I have recently come across much discussion about the shape, impact, and meaning of ordination in contemporary America within the Zen Sangha. Some of the comments and musings I have recently seen have come through the American Zen Teachers Association e-mail system and apparently flow from discussions held at this year's meeting (2002, San Francisco). Also, someone I have known for a number of years has recently called to chat about ordination with an eye to that person's own interest in becoming a priest. This little essay is nothing more than my own attempt to set down on paper what my own feelings are as to the more practical meaning of ordination, and to set down what I would hope Zen priests in this society would adhere to as priests. In doing this I am certain to draw fire from some other Zen teachers and authorities who themselves are not following the path as I lay it out, or who disagree that my vision holds any truth for them, or for those they might consider ordaining, or even for others. Also, since I only look to Japan for general guidance, and not for institutional approval per se, there are those who will simply discount what follows because it may not agree with Japanese institutions (or Korean, or Chinese, etc.). Be that as it may, what follows is a brief and incomplete description of the lay of the land from where I stand.
First, let us separate the roles of Monk, Priest, and Teacher. There are and will continue to be Lay Teachers in Zen, and this is as it should be, since one can teach and still have a family, and even a career. There are even some advantages to this path in that it may better help one identify with the unique struggles that lay students face here in the United States. There are serious disadvantages, however, in that one's time is much more restricted for teaching activities, and one's energy is certainly sapped in supporting a family or career, so that one may find that one has less left to give to teaching the Dharma. But the central point here is that the function of priest and teacher are not one in the same.
Ordination (formally becoming a priest or a nun or a monk) moves working with others in the Dharma to the center of one's life. In the case of a monk or a nun, one is truly a home leaver. I do not agree with this current trend that labels as monks or nuns people who have taken ordination and simply returned to lay life as they pretty much have always known it. To me they are priests only technically, and perhaps not even priests. Monks and nuns live in a monastic setting, are celibate, own little, etc. They have LEFT HOME. Priests, on the other hand, may still LIVE AT HOME; however, (and this is a crucial point) priests are ordained, and this has shifted their focus to supporting the Dharma, whether they live a home or not. In order then: A layperson (whether a Zen teacher or simply a practitioner) has a normal career and family life. A priest (whether a Zen teacher or simply a practitioner) has moved Dharma work in front of family concerns, though these may still be present to a degree (more on this later.) A true monastic has basically left home, and direct work with the Dharma has taken over his or her life entirely.
Then comes America, with all our variants on the above. We call those I would prefer to call priests monks, even though their home is not at all in a monastery, and they may well have children in the sixth grade, and may be holding down a university teaching position. I feel that the title of monk is somewhat inappropriate here, for obvious reasons, and yet, with my own background in linguistics and communication, somewhere inside I realize that what will happen over time will be the re-defining of the term to include the above. Any attempt to hold the word monk still so that it fits Theravadan, as well as Japanese Zen, and other more traditional definitions, and still remains true to these concepts here in this fast-moving, super-multi-cultural mix we call America is doomed. For ill or not we will shift the language of more traditional Buddhism to suit us here in this culture; we might as well make our peace with this fact. The terminology is not nearly as important as the reality.
When we move along the scale from layperson to priest, we travel a well worn path, a path with generations of experience paving it, and with traditional signposts along the way. But it needs to be recognized that these signposts are all written in an Asian language and were installed by largely Buddhist societies, and much more homogeneous societies at that. It's my belief that if Zen is to thrive in this culture it will need to do two crucial things. First, it will have to Americanize. Like my Grandfather and teacher in the Dharma, Roshi Kapleau, I feel that chants need to be largely in English here, that forms like prostration, bows, the form of sesshin and formal meals, and many other things need to be accessible enough for American tastes. The trick is, of course, in figuring out what to change, not change, overlook, and ignore, and what to insist on. And what part will older, Asian forms of authority, censure, license, respect, and privilege play in this new society? And in the end how much of all this do we really orchestrate from high seats, and how much of this is really a function of the group itself, and here in the USA, the marketplace itself? But one thing is clear as a bell to this teacher -- if we do not flex to whatever degree with this society, we will be relegated to odd little groups who practice an interesting but increasingly marginalized FOREIGN religion, or we will be ignored altogether.
The second thing Zen communities in this country need to do is learn to accept all our varying forms as useful to at least part of the population we are trying to serve. There is much talk from time to time about what FORM American Zen will someday come to have. Well, it will never have a form, per se. In a society as diverse and populist/marketplace driven as ours, we can be pretty sure that Zen will be a great salad bowl of sub-traditions, not some melting pot with one overall flavor. If we look at two pasts -- one of Japanese Zen, one of other religious traditions here in the US -- we will quickly note that while even in a highly organized and homogeneous society such as Japan there are many forms of Zen, some quite underground whereas in this country the legitimate splintering off of group after group of Christian and non-Christian groups alike reveals a very American approach to these traditions -- anything goes, as long as it goes with the blessing of the populace, at least enough of the populace to give the religious form in question legs enough to survive that first crucial generation or two.
