Does Zen have rules?

Does Zen have rules like other religions? I know some Chinese and Vietnamese Buddhists are vegetarian-mostly because I used to go to their fairs to get a free meal when I was badly strapped for cash.

Rules.  Lots and lots of rules.  Rules on how to put on your sandals, how to wear your robes, how short your hair should be, how fast you should chant, how you should brush your teeth, how you should walk in public, even how you should piss and shit.  There’s a rule for everything.

Even how to cut your nails?

Actually, yes.  Never do it at night or on Wednesdays.  It’ll summon evil spirits.

Seriously?

For some folks, yes.

And what about you?

I just don’t cut my nails.  Caveman look all the way.

But, fingernails aside, if you go to most Zen temples in Japan, there are books full of rules that you have to follow…when you’re in the temple.  How to prepare the rice. How to bow to the senior monk. How to place your chopsticks. How to tie up your robes. How to wash-up after a shit. But when you’re out of the training temple, you have more freedom.  There are many informal rules that monks are expected to follow.  You should carry yourself with dignity.  Don’t slouch.  Don’t look like a hippie.  No shouting or cursing.  The oldest Zen rules, The Baizhang Zen Monastic Regulations, exceeds 300 pages. In it, you’ll find rules on how to store chanting instruments, how to host government officials, how to auction off the deceased’s goods, and even precisely lists the dress required for over 11 different positions, lay and monastic, for ceremonies.

As an aside, I love reading the old Buddhist monastic texts and other texts that detail the minutiae of daily religious life. It’s a rare and insightful window into the lives of the religious. Since I’m such a geek about these things, let me read a passage from The Baizhang Zen Monastic Regulations about the head of cleaning at a temple:

The tasks of sweeping the grounds, cleansing the air with incense, replacing used bamboo scrapers [for the toilet] with new ones, cleaning the lavatories, and boiling and adding water must all be carried out whenever required. Even when things become quite messy, the task [of the head of cleaning] is to immediately restore the original cleanliness. He is obliged to inspect wash cloths and pails and change them if necessary.*1

The other side of things comes from the salty old Rinzai:

People here and there talk about the six rules and the ten thousand practices, supposing that these constitute the Dharma of the Buddhas. But I say that these are just adornments of the sect, the trappings of Buddhism. They are not the Dharma of the Buddhas. You may observe the fasts and observe the precepts, or carry a dish of oil without spilling it, but if your Dharma eye is not wide open, then all you're doing is running up a big debt. One day you'll have to pay for all the food wasted on you!*2

Instead of following rules, just be ordinary.  No need for special rules.  No need for extreme practices.  No need for meditation marathons.  This is the height of Zen, but who can reach it?  Can you really be ordinary?

I’m pretty sure I’m ordinary, so then why do I need this?

Maybe you are, but maybe you aren’t.

My own teacher, Ajahn Sudhiro, was one of the most ordinary human’s I’ve ever met.  It sounds so prosaic, but it’s marvelous once you experience it.  He was simple, humble, direct, honest, real.  After spending a few years with him, I began to see how most everyone else is putting on the “aren’t I’m special” song-and-dance.  They’d tell me about this big name they knew.  Some big accomplishment they had.  Some big dream they were striving towards.  How right they were about this or that.  How upset they were over some big issue. They were full of drama. They needed to be on the stage and under the spotlight. The hero of their big story.
These “heroes” are annoying. When I don’t tolerate their little song-and-dance, they get upset and defensive. If I play as a supporting role, they’re delighted. But if I try to steal the spotlight, war follows. It’s all so tiresome.

Ordinary people are just as they are.  There’s no big effort of trying to impress, grab attention, or get something from me that most of us are involved in 24/7.  There’s a coolness, ease, and power that permeates the space around them. Is that really you?

Nope.  I definitely love a good dance.

Yes, it’s fun.  Most of us are enchanted by the dance, the highs of acceptance and love, the lows of dejection and boredom.  In Zen, the baseline is just be ordinary, just be natural.

And what about all of those rules of Baizhang?  What about all of those do’s and don’ts that monks have to follow?

