by Jeremy Finn
At first, Thomas felt a bit offended by the lack of attention, but pushed aside the emotion as he reasoned this must be a shop of very fine artifacts and artistry. One that caters to Buddhist monks must be a serious business and not geared toward the casual tourist. Although Thomas was a foreigner and certainly looked the part of a tourist with his blue jeans, t-shirt and bulky backpack, he was also no stranger to tea and knew far more about the art than the shopkeeper likely initially surmised. No matter. He was just here to look around and perhaps find an unusual teacup to add to his collection. The shop carried tea too. It was stacked in towers of dried discs wrapped in wrinkled brown paper bearing the red ink symbols of the Chinese manufacturer. Puer, Thomas noted. Expensive and still a bit too advanced for my taste. Many raved about the dark, fermented tea, but to Thomas’s palette it still tasted too much like fresh soil.
As he carefully lifted a few miniature cups to examine them, he began to realize the ware was also a bit too advanced for his taste and his budget. A single cup the size of half an egg shell was going for the equivalent of three hundred dollars. Thomas was very careful, but lifted a few more partially out of interest, but more out of a subtle desire to draw the attention of the little group in the corner. The shopkeeper was on the phone now, rambling Chinese to someone probably in another time zone. The two monks sat quietly finishing the tea served as a favor to them by the generous owner. Again, Thomas felt a bit stymied by the prejudiced hospitality and decided it was probably time to get going.
Then, however, something struck him, perhaps because he was already a touch jealous of the two men clothed in gray robes and devoid of hair, but also because it genuinely perplexed him. He knew monks often drank tea. It was a tradition carried over from China long ago but crushed during the Chosun Dynasty, which favored Confucianism over Buddhism, and revived once again as the dynasty fell into decline in the late nineteenth century. But he always assumed they grew their own tea or bought good, everyday tea from the local market. They would likely choose simple instruments to prepare and drink their tea. He had a tea bowl at home for drinking Japanese matcha. It was deformed and irregular along the edge because, he was told, the rustic and simple things were most in line with Buddhist tendencies. This seemed to make sense. The monks’ clothes were bland and identical. Even their faces were hard to distinguish. He once visited a monastery and saw the rooms and dining utensils were also stark and practical. So why, then, would these two find their way to a shop where the cheapest pottery would cost the average man’s weekly wages and the tea was literally worth its weight in gold?
Thomas realized his offended pride might be at the source of the thought and decided they must just be visiting a patron or an old friend who in turn served them some of the shop’s tea. However, as he was making his way toward the door to depart, the woman finished her phone conversation and the two rose to leave. Thomas had lived in the country for some time, and had a basic conversational knowledge of the language, so he could understand what they said as they took their leave. Of course, this consisted of prolific utterances of gratitude and wishes for good health from both parties as they bowed constantly. The space was so tight, Thomas feared their rhythm might get off and one of the monks would bump heads with the shopkeeper. They finished the ceremony successfully, though, and the taller monk mentioned apologetically that next time they would buy much tea. Apparently this was the common practice and today was just a visit for other reasons.
This comment shoved Thomas’s cynicism back into the forefront of his thoughts and he opened his mouth for a second, hesitating. The fact that the shorter monk shuffled right by him without even looking at him caused him to act.
“Excuse me,” Thomas said hoping the man might speak English, “would you mind if I just asked you a few quick questions?”
“Yes, of course,” the taller monk answered betraying some slight surprise at the unexpected confrontation. “My name is Jokei. Are you looking for a Buddhist souvenir? I know a nice little temple shop down the road.”
“No, thank you,” Thomas answered. “I had a few questions about your religious beliefs.”
Again, the little man looked unsettled but said nothing.
