Dtsuzuki 1

dtsuzuki1.
txt
<html>

<head>
<meta http-equiv="Content-Type"
content="text/html; charset=utf-8">
<title> Suzuki Daisetsu Teitar (1870-1966)</title>
<style type="text/css">

</style>
</head>
<body bgcolor="#666666" text="#ffcc99"

link="#d9d9b8" vlink="#d9d9b8" alink="#d9d9b8">
ZEN MESTEREK ZEN MASTERS 
<a href="../index-2.html" target="_parent"> Zen foldal </a> 
<a
href="https://terebess.hu/index.html" target="_top"> vissza a Terebess Online
nyitlapjra</a> 
<img
border=0 width=36 height=25 id="_x0000_i1027"
src="https://terebess.hu/zen/angol.gif"> 
<a href="dtsuzuki.html">D. T. Suzuki in English</a><a
href="dtsuzuki.html"><o:p></o:p></a>
 
<a
href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/zenterulet1.html"><img
Pgina 1
dtsuzuki1.txt
src="https://terebess.hu/zen/mesterek/dtsuzuki3.jpg" width=600 height=390
border=0
id="_x0000_i1051"></spa
n></a> 
 Suzuki
Daisetsu Teitar
(1870-1966) 
[Suzuki Daisetz Teitaro;
 D. T.
Suzuki]
<a
style='font-size:12.0pt'><img src="https://terebess.hu/zen/magyar.gif" width="36" height="25"
border="0"></a>
style='font-size:12.0pt'>D. T. Suzuki: </a><a
href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/zenterulet1.html">A Zen terlete</a> 
Rafalszky Katalin fordtsa
<blockquote style='margin-top:5.0pt;margin-bottom:5.0pt'>
href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/zenterulet1.html#1">A szerkeszt
elszava </a> 
<a href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/zenterulet1.html#2">Dr. D.
T. Suzuki. A The Times 1966. jlius 13-i szmban megjelent
nekrolg</a> 
<a href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/zenterulet1.html#3">1. Rgi
emlkek.</a> (A Buddhist Society fennllsnak 40. vforduljra - 1964.
novemberben) 
<a href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/zenterulet1.html#4">2.
Buddha s Zen.</a> (elads a Manchester College Oxfordban, 1953.
jniusban) 
<a href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/zenterulet1.html#5">3. A
Satori jelentse.</a> (A Buddhista Trsasgban mondott elads, 1953.
szeptemberben) 
Mondo.</a> (A Middle Way szmra. 1953. augusztusban) 
<a href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/zenterulet1.html#7">5. Maha
Prajna s Maha Karuna.</a> (A Buddhista Trsasgban elhangzott elads, 1958.
mjusban) 
buddhizmus analitikus s szintetikus megkzeltse.</a> (A Buddhista Trsasgban
Pgina 2
dtsuzuki1.txt
elhangzott elads, 1953. jniusban) 
Hogyan lehet behatolni a valsgba.</a> (A Buddhista Trsasgban elhangzott
elads, 1954. jliusban) 
<a href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/zenterulet2.html#10">8. Az
n s a Zen.</a> (Elads a Caxton Hall-ban, 1953. szeptemberben) 
Eckhart s a Zen buddhizmus.</a> (A Middle Way szmra, 1955.
augusztusban) 
Soto mesterek tantsa.</a> (Kiadsra tadva 1958-ban) 
Shin s a Zen sszehasonltsa.</a> (Vlaszok a Zen Iskolban feltett krdsekre
- 1953. jniusban. 
Zen buddhizmus hite.</a> (A Buddhista Trsasgban elhangzott elads
feljegyzseibl, 1958. jniusban) 
vlasz a krdsben van.</a> (Feljegyzsek a Buddhista Trsasgban elhangzott
eladsrl 1953. jniusban) 
Zen meditci.</a> (Feljegyzsek a Zen Iskolban tartott eladsrl - 1958.)
 
