by Kim Boykin
So in one way, human effort is irrelevant. In both Zen and Christianity, liberation cannot be earned or achieved. But this doesn't mean, of course, that human effort is irrelevant to the religious life. Even though our efforts cannot help us earn or achieve salvation or enlightenment, they might help us open to the realization of our inherent enlightenment or to the acceptance of God's free offer of salvation. Our efforts also play an important role in our more fully manifesting that liberation in the world. We can more fully actualize our enlightenment through compassion for all beings. We can more fully manifest our salvation through love of God and neighbor. More and more, we can live with the love and compassion that are fruits of liberation.
Illusory Differences
There are some purported differences between Zen teachings and Christian teachings that I think are not, in fact, differences.
"Works Righteousness"
When I speak to Christian audiences about Zen as a practice and as a way to liberation, some people get suspicious, thinking that Zen sounds like a Buddhist equivalent of what some Christians call "works righteousness." That is, they suspect that Zen practitioners are trying to work their way to liberation rather than relying on grace, as Christians do.
But this is a misunderstanding of Zen. As we've just seen, Zen practice, like Christian practice, is not about achieving or earning or working toward liberation. In Christianity, we do not work toward salvation. Rather, we simply accept the salvation that our loving and gracious God has freely been offering us through Christ all along. In Zen, we do not work toward enlightenment. Rather, we simply realize that the enlightenment we've been searching for has been right here all along. Neither accepting God's grace nor realizing our enlightenment is a "work," although we use verbs for them and although it can sometimes seem awfully difficult-like hard work-to finally get to the point of accepting God's grace or realizing our enlightenment. Christians who are exploring Zen need not be concerned that Zen is a Buddhist equivalent of "works righteousness."
Incidentally, a similar confusion happens within Christianity. In the same way that some Christians misunderstand Zen as "works righteousness," some Christians misunderstand Catholic Christianity as "works righteousness." Some people think that while the Protestant tradition teaches salvation by grace, the Catholic tradition teaches salvation by works. This isn't true. The Catholic tradition also teaches salvation by grace. In 1999, the Roman Catholic Church and the Lutheran World Federation signed a "Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification" about this very point. In the declaration, the two traditions confess together that "by grace alone, in faith in Christ's saving work and not because of any merit on our part, we are accepted by God and receive the Holy Spirit, who renews our hearts while equipping and calling us to good works." By grace alone, we are accepted by God. And the Holy Spirit calls us to good works, which are not a cause of justification but its fruits: "We confess together that good works-a Christian life lived in faith, hope and love-follow justification and are its fruits." There are some important differences in the understanding of justification between the Catholic Church and various Protestant denominations and also among Protestant denominations, but on this fundamental point that justification is by grace, there is general agreement.
Optimism and Pessimism
Several years ago, a friend of mine asked me how I reconcile the Christian doctrine of human depravity and the fallen state of the world with the Zen conviction that we are all buddhas. This had never struck me as a problem before, but why not? It certainly sounds like a problem. How do I reconcile inherent fallenness with inherent buddhahood?
Well, I don't. It doesn't make sense to compare Zen and Christianity by examining inherent fallenness versus inherent buddhahood. Setting it up that way is comparing the "big mess" part of Christianity with the "it's OK" part of Zen. Inherent fallenness is Christianity's bad news, and inherent buddhahood is Zen's good news. Both Zen and Christianity have bad news and good news. Both traditions say that things are a big mess, and both say that it's OK anyway. Comparing the bad news of one with the good news of the other leads us to see supposed differences that are in fact illusory.
I most often hear this mistake from Westerners who are disenchanted with Christianity. They talk about how much more optimistic and life-affirming Buddhism is than Christianity, since Buddhism talks about our inherent buddhahood while Christianity talks about our inherent sinfulness. But this isn't fair. Of course Buddhism sounds more optimistic if you compare Buddhism's good news with Christianity's bad news.
When Westerners first encountered Buddhism, they tended to make the opposite mistake. They saw Buddhism as pessimistic because of its first premise, its First Noble Truth of suffering, in contrast with the Good News of Christianity. But again, this isn't a fair contrast. Of course Buddhism sounds more pessimistic if you compare Buddhism's bad news with Christianity's good news.
We were discussing the good news and bad news of Zen and Christianity in a session I led of a Methodist Sunday school class for parents of young children. One father commented that Christian parents need to be sure to teach their children the good news of God's grace and not just the bad news of human sinfulness, so that their children won't grow up and feel like they have to leave Christianity to find some good news. I agree. Not being able to find good news in Christianity would be a sad reason to leave the church and a sad comment on one's religious education. I would add, conversely, that if children do not hear what their religion says about the bad news of life, then when they inevitably discover the bad news for themselves, they may think that they have to look elsewhere for a religious or nonreligious worldview that recognizes what a mess human life is. Christianity would be incomplete without both the bad news and the good news, and Zen, too, would be incomplete without both the bad news and the good news.
