The Dialogue of Life: Three Months Participation
in a Zen Buddhist Retreat in Korea,

by Brother Nicholas Alan Worssam, SSF

(Br Nicholas is the MID-GBI Contact Member for his friary in Glasshampton)

Sitting in Korea:
Three months at a Korean Zen Buddhist monastery.

At 3 a.m. the sound of chanting and the steady beat of the wooden moktak broke the freezing pre-dawn stillness of the night. Each day the Haengjas (postulants) walked between the buildings of the monastery rousing the community for the 108 full prostrations in the meditation hall that would start the day at 3.20am.  Then, after a quick cup of tea, all processed up to the main shrine hall for the morning chanting.  Every day the same chants were used in the Sino-Korean translations of ancient Sanskrit scriptures, sung from memory.  The interior of the hall itself was covered with ornate carvings and paintings of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, dragons and protector spirits.  Then off to the meditation hall for an hour and a half of sitting meditation before the blissful warmth of the breakfast rice-gruel at six o’clock in the refectory.

This was the start of each day for the 3 months of the winter retreat at the Zen Buddhist monastery and retreat centre at Musangsa in Korea, which I was able to attend this winter of 2006/7.  The monastery has an international community of monks and nuns, from America and Europe, Malaysia, Hong Kong and Korea itself.  All are members of the Kwanum School of Zen, founded by Zen Master Seung Sahn. Seung Sahn Sunim (Sunim is the honorific for a monk or nun) was a native Korean monk who, after a deep enlightenment experience as a young man, and work for the Korean Buddhist Chogye Order in Korea and Japan, ended up in the USA with the zeal of a missionary come to spread the teaching and practice of Zen.  From his arrival in the West in the 1970s, without much knowledge of the English language, people began to gather around him, and eventually Zen centres were founded which now spread around the world.  Musangsa is their Korean headquarters, and is run by close disciples of Zen Master Seung Sahn, who died just a couple of years ago.

Korea has held a fascination for me for 15 years.  After finishing an MA in Buddhist Studies at Bristol University I wanted to spend some time in the Far East, experiencing something of Buddhism as lived in a cultural environment steeped in Buddhist tradition.  Many people from the West have been to Japan to study and practice Buddhism, and Chinese Buddhism has suffered greatly since the Chinese Communist revolution.  But of Korea, a Buddhist country since the Fourth Century CE, hardly anything is known in the West.  So in 1992 I travelled to Seoul, as a Mission-Partner with the Anglican Church Mission Society to teach at the Anglican university and theological college, and to explore the world of Korean Buddhism. After three years I decided myself to follow the monastic path so central to traditional Buddhist practice, and came back to England to join the Anglican Society of Saint Francis.  Since then I have been able to keep up contact with friends in Korea, and last winter was able to spend four months in Korea, staying at the Korean Franciscan Brotherhood in the far North East of the country, and taking part in the three-month winter retreat at Musangsa, on the slopes of Mount Kyeryong just West of Taejon.

Buddhism was introduced to Korea in the fourth century CE, and is now predominantly of the Zen tradition.  Buddhism was the state religion for a thousand years, until a change of dynasty in 1392 brought Confucianism to the fore, and the Buddhists had to retreat to the mountains.  Perhaps this was even a help to their practice.  Before, the monasteries had become rich landowners, like the medieval monasteries in Europe, but now without state patronage they had to return to the roots of Zen – an ascetic life of manual labour and rigorous sitting meditation.  Monks and nuns were of course celibate, living in community.  During the colonisation of Korea by Japan from 1910 to 1945 the practice of monks marrying was introduced, but after independence, the celibate Chogye Order was re-established and took back control of all the major monasteries.  Each year there are two retreat seasons, summer and winter, for three months each.  During this time those dedicated to a life of meditation practice will sit in meditation for at least 8 or 9 hours a day, with some monasteries sitting for fourteen hours each day.  Rising is generally at 3 am, retiring in the evening at 9pm or later.  Other monks and nuns follow the route of scripture study or administration in the large temple complexes, or working more as parish priests in small temples in the countryside or more increasingly in the cities.  But it is the contemplative path that is most highly esteemed, and Zen (in Korean, Son) which most captures the imagination of the Korean Buddhist world.

The heart of the practice of Zen is simply sitting, with an emphasis on awareness of the breath and posture.  But similar to the Rinzai school in Japan, Koreans often work with koans (Korean: Kong-an) in their meditation practice.  These pithy stories of dialogues between master and disciple defy logical analysis but illustrate in a concrete way some aspect of the awakening to the omnipresent Buddha-Nature which is the experience of enlightenment.  At Musangsa there are weekly dharma talks, addresses by the resident Zen Master or other teachers, which explore aspects of the practice, often using stories of the ancient masters.  In addition, twice a week, participants in the retreat have one-to-one interviews with a teacher during which the depth of their insight into the koans is tested.  These interviews can be eagerly anticipated or dreaded wholeheartedly, but one nearly always walks away with a sense of having being confronted with the mystery of the True Nature beyond discrimination discovered anew in the here and now.

As a Christian, I have found such experiences immensely valuable.  To be separated from the theological systems and religious practices I know so well can be disorientating, but over the years I have found enough fluency in the language of Buddhism to realise that there are things I can understand and express in this context which I struggle to hear or find voice for in Christianity.  Buddhism and Christianity are not the same, and both are making claims to speak of ultimate reality in ways that seem to be irreconcilable, but I cannot deny that I recognise in my bones the truth of them both.  No exact translation is possible from one to the other, but when a Zen Master speaks from experience of the clear bright numinous awareness of a silent heart and mind, an awareness that knows no separation and is full of peace, joy and compassion, then I cannot help but feel I have caught more than a glimpse of the Mind of Christ, shining in a different cultural context in the robes of a Korean Zen Buddhist monk or nun.  Here is surely a living experience of the stillness (hesychia) and passionlessness (apatheia) leading to love and knowledge (agape and gnosis) so esteemed by the desert fathers and mothers of early Christianity.

But Korean Buddhism is not simply about peace of mind.  It is very heart-centred also.  Devotion to Kuanseum, known as Kannon in Japan, the ‘Hearer of the Cries of the World’, is widespread in Korea.  Kuanseum is a feminine representation of compassion, usually depicted as a graceful young lady in flowing robes being carried on a cloud, but sometimes even pictured as a mother cradling a child.  Just reciting her name is a common form of meditation in Korea, often making use of a wooden rosary with 108 beads.  Echoing the compassionate heart of Kuanseum, Zen Master Seung Sahn would always stress the importance of helping other people, and of the goal of any religious practice being not just personal salvation but the salvation of all beings.  This life of dedication is possible for people in all walks of life, but a particular expression of it is found in monastic life.  I find particular encouragement in the way the monastic life is central to Buddhist practice in Asia.  In the modern West, lay Buddhist groups and meditation centres are often the primary contact people have with Buddhist teaching.  But in the East, it is always the monasteries to which people turn.  In Korea there are thousands of monks and nuns, many being young people eager to practice meditation and study with immense energy and dedication.  As a Franciscan I find great encouragement in fellowship with these other mendicants who have ‘left home for homelessness’ in order to bear witness to the truth.

So returning to England I feel greatly enriched by my Korean journey, and by the chance to meditate alongside fellow practitioners of the spiritual path.  I hope others may also have such a chance to see for themselves how God’s Spirit works in ways that we do not understand.

Nicholas Alan SSF