UnMind 36. Lotus Sutra Quartet 4: The Prodigal

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A prodigal child
may not ever return home.
It is up to them.

By drawing your attention to the tip of the iceberg that is the Lotus Sutra, I hope to encourage you to read through it at some point in your Zen studies. In the Silent Thunder Order (STO), we recommend taking on the vast literature associated with Zen Buddhism in a somewhat circumspect manner, beginning with contemporary authors, translators and commentators, and working your way back in time and history through the countries of origin.

Studying American and European works selectively, then moving to Japan, then China, and finally India, is advisable. If you simply leapfrog to the teachings from India, even in translation, you may run into a lot of confusion and frustration. Most of this is occasioned by the provenance of the written record as transcriptions of what were originally long chants, with the requisite repetition and other anomalies captured in print. But if you have already encountered the basic ideas expressed in settings more contemporary in syntax, you can get the gist of the ancient messaging, and better appreciate their context.

The Lotus Sutra is no exception to this general rule. In this printing, the main body of the sutra occupies more than 300 pages of text, whereas the Innumerable Meanings preface, as well as the closing Meditation on Bodhisattva Universal Virtue, each runs to less than 30 pages. But the whole of the work is replete with hints and mentions of what are currently widely regarded as boilerplate, or basic teachings of contemporary Zen, too many to count.

In the closing sutra on meditation, for example, we find a comprehensive summary of Buddha’s teachings, from the mundane to the sublime — similar to the condensed Heart Sutra chanted daily in most Zen centers, temples, and monasteries, but more strident in tone — including resonances of Master Dogen’s koan-like question of what precept is not fulfilled in zazen. Most of which are familiar; some are startling. Take a deep breath — I will run these down quickly:

The importance of repetition in bringing about the fruits of wholehearted, single-minded effort, particularly in transmitting this sutra; that we do not need a teacher or preceptor; inclusion of sleeping and dreaming in the scope of daily practice; the importance of confession and repentance; a dream within a dream; sensory transformation, akin to cleansing the doors of perception, in Aldous Huxley’s memorable phrase; that buddhas and bodhisattvas of old were as we; we in the future shall be buddhas and bodhisattvas; the Pure Land paradise is accessible to all who have the eyes to see it; as are visions of the buddhas and bodhisattvas, for those willing to do the work of confession and repentance; that craving is primarily born of this body; that the six senses are thieves, and the sin of the eye, ear, nose, tongue, body and mind must be confessed; that taking refuge in the buddhas follows naturally upon confession and repentance; the expansion of the paramitas to include transcendent perfections; the three minds; the doctrine of no-mind and transcendent nonduality; the admonition to avoid the prevalent extremes of eternalistic versus nihilistic views; transcendent repentance as the ultimate destruction of discrimination; the middle way of the bodhisattva path; the three bodies; the monkey mind; sitting upright; meditating upon the true aspect of reality; false meditation; ritual cleansing; meditation as bodhisattva work; sudden enlightenment; dispensing with confession; the embrace of karma; giving oneself the precepts; raising aspiration to buddhahood; self-renunciation, self-awakening, and self-clarification; the redeemability of all transgressions; et cetera.

Enough. Whew. And this is only a cursory summary. It is as if the authors wanted to ensure that no dharma was inadvertently left out, especially later tweaks that seem to contradict earlier teachings. Such as that the Path is actually no path, from the ultimate view of nonduality beyond absolute and relative.

In passing I would like to comment on just one of the visions — the Pure Land envisioned as including all the requisite ubiquitous precious gems and gold, towering massive jewel trees, jewel grounds, and jewel thrones. Then, curiously, “lands…as even as one’s palm, with no mounds or hills or thorns…” The flatness of the ground in the Pure Land, which is also mentioned in the lifespan chapter as “even and smooth,” and the appeal of the absence of mounds, hills and thorns, does not have the immediate resonance in contemporary culture that it must have in more primitive times, when the main mode of transportation was walking.

This taken-for-granted truism was reinforced by the great sardonic standup comic Shelley Berman, in a routine commenting upon reports gauging the relative safety of traveling, i.e. by air versus car or train: “I don’t know how much consideration they’ve given to walking.” It is always advisable to keep concrete context in mind.

In this, the fourth and final installment of the Threefold Lotus Sutra, we focus on the parable of the prodigal son. This will complete our cursory journey through this extensive — one might say exhaustive — last teaching of the Buddha. We have touched on several high points that struck me upon first reading it many years ago, but have barely scratched the surface. Here is the story as told by Matsuoka Roshi, quoted in full from the Initiation ceremony we use in the STO:

There is a wonderful story from the Lotus Sutra about a young man who grows up with a loving father in a fine home filled with treasure. Yet in his confusion and anger the boy runs away in search of riches. He travels for many years and undergoes many hardships, never finding his riches until all memory of his home and family are lost to him. Years later his father spies a ragged beggar in the distance yet immediately recognizes his lost son. He sends attendants out to welcome his son, yet the boy flees, thinking them sent to beat him. The wise father is troubled but devises a plan to slowly regain his son’s trust. He sends an attendant dressed as a beggar to inform the son that meals are to be had for work at the mansion. Gradually, over much time, the son is given more and more responsibility in his work until, after many years, the lost son rises to oversee the mansion and all of the father’s business interests. Only then does the wise father finally reveal his true relationship to his lost son. Only then does the son finally realize his birthright, that the riches he sought so fruitlessly were always in his possession.