Hirtelen s fokozatos megvilgosods.</a> (A Zen Iskolban tartott beszdbl
rszletek - 1958. mjusban)
</blockquote>
 
<a href="../pszicho1.html">D. T. Suzuki:
Eladsok a zen-buddhizmusrl</a> 
Gy. Horvth Lszl fordtsa 
Erich Fromm - D. T. Suzuki: Zen-buddhizmus s pszichoanalzis c.
ktetbl
 
href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/merton.html" target="_self">Thomas Merton: A zen s a falnk madarak</a> 
Ers Lszl Antal fordtsa
<a
href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/merton.html#suz">Thomas Merton: D. T.
Suzuki, az ember s munkssga </a>
href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/merton2.html#bol">Blcsessg az
ressgben</a> 
Thomas Merton s Daisetz T. Suzuki prbeszde
href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/merton2.html#elo">Elsz</a> 
Pgina 3
dtsuzuki1.txt
<a href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/merton2.html#dai">Daisetz
T. Suzuki: TUDS S RTATLANSG</a> 
<a href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/merton2.html#tho">Thomas
Merton: A PARADICSOM VISSZASZERZSE</a> 
<a href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/merton2.html#zar">Daisetz
T. Suzuki: ZR MEGJEGYZSEK</a> 
<a href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/merton2.html#mer">Thomas
Merton: ZR MEGJEGYZSEK</a> 
<a
href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/merton2.html#uto">Utsz</a>
</blockquote>
</blockquote>
<O:P></O:P><O:P></O:P>
 
<a name=cage
id="cage"></a>
<img width="320" height="460"
src="https://terebess.hu/zen/mesterek/dtsuzuki5.jpg"
alt="120406-2.jpg">
Suzuki-anekdotk 
<a
href="https://terebess.hu/keletkultinfo/csend.html">John Cage: A csend</a> c.
knyvbl 
Ers Lszl Antal fordtsa 
Kziratknt a fordttl
A kritikusok, miutn
rszt vettek nmelyik hangversenyemen, vagy meghallgattk valamelyik
eladsomat, gyakorta dadt kiltanak. Msok a zen irnti rdekldsemen
sajnlkoznak. Az egyik legragyogbb eladst, amelyet valaha hallottam, Nancy
Wilson Ross tartotta Seattle-ben, a Cornish Schoolban. Az volt a cme, hogy A
zen buddhizmus s a dada. Lehet kapcsolatot tallni a kett kztt, de sem a
dada, sem a zen nem szilrd, megfoghat valami. Vltoznak; s meglehetsen
eltr mdokon, klnfle helyeken s idpontokban cselekvst hvnak letre. Ami
a dada az 1920-as vekben volt, az ma, Marcel Duchamp munkssgnak kivtelvel,
csupn mvszet. Ami engem illet, n nem szeretnm, ha a zent vetnk a szememre,
br a zen irnti elktelezettsgem (Alan Watts s D.T. Suzuki eladsain val
rszvtel s az irodalom elolvassa) nlkl ktlem, hogy azt csinltam volna,
amit. Mondtk, hogy Alan Watts megkrdjelezte a munkssgom s a zen kztti
kapcsolatot. Ezt azrt emltem, hogy felmentsem a zent a tetteim miatti
mindenfle felelssg all. De azrt tovbbra is el fogom kvetni tetteimet.
Gyakran rmutatok, hogy a dadban manapsg van egyfajta tr, egyfajta ressg,
amelynek korbban hjn volt. Vajon manapsg, Amerikban a huszadik szzad
kzepn, micsoda a zen? 
..............................</spa
n>
<img
src="https://terebess.hu/zen/mesterek/SuzukiCage.jpg" width=566 height=346
Pgina 4
dtsuzuki1.txt
border=0 id="_x0000_i1051"> 
John Cage meets D.T. Suzuki in Japan, 1962.

Egy indiai hlgy
meghvott vacsorra, s azt mondta, hogy Dr. Suzuki is ott lesz. Ott is volt.
Vacsora eltt megemltettem Gertrude Stein nevt. Suzuki nem hallott rla.
Vzoltam munkssga bizonyos vonsait, amire azt mondta, hogy nagyon rdekesen
hangzik. Felvillanyozva szba hoztam James Joyce-t, akinek a neve megint csak j
volt a szmra. Vacsornl nem tudta megenni a knlt currys teleket, ezrt
nhny nyers zldsget s gymlcst hoztak, ezeket lvezettel fogyasztotta.
Vacsora utn a beszlgets metafizikai problmkra tereldtt, s rengeteg
krds merlt fel, mert a hziasszony egy bizonyos indiai jgi kvetje volt, s
a vendgei tbb-kevsb azonos szmban voltak az indiai s a japn gondolkods
elktelezettjei. Tizenegy tjban kint stltunk az utcn, s egy amerikai hlgy
azt mondta: - Hogyan van ez, dr. Suzuki? Egsz ll este krdseket tettnk fel,
s semmi nem dlt el. - Dr. Suzuki elmosolyodott, s azt mondta: - Ezt szeretem
a filozfiban: senki nem nyer.

