Zen was at first a purely personal discipline, non-monastic,
non-ethical, not demanding the acceptance of any Scripture or any
tradition. In modern Japan it has to some extent regained this
character. In China the habit of quoting written authority was
too strong to be easily discarded. The Zen masters soon began to
answer difficult questions by quoting from the Buddhist Scriptures.
Convenience dictated that practicants of Zen should live in communities
and monasticism was soon established in their sect, as in every other
sect of Buddhism. Questions of conduct arose, and Zen was squared
with the contemporary ethical outlook; though in medieval Japanese
literature wicked and cynical persons are generally depicted as adepts
of Zen.
Bodhidharma denied the existence of Good and Evil; but it was pointed
out by later apologists that the Zen adept, having viewed the Absolute,
is convinced of the unreality and futility of those pleasures and
possessions which are the incentive to sin. The Zen practicant, though
he makes no moral effort, nevertheless is certain not to sin, because
he is certain not to be tempted.
Finally, Zen forged itself a tradition. Probably during the eleventh
century a Scripture[5] was fabricated which recounts how once when
Buddha was preaching, he plucked a flower and smiled. Only the disciple
Kāshyapa understood the significance of this act. Between him and the
Buddha there passed a wordless communication of Absolute Truths. This
communication was silently passed on by Kāshyapa to his disciple, and
so ultimately to Bodhidharma, who brought it to China.
[5] _Dai Bonten Monbutsu Ketsugi Kyō._
The method of teaching by symbolic acts (such as the plucking of a
flower) was extensively used by the Zen masters. For example, when
a disciple asked Enkwan a question about the nature of Buddha, he
answered, “Bring me a clean bowl.” When the priest brought the bowl,
the master said, “Now put it back where you found it.” He signified
that the priest’s questionings must return to their proper place,
the questioner’s heart, from which alone spiritual knowledge can be
obtained.
The object of the Zen teachers, as of some eccentric schoolmasters
whom I have known, seems at first sight to have been merely to puzzle
and surprise their pupils to the highest possible degree. A peculiar
“brusquerie” was developed in Zen monasteries. The literature of the
sect consists chiefly in an endless series of anecdotes recording
the minutest happenings in the lives of famous Zen monks and their
(apparently) most trivial sayings. But behind these trifling acts
and sayings a deep meaning lay hid. The interpretation of such
teaching depends on a complete knowledge of the symbolism used. I
am not inclined to agree with those students of Zen who assert that
its written teaching are wholly devoid of intellectual content or so
completely esoteric as not to admit of explanation in words. Like other
Buddhist philosophers the Zen masters were chiefly concerned with the
attempt to define the relation between the One and the Many, between
the subjective and objective aspects of life.
The idealism of Zen does not mean that the phenomenal world has no
importance. To those who have not reached complete self-realisation
the urgencies of that world remain paramount and are the only
stepping-stones upon which he can climb higher.
On the day of his arrival at the monastery a novice presented himself
before the abbot, begging to be allowed to begin his spiritual
exercises without further delay. “Have you had supper?” asked the
abbot. “Yes.” “Then go and wash your plate.”