Buddha's Robe
A Talk by Jan Chozen Bays
Thank you for coming together today to support each other in practice. We've just finished a very lovely retreat with Blanche Zenkei Hartman who was the abbess of San Francisco Zen Center for many years. She then retired from that position and is doing what she loves to do, which is to teach sewing practice. She came for the weekend and worked with us on sewing practice.
What we were sewing is what we call the Buddha's robe. This robe, this brown robe that I am wearing here, is a replica of the Buddha's robe. A bowing cloth, or zagu, is traditionally paired with the robe. The bowing cloth came into use because in India among other countries, people sat on the ground to teach and learn, and a cloth was needed for bowing and sitting on. In some traditions these are hand sewn, although you can buy them from catalogues. Zenkei trained in a sewing tradition and studied how to make the robe and zagu, among other sacred garments.
During this retreat there were people working on the rakasu, which is a small version of the Buddha's robe. This is a pattern similar to the larger robe, but much smaller and worn by lay people who have taken the precepts. They are also by clergy when taking part in an informal teaching or activity. It's also said that these small versions of the robe were worn in times of persecution, because they could be hidden under the clothing. You could go around with a reminder of your Buddhist life touching your skin, but in a way that wouldn't be obvious to other people.
So I would like to give a talk related to the weekend workshop that we did. We try to do this when we've had a workshop or retreat at the monastery, so that people who come to our Sunday service can have a little flavor of what's been going on here during the week or over the weekend.
I'm going to read a few portions from Dogen Zenji's teaching on the merit of the kesa, Kesa Ko Roku, as part of the talk. During our retreat Zenkei mentioned them and how they were revived in this sewing tradition. The Kesa Ko Roku, the Merit of the Kesa, begins with:
The Buddha's kesa which has been correctly handed down through the successive line of Buddhas since Shakyamuni Buddha was transmitted into China by Bodhidharma, the twenty-eighth patriarch.
Then he continues with the lineage through the Indian and Chinese ancestors, down to Dogen Zenji, who is our first Japanese ancestor. He talks about the kesa being handed down generation after generation. This weekend we heard about a tradition in which the practice of hand-sewing the robe was revived in Japan. Zenkei learned this from her sewing teacher Joshin, and Joshin's tradition came through Sowaki Kodo Roshi, and so on. So there is a sewing lineage, and the tradition of hand-sewing the robes goes back to the time of the Buddha.
In the Buddha's time there was a king named Bimbasara who converted to Buddhism. One day he saw what he thought was a Buddhist monk in the distance. The king got down from his elephant to pay homage, because the only person he would bow to was a Buddhist priest. Soon he discovered that it wasn't one of the Buddha's monks after all and became irritated and disappointed. He asked the Buddha to make a distinctive robe for his monks, so that the king would be able to know from a distance whether or not to get down and bow. The Buddha asked his personal attendant Ananda to design a robe based on a rice field, which they happened to be passing at the time they were having this discussion about the necessity of a distinct robe.
So the kesa and rakasu are designed on the pattern of a rice field. There are many deeper meanings to the rice field, and I will mention a few of them as Zenkei did too.
During this retreat we measured, cut and stitched material in silence. We learned a special stitch that requires extra attention and mindfulness. While creating this particular style of stitch it is traditional to chant Namu Ki E Butsu. Namu as the needle is inserted, Ki E as it comes out and then Butsu as you pull the thread. This means, "I take refuge in the Buddha, I take refuge in the Dharma, I take refuge in the sangha." This technique brings extra attention to what you're doing with your hands, and creates a field of mindfulness.
The reason that the Buddha's robes have been venerated is exactly the reason that a sewing retreat, something as simple as sitting in silence and sewing together, can begin to transform our lives. It's not the cloth or thread we venerate. There are robes made from very beautiful brocade, stitched with gold and silver thread that you can buy for hundreds of thousands of dollars in Japan. They are objects of veneration simply because they're beautiful works of art. That's not why we venerate the Buddha's robe. The cloth and the thread are symbols of the true Buddha's robe. The true Buddha's robe is our true clothing.
