Knowledge vs. Knowing: Zen Buddhism as the Key to Understanding Japanese Culture
Jayson Vosz (Kochi, 1995-1997)
Ever since July 8, 1853, Japan and the United States have enjoyed a rich and at times daunting relationship. On that date, American Commodore Mathew Perry led his four warships into Edo harbor and, for the most part, opened Japan to foreign trade. The details and intricacies of this relationship have been documented in various books and articles for over one hundred fifty years. Japan has now become one of the United States’ closest allies and biggest trading partners. The relationship between the two countries does indeed go very deep. It is my belief, however, that it can go much deeper. The key to this relationship is not to know more about Japan but to know and understand Japan for what Japan is: a very complex and unique cultural entity. Knowing about something, in my opinion, comes largely from reading books, listening to lectures, or participating in similar activities. Knowing something, however, comes from actual experience.
Japan is known for many things. When one imagines the land of the rising sun what may quickly come to mind are images of Mt. Fuji, samurai warriors, geisha women, ramen noodles, and sake rice wine. Japanese culture, however, runs much deeper than these examples. It has a set of values that puts tremendous emphasis on social harmony as well as humility, respect for others (especially elders), modesty, and hard work as a part of daily life. It is not something people think about; it is just something people do. For example, people bow in respect even when they are speaking on the telephone. People also conduct themselves as if they are always being evaluated in a more formal and cordial manner than elsewhere.
These characteristics are not unique to Japan, but the way in which they came to be a part of Japan’s culture and traditions is quite unique. This behavior is directly, or in some cases indirectly, due to the deep influence of Buddhist philosophy, especially that of Zen. Dogen Zenji (supreme teacher Dogen) is credited with bringing the teachings of Zen to Japan from China where he studied Zen for a period of about five years in the thirteenth century. By bringing the teachings of Zen to Japan, Dogen Zenji fundamentally changed the culture and traditions of the country. The moral fabric of Zen philosophy seeped into Japan, taking root quite nicely and even blending with the indigenous religion of Shinto to create a very unique and rich cultural tradition.
I have lived in Japan for more than two decades. For a long time, I thought I knew everything there was to know about Japan. I spoke the language, was well-read, and was well-versed in the customs and traditions. But now that I think back, I have come to the realization that I really didn’t know anything. About ten years ago, I became interested in Buddhism, especially the teachings of Dogen Zenji. My understanding was about to change from merely knowing about Japan to having a profound knowledge of Japan.
My first encounters with Zen came when I started practicing Noh theater. At first, I just thought it sounded pretty cool, so I tried it for a year or so. Then, however, I really started to study what the Noh scripts were saying. Translating the script from traditional Japanese to modern Japanese was daunting, to say the least. A lot is lost in translation even between classical and modern Japanese. What I thought was so interesting about Noh theater was the overall message of the impermanence of life. I found this philosophy fascinating and wanted to know more. I kept on practicing Noh, but I also started reading Zen literature, poems, and stories in Japanese. Remember I said there is a lot lost in translation? This is especially true when it comes to Japanese and English. These languages are just so different that conveying the proper meaning in a skillful manner when moving from one language to another is hard. So much of the Japanese language is constructed on human feeling thus more linguistically abstract than English. Anyway, I could not get enough. Then one day, I spotted a sign near my house that advertised zazen (Zen meditation) at a local temple. That is when my whole life changed.
As I started zazen, I began to feel that there was a lot more to Zen than what the numerous books and YouTube videos I was watching were telling me. Zen is a difficult branch of Buddhism to define. If one looks up the meaning of Zen in five different dictionaries, one will get five different definitions. These definitions may be similar in semantics, but all, in my opinion, completely miss the point. Zen and its various practices cannot be defined in any way that can be easily understood. An example would be the word zazen itself. In English, we would say zazen is simply meditation. In reality, however, it is much more, and there lies the difficulty of Zen. It is not something that can be explained, and we are not supposed to think about it, just do it. It is just something some of us do every day without question. Hard to understand, eh?
In society, when one claims to know something, they usually vocalize it. In other words, they talk about it, or if they are really confident in what they claim to know, they write about it. Bookstores are loaded with books written by folks who profess they know what they are writing about. Now we get to the crux of what I am trying to explain. Knowing something and knowing about something are two separate concepts that, for the purposes of this article, are extremely important to understand. Knowing about something in this day and age is pretty easy. Just pick up an iPhone or a computer, load in a few keywords, and presto, the answer usually appears in a second or two. With the aid of computers, one can almost literally know about anything. In other words, speaking and writing are accepted by society as conventional ways to prove that one knows about something.
Zen is different. Zen loses its meaning through the written or spoken word, so any book, magazine, or website that claims to teach readers how to know Zen’s true meaning or essence is, well, wrong. It has also been my experience that people, especially martial arts teachers or so-called Zen masters, will tell non-Japanese people (or Japanese people for that matter) exactly what they think they want to hear. They talk about how great Zen is, how peaceful and tranquil it is, and give them explanations that at face value sound good but mean absolutely nothing. Learning about Zen through a book or just listening to what someone tells us is comparable to learning how to hit a 95-mile-an-hour fastball by watching the local baseball game on TV every night.
About ten years ago, I decided to enter the Zen seminary. Entering the seminary, or shugyoudera, was one of the toughest things I have ever done in my life. I was in for two years, but it felt like decades. It is where I learned how to hit the 95-mile-an-hour fastball.
Zen does not really have a seminary in the traditional Christian sense of the word. In Christianity, future pastors or priests go to a seminary to learn biblical history, but in Zen, future monks go to a training center to, well, train, not to learn. Nothing could have prepared me for the reality of what real Zen training was like. It was, in a single word, hell.