Zen is a philosophy of both/and, not either/or.  Be ordinary and follow these 200 rules.  They co-exist. After all, Linji’s teacher, Huangpo, was one of Baizhang’s own successors. Although there’s no historical record, it’s likely that while Linji spoke of being utterly natural and not clinging to rules, he also had a Head of Cleaning that made sure the shit-sticks were cleaned and the wash-water fresh everyday.

So then what’s the answer?

Yes.

Let me put it another way: do you work?

Yes, I run a large farm.

And do you have rules?

Of course. There needs to be quality control. There needs to be clear expectations and consequences for employees.  Contracts must be honored. Inspections passed.

Do you think you’re ever going to get away from a life of rules?

No.  I can’t see any business running without rules.

Zen community’s are the same.  Some Zen communities are sticklers on how you dress or whether you sleep with other people or not.  Others aren’t so hung up on that.  It’s relative.  You can and should contest the value of these things, but there’s no end to the debate.  It’s just a way to help people wake-up and live together with less drama.  Our life consists of balancing between these two things: just being ordinary and using rules to guide behavior.

Just being ordinary is freeing. It relaxes the tyranny of having a proscription for everything and consequences to boot. It’s also a powerful way to cut through attachment and let the mind naturally settle into stillness, but it also comes with cost. Just being ordinary can cause practitioners to squander time on frivolous things, like drugs, sex, or money. It can also foment conflict in a community because of differing values and resentment. One monk doesn’t feel like prepping the meal, so the more conscientious one has to pick-up the slack. The cook’s upset and wants his helper to pull his weight. He refuses. How’s the abbot supposed to handle this?

That’s where rules come in. From a management perspective, they make running a community of sometimes hundreds or thousands of people efficient. If an abbot or the entire community had to decide ad hoc what should be done in every case of conflict, they’d spend all their time resolving conflicts until they perished.
This also applies to individuals. If you’ve got to decide what time to wake-up or whether you’re going to drink alcohol or not on an ad hoc basis, you’ll squander so much of your life thinking about whether to do something or not. With clear rules, however, 95% of decisions can be predetermined, which frees up more time and energy for more important things. Also, rules give a practitioner that extra push to say no to the bad and yes to the good. But that also comes with a cost, as it can easily lead to burn out, repression, and an enlarged sense of self that’s constantly having to manage and fight oneself and others.

Personally, I’m a rule minimalist.  I don’t wake up to an alarm clock unless I have to.  I don’t tell myself that I have to follow the Buddhist precepts.  I don’t have a schedule for my day.  I just let things happen naturally and spontaneously with a few red lines.  But that’s not for everyone all of the time.  When I was younger and full of zeal, I went through periods where I scheduled virtually every minute of the day and followed it religiously.  When I was a Thai forest monk, I had several hundred rules to follow.  I memorized, studied, and practiced them almost without fail.  Those helped me then, but I’m in a different place now.

And what about for me now?

Try things out, respect where you’re at, and see what works.  As a general rule, I find less rules, less regulation, less expectation, less forcing works best. Instead of trying to manage every aspect of your life, just focus on a few things that you’re willing to fight for and let the rest just happen naturally.

That said, keep the Five Precepts and make them a pillar of your life. They're rock solid guidelines to live by. With them as a moral compass, it's easy to avoid most catastrophes and cuts through a lot of the messiness of moral deliberation. Don't harm. Tell the truth. Don't mess with other people's partners. Don't take what's not given. Don't take intoxicants.

You can hold these loosely, like have a glass of wine with a nice dinner sometimes or tell a white lie, but those should remain exceptions. If you're consistently breaking the Five Precepts, it's a good sign that you're in dark and stormy waters.

References:

1. Huaihai, Baizhang trans. by Bukkyo Dendo Kyokai and Numata Center for Buddhist Translation and Research. The Baizhang Zen Monastic Regulations. Berkeley: Numata Center for Buddhist Translation and Research, 2006.
2. Yixuan, Linji trans. by Burton Watson. The Zen Teachings of Master Lin-Chi. Boston: Shambhala Publications, Inc., 1993.