“Well,” Jokei hesitated. He was tired and ready to retire to the temple in the city where they would stay tonight before making the trip back to their mountain home in the hills that rose like a castle wall in the north around the outskirts of the city, “how can I turn down a man searching for the truth. I am sure many turned the Buddha away when he petitioned them for wisdom. Why don’t you have a seat?” Jokei offered to the apparent distain of his brother monk and indifference of the shop owner. The other monk was years his junior and needed some training in patient obedience anyways. Perhaps that was half the reason he was indulging this foreigner. Then again, he did understand it was his duty to strive to enlighten others when they came asking questions. The shopkeeper could care less. She might be a bit perturbed at having to continue to host this growing group with little intention of buying anything, but she knew the temple often brought profit to the store and probably felt her indulgence was earning her good karma to boot.
Thomas hesitated to accept the offer, which signaled a longer discussion than he had originally intended. He realized he was the one who began the conversation, though, so accepted with a curt nod of the head. He placed his backpack beside the smooth wooden tree stump that served as a stool and took his seat. The shopkeeper broke off a chunk of dried tea cake and began to brew a new infusion. She placed three cups on the little table with a smile directed only toward the monks, and Thomas felt a renewed desire to question the pair.
“I am afraid my English is not so good,” Jokei apologized humbly, although he spoke with little accent.
“Oh, no. It’s fine,” Thomas protested. “I am always surprised how many people here speak English. It makes me ashamed that I am not fluent in your language. I know some, but not enough to hold a real discussion.”
At least this foreigner is not an arrogant ignoramus like most, Jokei thought. Perhaps a short discussion of Buddhism would actually be worth his time. “So, what would you like to ask?”
“Oh, right,” Thomas said as he held his tiny porcelain cup with one hand supported at the wrist by the other in the customary fashion as the shopkeeper poured his tea last. His cup was plain compared to those set before the monks, but it was still beautiful in a simple, delicate manner. “I was just wondering if you buy cups and bowls and tea and stuff here?”
“Yes,” Jokei answered, wondering if perhaps this man was merely seeking good places to shop for tea rather than insight on the cosmos. “I buy for my temple and the Sangha.”
“Do you ever buy for yourself or just for stocking the temple cupboards?” Thomas continued.
“Well, I do buy for myself at times,” Jokei explained. He was a bit more interested in the conversation now since it would give him a chance to display his knowledge. Thus distracted, he missed the subtle intrusion Thomas was using to spring his trap. “You see, I am a tea master. It is something we value highly in Buddhism and the practice of drinking tea runs in harmony with Buddhist thought. I have a small but valuable collection of tea ware.
“Do you mind if I ask about how much you spend on your own cups and such?” Thomas pressed as he sipped the dark, earthy liquid. Apparently the shopkeeper did not speak English. She had turned her attention to a local periodical.
Again, this odd foreigner took the conversation down an unexpected path. Jokei sipped his tea too quickly and scalded the roof of his mouth. Perhaps an early end to the conversation was desirable after all. He began to sense the trap by the way the man asked his questions, though he still could not put a finger on what he was up to. “Well, they range in price a great deal. I guess on average a cup might cost around two hundred dollars,” he offered with a very conservative bias.
“Then I guess this is the root of my question,” Thomas feigned inquisitiveness as he launched the killing bl
ow. “Isn’t this wrong? I mean isn’t the whole pretext of Buddhism detachment from the material world? You know, impermanence. Everything is in a state of change and nothing lasts, so don’t get attached.”
Jokei cleared his throat and tried to take another sip of tea, but there was no more liquid in the cup. Now he understood the foreigner’s tactic. But was he merely curious, or did he have some kind of grudge against Buddhism? His companion bumped his knee with his leg – apparently he understood enough to work out it was becoming an uncomfortable situation. Jokei cast him a warning glance before turning back to his opponent. Regardless of the motive, he had to set things straight in this foreigner’s mind. He didn’t want him to go back to his country with a negative view of Buddhism. The shopkeeper too had noticed the tension and fumbled with his cup as she tried to refill it. Obviously this man had picked up a few Buddhist catch phrases during his visit and knew little of the mysterious and wonderful religion. So, he would keep things very basic. “Let me explain it to you from the big picture. Everything in this universe is part of what we call samsara. It is a grand cycle of suffering and rebirth. Within this great weave, little is perceptible to us as humans. That is why it is important to follow the dharma. Dharma is the teachings and the law of the Buddha. He was far more enlightened than us and only he can understand many of the mysteries that boggle our minds. I know this is probably all very strange to you, but it is the best way I can explain our view to someone who does not understand dharma.”
