inside, the contents are surprisingly dense for such a small book. Inside contains the texts necessary to do a home service according to Rinzai tradition, though it differs slightly from the one I posted previously.1
The contents, shown below include basic liturgy such as repentance verses, the opening of the sutra, a copy of the Heart Sutra, dedication of merit, four bodhisattva vows, and so on.
Above, we see the first four pages of the sutra book, from right to left: a picture of Kannon Bodhisattva, then the table of contents, an explanation about how to gassho, and finally the sangemon (verses on repentance).
Below, you can see the Heart Sutra from end to end (read right-to-left, vertically). If you can read Japanese hiragana script, you can recite this because each Chinese character is annotated with a pronunciation guide (a.k.a. furigana):
The furigana script is a bit small and hard to read, but that’s understandable given how small this book is.
Surprisingly, the sutra book contains other things I wasn’t expecting, such as mantras for the Thirteen Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, often recited during yearly memorials for the deceased. The book also the Mantra of Light, surprisingly. It also contains the five verses for contemplating food.
Finally, the book contains a sermon by the author, and has a handy blank section at the end for taking notes.
Weirdly, I’ve owned this book for almost 10 years, but back then I couldn’t read Japanese very well, so I didn’t fully appreciate what the contents of the book were, plus I had no familiarity with Rinzai Zen. Now that I have a bit more experience, I can appreciate this book a lot more, and have been using it for home liturgy lately.
For such a compact book, it’s really very nice, and only costs ¥550.
If you’re able to read basic hiragana script, and have an interest in Rinzai Zen, it’s definitely worth a purchase.
1 As noted in a previous post, Rinzai Zen in particular a number of lineages and factions, each one based around a different temple. This may help explain why the liturgy varies as much as it does.
As I write this post, I am in Dublin, Ireland on a short trip (business, not pleasure), helping my daughter get settled in for college. Thanks to timezone differences my daughter and I were awake at 11:30pm on a Friday and starving.
Taken near Trinity College and the main Bank of Ireland building (right).
Since a lot of pubs close their kitchens early, we went over to the local Supermac’s1 :
My daughter took this photo of her food. Mine is at the far end of the table (upper right corner).
It’s Friday night, so as we’re seated, people are stumbling in drunk looking for some cheap food, and there’s a steady stream of food delivery guys picking up orders. Still, even here, as I open my bag and eat my food, I try to still take a moment and appreciate the food, so I discreetly did gassho.
In Japanese culture, people will usually say itadakimasu before eating food, and gochisōsama deshita after finishing. The word itadakimasu is just the humble form of the verb “I receive”, and gochisōsama deshita means “It was a wonderful meal”.
But there’s also a set of verses that in the Zen tradition are recited before meals called the Shokuji Gokan (食事五観, “five observations at mealtime”). When I was watching a documentary recently, during mealtime, one of the Eiheiji monks walked the documentary host through the five verses. The five verses in Japanese for the Rinzaitradition are:
一つには、功の多少を計り、彼の来処を量る。 hitotsu ni wa, kō no tashō wo hakari, kano raisho wo hakaru
二つには、己が徳行の全闕を忖って供に応ず。 futatsu ni wa, onore ga tokugyō no zenketsu wo hakatte, ku ni ōzu
三つには、心を防ぎ、過貪等を離るるを宗とす。 mitsu ni wa, shin wo fusegi, togatontō wo hanaruru wo shū to su
四つには、正に良薬を事とするは形枯を療ぜんが為なり。 yotsu ni wa, masa ni ryōyaku wo koto to suru wa gyōko wo ryōzen ga tame nari
五つには、道業を成ぜんが為に、応にこの食を受くべし。 Itsutsu ni wa, dōgyō wo jōzen ga tame ni, ō ni kono jiki wo uku beshi.
The verses in Soto Zen appear to be slightly different. I am fairly certain, these are descended from Chinese Chan Buddhism, but I wasn’t able to find much information.
There are a lot of fine English translations available, though for now I am using the one from Sotozen.net:
We reflect on the effort that brought us this food and consider how it comes to us.
We reflect on our virtue and practice, and whether we are worthy of this offering.
We regard it as essential to free ourselves of excesses such as greed.
We regard this food as good medicine to sustain our life.
For the sake of enlightenment, we now receive this food.
In either case, the meaning is the same: before we take in the food, we should first reflect where it came from (and the countless people who made it possible),2 and whether we are living up to the practice or not. Finally, the verses remind us that food is essentially medicine (hence don’t be a pig), and that it helps us along the path toward Enlightenment. Even some chips (fries) at Supermac’s is something to be grateful for.
So, hello from Ireland, and will post more soon! 🇮🇪🖖🏼
1 The local version of McDonald’s, but ten times better.
2 The Jodo Shinshu tradition focuses on the concept of “gratitude“, so there’s a lot of overlaphere.
While reading my introduction book in Japanese about Rinzai Zen, I came across a famous set of paintings that I had totally forgotten about for thirty years.
Me at the age of 17 demonstrating the “Lion Roar Yoga” pose (?) at my world religions class in high school with my teacher. The Burger King crown was something I got from the nearby restaurant because my friends and I would race there during lunch break, eat for 5 minutes, and run back to class. Ah, teenage life….
