UnMind 108. Three Jewels Design III — Atlanta Soto Zen Center

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Designing Sangha
Sangha is the fruit
Of all of our endeavors —
If harmonious.

Sangha is also an operative dynamic of our world. Community already exists; it is just not always very harmonious. Why would Buddha have established the original Order of monks and nuns, when he had a perfectly serviceable community in the form of the Shakya clan, and enjoyed a position of high honor and privilege within it? Why do we seek out groups of like-minded folks, often turning away from the family and friends we grew up with? Why do we reject the smorgasbord of ersatz communities on offer in the wider society, and turn instead to groups who insist on sitting quietly for irrationally long periods of time, occasionally inviting someone to hit us with a stick?

It is because, as Matsuoka Roshi would often say, “Civilization conquers us!”

One could argue the case that Buddha was basically a late-blooming adolescent, a rebel who rejected his father’s plans for his future; and potentially a draft-dodger who, as a member of the warrior caste, did not relish the idea of taking orders from the Brahmins, for instance to wage war on the neighboring tribes. One could also reasonably wager that had he been of the lower castes — an untouchable, for example — he would not likely have gotten away with his renegade movement.

I submit that we are doing essentially the same thing in America today that Buddha did when faced with the dilemma of introducing a “third way,” in contrast to the probably polarized choices that denizens of proto-Hindu India faced in his day and time. In my recent book, “The Razorblade of Zen,” I delve into the choices we face today between the extremes of theism and religion on one end of the societal spectrum, with rationalism and science at the other end. Zen presents as the Middle Way, positioned between, and inclusive of, the extremes. You don’t know where the middle is until and unless you go to the extreme.

This vacillation, from high to low, from sensations such as exhaustion or hyper-energetic, or swings in emotions from anxiety to serenity, extreme states from depression to mania, or from one concept to its opposite, seems to be built-in to the very manner in which our mind functions. As Master Dogen reminds us in Fukanzazengi:

Think neither good nor evil right or wrong

Thus stopping the functions of your mind

Give up even the idea of becoming a Buddha

So thinking good or evil, right or wrong is the natural functioning of the mind — monkey mind, that is.

Such thoughts, emotions and states can be experienced on a strictly personal level, but they tend to influence our behavior and reactions in the social sphere as well. Which is where Sangha comes into play. One of the prevailing memes about the residential or community practice in vogue today in Zen circles is that the process is akin to stones in a fast-running creek or river — they become smooth by rubbing against each other. This analogy to rubbing off the rough edges simply by being tossed into the same tumbler for some time has its limitations. Most communities are highly intentional in their design. They often include “mindfulness gotchas” built into the day-to-day routine of the practice place.

Consider that we all have other choices these days. Whether or not we live in an intentional community, and for how long, is largely dependent upon other factors, such as resources and alternatives, otherwise known as “privilege.” Most Americans practicing Zen today are vastly more affluent and thus more privileged, than was Buddha in his environ. This is one factor explaining the predominantly white and upper-middle-class skew of the leadership of American Zen. My generation is the second, after those members of my father’s cohort, the “greatest generation” who went overseas in WWII. They became the first generation of American Zen practitioners and priests, having been exposed to the virus in the Pacific basin. My teacher, like theirs, was Japanese. We are now beginning to see the first generation of younger Zen students who came by it honest — their parents were into Zen.

The current influx of 20- and 30-something Zen seekers are a different animal, having grown up in a post-digital and highly interconnected world, with access to most of its intellectual resources. This naturally affects how they engage with the world, and calls into question the place of Zen training, with its emphasis on face-to-face transmission of the Dharma. Why are they coming to Zen? Same reasons you and I did. I was in my mid-20’s when I met Sensei; he was in his mid-20’s when he came to America, as was Dogen when he travelled to China, all to find the secret of Zen, which was missing from life.

Sensei would often say the secret to Zen is “Confidence in everyday life.” I would add balance to that claim, recognizing the many more tugs and pulls that are keeping us off-balance today. But we also now have many more avenues for outreach and engagement. Pre-and post-COVID, I have enjoyed many long-term, robust Dharma dialogs online, with students I have never met in person. We are actively redesigning the interface of the teacher-student relationship in all fields, including Zen.

If we are to give up even the idea of becoming a Buddha, what about taking up the role of Bodhisattva?

The “idea of becoming a Buddha” is relatively easy to dissect and dismiss, along with the idea of becoming anything we are not already. Or giving up the idea may create a higher likelihood of actually realizing Buddhahood. In any eventuality, it would certainly change our relationship with our community. Or would it?

If we are already Buddha — that is, awake but not fully so — what effect would becoming even more awake have on our relationship to our Sangha? And by extension, to the community-at-large? Awake to what? is the question begged. Awake to the community as harmonious, that is, as genuine Sangha? Awake to our personal role in assuring that the community is as harmonious as possible, and maybe improving our performance in playing that role?

We have a relatively recent usage in the realm of politics of the adjective, “performative.” This points out what some may regard as the hypocrisy of certain pols who represent positions and policies as if they truly believe in them, as we say in the religion of ideology; but an underlying suspicion suggests that they are only performing for the audience to gain or retain the votes of their constituency. Whatever the utility of this critique, and its potential influence on the future of governance, it seems we might benefit from adapting and applying it to our own role within Sangha, and by extension to society in general. While “performing” in front of others, we might pay attention to the fact that we are performing, and consider whether our actions are merely performative, or genuinely in line with our intention.

Sangha is a two-way street. At least. We affect the practice of the community and the community affects our practice. It can go either way. Too much emphasis on fitting into the community, and your zazen may be neglected. Too much emphasis on personal practice, and disharmony may result. It’s a balance, like most things. And Sangha is not really necessary on the personal level: see Bodhidharma. On the social level, however, the design of the community becomes crucial to its survival and success, which is measured by its beneficial effect on its members Zen lives, no matter how many or how few.

If we can strike a balance between the three legs of the Zen stool — Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha — we may have a chance at experiencing the liberation that the Ancestors have assured us hangs in that balance. Zen is about true freedom or liberation: from self-imposed as well as societal constraints; it is innately apolitical. Freedom from cultural memes and mores, yes, but the Zen worldview is not a form of license; the “Zen person has no problem following the sidewalks,” as Sensei would often remind us. We followers of Zen are already the ultimate in non-conformity — no need to make a point of it. Finally, freedom from anxiety, analysis paralysis, weariness and confusion; but not based on a belief system about reality but a direct transformation of our grasp of reality.

In the next series we will look at the intersection of certain selected pairs of phenomena that I find to be related to both Zen and Design Thinking. Of course I would be hard-pressed to find anything that does not relate to both of these parallel influences on my life. Meanwhile please practice-practice-practice Buddha-Dharma-Sangha.