The Blow of Compassion

On Sunday, November 8, 2020, seven of us stood masked on the lawn of the Zen center to undergo the Jukai ceremony. We took upon ourselves 11 commitments, received symbolic garb, and were given new names by our teacher to mark our formal initiation into the laity of our Soto Zen community.

While I still believe it’s not important whether I identify in some enduring psychological way as A Buddhist™ — as I have in the past proclaimed, recanted, and then tried to syncretize on this blog — I do now have an official piece of paper that says I am one.

Moreover, my teacher has presented me with a Dharma name — a practice that in a way serves as the only, lifelong, whoppin’ doozy of a personal koan in our tradition — and so whatever I may or may not be or not be, I do have a Buddhist identity to contend with.

My Dharma name is Kyosaku.

The Name

Yes, that’s right — my teacher named me after perhaps the most infamous element of Zen, the “encouragement stick” with which the person supervising the meditation session whacks those who are beginning to slump. Now, just to be clear, we only use the stick consensually and by request in Soto, but in Rinzai, they call it the keisaku or “warning stick,” and the monitor wields it at their own discretion.

Still, in both schools, the blow is not intended as a punishment but rather a compassionate act to revive the recipient’s practice. They whack you right on the meat of your trapezius, and it actually is quite refreshing. To be very clear, I am not at all opposed to the use of the kyosaku in Soto Zen, and I am quite honored to be named for it.

Here are Sensei’s remarks from the ceremony explaining my name:

“‘Kyosaku’ is often translated as ‘the blow of compassion.’ It’s the stick we use to strike the shoulders on request only, except between teachers and disciples, when it’s understood that when you need it, we give it to you. So please do your best to live up to this, Kyōsaku, in your daily life, in your work life. Don’t hit anybody unless they ask for it.”

I emphasize that last part because I’ve never been so cut to the quick by a teacher ever before in my life, especially one I haven’t even known for a year. There’s so much for me to unpack in why Sensei gave me this name, but with that one sentence, I confirmed with no doubt that this man is my teacher, and he knows what I need to learn. It may sound inscrutable (and maybe kinda violent) to you, but you need to trust me on this: he’s right.

Truth be told, I was nervous about receiving a Dharma name. Certainly, I wanted it to have a clear meaning for me that pointed to some central spiritual aspiration in my life, so, check. But vainly, I also wanted it to be a cool name. I wanted it to be cool-sounding. I wanted to feel cool — rather than embarrassed — saying it. Somehow, Sensei managed not to disappoint me on that count, either, and yet gave me a name that completely annihilates all notions of what is “cool” or “uncool.” Go to the place that is neither cool nor uncool. That is a funny Zen joke I will leave to the funny Zen joke people.

The Precepts

Lest I sound like the Dharma name stole the show for me, I should hasten to point out that Jukai means “receiving the precepts,” and that is surely the point of this ceremony. Our “lay ordination” into the sangha consists of accepting 11 principles as vows to uphold, making us into living models for the manner and conduct of a member of our community.

They’re not commandments or laws, as Zen people are quick to point out. They’re more like tests, really — heuristics through which to understand how to respond to situations. “Breaking” them isn’t really a thing; it’s impossible not to break them constantly. I guess the point is to always try to break them less. The language used in our ceremony is that we will “observe” them.

In our Jukai ceremony, the 11 commitments are:

• Three Treasures:

1. Taking refuge in Buddha

2. Taking refuge in Dharma

3. Taking refuge in Sangha

• Three Pure Precepts:

1. Not creating evil / Do no harm

2. Practicing good / Do only good

3. Purifying intentions / Do good for others

• Five Grave Precepts:

1. Affirm life / Do not kill

2. Be giving / Do not take what is not freely given

3. Honor the body / Do not engage in sexual misconduct

4. Manifest truth / Do not speak falsely

5. Proceed clearly / Do not cloud the mind with intoxicants

As you can see, some of them are quite easy, and some of them are impossible. Others sound like boring old religious commandments but quickly break down into fascinating puzzles. What qualifies as an “intoxicant,” or “cloud[ing] the mind” with one? Don’t know? Investigate thoroughly in practice, as Dogen would say.

Whatever they mean, we all agreed to observe them until we realize Buddhahood, so it’ll be a while. I think it’s the weight of this public verbal agreement that makes Jukai a significant step for someone to take in the community, even though it’s an entirely voluntary one. We do Jukai to show each other that we’re committed to Zen practice, and thereby to each other. Like the kyosaku, the point is encouragement.

So, what is all this? Am I a Buddhist or what? This piece of paper says I am, and this fancy altar I made in my office with all these statues and candles and whatnot sure looks Buddhist. After Jukai, I even have a little symbolic robe, shiny rosary, and photos of three guys (Dogen Zenji, Matsuoka Roshi, and Sensei) who definitely seem like Buddhists on it. So does that make this A Thing™? What about Judaism and the rabbi to whom I am married?

What about that, indeed? (She’s totally supportive, for the record!)

I don’t think I can accept the meanings of words required to make this question into a problem. “Am,” “I,” “a,” “Buddhist,” none of these words describe anything real in this situation.

It’s all just a vehicle. Take Zen seriously when it says it’s “a special transmission outside the scriptures, not depending on words and letters.” Zazen is what it is. Whatever forms get it into us are the right forms. This is it for me.