This rendition stands as a remarkable example of Sensei’s command of the English language, and his grasp of which traditional aspects of the history of Buddhism would resonate with an American audience. I do not imagine that this story was part of his initiation ceremony as a youth in Japan, but I could be wrong.

After reading this quote, we go on to draw the obvious parallel with Zen practice: “Our practice is like this. Initiation into Zen marks the beginning of a search for something we already possess.”

Like the parable of the blind leading the blind, this meme has long since been appropriated by other religious and philosophical systems, most famously in the Bible, in Luke 15:11–32, where it is attributed to Jesus. Wikipedia version:

In the story, a father has two sons. The younger son asks for his portion of inheritance from his father, who grants his son's request. This son, however, is prodigal (i.e., wasteful and extravagant), thus squandering his fortune and eventually becoming destitute. As consequence, he now must return home empty-handed and intend to beg his father to accept him back as a servant. To the son's surprise, he is not scorned by his father but is welcomed back with celebration and a welcoming party. Envious, the older son refuses to participate in the festivities. The father tells the older son: "you are ever with me, and all that I have is yours, but thy younger brother was lost and now he is found."

The Wikipedia team goes on to inform us that the Prodigal Son is the third and final parable of a cycle on redemption, following the parable of the Lost Sheep and the parable of the Lost Coin, and is usually read on the fourth Sunday of Lent. In the Lotus Sutra, we likewise find a handful of parables sprinkled throughout.

This coincidental conjunction of parallel parables conjures the conjecture around the missing 18 years of the life of Jesus that are not accounted for in the Bible, reminiscent of the missing 18 minutes on the Watergate tapes, though more respectable. Some claim evidence that “ancient texts reveal that Jesus spent 17 years in the Orient…from age 13 to 29 [he] traveled to India, Nepal, Ladakh and Tibet as both student and teacher.” The historicity of his life is often called into question, as is Buddha’s, born about a half-millennia earlier.

The story in the Lotus Sutra goes on for a half-dozen pages, single-spaced type, related to Buddha by four of his senior monks — all talking spontaneously and in unison and “with one mind,” a minor miracle in and of itself. Along with some self-deprecating confessions, they finally wrap it up with an admission and appreciation:

“We, heads of the monks, in years moreover worn out, consider that we have attained nirvana, and that there is nothing more we are able to undertake, so we do not press forward to seek after Perfect Enlightenment.
“The Buddha, knowing that our minds delight in inferior things, by his tactful power teaches according to our [capacity], but still we do not perceive that we are really Buddha-sons. Now we have just realized that the World-honored One does not begrudge the Buddha-wisdom…Now he in this sutra preaches only the One-vehicle…Therefore we say that though we had no mind to hope or expect it, [yet] now the great treasure of the King of the Law has of itself come to us, and such things that Buddha-sons should obtain we have all obtained.”

And as if this were not enough,

Then Maha-Kasyapa, desiring to proclaim this meaning over again, spoke [thus] in verse:
“We on this day
Have heard the Buddha’s voice teach
And are ecstatic with joy at
Having obtained the unprecedented.”

He goes on for another 10 pages of recapping the whole story and its implications in poetic form, demonstrating that Ananda was not the only follower of Buddha who possessed prodigious memory. One has to wonder if Buddha and his followers really did spontaneously burst into poesy, or if this account is merely a form of revisionist history. Perhaps we lost more than we can ever know — or recover — when we gained the printed word.

Another example of seemingly unconnected emergence of similar cultural memes, in geographically distant parts of the world, is that of children’s games. They often center around developing the skills, such as hunting, that they will need later in tribal life. It is not unreasonable that certain parables, similarly, developed independently in different cultures and parts of the world. They tend to reflect common experiences likely to develop in human relations anywhere, and at any time. And parables have clearly been the default mode of teaching otherwise inaccessible “moral of the story” wisdom throughout history. If you see yourself in this picture, et cetera.

The main take-away from this father-son parable is captured in other tales, such as that of the monk frantically looking everywhere for the wish-fulfilling mani-jewel, only to find that it was sewn into the hem of his robe all along. But I think the more salient message is that of setting your sites too low when it comes to spiritual aspiration.

These sravakas, literally “hearers” or more generally, “disciples,” according to the Wiki folks, by reciting the tale of the prodigal son, are admitting that they, too, have squandered their opportunity by “looking for love in all the wrong places.” But now, waking up to the fact that what they really needed to know and possess has been on offer all along, it is expressed as the promise of Perfect Enlightenment, which Buddha had predicted as inevitable, for the fab four, as well as several others of his entourage. Maha-Kasyapa became his direct and immediate successor, which may explain his prominence in the closing stanzas of the Lotus.

Again, tip of the iceberg. We are all prodigal sons and daughter, fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers. Desperadoes wasting our inheritance, our dowry, our alimony or structured settlement, our annuity, on frivolous and trivial pursuits. These things that are pleasing you can hurt you somehow, when the jewel of our legacy as human beings is staring us in the face, is indeed our original face itself. We could do worse than to turn around, sit down and count up our treasure. You don’t count your winnings when you’re sitting at the table, but there may not be time for counting when the dealing’s done. No one gave your bankroll to you, and no one can take it away. As Matsuoka Roshi would often say, “My enlightenment is mine and yours is yours. I can’t get yours and you can’t get mine.” God bless the child that’s got its own (Thank you, Billie). What a shame if we don’t.