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Omori Sogen: The Art of a Zen Master
Omori Sogen (1904-1994) is considered the greatest Japanese Zen master. His background as an expert in kendo (the Way of the Sword) and shodo (the Way of the Brush), and as a political activist, scholar, and university president made him unique among Zen masters. This is the story of his life.
180 pages, Hardcover
First published April 15, 1997
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October 19, 2016
This book – part biography, part essay collection – is a story told out of great respect. Taken at face value, we are to accept that Omori Sogen was one of the greatest Zen masters of the Rinzai line in the twentieth century, and perhaps ever.
The writing is, in a word, plain. Japanese happens to lose a significant amount of nuance when translated into English, and one gets the sense that author Hosokawa Dogen is not the most skilled translator. Nevertheless, he is indisputably sincere and reverential. Is he the best possible author, the one who can do Omori full justice? Perhaps not, but he is to a large extent all we have, and I believe all interesting stories are worth appreciating no matter how they reach us.
It happens that the plainness aids us; Dogen states the facts of Omori’s life without embellishment (although he does romanticize his appreciations of them), allowing us room to imagine what kind of man this was. If anything, Omori was someone who literally and figuratively practiced what he preached, which in my eyes is a monumental accomplishment.
Isaiah Berlin would categorize Omori as a hedgehog. Omori read widely, from Marx to Heraclitus to Johan Huizinga, but largely appropriated their ideas into the Rinzai metaphorical space rather than considering them on their own, or in relation to each other. But it is somehow well done, because the points he takes are consistent with the Rinzai system.
Continuing this trend, I dare say that the Zen idea of transcendence has striking parallels with post-structuralism; see Derrida’s conclusion of the nonexistence of a transcendental signified. With Zen, it is not simply “everything and nothing,” but a higher nothingness beyond dichotomies and indeed language itself. That a religion could be said to have precipitated a major philosophical discovery is quite astounding; perhaps why Michel Foucault was fascinated enough to have stayed in one of Omori’s temples (Seionji) for twenty days.
If anything, Zen provides an interesting anthropological and psychological study. The koans are silly and serious, stupid and profound. How can it be possible to work for years on what is essentially a word puzzle? “Ah, but they aren’t,” says the Zen monk. Then how can it be possible for a Zen Master to confirm a disciple’s inka shomei (ascendancy)? Based on the conviction with which he replies to the koan? By his ability to rationalize and defend his answers? By the mere whim of the Master?
And how can it be that Zen, historical proponent of embodied wisdom, anticipated the recent neuroscience revealing that we don’t think only with our brains? How can it be that Zen long ago came to the conclusion that “A self which exists apart from social reality can be conceived only in the mind and not in reality [p.148]” without having to go through any of the rigorous research and philosophy undertaken by Philippe Rochat?
Though I am hesitant to call any religion correct, if I were betting with Pascal, my chips would be on Rinzai.
Favorite quotes
“Some people lose to their suffering, and they end their lives without using that suffering as nourishment for their development as a human being. Some people, however, can use their suffering to nurture their own inner progress as human beings and become people of great character.” [p.67]
“Kendo does not start after you enter the dojo and put on your equipment. It starts from the morning. No, it started from the time you were born… When we wash our face with water, we feel the water is cold and think, ‘It’s so cold. How unpleasant!’ The water says, ‘men!’ (a successful strike to the head in Kendo). It has hit us and taken a point on us.” [p.11]
The writing is, in a word, plain. Japanese happens to lose a significant amount of nuance when translated into English, and one gets the sense that author Hosokawa Dogen is not the most skilled translator. Nevertheless, he is indisputably sincere and reverential. Is he the best possible author, the one who can do Omori full justice? Perhaps not, but he is to a large extent all we have, and I believe all interesting stories are worth appreciating no matter how they reach us.
It happens that the plainness aids us; Dogen states the facts of Omori’s life without embellishment (although he does romanticize his appreciations of them), allowing us room to imagine what kind of man this was. If anything, Omori was someone who literally and figuratively practiced what he preached, which in my eyes is a monumental accomplishment.
Isaiah Berlin would categorize Omori as a hedgehog. Omori read widely, from Marx to Heraclitus to Johan Huizinga, but largely appropriated their ideas into the Rinzai metaphorical space rather than considering them on their own, or in relation to each other. But it is somehow well done, because the points he takes are consistent with the Rinzai system.
Continuing this trend, I dare say that the Zen idea of transcendence has striking parallels with post-structuralism; see Derrida’s conclusion of the nonexistence of a transcendental signified. With Zen, it is not simply “everything and nothing,” but a higher nothingness beyond dichotomies and indeed language itself. That a religion could be said to have precipitated a major philosophical discovery is quite astounding; perhaps why Michel Foucault was fascinated enough to have stayed in one of Omori’s temples (Seionji) for twenty days.
If anything, Zen provides an interesting anthropological and psychological study. The koans are silly and serious, stupid and profound. How can it be possible to work for years on what is essentially a word puzzle? “Ah, but they aren’t,” says the Zen monk. Then how can it be possible for a Zen Master to confirm a disciple’s inka shomei (ascendancy)? Based on the conviction with which he replies to the koan? By his ability to rationalize and defend his answers? By the mere whim of the Master?
And how can it be that Zen, historical proponent of embodied wisdom, anticipated the recent neuroscience revealing that we don’t think only with our brains? How can it be that Zen long ago came to the conclusion that “A self which exists apart from social reality can be conceived only in the mind and not in reality [p.148]” without having to go through any of the rigorous research and philosophy undertaken by Philippe Rochat?
Though I am hesitant to call any religion correct, if I were betting with Pascal, my chips would be on Rinzai.
Favorite quotes
“Some people lose to their suffering, and they end their lives without using that suffering as nourishment for their development as a human being. Some people, however, can use their suffering to nurture their own inner progress as human beings and become people of great character.” [p.67]
“Kendo does not start after you enter the dojo and put on your equipment. It starts from the morning. No, it started from the time you were born… When we wash our face with water, we feel the water is cold and think, ‘It’s so cold. How unpleasant!’ The water says, ‘men!’ (a successful strike to the head in Kendo). It has hit us and taken a point on us.” [p.11]
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