Many, many moons ago, I was a cocky 17-year old first learning about Buddhism, and Mr Pierini was my World Religions teacher in high school. Mr Pierini was a charming, older Italian-American gentleman who had a lovely opera voice, and loved sharing cool ideas with us kids. This is how I first started to explore Buddhism beyond reading books at home.1
There were a number of things I learned about Zen then that seemed really cool and mystical. Looking back they made no sense to me, but they were fascinating. It sounded “cool” to be Zen, but admittedly, I was young, clueless, showing off, and knew nothing. Among the things I read about at the time were the Mumonkan and the Ten Oxen, texts that (I realize now) are both related to the Rinzai Zen tradition.
The Ten Oxen (shíniú 十牛 in Chinese) is a famous set of ten paintings, with poetic captions that were composed in the Southern Song Dynasty of China. The powerful Song Dynasty lost the northern half of China to the barbarian Jin Dynasty,2 and retreated to the south beyond the Yangtze River, where it held on for another 150 years. Despite having their back to a wall, the southern Song Dynasty oversaw a wonderful flowering of Chinese culture, including Buddhism, and especially Chinese “Chan” (Zen) Buddhism. This is also noteworthy, because historically this is the time when such monks as Eisai and Dogen both came to China from Japan to study Zen.3
The use of oxen as a symbol for taming the mind in Buddhism, according to Wikipedia, dates way back to early India including such texts in the Pali Canon as the Maha-gopalaka Sutta, but the Ten Oxen were a way to visually explain the Buddhist path (as described in the Chan/Zen tradition) to readers as a nice easy introduction. There were, evidentially several versions in circulation, but in Japan the version by one Kakuan (Chinese: Kuòān Shīyuǎn, 廓庵師遠) from the 12th century was all the rage during the Five Mountains Period of Japanese-Buddhist history. It is since known as the jūgyūzu (十牛図).
My book has a nice, down to earth explanation of the ten oxen and what they mean, so rather than posting the images with poetry, I wanted to share the simple explanations here. The illustrations are from Wikimedia Commons, and were originally painted by one Tenshō Shūbun (天章周文; died c. 1444–50).
Searching for the ox
The cowherd is searching for his lost ox. The book explains that this is like someone looking for their lost Buddha-nature: that potential within us to awaken to full Buddha-hood (a.k.a. “Enlightenment”).
Footprints sighted
The cowherd now finds the footprints of his missing ox. This is like the Buddhist disciple who studies the Dharma (e.g. “Buddhism”), and gets the first hints at the true nature of things.
Ox sighted
Just as the cowherd sees his lost ox at last, the disciple of the Buddha grasps the point of the Dharma is (i.e. what’s it all about).
Grasping the Ox
One moment the cowherd has grasped the ox, another moment he is about to lose it. In the same way, my book explains that a person may perceived their true nature one moment, but lose sight of it again. The Buddhist disciple is still inexperienced and lacks certainty.
Taming the Ox
The wayward ox is now under control and lassoed, so the cowherd escorts it back home. For the Buddhist disciple, my book explains that through self-discipline such as the precepts, one’s delusions and conduct are brought to heel. This doesn’t mean they have resolved things, and one can still backslide, but at least they are under control now.
Riding the Ox
The cowherd is now confidently riding atop the ox, playing a flute. This means that one’s Buddha-nature is expressed through one’s form and behavior.
Forgetting the ox
Now that the cowherd is safely home with the ox, the ox is no longer a concern. My book explains that this symbolizes Enlightenment as one attains peace of mind.
Forgetting the distinction between self and ox
Here this empty circle expresses the Zen ideal that all is empty, and that there’s no distinction between oneself and the ox, or anything else for that matter; this is the Heart Sutra in a nutshell.
Back to basics
Having awakening to the nature of all things, things “return to the source” in a sense, or put another way, one sees mountains and mountains, trees as trees, etc. No more, no less.
Returning to society
My book explains that the cowherd now appears like Hotei (Chinese: Budai), the famous, jolly-looking figure in Chinese Buddhism and is in turn sharing the Dharma with another young cowherd. This cowherd will undergo the same quest, starting at picture one above.
In other words, everything comes full-circle.
In the same way, I don’t think teenage me imagined myself blogging about this 30 years later, and a bit more experienced, but life is funny that way.
Namu Shakamuni Butsu
1 Mr Pierini, thank you. 🙏🏼
2 Both would ultimately be destroyed by the Mongols especially under Kublai Khan who formed the Yuan Dynasty. This period of time is important to Japanese Zen history too because the influx of Chinese monks, especially Rinzai monks, to Kamakura-period Japan helped fuel a rise in Zen there. In the same way, the Fall of Constantinople in 1453 helped fuel the Renaissance in the West as refugees from the Eastern Roman Empire brought lost knowledge and know-how to the West. If there was any proof that we’re all connected in some way, look no further.
3 Earlier generations of Buddhist monks like Kukai (founder of Shingon) and Saicho (founder of Tendai) came to China during the Tang Dynasty, when connections to India were still flourishing. Hence, in Kukai’s case, he could study esoteric doctrine and Sanskrit directly from Indian-Buddhist monks. Centuries later, when Dogen and Eisai came to China, Buddhism had declined in India, and had gradually taken root in China in a more Chinese way. Of course, the Dharma is the Dharma, regardless of which culture and time it is taught, but it’s noteworthy that the Buddhism Dogen and Eisai was different: esoteric and scholarly Indian Buddhism had fallen out of favor, and a growing Zen (Chan in Chinese) community had largely replaced them.
Gleanings in Buddha-Fields 
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