While some of my colleagues seem concerned that we are, some of us, pretty far out of the traditional modalities found in the Old Country, personally, I'm unconcerned. Unconcerned, that is, as long as someone in the heart of each tradition within that salad bowl of Zen in America is watching that we do not stray too far off the path of good practice and good teaching. And yet all these someone's need to remain flexible within their own sub-tradition, and respectfully watchful of neighboring strands of the greater Zen tradition. We must all both learn from each other, and help each other to not go too far astray.
So along this path from layperson to ordination a given individual may walk. Considering all that has just been said, it should be clear that we are already producing a multitude of forms of ordination and this production will flower outward almost geometrically in the future, finally producing all manner of the ordained serving all manner of communities. Can we, under these circumstances, still define ordination at all? Let us propose some standards.
First comes the shift. The person on the path comes to realize one day that Zen practice has become the fulcrum for their experience of the world, and that this development is rich, permanent, and all encompassing. But stopping here, at this step, would only suggest that our practitioner has found the path of practice -- they now have the heart to fully practice Zen.
Ordination asks for more -- it asks that being committed to the Zen life in one's heart take a clear form. Ordination demands action. The action is that of spending one's life stream in service to the Dharma. Here we go beyond what someone feels. Here we need to see life stream spent -- that is dedicated time and resources and energy out of one's personal cache. We want to see someone in service of the Sangha pretty much as one's life work. This forces the life stream to change its bed one might say. One leaves behind aspects of one's former life, and leaves these behind never to be recovered. In our Sangha we expect one to take an ordained name, for example. We expect that the old given family name will be used no more. (There are many variations on this among different Sanghas, of course. But a name change is usually involved.) We expect that the ordained will work in and for the Zen Center AS A LIVELIHOOD after ordination. If there is an emergency, sickness, family crisis, etc., then this expectation is lifted; But this is seen as a TEMPORARY adjustment. If somewhere out there a time comes when one sees that one will not again be able to return to working for the Dharma pretty much full-time, then perhaps one needs to not be ordained anymore. (It can be seen as somewhat unfair to all others who are really working full time as ordained people to continue as an ordained in name only under these circumstances.)
one's shifting of the life stream in favor of the life of ordination also means that one now de-emphasizes the life of the home, and with this the family. Many priests are married, yet home, family, career are all now secondary to the work with the Dharma. I feel that this is a point of tension for many people. We are not suggesting here that the priest is in a choice scenario, that is, he or she should not see Dharma work as eclipsing the family life, only that Dharma work has become such a strong fulcrum in one's day-to-day activities that it may be seen from the outside as a super strong career pull, or perhaps the same career pull that, say, any Christian Minister or Jewish Rabbi may experience when living at home in a family setting. To be a priest must be seen as a Calling. This implies that one is committed to their Dharma work by giving more than their heart, but by giving of their life stream, and it implies that (unlike a career) one cannot simply resign.
A priest living in a family setting actually cares for two families: Home and Sangha. Anyone living in this situation as an ordained can attest to the pitfalls, the always present competition for one's time, resources, and energy -- one's life stream. I personally feel that, while short term imbalances are inevitable, over the long haul this arrangement can work to everyone's benefit. While few would argue with the great training ground found in a more monastic setting, there is also downside to that environment. In a monastic setting one is insulated from other socio-economic groups, and from the richness of the culture as a whole, and from really fixing clearly on the current cultural manifestations of the activities of the Three Poisons. It may be harder to lend a hand to the lay Sangha if one becomes disconnected from their story.
By living at least in what we may call a quasi-monastic setting (at or near a typical Zen Center, working more or less full time there, attending all or most sits, sesshin, etc., living a pared-down life) one gains some of the benefits of monastic training while also staying more a part of the larger community, both the Lay Sangha per se, and the surrounding society. To me, if one wants to have an impact, one needs contact with people, and since we are not in a Buddhist country, those who are ordained may be of greater value to the Dharma here the closer they can get to the public at large.
A caution: If and when the ordained priest's life stream begins to be bent to the support of the family at home to the exclusion or severe degradation of the Dharma work they have vowed to support, then they may well not be living an ordained life any longer. I would caution anyone who is contemplating getting ordained or anyone ordaining another to carefully consider this. We need to bravely look into the future in this circumstance: Are there children, spouses, or others at home whose need for support will eventually force a crises of time, money, resources upon the household of the ordained, thus throwing the ordained into a choice scenario that will degrade the work with the Dharma? If this is a strong possibility, then either measures need to be taken to avoid this scene, or perhaps the person should not be ordained -- yet.
In my own consideration of people who may be ordained at some point, I find myself using the following signposts along the way: Should they be ordained at all? That is, has their practice yet ripened, is their understanding sufficient, are they socially mature, are they moral, are they asking for ordination for the right reason (to serve Buddha, Dharma, Sangha -- not themselves), do they have a sense of urgency when appropriate, are they patient when patience is called for, do they display energy in the service of the Three Treasures, have they reined in their ambitions, do they display sound judgment, are they working to root out their prejudices?