A zen tanulmnyozsa
eltt az emberek emberek, a hegyek pedig hegyek. A zen tanulmnyozsa kzben a
dolgok sszezavarodnak. A zen tanulmnyozsa utn az emberek emberek, a hegyek
pedig hegyek. Miutn ezt elmondta, dr. Suzukinak feltettk a krdst: - Mi a
klnbsg az eltte s az utna kztt? - Nincs semmi klnbsg, csak a lbak
kiss elemelkednek a fldtl.

Suzuki egyik knyve egy
japn szerzetes klti szvegvel vgzdik, amely lerja a maga
megvilgosodsnak bekvetkeztt. Az utols vers azt mondja: - Most, hogy
megvilgosultam, ugyanolyan szerencstlen vagyok, mint brmikor
eltte.

Az utbbi vekben
Daisetz Teitaro Suzuki nagyon sokat adott el a Columbia Egyetemen. Elszr a
Vallsi Tanszken volt, aztn valahol msutt. Vgl a Filozfiai Intzet hetedik
emeletn telepedett le. Az ablakai kt irnyban nyltak, kzpen volt egy nagy
asztal hamutartkkal. Szkek lltak az asztal krl s a falaknl. Ezeket mindig
elfoglaltk a figyel hallgatk, s pran rendszerint az ajt kzelben is
lltak. Az a kt-hrom ember, aki felvett trgyknt hallgatta az rt, az asztal
krli szkeken lt. Az ra ngytl htig tartott. Ebben a napszakban a
legtbben szunykltak nha egy kicsit. Suzuki soha nem beszlt hangosan. Ha az
idjrs megengedte, az ablakok nyitva voltak, s a <st1:PersonName
ProductID="La Guardia" w:st="on">La Guardia</st1:PersonName> repltrrl
felszll gpek idnknt kzvetlenl a fejnk fltt szlltak el, zajukkal
elnyomva mindent, amit mondand volt. Soha nem ismtelte meg, amit a replgp
elhaladsa kzben mondott. Hrom eladsra klnsen emlkszem. Mikzben
Pgina 5
dtsuzuki1.txt
tartotta ket, ha megfeszltem, sem voltam kpes felfogni, mit mond. Taln egy
httel ksbb, mikzben az erdben stltam, s gombt kerestem, gylt fny az
agyamban. 

Volt egy hlgy Suzuki
osztlyban, aki egyszer azt mondta: - Szmomra nagy nehzsget jelent Eckhart
mester prdikciit olvasni a kpletes keresztny beszd miatt. Dr. Suzuki azt
mondta: - Ez a nehzsg el fog tnni. 

 
 
<a
name=lectures id="lectures"></a> Lectures on Zen Buddhism
 
by D. T.
Suzuki 
In:
Zen Buddhism and Psychoanalysis, Erich Fromm, D. T. Suzuki, and De

Martino
 
George Allen & Unwin, London, 1960,
pp. 1-10 [out of 76].
 
<a
href="http://letthechildrencometome.blogspot.hu/2007/06/lectures-on-zen-buddhism
-by-d.html"
target="_blank">http://letthechildrencometome.blogspot.hu/2007/06/lectures-on-ze
n-buddhism-by-d.html</a>
<blockquote>
<blockquote>
 I. EAST AND WEST 
1 
Many able thinkers of the West, each from his specific point of view, have
dealt with this timeworn topic, "East and West," but so far as I know there have
been comparatively few Far Eastern writers who have expressed their views as
Easterners. This fact has led me to choose this subject as a kind of preliminary
to what will follow. 
Basho (1644-94), a great Japanese poet of the seventeenth 
century, once composed a seventeen-syllable poem known as 
haiku or hokku. It runs, when translated into English, 
something like this: 
 
When I look carefully 
Pgina 6
dtsuzuki1.txt
I see the nazuna blooming 
by the hedge! 
 
Yoku mireba 
Nazuna hana saku 
Kakine kana. 
 
It is likely that Basho was walking along a country road when he noticed
something rather neglected by the hedge. He then approached closer, took a good
look at it, and found it was no less than a wild plant, rather insignificant and
generally unnoticed by passers-by. This is a plain fact described in the 
 
2 
poem with no specifically poetic feeling expressed anywhere except perhaps
in the last two syllables, which read in Japanese kana. This particle,
frequently attached to a noun or an adjective or an adverb, signifies a certain
feeling of admiration or praise or sorrow or joy, and can sometimes quite
appropriately be rendered into English by an exclamation mark. In the present
haiku the whole verse ends with this mark. 
The feeling running through the seventeen, or rather fifteen, syllables
with an exclamation mark at the end may not be communicable to those who are not
acquainted with the Japanese language. I will try to explain it as best I can.
The poet himself might not agree with my interpretation, but this does not
matter very much if only we know that there is somebody at least who understands
it in the way I do. 
 
