When Bankei was preaching at Ryumon temple, a Shinshu priest, who believed in salvation through repetition of the name of the Buddha of Love, was jealous of his large audience and wanted to debate with him.
Bankei was in the midst of a talk when the priest appeared, but the fellow made such a disturbance that Bankei stopped his discourse and asked about the noise.
“The founder of our sect,” boasted the priest, “had such miraculous powers that he held a brush in his hand on one bank of the river, his attendant held up a paper on the other bank, and the teacher wrote the holy name of Amida through the air. Can you do such a wonderful thing?”
Bankei replied lightly: “Perhaps your fox can perform that trick, but that is not the manner of Zen. My miracle is that when I feel hungry I eat, and when I feel thirsty I drink.”
In Zen practice, death is not considered important in the conventional sense because Zen emphasizes direct experience of reality beyond concepts, including life and death. Zen points to the present moment as the only true reality, rather than being attached to the past or future, including concerns about death.
Here are a few key reasons why death is not a central concern in Zen:
No Fixed Self – Zen teaches that the self is not a fixed, separate entity but a fluid, interconnected part of existence. If there is no solid “self,” then who is there to die?
Life and Death Are One – Rather than seeing life and death as opposing forces, Zen regards them as two aspects of the same reality. Dogen Zenji, the founder of Soto Zen, wrote about shoji (life-death) as a seamless flow rather than two separate states.
Impermanence Is Fundamental – Everything is constantly changing, and clinging to permanence creates suffering. By fully accepting impermanence, fear of death loses its grip.
Living Fully in the Present – Zen emphasizes complete presence in each moment. Since death is not happening now, focusing on it distracts from experiencing life completely.
Direct Experience Over Concepts – Zen discourages excessive thinking about abstract concepts like death and instead encourages direct experience of reality as it is.
This doesn’t mean Zen ignores death—it acknowledges it as a natural part of existence. However, instead of fixating on it, Zen practice encourages embracing life fully, letting go of fear, and experiencing each moment completely.
Ryokan, a Zen master, lived the simplest kind of life in a little hut at the foot of a mountain. One evening a thief visited the hut only to discover there was nothing in it to steal.
Ryokan returned and caught him. “You may have come a long way to visit me,” he told the prowler, “and you shoud not return emptyhanded. Please take my clothes as a gift.”
The thief was bewildered. He took the clothes and slunk away.
Ryokan sat naked, watching the moon. “Poor fellow, ” he mused, “I wish I could give him this beautiful moon.”
When Bankei was preaching at Ryumon temple, a Shinshu priest, who believed in salvation through repetition of the name of the Buddha of Love, was jealous of his large audience and wanted to debate with him.
Bankei was in the midst of a talk when the priest appeared, but the fellow made such a disturbance that Bankei stopped his discourse and asked about the noise.
“The founder of our sect,” boasted the priest, “had such miraculous powers that he held a brush in his hand on one bank of the river, his attendant held up a paper on the other bank, and the teacher wrote the holy name of Amida through the air. Can you do such a wonderful thing?”
Bankei replied lightly: “Perhaps your fox can perform that trick, but that is not the manner of Zen. My miracle is that when I feel hungry I eat, and when I feel thirsty I drink.”