92 Explication

Imitating those around me who seemed to know what to do, I just followed along as best I could. Three or four times that morning one person or another nudged me gently on an arm or if necessary placed a hand on my shoulder to guide me in the right direction and once or twice someone whispered instructions that I could not quite hear. I awkwardly whispered back.

"What?"

There were still more bells and more bows. The master sat down on his cushion in the buddha hall not far from the doan seat to give the dharma talk. We all arranged our mats and cushions so they formed an irregular semicircle closer to the master and to each other and we assumed whatever sitting position seemed most comfortable to us. When the master was ready the doan passed the small wooden lectern to him. On it the master placed and arranged his folder of texts and notes and located and marked his place in his materials. His hands in gassho, the master raised his ceremonial wooden scepter. We raised our hands the same. The doan struck the rim of the keisu on its flat edge with her baton and muted its ring. At this signal everyone present recited in unison the chant for the opening of the sutra.

The unsurpassed, profound, and wondrous dharma is rarely met with even in a hundred thousand million kalpas. Now I can see and hear it, accept and maintain it. May I unfold the meaning of the tathagata's truth.

Still sitting we all bowed from the waist at the end of the prolonged final syllable.

"Truth."

When we lifted our heads the master greeted our assembly of ten or twelve.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," several responded.

First the master announced upcoming activities and events at the temple. Then he announced the name of the text on which he would be speaking—I don't remember what it was on this my first day—and he read aloud slowly and deliberately the entire text. Then one line at a time the master read each line again, stopping to reflect upon it and to interpret and to explain words, concepts, applications, and meanings. Some passages the master read aloud five and even six times to comment on the meaning, connotation, and nuance of a word or phrase and occasionally to suggest a translation he thought better. It was the identical procedure my college professors and I myself followed in teaching literature. His explication took forty minutes—from 10:10 until 10:50—and when the master had finished he invited comments and questions, none of which I remember. At 11:10 the master suggested we adjourn and gather in the kitchen for cookies and coffee or tea. The master passed the lectern back to the doan and raised his hands and scepter in gassho. With the baton the doan struck the edge of the keisu and muted its ring. In unison we all recited the chant for the closing of the sutra.

May this merit extend universally to all so that we together with all beings realize the Buddha Way.

The master rolled off his cushion and kneeling he brushed his mat and leaned with the heels of his hands on his cushion to fluff it and to return its shape to round and then he repositioned it in its proper place. He rose, stood, and bowed, palms together, toward his mat. He turned clockwise to face us. His palms together still, the master bowed again, this time to us the sangha, as we bowed in return and along with the master all recited the vows of the bodhisattva.

Beings are numberless; I vow to free them. Delusions are inexhaustible; I vow to end them. Dharma gates are boundless; I vow to enter them. Buddha's Way is unsurpassable; I vow to realize it.

Standing at the back of the black bowing mat before the central altar the master performed three full prostrations. Then, standing, the master bowed once from the waist in gassho. He took one half step back and bowed once more in shashu as the doan rang the inkin. This last bow we returned, sitting, from our cushions, and when the master had left the room and reached the stairs the doan struck the inkin for the last time that morning and from our cushions again we all bowed from the waist in shashu one last time.

The end.

We rolled off our cushions onto our knees. We cleaned our mats and fluffed our cushions and piled them neatly in the corner of the room and as we walked to the kitchen we stacked our sutra books on the whatnot shelf by the front door. The jisha hustled upstairs to return to the master his notes and texts. The doan carried the master's mat and cushion back to its proper place in the zendo. The shoten extinguished the candles. In the kitchen over cookies and hot tea or coffee students and teacher engaged in casual conversation.

I listened.