This blog hosts articles contributed by members of the Chicago Zen Center. For news about events at the Center and in Chicago, please visit our Interfaith Dialogue
-Vinati DeVane
I feel like part of practice is continually unlearning our inclination to label, categorize, or contain our zazen. It is easy to give our practice a “name” – verbally, experientially, or emotionally, even – to feel “I am doing this kind of zazen now; I was doing a different kind of zazen yesterday.” I suppose this is a natural way we understand our practice, but it can also launch us into the world of “things,” ideas, fabrications, separation. All this verbalizing instead of just sitting…
Yet, before we are seated on that proverbial airplane and the hypothetical passenger seated next to us observes we are reading a book on Zen and asks, “So, what is Zen about?” we need to cultivate some measure of understanding our practice in order to respond. Smacking the armrest or yelling “Mu!” isn’t going to cut it.
This is the challenge I faced recently in auditing Sensei’s team-taught class, “Religions in Dialogue,” at the Lutheran Seminary this past fall. I was not directly asked the question, “What is Zen?” so much, but the experience was more about steeping in an array of these sorts of questions: “What does Buddhism say about sin?” or “Is there no god in Buddhism?” or “What is karma?” Further, the diverse class was asking reciprocal sorts of questions about the other religions represented, Christianity and Islam.
At the heart of our weekly discussion, our mission was to learn about and practice respectful engagement in interreligious dialogue. Short of summarizing the experience, I just want to mention a few issues I unearthed.
First, I think it is important to be tender with our uncertainty. There is a temptation for any dialoguer to offer concrete definitions of faith or belief as a religious “position” instead of recognizing one is still “in progress.” Perhaps we feel we shouldn’t engage in dialogue unless we are somehow “finished.” But staking out a personal position is the fastest way to become defensive and paint oneself into the “us v. them” corner. Yet, there are times when boundaries have to be recognized in establishing difference. Figuring out in dialogue what is called for and when is a delicate dance, and one doesn’t always know when one has stepped on one’s partner’s toes. The best I can offer is to dance with open uncertainty, not only toward the vast and wide teachings of Zen, but toward Islam, Christianity, Judaism. I’m in trouble if I can wrap up my understanding of Islam, put it on the shelf, and stamp “finished” on it. And I’m equally in trouble if I can package my understanding of Zen, complete with label.
Second, I feel in this dialogue all parties have to become “we” to actually hear what is being said – the “we” of a dancing couple, the “we” we experience side by side in the zendo. If we fix our discriminating mind against what we hear of other religions – by parsing its details, for instance – we haven’t really listened. On one of our class outings it was a great lesson to cover my hair for iftar dinner at the American College of Islam – an experience that needed to be felt more than understood. In the absence of the opportunity to join in the practice of a given religion, we have to feel our dialogue partner’s words as if we are saying them. Otherwise I don’t think we’re really listening.
Also, our view of interreligious dialogue is predicated on our view of our own religion. The kinds of questions we ask, the way we listen, what we hope to understand about ourselves and our neighbors, all these things are flying around the room in a dialogue situation. What we bring to the table is based on our own feeling. If we are insecure in our practice, we will too easily absorb, adopt, or agree with whatever our neighbor says – or there will be an indistinct but palpable resistance to true engagement. The fellow on the airplane really wants to know! And it won’t help if we shrug our shoulders. Our willingness to engage must come from our experience of truth, from whatever path we are apt to seek it, from whatever step we are taking on that path. I feel we owe it to ourselves and our partners not to fall back on our labels.
One’s teachers come at different times and places, and in this vein, I offer deep bows to my classmates at LSTC.
I feel like part of practice is continually unlearning our inclination to label, categorize, or contain our zazen. It is easy to give our practice a “name” – verbally, experientially, or emotionally, even – to feel “I am doing this kind of zazen now; I was doing a different kind of zazen yesterday.” I suppose this is a natural way we understand our practice, but it can also launch us into the world of “things,” ideas, fabrications, separation. All this verbalizing instead of just sitting…
Yet, before we are seated on that proverbial airplane and the hypothetical passenger seated next to us observes we are reading a book on Zen and asks, “So, what is Zen about?” we need to cultivate some measure of understanding our practice in order to respond. Smacking the armrest or yelling “Mu!” isn’t going to cut it.
This is the challenge I faced recently in auditing Sensei’s team-taught class, “Religions in Dialogue,” at the Lutheran Seminary this past fall. I was not directly asked the question, “What is Zen?” so much, but the experience was more about steeping in an array of these sorts of questions: “What does Buddhism say about sin?” or “Is there no god in Buddhism?” or “What is karma?” Further, the diverse class was asking reciprocal sorts of questions about the other religions represented, Christianity and Islam.
At the heart of our weekly discussion, our mission was to learn about and practice respectful engagement in interreligious dialogue. Short of summarizing the experience, I just want to mention a few issues I unearthed.
First, I think it is important to be tender with our uncertainty. There is a temptation for any dialoguer to offer concrete definitions of faith or belief as a religious “position” instead of recognizing one is still “in progress.” Perhaps we feel we shouldn’t engage in dialogue unless we are somehow “finished.” But staking out a personal position is the fastest way to become defensive and paint oneself into the “us v. them” corner. Yet, there are times when boundaries have to be recognized in establishing difference. Figuring out in dialogue what is called for and when is a delicate dance, and one doesn’t always know when one has stepped on one’s partner’s toes. The best I can offer is to dance with open uncertainty, not only toward the vast and wide teachings of Zen, but toward Islam, Christianity, Judaism. I’m in trouble if I can wrap up my understanding of Islam, put it on the shelf, and stamp “finished” on it. And I’m equally in trouble if I can package my understanding of Zen, complete with label.
Second, I feel in this dialogue all parties have to become “we” to actually hear what is being said – the “we” of a dancing couple, the “we” we experience side by side in the zendo. If we fix our discriminating mind against what we hear of other religions – by parsing its details, for instance – we haven’t really listened. On one of our class outings it was a great lesson to cover my hair for iftar dinner at the American College of Islam – an experience that needed to be felt more than understood. In the absence of the opportunity to join in the practice of a given religion, we have to feel our dialogue partner’s words as if we are saying them. Otherwise I don’t think we’re really listening.
Also, our view of interreligious dialogue is predicated on our view of our own religion. The kinds of questions we ask, the way we listen, what we hope to understand about ourselves and our neighbors, all these things are flying around the room in a dialogue situation. What we bring to the table is based on our own feeling. If we are insecure in our practice, we will too easily absorb, adopt, or agree with whatever our neighbor says – or there will be an indistinct but palpable resistance to true engagement. The fellow on the airplane really wants to know! And it won’t help if we shrug our shoulders. Our willingness to engage must come from our experience of truth, from whatever path we are apt to seek it, from whatever step we are taking on that path. I feel we owe it to ourselves and our partners not to fall back on our labels.
One’s teachers come at different times and places, and in this vein, I offer deep bows to my classmates at LSTC.
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