During my first week, there was no getting-to-know-each-other time with the other beginners. We were taught how to wear traditional monks’ robes, work clothes, and other garments that were required at different times of the day. We were also taught other basic things like how to eat, sleep, shower, walk, talk, and a whole host of other things that I thought were really quite trivial. However, this knowledge came in handy later as we were literally tested on everything on a regular basis. In short, we were taught the Zen way of doing things. It was not done in a nice or friendly manner. We were being indoctrinated in a militaristic fashion that I can only compare to boot camp in the Marine Corps. Nobody was smiling, nobody wanted to learn the beginners’ names. It was all “do this” and “do that.” If anyone got anything wrong, they would have to keep trying while the others went on to do other things.
This kind of training proved extremely difficult for me personally because I am legally blind and could not keep up with the others. I was told that my blindness wouldn’t be a problem. Yeah. Maybe it was not a problem for them, but it sure was for me. I heard many years later that there are several easier, or less strict, training monasteries in Japan, but I had picked one with a reputation for being severely strict.
Anyway, after the first hell week, the beginners were put in with the general population of trainees to begin training as Zen monks. Daily life in the shugyoudera was very regimented. Every day was pretty much the same as the preceding day. This pattern, I found out later, was to teach trainees that life does not always have to be about the pursuit of happiness or any other desires that we, as humans, may have. Living this way was to demonstrate what the Buddha called the “middle way.” He taught that we do not need extremes in our lives in order to be content. Also, one of the main training techniques was silence. Hardly uttering a word all day demonstrated that words are unnecessary and saying nothing at all is usually better than saying too much or the wrong thing.
This kind of lifestyle was not what I was prepared for and therefore came as quite a shock. There was also a fair bit of bullying, scolding, and yelling. I was even kicked once. The other beginners and I were always hungry, thirsty, tired, and just plain fed up with living and doing the same thing every single day, but we could not let on to our dissatisfaction lest we be scolded or given even more chores to do.
This lifestyle is not what usually comes to mind when one imagines the life of a Zen trainee. It is certainly not what the literature describes. I laugh when I read books telling of the wonders of Zen and how peaceful it is. Once one finishes the initial training, it can be quite peaceful. Zen does not teach us how to be good people and to worship a god like other religions. It teaches us how to live and navigate the world’s many ups and downs by keeping a level head, or heijoushin. I know the philosophy of Zen can get quite cumbersome and be hard to understand, so my recommendation is to not understand it and just do it. Live, be grateful for what you have, and help others when you can. You must remember—and this is probably the hardest concept for most people to comprehend—that Zen is not a belief, it is a practice. You cannot choose to meditate for a day or two or adhere to a few Zen principles and then think you are a Zenist. It doesn’t work that way. The emphasis is on action, or in some cases inaction, on a daily basis, not just when it’s convenient for you.
Getting out of the shugyoudera after two long years was like getting out of prison. I felt like a new man. Actually, I was a new man. I felt reborn. I did not crave the things I used to and still do not to this day. Looking back on those days in the shugyoudera, I had a literal hell of a time, but I learned so much. Not scholarly learning, but the kind of learning one can only get from experience. I could say I received a bachelor of arts degree in the nothingness (ku) of Zen.
I would like to wrap this all up now by saying that Japan is a very misunderstood country by the West. Whenever Westerners study Japan’s culture and traditions, we seem to always use our own standards, sense of morality, and above all our Judeo-Christian principles and background to make sense of it all. This approach is a hindrance to our understanding of almost anything Japanese. Japan’s culture and traditions are deeply rooted in Zen philosophy and way of life. A lot of attitudes that Japanese people have today come directly from Zen. A great example is when people visit a Japanese house, they remove their shoes and a cup of green tea is usually waiting for them when they sit down. This tradition of “tea first” comes from Zen. Even in the shugyoudera, whenever a visitor came, they were always greeted with a cup of tea. I think Japan, at times, even misunderstands itself.
The more information that is known between two parties, whether it is between two people, two groups of people, or, in this case, two countries, the deeper the relationship will inevitably become. The trick is to somehow facilitate that and perhaps begin to bridge some gaps in understanding between our countries. For me, Zen Buddhism became the vehicle to truly know and understand Japan for what it is. The Japan-U.S. relationship has come a long way since Commodore Perry’s “opening” of Japan in 1853, but with added coordination and cooperation—and deeper knowledge and understanding—this relationship has the potential to go much further.
About the Author
Jayson Vosz, originally from rural Wisconsin, embarked on an academic and professional journey that spans continents and cultures. After earning a Bachelor's degree in Japanese Studies from the University of Hawaii, Vosz participated in the JET Program in Kochi Prefecture, Japan, from 1995-1997. Subsequently, he founded an English school in Chiba, which he managed for nearly two decades. Vosz further deepened his expertise by completing Zen seminary training between 2016 and 2018, followed by a Master of Science in Education from the University of Wisconsin. Currently, he is engaged in teaching English and translating for NPOs in Chiba Prefecture, showcasing a blend of educational prowess, entrepreneurial spirit, and cultural immersion.
JETs on Japan is a partnership between USJETAA and Sasakawa Peace Foundation USA (Sasakawa USA) that features selected articles of JET alumni perspectives on US-Japan relations. The series aims to elevate the awareness and visibility of JET alumni working across diverse sectors and provides a platform for JET alumni to contribute to a deeper understanding of US-Japan relations from their fields. The articles will be posted on USJETAA’s website to serve as a resource to the wider JET alumni and US-Japan communities on how alumni of this exchange program are continuing to serve as informal ambassadors in US-Japan relations.
Submissions are encouraged from mid-to-senior level professionals who are established in the current fields OR current/recent graduate degree students in both master’s and doctoral programs.