There's a story of an ancestor who was born wearing a kesa. Now what does that mean, to be born wearing an O-kesa? These stories are stories of our lives, not just of another person's life. We're all born with our true garment, we're all born naked. We are all born innocent. We are born with a pure clear awareness that is completely unstained by thought and reactivity. Then of course as the world intrudes on us, buffets and interacts with us, gradually we form thoughts, emotions and a personality. We create a particular garment we call "personality", wrapping ourselves in it and interacting with the world around us through this garment. Unfortunately these garments get thicker and thicker as we think we have to protect ourselves, particularly if we were raised in difficult situations. In time they become armor, and that armor becomes our prison.
Dogen Zenji writes that Buddhist robes were brought to emperors for them to venerate, to bow to. The bowing is not to the robes -- it’s bowing to our true nature, our true clothing, which is no clothing. It's our pure nakedness, stripped down to the emptiness that is at our core. It's the garment of enlightenment that we are venerating.
This garment is vast. In the morning when we put on our robes we chant, "Vast is the robe", or "How great the robe of liberation." It's so vast that it has no boundaries at all, it has no center. It has no reference point because there is no me and no you in it. It's only one immeasurable eternal thing.
Another translation for this field of benefaction is "field of happiness". This field of benefaction or happiness is home to all creatures. Just as the rice field that inspired the original Buddha's robe is home to millions of creatures - bacteria, fungi in the soil, protozoa, earth worms, insects, dragonflies, butterflies, many birds, ducks, geese, weeds, rice plants, human beings - so is the field of benefaction. It contains all beings, and that is our life. Dogen Zenji wrote,
Our bodies are in a constant state of flux, subject to incessant existences and non-existences. Even though this is so, the merit accrued by wearing the kesa and by consistent practice of the Way will finally lend itself to our realization of the true meaning of the kesa. We will be able to transcend the cycle of life and death, and finally we will realize Buddhahood. A person who has failed to do good in a previous life will be prevented from seeing, receiving or comprehending the significance of a kesa for one, two or even innumerable lives.
Our bodies are in a constant state of flux, subject to incessant existences and non-exisistences. This is the truth of the rice field. It is in a constant state of flux, living and dying, living and dying over and over again eternally.
Because we live in a temperate climate we tend to think that a rice field has seasons: it is planted in the spring, grows in the summer, harvested in the fall, and lies fallow in winter months. In countries like India, where the image of the robe as a rice field originated, several crop cycles can be planted in one year because the climates are so warm. For instance in Bali you will see right next to one another rice fields in each stage of development - from just planted beds to those that have been harvested and are lying fallow.
This is also the implication of the robe's pattern of the rice field. In our practice we are continually planting seeds of enlightenment. We cultivate and harvest them, and get to taste the fruit of our practice. There are also times in our practice when things have to be left alone to lie fallow. This is tradition of letting something lie. There may be times when people step back or even stop practicing for awhile before returning. Sometimes there is a maturing that has to be honored after shifts have happened in our practice. This is our life. Different levels of practice happen simultaneously and continuously within us, and much of it goes on below the conscious mind. If the conscious mind has the intention to transform - to return to our pure original nature, to wear the garment of emptiness - then this will happen in all these various ways: plowing, cultivating, planting, harvesting, lying fallow - simultaneously.
Our bodies are in a constant state of flux, subject to incessant existence and non-existence. This is the truth of our practice, and the truth that the robe teaches. Dogen Zenji also wrote in the Kesa Ko Roku,
Since ancient times the kesa has been called the 'robe of detachment.' When a person wears the kesa she is relieved of the effects of bad karma, delusion and desire. A dragon that merely obtains one thread of the kesa can free itself of the three kinds of suffering, and an ox that only touches a kesa with its horns will be exonerated from the effects of its past bad deeds. The Buddhas all wore a kesa at the time of their enlightenment. Surely this is evidence enough that the merit of wearing the kesa is immeasurable.
So we didn't know that oxen had to worry about their bad deeds or that dragons were subject to three kinds of suffering, did we? Again this is talking about our lives, not about mythical beings in a long-past time.
Since ancient times the kesa has been called the 'robe of detachment.' This weekend people found that as they sewed together in silence they entered a state of detachment. We could call this a state of meditation where we lift free from our own inner-turmoil, the anxiety in our hearts and the chaotic churning of thoughts of past and future. We enter marvelous detachment, a meditative state where we drop our worries about productivity and getting done in time. We found that insights were arising, and old memories of loving times in the past. In simple and ancient acts like meditative sewing we honor our origins and ancestors. This is one way we come back to our origin, to our original garment. Wisdom arises from this field by itself. The harvest harvests itself if we just get out of the way. The plants grow beautifully in our field of practice.
