Michael O’Keefe wrote a beautiful piece on disrobing for Tricycle. Zen monks get their robes during Tokudo, the first step on the path to the priesthood. Michael was an intimate part of my Tokudo. Michael shaved my head. I don’t remember if I knew this before the ceremony, -- I probably did, -- but your head isn’t really shaved during Tokudo. The bulk of the shaving work goes on before, buzzing the hair down as far as possible with electric clippers and then the actual shaving. Three hairs are left on the top of the head for the officiant to shave off during the ceremony.
I received Tokudo from Jishu. Michael did my preliminary clipping and shaving. There’s a bonding that happens in that preliminary practice. I felt very close to Michael after that for many years before we finally lost touch. I have some wonderful memories of the times we spent together. It was wonderful to reconnect through his disrobing story. I love his writing.
I, too, have been thinking about disrobing for years, maybe almost from the moment of robing, of Tokudo. I’d ordained in order to serve as Jishu’s first shuso. She died two years after my Tokudo, in the midst of my shuso period, and immediately I began to wonder, what am I doing?
I have rarely functioned as a priest. We don’t do services in our interfaith zendo, so I have put robes on and officiated only on the rare occasion when a member of the sangha has taken Jukai, and I haven’t even always put my robes on for that. In fact, I rarely wear my rakusu, even my beautiful blue rakusu which Barbara and Roland Wegmuller made for me when Bernie gave me Inka.
Over the years, I officiated at a couple of weddings and funerals. I never turned down a request, happy to honor my vow of availability, but it has been 20 years since my last wedding or funeral.
My ordination was important 10 years ago when the Jesuits sold the Mr. Manresa Retreat House where our Zen group had been meeting since its inception in 2002. At that time, we were able to move our group to Wagner College. Our reception at the college was eased by my agreement to serve pro bono as the college’s Buddhist chaplain. College by-laws required that all chaplains, whatever their faith, are ordained clergy. Other than a couple of ceremonial appearances, Wagner asked very little of me. That pretty much sums up my priestly functioning.
So why not disrobe? I don’t remember much of the liturgy, at least not the priest’s role. Years ago, I realized that if a student of mine ever wanted to ordain, I would have to send them to a Dharma brother or sister for training in priestcraft.
Why not disrobe? Bernie had been thinking about disrobing for years before he finally did. So many of us have our stories of Bernie’s disrobing. Bernie had his, several of them. When Bernie was facing heavy criticism for his social activism, had he wondered if people would get off his back if he disrobed? Had he wondered later if being a priest had become a source of separation between himself and the lay students he was working with? They are all just stories, even Bernie’s. As he would have said, “It’s just my opinion, man.”
For many years, whenever the thought of disrobing came up, Bernie would dismiss it. Maezumi Roshi would have been devastated if Bernie disrobed. And even after Maezumi passed, Bernie still held leadership roles in the Buddhist world, including in Maezumi’s legacy organization, the White Plum Asanga which required repeated trips to Japan. The Japanese Soto leadership would have been horrified if Bernie disrobed.
Once Bernie managed to turn these roles over to others, the possibility of disrobing took on a new reality. But Jishu still opposed Bernie’s disrobing. She saw great value in Bernie's visible demonstration that it was possible for someone to be both priest and activist. Jishu also worried that Bernie’s example might lead others to disrobe as well. Without the priest’s commitments, Jishu worried that Zen would be diluted by the onslaught of American culture and, she feared, would go the way of yoga, a meditation practice whose spiritual component had been washed away.
Once Jishu died and the waves of grief had passed, the strongest personal barriers to Bernie’s disrobing were gone.
Jishu was gone. Bernie disrobed. What was keeping me robed?
I’ve been divorced twice. My marriage vows hadn’t held me back. You might have thought it would be easy for me to find my way out of priest vows, but when I got married for the third time, I’d found a way of vowing which was different. Marriage was no longer a contract between me and the person I was marrying. My vows were my commitment to the Universe, to something higher. It wasn’t a deal between me and my bride. “I’ll keep my vows, as long as you don’t disappoint me.” I brought that 3rd-marriage vowing practice to Tokudo. I made a commitment to be available as a Zen Buddhist priest to whoever wanted or needed a Zen priest. There were no contingencies in my commitment, no if-you-do-this-I’ll-do-that’s. I’m still available, still committed. It wasn’t a commitment to Bernie or Jishu or anyone else. It was a commitment to the Universe, to the vast emptiness, to everything in space and time.
I can hear Michael’s disappointment in his story. I understand his decision. I have no regrets about my divorces. I have a different story about my robing vows. I made a commitment to the Universe, and the Universe has never asked much of me. I haven’t been called on to do much as a priest. Maybe that’s disappointing. It’s not something I think about often. But I don’t know when a call might arise.
I made a commitment. Why back out now?
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