seventh world of chan buddhism - Zen Buddhist Order of Hsu Yun

The name Devil comes from the wretched hell these displaced thespians feel
whenever they are forced to sit in drab silence during long periods of meditation. They have
no more use for meditation than they have for manual labor. Processions and ceremonies are
their forte; and they prepare for such occasions with more solemnity and fastidiousness than
is required for an act of Hara Kiri. Though such satisfaction as they derive from their religion
is always limited to the presentation of it, it is no small satisfaction. We all know how it feels
to experience a rush of pleasure when we are seen wearing garments in which we think we
look particularly attractive. We also know that this rush is intensified if the garments convey
membership in an elite group to which, when naked, we would not dream of including
ourselves. Though we be unable to run the mile in less than two hours, an expensive jogging
suit and running shoes will assert that we are serious athletes. Though we are certain that
Shangri-La is a seaport in southeast China and that the Hilton associated with it is a hotel
there, we need only don a turtleneck sweater and a good tweed jacket with suede elbow
patches to be rightly considered a campus intellectual. And in the same meretricious manner
Buddhist robes can be worn; for, though we have the humility of a South Bronx pimp and
the compassionate nature as well, a black robe will proclaim that we do indeed possess such
gentle virtues. Though we be as sexually restrained as a rutting moose, a cassock will
convince the most jaded cynic that we are practically virgins. We may be so devious and
manipulative that we cannot purchase a postage stamp without resorting to Machiavellian
intrigue, yet little cloth slippers will boldly declaim our simplicity.
It does not matter whether the person who does Devil Chan embraces religion because
he is compensating an evil nature or whether he is not venal at all but merely vacuous and is
simply stuffing himself with the fixin's of religion. He may, in fact, be as devoid of content
as the display-window manikins that are his source of inspiration and guidance. He may
believe not a single syllable of creed nor feel a single pulse beat of love or pity for any living
creature save himself, yet, let him costume himself properly and wear a pious expression and
he will find his substance and meaning in the approving glances of all who observe him.
These are the types who inhabit the six worlds of Samsara.
It may seem from all of this that a monastery is the last place in the world we should
expect to find a genuinely religious person; but in truth, we can and do encounter many
saints in such places. They pass among us unheralded by drum or trumpet. The sound they
make is what St. John of the Cross called, `silent music,' and we must strain to hear it. In
Chan, nothing is accomplished without attention.
These, then, are the six basic survival strategies as they are encountered in religious
life. To see these Samsaric types as they exist in the secular world let us imagine that in a
certain society women are compelled to marry at age eighteen. A reasonably mature woman
who is genuinely in love has a good chance of entering into an abiding union with her
husband; but those women whose marriage is not so sanctified are likely to respond to this
traumatic event according to type. The Hungry Ghost will launch a series of reckless affairs;
the Devil will pretend to be a loving wife while secretly despising the role and, presumably,
CHAPTER 5 SIX WORLDS OF SAMSARA
S EVENTH W ORLD O F C HAN B UDDHISM
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