If they obtain one thread of a kesa, suffering dragons can free themselves. There are people who have a fiery and proactive way of dealing with things. You could call them dragon people. Their habitual way of dealing with suffering is to try to burn it up, push it away or fight it. Dragons are always fighting. In old myths dragons also hoard their treasure. These are all examples of different ways we try to work with our own discomfort, our own unhappiness.
Then there are ox people - people who withdraw, go into silence and become resistant as a way of dealing with suffering. Dogen Zenji is saying that everyone, everyone - dragons, oxen, earthworms, insects, dragonflies, sparrows, rice plants, weeds, they can all be seen as different kinds of people - everyone can reach liberation when they touch the true garment which is our life, which is continually being woven.
Dogen Zenji wrote All Buddhas wore a kesa at the time of their enlightenment. Of course they wore a kesa at the time of their enlightenment! We know that the Buddha wasn't wearing a cloth O-kesa at the time of his enlightenment because it was after his enlightenment that he asked Ananda to design it. So what is meant by this? All Buddhas wore a kesa at the time of their enlightenment. It means that they were and became the actual fabric of liberation. Their lives became the kesa. They became this formless field of benefaction at the time of enlightenment. They were born into the garment at that time. They had had this garment since before they were born, but it is only at the time we don the garment that we truly put it on.
Benefaction is a lovely word, because it means to do good. When we awaken, as we become enlightened, we are able to do good simply though our presence in the world. The Buddha was able to transform people's lives simply through his presence. We all know people that are able to do that, or at least are able to inspire us through their presence. This is benefaction. Dogen Zenji wrote,
In both China and Japan there are those who wear the kesa, and those who do not. Whether one does or not has no relation to one's social rank, nor is it determined by one's level of intelligence. Rather it is decided by one's actions in past lives. Those who have been fortunate enough to wear the kesa should know this. They should not question the merit attained but instead rejoice at having done those good deeds. People who wish to wear the kesa but have not yet done so should immediately begin to cultivate their innate seeds of good. As a result their wish will be actualized in the future.
There are those who wear the kesa, and those who do not. Whether one does or not has no relation to one's social rank, intelligence...it is decided by one's actions in past lives. So the fact that you are here practicing today is due to past good deeds, yours and others'. It is very fortunate that we are able to be here. We are very fortunate that we are not struggling with ill health, dying, or running away from bullets in a war zone. We're not struggling to find enough food to keep ourselves from starving to death or to find shelter to keep ourselves out of terrible weather. At this moment we are extremely fortunate, and that fortune is a result of what we and others have done in the past. This passage says that everyone can reach liberation. To be true freedom, lasting freedom, it must apply in all circumstances - when we are running away from bullets, starving, sick, dying. The practice we do now will bear fruit in the difficult times of our lives. The reason we practice in good times is so that when bad times come along we have established practice as a foundation. When we have returned to practice time and time again it becomes second nature. We can touch it at will and we have confidence that it's there because we've been doing it for so long, under so many circumstances.
To be true, lasting and real freedom it has to be available to all. It has to be fair. Liberty for all, the possibility and pursuit of happiness for all. But we each have to do our spiritual work.
Twice in the last month an interesting question has come up, and I always pay attention when the same slightly odd question arises. We were doing a class on preparing for your own death and someone who was reading The Tibetan Book of the Dead was concerned that they had not spent their whole life doing the specific death preparation exercises the book recommends. The Tibetan Book of the Dead describes potentially frightening episodes in the bardo state after death; situations so frightening that you could lose your grounding and be led back into suffering. They wanted to know what would happen after their death, since they hadn't been doing these exercises in preparation.
There are so many cultural elements that have been added to Buddhism over 2,500 years, just as with Christianity and Judaism. It always helps to return back to what the Buddha said. He was very clear on this point. Once there was a man who was listening to the Buddha's sermons. He felt great happiness at hearing the Buddha and being in his radiant presence. After the sermon his mind jumped to the future, as our mind always does, and he became worried. He said to the Buddha, "I feel really good now, very open and spacious, but what if on the way home I should be attacked by a mad elephant and trampled to death? What if in my last moments I am afraid? Then what will be my destination when I die?" That is what the mind does! It can barely rest in happiness for one moment. For some reason it always worries,“Well, what about when this happiness disappears?" rather than just enjoying the happiness! That's how we turn happiness into suffering instantly.