Real Differences
There are, of course, many real and significant differences between Zen teachings and Christian teachings.
Although it isn't fair to compare the good news of one tradition with the bad news of the other, it is fair to compare Zen's good news with Christianity's good news or Zen's bad news with Christianity's bad news. Even if both traditions say, "Things are a big mess, but it's OK anyway," they have different teachings about what the big mess is and why it's OK anyway.
In Zen, the big mess is suffering, which is rooted in the illusion of "self." In Christianity, the big mess is sin: our alienation from God and the resulting violations of the divinely established order. So in Zen the root problem is faulty perception, while in Christianity the root problem is faulty relationship.
In Zen, "it's OK anyway" because we can awaken to our inherent freedom and selflessness. In Christianity, "it's OK anyway" because salvation is offered through faith in Jesus Christ. There is no God or messiah involved in Zen realization as there is in Christian salvation. Again, the relationship with the divine is central in Christianity.
There is also a significant difference between the role of the Buddha in Zen and the role of Christ in Christianity. In the Zen tradition, the Buddha is not understood to be any sort of god, messiah, savior, or supernatural being, but simply a human being, a great teacher and example, someone who found a way of liberation from suffering and taught this way to others. While the Buddha and Christ are alike in some significant ways-and you can now find many books comparing them and their teachings-in at least this one crucial way they are not alike. They play different roles in the liberation of their followers. The Buddha shows the way, while (in most forms of Christianity) Jesus Christ is the way. Of course, Jesus' life is also an example for Christians to follow, but it is faith in Christ that is salvific. There is no comparable "faith in the Buddha" in Zen. In Christianity we are saved through Christ, whereas in Zen we are awakened not through the Buddha but rather by following the Buddha's teachings and example. Jesus is necessary for salvation, but the Buddha is not necessary for enlightenment. Zen practitioners are grateful to the Buddha for his
teachings, but someone else could have discovered and taught the same things he did. If archaeologists were to find evidence tomorrow that the Buddha never lived, it would have little to no effect on Zen practitioners or Zen practice.
The Buddha's role is more like that of a Christian saint than that of Christ. The Buddha, like a saint, is an example to follow. We can be realized buddhas, and we can be saints. We can also be like Jesus in some respects, but in one fundamental and all-important respect we can never be like Jesus: we cannot be God. Jesus Christ is both fully human and fully divine, and the rest of us are only fully human.
In some ways, Zen and Christianity are not different so much as they are incommensurable. That is, in some ways, Zen and Christianity can't be compared because they aren't even talking about the same things, so comparing them would be like comparing tennis and mathematics, as Thomas Merton said. For instance, you can't compare what Zen and Christianity say about God, since Zen doesn't say anything about a God or gods. Also, Zen does not make statements about the nature of reality that go beyond what can be experienced. There is no divine revelation in Zen, as there is in Christianity. Zen has nothing to say about the origin of the world or about what happens after death, so we can't compare Zen and Christian views about these issues. (Although the Buddhist tradition talks about reincarnation, I have heard little to nothing from Zen teachers or in Zen books about what happens after death.)
In Zen-Christian dialogue, the differences between Zen and Christianity are sometimes minimized or ignored-usually, I think, in a well-meaning attempt to promote harmony and respect among people of the two traditions-but I don't think this minimizing or ignoring is necessary or fruitful. The differences between Christianity and Zen are significant and interesting, and in my opinion, they need not lead to animosity between Christians and Zen practitioners, and they are no hindrance to the practice of Zen by Christians.
Zen and Christianity do also share significant common ground, especially, as we've seen, in their understandings of the experience of being human. Christian theologian David Tracy notes that while the Buddhist and Christian ways are clearly not the same, "neither are we two, in any easy way, merely other to one another." Borrowing the Buddhist notion of nonduality, Tracy suggests that perhaps "we are neither the same nor other, but not-two. Only the further dialogue will tell."
Welcome to the dialogue!
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Practice
Zazen: Following the Breath
At many Zen centers and monasteries, beginners are taught the practice of counting the breath. After a while, a student may shift to the practice of counting only the exhalations instead of both the inhalations and exhalations. And then, as counting the breath becomes easier, the student may be given the practice of following the breath, which is like counting the breath but without the counting.
In following the breath, you simply feel the physical sensations of the breathing, and when you realize that your attention has wandered, you notice the thought and return your attention to the breathing. The posture instructions are the same as for counting the breath.
Going from counting the breath to following the breath is like having your training wheels removed. The counting is a support, making it easier to stay with the breath and easier to notice when your mind has wandered off. In following the breath, you're a little more on your own.
Note that breathing is not something you have to do. In zazen, just let the breathing happen, and observe it.