First of all, Basho was a nature poet, as most of the Oriental poets are.
They love 
nature so much that they feel one with nature, they feel every pulse
beating through the veins of nature. Most Westerners are apt to alienate
themselves from nature. They think man and nature have nothing in common except
in some desirable aspects, and that nature exists only to be utilized by man.
But to Eastern people nature is very close. This feeling for nature was stirred
when Basho discovered an inconspicuous, almost negligible plant blooming by the
old dilapidated hedge along the remote country road, so innocently, so
unpretentiously, not at all desiring to be noticed by anybody. Yet when one
looks at it, how tender, how full of divine glory or splendor more glorious than
Solomon's it is! Its very humbleness, its unostentatious beauty, evokes one's
sincere admiration. The poet can read in every petal the deepest mystery of life
or being. Basho might not have been conscious of it himself, but I am sure that
in his heart at the time there were vibrations of feeling somewhat akin to what
Christians may call divine love, which reaches the deepest depths of cosmic
life. 
The ranges of the Himalayas may stir in us the feeling of sublime awe; the
waves of the Pacific may suggest something of infinity. But when one's mind is
poetically or mystically or religiously opened, one feels as Basho did that even
in every blade of wild grass there is something really transcending all venal,
base human feelings, which lifts one to a realm equal in 
 
3 
its splendor to that of the Pure Land. Magnitude in such cases has nothing
Pgina 7
dtsuzuki1.txt
to do with it. In this respect, the Japanese poet has a specific gift that
detects something great in small things, transcending all quantitative
measurements. 
This is the East. Let me see now what the 'Nest has to offer in a similar
situation. I select Tennyson. He may not be a typical Western poet to be singled
out for comparison with the Far Eastern poet. But his short poem here quoted has
something very closely related to Basho's. The verse is as follows: 
 
Flower in the crannied wall, 
I pluck you out of the crannies;- 
Hold you here, root and all, in my hand, 
Little flower-but if I could understand 
What you are, root and all, and all in all, 
I should know what God and man is. 
 
There are two points I like to notice in these lines: 
 
(1) Tennyson's plucking the flower and holding it in his hand, "root and
all," and looking at it, perhaps intently. It is very likely he had a feeling
somewhat akin to that of Basho who discovered a nazuna flower by the roadside
hedge. But the difference between the two poets is: Basho does not pluck the
flower. He just looks at it. He is absorbed in thought. He feels something in
his mind, but he does not express it. He lets an exclamation mark say everything
he wishes to say. For he has no words to utter; his feeling is too full, too
deep, and he has no desire to conceptualize it. 
As to Tennyson, he is active and analytical. He first plucks the flower
from the place where it grows. He separates it from the ground where it belongs.
Quite differently from the Oriental poet, he does not leave the flower alone. He
must tear it away from the crannied wall, "root and all," which means that the
plant must die. He does not, apparently, care for its destiny; his curiosity
must be satisfied. As some medical scientists do, he would vivisect the flower.
Basho does not even touch the nazuna he just looks at it, he "carefully" looks
at it-that is all he does. He is altogether inactive, a good contrast to
Tennyson's dynamism. 
I would like to notice this point specifically here, and may 
 
4 
have occasion to refer to it again. The East is silent, while the West is
eloquent. But the silence of the East does not mean just to be dumb and remain
wordless or speechless. Silence in many cases is as eloquent as being wordy. The
West likes verbalism. Not only that, the West transforms the word into the flesh
and makes this fleshiness come out sometimes too conspicuously, or rather too
grossly and voluptuously, in its arts and religion. 
(2) What does Tennyson do next? Looking at the plucked flower, which is in
all likelihood beginning to wither, he proposes the question within himself, "Do
I understand you?" Basho is not inquisitive at all. He feels all the mystery as
revealed in his humble nazuna-the mystery that goes deep into the source of all
existence. He is intoxicated with this feeling and exclaims in an unutterable,
inaudible cry. 
Contrary to this, Tennyson goes on with his intellection: 
"If [which I italicize] I could understand you, I should know what God and man
Pgina 8
dtsuzuki1.txt
is." His appeal to the understanding is characteristically \Western. Basho
accepts, Tennyson resists. Tennyson's individuality stands away from the flower,
from "God and man." He does not identify himself with either God or nature. He
is always apart from them. His understanding is what people nowadays call
"scientifically objective." Basho is thoroughly "subjective." (This is not a
good word, for subject always is made to stand against object. My "subject" is
what I like to call "absolute subjectivity.") Basho stands by this "absolute
subjectivity" in which Basho sees the nazuna and the nazuna sees Basho. Here is
,no empathy, or sympathy, or identification for that matter. 
Basho says: "look carefully" (in Japanese "yoku mireba"). 
The word "carefully" implies that Basho is no more an onlooker here but the
flower has become conscious of itself and silently, eloquently expressive of
itself. And this silent eloquence or eloquent silence on the part of the flower
is humanly echoed in Basho's seventeen syllables. Whatever depth of feeling,
whatever mystery of utterance, or even philosophy of "absolute subjectivity"
there is, is intelligible only to those who have actually experienced all this.
 