In response the Buddha said, "Do not worry. It is just as oil rises to the top of a jar. What you have done all of these years of your life, and what you have done just now by taking in this truth and being able to feel it in your body and mind - that is what will rise to the top, even if your last moment is filled with terror" Or fear, or dementia... whatever comes our way, we can't control our death. We can prepare for it as best we can through the intention to become awakened and by practicing to become awakened. That intention - the energy of volition - is karma. It is that energy which goes forward. It determines what happens to us. Not just after we die, but now, right now, and each moment after. That is the substance of the robe of liberation, this intention to awaken.
Everyone can reach liberation. Everyone has all the raw materials to weave their own robe of liberation. We have to do our spiritual work whether it's reading, praying, meditating, practicing loving-kindness, or helping whoever is in front of us. This robe is woven of an attitude of mind and heart: a mind that is open and curious, interested in what the next moment will bring, and a heart that is willing to do what is asked. It's an attitude inside of us that makes the Buddha's robe manifest in our lives.
In both the Buddha's and Dogen Zenji's time there were various arguments about what the robe could be made of. The robe is traditionally made of discarded cloth, cloth that other people have used which has become dirty and tossed aside. The Buddha's disciples would collect this leftover cloth, cut away the parts they couldn't use because of stains or burns and wash it. To wash the cloth they used saffron, which is still used as a disinfectant. This would stain the cloth a yellow, orange or brown according to the potency of the saffron or turmeric, which was also used for this purpose. The fabric pieces were then sewn together in patches to create this form of the rice field. There are cute passages from the time of the Buddha where monks show up wearing robes they've decorated with things such as cowries shells and owls' wings. The Buddha then had to make a monastic rule, "No sewing cowries shells or owls' wings onto your robes." Where in the world would monks have gotten owls' wings? I don't even want to think about it!
In Dogen's time, one of the ethical debates was over silk. To make silk you have to kill the worm inside the cocoon - you boil the cocoon, which makes the silk strong. There was a debate about whether or not it was appropriate to use silk, or whether they should just use plant fibers like cotton or linen. Dogen's comment on this issue is, "What cloth is there that does not originate from a living source?"
So the robe of the Buddha, the robe of liberation, is made of living beings and beyond what we think of as living beings. In our minds we divide things into the categories of living and non-living. The robe of liberation is made of all beings. It's made of rocks, trees and grass; of silk, cotton and linen; of fish, insects and geese. It is made of owls' wings, cowries shells and clouds. It is made of all beings. What is there that is not alive? It is only we who divide things into "dead" and "alive".
This robe of liberation is made of no material at all - nothing but constant flux, constant change. Constant change practiced by us, continually.
When we make and venerate a Buddha's robe, we are venerating what has been cut up. That is our practice - to take our life apart. To disassemble what we have assembled. We have cobbled together a human being that works, but not very well. There are parts that are completely unnecessary, weighing us down, and preventing us from being truly alive. In our practice we disassemble. We take the cloth of the self, cut it into parts and discard what is not useful any more. We can discard what we've chewed over; what we’ve burnt up; what has become soiled with so much use that it is no longer needed, like all of our old patterns of reactivity and conditioning. So much of it is unneeded and was developed when we were three or five or ten or twelve. It doesn't apply anymore.
Then we sew our life back together with the useful bits: the bits of wisdom, insight, loving-kindness, generosity. We sew those back together into a new life. We do this moment by moment. It isn't as though we assemble ourselves as the Buddha robe, and that's it, our practice is done. This is something that happens continuously. As we meditate we let everything go. We let it all fall apart and enter the place in between all the parts -- the space of emptiness, the true Buddha's robe. And then when it's time to get up and chant we pull it all back together, get up and bow. Continually, we have to take it apart and put it back together again.
When we stitch with this Namu Kie Butsu stitch, "I take refuge in the Buddha", what we take refuge in is this new moment, this new moment. We take it apart and then we put it back together. We put it back together as a life of sunshine, fresh air, yellow daffodil petals and children laughing. And a nice lunch. Thank you.