Similarly, attending to the present moment is not something you have to do. Clear awareness is the environment of our wandering thoughts. When, rather than grabbing on to thoughts or pushing them away, we simply notice them and let them be, clear awareness is revealed.
The Essentials of Following the Breath
• Find a sitting posture that allows you to have an upright spine, and to be stable and completely still.
• Keep your eyes open, with your gaze lowered at about a 45-degree angle, soft-focused, eyelids droopy.
• Take one or two slow, deep breaths. Then let your breath be however it is.
• Let your attention settle in your hara (about two inches below the navel).
• Attend to your breathing-to the physical sensations of each breath.
• When you realize that your attention has wandered away from the breathing, notice the thought and gently return your attention to the breathing.
Notice the thought,
return to the breathing,
notice the thought,
return to the breathing,
notice the thought,
return to the breathing...
Swirling Thoughts and Swirling Snow
When I'm driving, usually I spin around in my thoughts and maybe talk with my husband, Brian, or listen to the radio. But sometimes I need a break from my brain, so I notice my thoughts and return my attention to just driving, notice my thoughts and return to just driving, and so on.
I was doing this once when Brian and I were on the long drive home to Atlanta from his mother's house in Tampa, and I thought of a snow globe-you know, one of those clear globes or domes with water and a little scene inside. You shake the globe to stir up the "snow," and then you set it down and watch the snow fall over the scene.
In our ordinary lives, our thoughts are almost continually swirling around. In Zen practice, we repeatedly set our minds down to let the thoughts settle, by returning our attention to the breath. We notice the swirling thoughts and set our minds down, notice the swirling thoughts and set our minds down, and so on.
The snow will settle if we simply set the snow globe down and let it be. Shaking the snow globe in a certain way in an attempt to make the snow settle more quickly just stirs the snow up more. It's the same with thoughts. All of our attempts to control our thoughts-to force them to settle-just stir them up more. The thoughts will settle on their own if we simply set the mind down, letting our attention return to the breathing.
After I'd played for a while with the snow globe image which is just a variation on a common image in Zen, of mud settling out of water if you simply let the water be-I decided I wanted to get a snow globe to use when I teach Zen. On another drive home from Tampa, Brian found one in the gift shop connected to a restaurant just off the interstate. It has a picture of palm trees along a Florida beach and sparkly multicolored glitter instead of white "snow," and the great thing is, it was designed so that you can remove the picture and insert your own. On the Web, I found a nice picture of the scowling, wide-eyed face of Bodhidharma, the "first patriarch" of Zen in China, and printed it out, cut it to the right shape, and put it in the snow globe.
The sparkly thoughts swirl around Bodhidharma's head and then settle. I like this. When I'm busy with thoughts, it feels like my energy is all up in my head, and when I notice the thoughts and return to my breathing, I let my energy and my attention settle back down toward my hara. Also, being caught up in thoughts sometimes feels to me like there's a cloud of stuff floating around my head, keeping me from seeing clearly what's going on right here and now besides my own mental chatter. So returning to the breathing feels like letting the thoughts settle out so that they're no longer obscuring my vision.
Note that swirling snow is an intrinsic part of a snow globe. You don't make a better snow globe by freezing it so that the snow can't move or by extracting the snow. Likewise, swirling thoughts are an intrinsic part of Zen practice. We just watch our thoughts, as we watch the snow:
Notice the swirling snow,
set down the snow globe,
notice the swirling snow,
set down the snow globe,
notice the swirling snow,
set down the snow globe, .. .
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4
Enlightenment: Already and Not Yet
We Are Already Buddhas
If Zen practice seems like a project, like one more item for your already oppressively long "to do" list, it may be that you're misunderstanding w
hat Zen practice is. It's easy to think that Zen is another thing we need to do to get where we want to be, another project to put on top of our already precarious pile of projects. I certainly approach my own Zen practice that way a lot of the time. We tend to think that our new and improved life is off in the future somewhere and that Zen will help us create that life. But Zen is not another project. It isn't even a project to get rid of our projects.
Zen is an unproject, a nonproject. Zen is not about striving to get somewhere else. It's about being right here. Zen is not about being someone else-someone more peaceful and wise, someone happier and more together. It's about being ourselves, exactly as we are right now. Zen is not about becoming a buddha but about realizing our inherent buddhahood. This is the good news of Zen. We already are buddhas. Things are OK right now.
Several years ago, I was really struggling with my Zen practice and also with my practice of prayer. It was all making me feel kind of crazy. And I thought, "You know, I might be a lot better off if I simply gave up on all this spiritual practice stuff, at least for a while, and just lived my life as it is." I didn't know if I could manage that. Every religious tradition seems to have its own special form of guilt, and I get plagued with Zen guilt if I don't do zazen regularly. But I thought that maybe I could get over that and just leave my life alone.