“You are right,” Thomas conceded, “there is much about the Buddha’s teachings I do not know or understand, but I do know Siddhartha Gautama expressed the basic principles in easy to understand concepts.” Thomas knew a bit more than the average Westerner about Buddhism since he taught a class on world religions for a few years a while back. Now he used that knowledge to throw the patronizing monk off balance. “For example, the Buddha taught the four noble truths. Life is suffering. Suffering is caused by craving. Suffering ends when craving ends, and you end craving by following the eightfold path. So, that takes me back to my question, isn’t it wrong to purchase and collect expensive items since it leads to craving and attachment?”
Jokei felt very uncomfortable. He was derailed for a moment by the man’s unexpected depth of knowledge about his religion and was upset that he twisted that knowledge to suit his accusation. His underling squirmed irritatingly on the wooden stool beside him and the infernal shop keeper seemed intent on keeping his cup full to the brim while leaving the foreigner's empty. “I am afraid you do not understand,” he said with measured calm. “You speak of the four noble truths rightly and that the eightfold path is the way to achieve, but you must understand the process of the eightfold path is what we consider the middle path. The Buddha instructed against extreme asceticism as well as against overindulgence. The middle path is always the path to enlightenment and therefore some material interest is acceptable.”
Thomas shifted on his stool. He could tell the conversation was heading down a confrontational path of no return, but he was not satisfied with the answers the monk had given him so far and was honestly a bit disappointed the man was tackling the difficult questions so serenely. “So if the eightfold path implies the middle path, as you say, what about the very first two steps? I know the eightfold path is divided into three parts and the first is prajna, or wisdom that purifies the mind. Isn’t it true that the first step within this group is ditthi, which I understand to be viewing reality as it is and not just as it appears? And the second step is sankappa, which means renunciation. Taking these two alone, it seems pretty clear to me that the beginning of the path strongly steers the practitioner away from any kind of attachment or connection to things of this world.” Thomas felt the rush of adrenalin as he spoke boldly. He rocked his little empty cup back and forth on the table between his thumb and fingers to relieve some of his nervous tension and the shop keeper scowled at him. “And I believe I recall something called the four immeasurables. They are a form of meditation, if I am not mistaken, and the fourth one includes the desire that all sentient beings be free of attachment.”
Jokei sat staring at the insufferable man for a moment as he tried to collect his thoughts. His burdensome student did not help with his constant fidgeting and sighing, but Jokei decided to ignore the unenlightened novice monk. The shopkeeper made to fill his cup again despite the fact that it was more than two-thirds full. He threw his hand out a bit to sternly to reject the service and she recoiled back to her periodical with some hurt showing on her face. He would make it up to her later. This foreigner had an annoyingly accurate grasp of many of the tenants of Buddhism, but did not understand how to interpret or apply them. Rather than try to reason through the difficult concepts he had tossed out casually, Jokei decided to change the topic and force the conversation down another path. “Let me explain to you why some have more than others. I am sure this is what is bothering you. That is ok. It is something that bothers many, Buddhist or not. You see, everything we do generates karma. Karma is something intangible that affects us. If we do good, we receive good karma, and the reverse is true of course. Now there are two kinds of karma. Janka karma can be thought of as little karma. It has an effect on our immediate world and you will see the fruits of it on your life. You do something good, something good will happen to you. Then, there is janaka karma, or big karma. If you gain much of this, you will be reborn in a better state - a rich man, for instance. Take for example the store keeper,” he said and motioned to the woman. She noticed the attention and buried her head a bit deeper in the pages of her paper. “She had janaka karma, so she was born into a situation where she could become moderately wealthy. She did not have as much as I do, because she was born a woman and not destined to be a monk. But she can live a good life and even cultivate further enlightenment as a layperson, which will carry over with her essence into the next cycle of rebirth.”
