Yesterday I got entangled in one of those online Zen discussion groups. I know better, but I have an incurable urge to be helpful.
Someone asked a virtual dojo etiquette question that went something like this. “Is it rude to skip zazen and ceremony and only tune in for the dharma talk?”
Everyone seemed to be falling over themselves to be inclusive and welcoming and tolerant and nice and, I suppose, “Buddhist,” by saying that it wasn’t rude at all, that “in these times” it was certainly okay, that they were just happy she was “getting the dharma,” and so on.
I suggested that maybe we were not the ones she should be asking, since not all online groups had the same etiquette. I wrote, “You should ask them.”
It seemed to me that she already suspected that it was rude, or else the question would not have occurred to her. Instead, she seemed to be congratulating herself by announcing that she was being sensitive to their feelings even if she was not respecting them, while at the same time asking the world at large for our permission for her to be rude even though it was really none of our business.
The moderator asked what “my” answer would be. My answer was needlessly nuanced. I thought it would depend on whether this was a one-time deal or if it happened all the time. Was there a reason for her skipping zazen and ceremony, or was it just her preference? Was she in another time zone? Was there some Daylight Saving Time confusion? If not, then I would wonder whether she was only interested in the discussion of ideas instead of in the practice. If we followed the analogy of in-person zazen, was it rude to come in only for the discussion afterward? It would, at the very least, seem odd. What if someone, for example, came only for ceremony?
The online dojo, of course, has “in these times” caused us to relax some of our etiquette, but that is no reason to abandon it. Dojo etiquette is usually based on two principles. First, it keeps us from disturbing the others we practice with. When you enter a virtual dojo late, there are no creaking steps or slamming doors. But dojo etiquette is also for the development of our own self-discipline. Being late to the virtual dojo does not speak well of someone’s discipline.
Then there is the question of picking and choosing the elements of our practice. As it says in the Shinjinmei, the Way is not easy, not difficult, if you just don't choose. While tuning in late virtually does not have the same disruptive effect, it would seem to have the same intention of picking and choosing your own preferences. But Zen practice is not about you.
The whole issue reminded me of book clubs. Skipping zazen and ceremony and arriving in time for the dharma talk seems a bit like not reading your book club’s selection but coming for the wine and cheese anyway. You want to enjoy the discussion and fellowship and refreshments, but are those really worth the effort of actually reading the book? I know it’s often done, but Zen is not a book club.
Zen practice consists of the three treasures: Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. Or, to put those in concrete terms: Zazen, Teachings, and Fellowship. To skip zazen and ceremony and choose only the talk is to throw out the Buddha and keep the Dharma and Sangha.
I wondered why no one in our sangha ever tunes in just for the dharma talk. Is it because we are too strict, not welcoming enough? Or maybe it is because we don’t really have dharma talks like other sanghas. Our dharma talks consist of kusen (spontaneous oral teaching during zazen) and mondo (question and answer discussion after the closing ceremony). In our lineage, the dharma talk as such (teisho, a sort of lecture or sermon outside of zazen) does not really exist or is at least rare.
So if this person had missed zazen, she would have missed the dharma talk.
I was struck anew by the unique nature and value of kusen, which is somewhat peculiar to the Deshimaru lineage. I realized that maybe the kusen’s power is that it integrates all three treasures at once: Buddha, because kusen is delivered during zazen; Dharma, because it is teaching during zazen; and Sangha, because we are all hearing it together in the present moment whether virtually or in person during zazen.
The teisho gives the impression that it can exist without zazen, that it is somehow different from zazen, and thus inviting comparison with zazen, with the result that some people think it is more valuable. If the choice is between zazen and teaching, they might say, “I didn’t come here to sit and waste time staring at the wall.”
Just don’t choose.
We used to have a fellow in our sangha who was gung-ho about Zen, completely focused on satori and enlightenment. One day during sesshin he came up to me and complained about samu, work practice. “I’m not here to scrub toilets,” he said, “it interrupts my practice.” I asked if he thought samu was different from zazen. He just looked at me like I was crazy, packed up his bag, and was gone. Now he’s a physical trainer at a gym. I don’t know if he found satori, but he seems to have found his work practice, and that’s good. Zen is not for everyone. It is not a gym, and it’s not a book club.
— Richard Collins
Is zazen different than cleaning the toilet?