RITES AND RITUALS

            Many religious denominations, and even some schools of Buddhism, have developed rituals to such an extent the ceremonies come close to magical practices. By that I mean the rites are often comprehensible only to certain elite individuals, to the high priests. To the average person the meanings are lost because the average person goes along with the hocus-pocus out of habit rather than out of any sort of conviction as to its necessity.

            I’m talking about a mixed bag of practices that includes prostrating, hand-clapping, chanting, rote prayer, and so on and on.

            Human beings are…well, human beings are curious. They not only become caught up in ceremonious performances but they attach themselves to objects that, to them, symbolize a need for something external to their selves. Such objects might be a cross, or a star, or a crescent moon, or a statue, or a so-called sacred book. These things in themselves are harmless. It’s when they become attachments or else objects of veneration that one’s true self becomes confused.

            Zen doesn’t condemn rituals. Zen doesn’t judge anything. However, Zen does consider that most sacraments and liturgy are hindrances to its purpose.

            What is the purpose of Zen? What’s its basis?

            The purpose of Zen is self realization. It’s recognizing one’s true self. It’s seeing one’s face before one was born and perceiving the connection that exists among everything in the universe.

            What is unfortunate about mystical practices is that they can set up false values and habits that distract from self realization.

            Satori, or enlightenment, may be instantaneous or it may be gradual. However, if one’s mind is involved in concentrating on physically fiddling around—with following artificial rules properly—a tension is set up in the inner self. That tension is created that hampers the spontaneity of the enlightenment experience.

            Newcomers to Zen are often baffled by its pure simplicity. I’ve been asked how the hands should be held during zazen. I say, “Hold them palm up just below the navel." "But I’m used to resting them on my knees,” I’ve been told.

            I have no argument with that because whether the hands are on the knees, or against the abdomen, or in the lap doesn’t matter. Nor does it matter if one meditates in the lotus position on the floor, or sitting in a folding chair, or hanging by one’s thumbs.

            I teach mostly what I’ve been taught. My practices in Zen are neither better nor worse than anyone else’s practices. Allowing oneself to become caught up in the physical aspects of practice—or in bell ringing, or in chanting—can muddle the experience of enlightenment.

            So don’t worry about our singing bowl. It merely provides a signal to do something, just like your alarm clock provides a signal to get you out of bed in the morning. Your clock, this singing bowl, and what ever position you prefer for sitting aren’t matters of great importance. What is important is you.

            If you let your mind pester you with why we do walking meditation in a clockwise direction, you’re depriving your mind of doing what it’s capable of doing. What it’s capable of doing is hanging loose and letting happen what ever will happen.

            Zen masters contend that enlightenment may be realized on any occasion. The sound of a broom handle knocking against a stone has triggered satori. So has a poke in the ribs by a master’s forefinger. Just remember that the broom or the stone or the finger—even the master—isn’t significant. The result of the occasion is what’s vital.

            Every perception is an occasion for satori. Think about that. I’ll say it again. Every perception is an occasion for satori.

            But the occasion for enlightenment can be numbed if one’s self is wrapped up in ritual.

            So many religions and organized systems teach that reality is outside of us in some physical object or in a practice, and that reality must be approached in a ceremonial manner.

Reality is in us. Rather, we are reality.

            Everything in existence is important, but nothing is sacred including Mother, apple pie, and the Alamo.