But more, will the Sangha support them, and not only morally? I need to see that the Sangha both has the resources to financially and practically support the ordained before we can go further. Without material support from the Sangha at some meaningful level the classical arrangement between the lay community and the ordained is not being established. This arrangement is ancient and cuts across almost all religious traditions: The ordained serves the spiritual community, and in turn, the community materially recognizes this service by lending food and shelter in some form to the ordained. If a Sangha cannot or will not enter into this relationship, then we should not be ordaining this person -- yet. Perhaps the Sangha needs help in maturing into this role. Perhaps there are negative features of the candidate that the teacher is somewhat blind to still, but are obvious to others. (If the ordained will spend all this life working in a community who will not grant its mandate, this may be a strained relationship indeed.)
All parties involved in the ordination process must be on board. What if the Sangha is simply too small to offer support at this time? If the ordained has resources (a generous, committed, and working spouse, or money that has been saved, property, etc.) then the ordained can reach farther for the handshake with the Sangha. Perhaps all can agree on a modest initial level of support that will grow as time goes on. Perhaps the need within the Sangha is great and yet resources are low, so all agree that a part-time job is the best solution temporarily. There are many creative solutions. But we are considering a deep change here not just on the part of the ordained, but on the part of the entire community, and we should see participation on the part of the community.
The word yet used above is significant. Unless all parties involved are willing to wait until the moment is right, regrettable decisions will be made. To rush into ordination is as bad as or worse than rushing into marriage. Time itself clarifies most human interactions. Claims, brave fronts, and promises are to be regarded always with some suspicion since the speaker strongly wants to believe the words also, and so has a somewhat compromised perspective to them. A novitiate period is provided for in many systems used both here and in Asia, and this is wise. I feel that any official period of waiting/training/developing should be flexible and not locked into a pre-announced time frame. What happens if somewhere in the process we see that indeed more work needs to be done? We need license to extend the development stage. Back when I was in business in Human Resources management I would marvel at how the more toxic behaviors of new employees would emerge just after any probationary period, and they could stretch out their angelic behavior magically to perfectly match whatever probationary period we provided for -- six months, a year. If the candidate does not know the time frame, or at least knows that it can be extended, they may be less likely to establish a personae over this period that is less than genuine.
Whatever process is used to ordain someone, the actual significance of that ordination may increasingly become a function of what they do than simply a matter of name change, clothing change, different Zendo garb. Here in this culture of (for better or worse) what have you done for me lately? we see repeatedly that it is actions, track record, and behavior that finally establish credibility. A therapist may be a therapist by license, but if she does not act like one few will regard her as such. In America license does not trump actions. We have the expectation that if someone is touting the moral benefits of keeping the precepts, they themselves should be keeping the precepts, especially if they are wearing priest's garb. I have been told that the French, for example, feel that our moralizing in this area is immature, and uncultured. I have no way of knowing if this is true, but I can only believe that over time this moral stance will become stronger and more pervasive. Perhaps I feel this way because it seems that whenever our society finally commits its undivided attention and resources to a moral, ethical, social, health, or environmental cause, eventually the rest of the world begins to fall in line, even if begrudgingly.
In our culture, simply put, if it walks like a priest, talks like a priest, behaves like a priest, then it will be regarded like a priest. Consider the American Catholic priest-sex-abuse crises of the last several years. It is striking to this observer here in the Chicago area just how quickly and unceremoniously parishioners move to reject any priest who crosses this boundary line, and more, how impatient the parishioners are with Church authorities who seem at times to favor ordained status over behavior. Because we are in a democracy here, we have a very strong sense of the mandate from below and are by nature suspicious of any title until we see ongoing evidence that behavior matches authority. I submit that in this culture ordains will be held accountable in some ways unheard of in Asia, and not by some higher authority, but by the Sangha itself. Though privately we may well be just as hypocritical as any other people, publicly we are more intolerant of it than anyone. While Zen in America is still partially encased in the forms and values given it by Asian cultures, we as a society will bring to bear our show me attitude eventually, and the institution of ordination will be shifted accordingly.
So in summary, what general features might an ordained American Zen priest have, aside from various yet similar modes of dress, ceremony, training? They will, we hope, have gone through a trial period in which they have been tested from the outside, and through which they have done deep self examination. They will have shifted the bed of their life stream from where it nurtures ego, career, acquisition, family life centrally, to where it nourishes the Dharma as evidenced by their work in and for the Buddhist community, and more specifically the Zen community. Though circumstances may force temporary alterations in the relationship, they will be found embedded in a social arrangement with their Sangha in which they nourish the spiritual practice of all as a generally full-time commitment while the Sangha for its part supports them to the fullest of its ability. Excluding discussion of hermits, special cases, and additional detailed requirements established within our various Zen traditions, I feel that this short description may set some groundwork for attempting to discover what Zen ordination may look like right now in the United States.
-Sensei Sevan Ross