For the past couple of months I’ve been attending the Wednesday morning zazen meeting led by my friend Gyokei Yokoyma Sensei. For one thing it is nice to sit in a group where one is not in charge. And, I get more than my fill of that with the Blue Cliff sanghas. For another I love that early morning schedule. The way the light comes up from the darkness as we begin, the mix of smells, particularly the slight hint of mildew mixed with sandalwood incense that instantly returns me to my youth sitting at the old Berkeley Zendo. It is delicious.
But, the main reason I’m doing this is that I have committed myself to trying to learn the sacramental functions of a Soto Zen priest. Okay, relearn. I first learned them pushing on fifty years ago. But after my time in the monastery I ended up practicing with a koan teacher who was not a priest, and well, that part of my Zen life more or less fell away. I’ve talked elsewhere about how in my dotage I’m on a path of integration and a part of that is more fully understanding the priestly part of my path.
I’ve found this in some ways just relearning to bow. Never a bad thing. Especially for anyone who is walking the Zen way.
And, so, Wednesday mornings, I at least figuratively put on the black robe of a novice priest and try to learn the liturgical ropes presented by a kind and generous teacher. Today, after observing for quite a while, and being given small tutorials by Gyokei san and his assistant Seigaku san, the sensei asked me to function as doshi, liturgical leader, for the middle service of the three we did.
As anyone who knows about such things know, when asked by the Zen teacher to do something the only appropriate response is yes.
So, I watched intently as he led the first round. Then, I threw myself into it. What can I say? At least I didn’t feel like I was losing my breath or going to throw up. My first approach to the altar my hands were held wrong. Throughout the bows were stiff. And, I appear to have thrown in an extra couple at a wrong spot. And, well…
The whole thing is actually simplicity itself. It’s all about recalling the actually rather few separate movements and executing them with attention. You know the gifts of simplicity.
And…
Let’s just say it wasn’t as bad as when that Sufi sheikh tried hard to teach me the rudiments of Arabic. I fear I broke that man’s heart, and probably shook his faith in the divine in the process. Here, I was merely awful. And, I know, it can be worse than awful. So, on balance, I enjoyed bowing into the discipline of offering incense and bowing…
I’ve got a long ways to go before anyone should be allowed to watch me officiate.
And, for those among you who do such things, you might put in a dedication or light a candle or some incense that poor Gyokei san’s heart does not unnecessarily break as he struggles with his near seventy-year old acolyte.
As for me. Ah…
Beginning again…
One more bow…
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