Thomas listened carefully and tried to decide if the monk was intentionally trying to change the subject or just missed the point of his questioning due to linguistic obstacles. “I still see some problems with that line of reasoning as well. I mean, why is it good to be born wealthy? Wouldn’t that make it much more tempting to live a life of attachment? But ok, I think I know where you are going to go with this, so let me play it out a bit further. She is just a layperson. She is only bound to live according to the five precepts and can further her advancement by using her wealth to support the Sangha. But if she does more than provide for your basic needs, like give you expensive tea and utensils, isn’t she causing you to violate the eight precepts of basic asceticism, which includes refraining from luxurious seats and beds?”
Jokei chuckled mockingly. There was no end to this man’s spouting of Buddhist doctrine and misuse of the same. “Do you really think we have luxurious seats and beds? You may visit our temple and I will show you where we sleep – on the floor!”
“Yes,” Thomas dismissed him quickly, “but I’m sure that precept is not literal. The seat or bed is probably just an example of something material of practical usage made abusive by luxurious upgrading. Hmmm, that would not be much unlike a tea cup, would it? A simple cup in and of itself is practical and would not cause attachment, but a very valuable or ornate cup would be a different story. Oh, and even if you disagree, monks fall under the ten precepts, right? I think they expressly include the prohibition of taking money or gold. Either way, I don’t think tossing big chunks of money around for cups that cost more than most people’s televisions is what Siddhartha Gautama intended. “
Jokei was infuriated. He had not felt this way in a long time and the guilt of that acknowledgment made him even more angry. For a fearful moment, a voice in his head petitioned him to consider the man’s approach, but he violently shoved it beneath the surface and blurted out the adage he had heard often from his teachers when he was young and unenlightened. “When something is very complex, it can only be understood by the Buddha.” The foreigner smiled sligh
tly in a way that showed he felt he had won a victory.
Thomas was both exuberant and dismayed. He clearly had the monk on the defensive, but he also realized he was not going to get any further since the man was playing the god card, so to speak. Nonetheless, he launched one more strike. “Very well, but it seems to me Gautama felt this was not a complex issue. It seems to be a constant thread in all his teaching. To give you just one more example, what about the twelve nidanas – the steps in the continuing cycle of suffering? Step eight is craving and step nine is clinging. Once again, isn’t it material items of value that cause a man to crave and cling?”
Jokei could not think any more. The combination of his rage with the small but indisputable voice of doubt that he struggled to silence consumed his mind. “I choose not to answer that question,” was all he could muster.
“Ah,” Thomas said as he leaned back on his stool with his hands on his knees, “the classic tactic of Gautama. When faced with questions about issues he did not want to confront, it is the answer he always gave. Convenient, but it leaves a man hungry, unsatisfied, don’t you think?” Thomas was gratified with the outcome of the conversation despite not really getting an answer to his original question from the monk. Perhaps there wasn’t an answer, at least not one the man was willing to admit at this point. Maybe some time to meditate on their conversation would do him some good, and possibly harm the shop keeper’s business. At any rate, he knew it was time to excuse himself. The man’s bald head was speckled with beads of sweat and red as a cherry. His partner looked very nervous and the woman kept glancing at her wristwatch. “I do thank you for your time,” he said simply and genuinely. “I apologize if I was a bit confrontational, but I really was curious about the matter. Since I don’t think much more will come out of a continuation of this discussion, I will excuse myself and wish you both a safe trip back to your temple.”