In Tennyson, as far as I can see, there is in the first place no depth of
feeling; he is all intellect, typical of Western mentality. 
 
5 
He is an advocate of the Logos doctrine. He must say something, he must
abstract or intellectualize on his concrete experience. He must come out of the
domain of feeling into that of intellect and must subject living and feeling to
a series of analyses to give satisfaction to the Western spirit of
inquisitiveness. 
I have selected these two poets, Basho and Tennyson, as indicative of two
basic characteristic approaches to reality. Basho is of the East and Tennyson of
the West. As we compare them we find that each bespeaks his traditional
background. According to this, the Western mind is: analytical, discriminative,
differential, inductive, individualistic, intellectual, objective, scientific,
generalizing, conceptual, schematic, impersonal, legalistic, organizing,
power-wielding, self-assertive, disposed to impose its will upon others, etc.
Against these Western traits those of the East can be characterized as follows:
synthetic, totalizing, integrative, nondiscriminative, deductive, nonsystematic,
dogmatic, intuitive, (rather, affective), nondiscursive, subjective, spiritually
individualistic and socially groupminded,1 etc. 
When these characteristics of West and East are personally symbolized, I
have to go to Lao-tse (fourth century B.C.), a great thinker in ancient China. I
make him represent the East, and what he calls the multitudes may stand for the
West. When I say "the multitudes" there is no intention on my part to assign the
West in any derogatory sense to the role of Lao-tsean multitudes as described by
the old philosopher. 
Lao-tse portrays himself as resembling an idiot. He looks as if he does
not know anything, is not affected by anything. He is practically of no use in
this utilitarianistic world. He is almost expressionless. Yet there is something
in him which makes him not quite like a specimen of an ignorant simpleton. He
only outwardly resembles one. 
The West, in contrast to this, has a pair of sharp, penetrating eyes,
deep-set in the sockets, which survey the outside world 
<blockquote>
Pgina 9
dtsuzuki1.txt
1 Christians regard the church as the medium of
salvation because it is the church that symbolizes Christ who is the savior.
Christians are related to God not individually but through Christ, and Christ is
the church and the church is the place where they gather to worship God and pray
to him through Christ for salvation. In this respect Christians are group-minded
while socially they espouse individualism. 
</blockquote>
6 
as do those of an eagle soaring high in the sky. (In fact, the eagle is
the national symbol of a certain Western power.) And then his high nose, his
thin lips, and his general facial contour -all suggest a highly developed
intellectuality and a readiness to act. This readiness is comparable to that of
the lion. Indeed, the lion and the eagle are the symbols of the West. 
Chuang-tze of the third century B.C. has the story of konton (hun-tun)}
Chaos. His friends owed many of their achievements to Chaos and wished to repay
him. They consulted together and came to a conclusion. They observed that Chaos
had no sense organs by which to discriminate the outside world. One day they
gave him the eyes, another day the nose, and in a week they accomplished the
work of transforming him into a sensitive personality like themselves. While
they were congratulating themselves on their success, Chaos died. 
The East is Chaos and the West is the group of those grateful,
well-meaning, but undiscriminating friends. 
In many ways the East no doubt appears dumb and stupid, as Eastern people
are not so discriminative and demonstrative and do not show so many visible,
tangible marks of intelligence. They are chaotic and apparently indifferent. But
they know that without this chaotic character of intelligence, their native
intelligence itself may not be of much use in living together in the human way.
The fragmentary individual members cannot work harmoniously and peacefully
together unless they are referred to the infinite itself, which in all actuality
underlies every one of the finite members. Intelligence belongs to the head and
its work is more noticeable and would accomplish much, whereas Chaos remains
silent and quiet behind all the superficial turbulence. Its real significance
never comes out to become recognizable by the participants. 
The scientifically minded West applies its intelligence to inventing all
kinds of gadgets to elevate the standard of living and save itself from what it
thinks to be unnecessary labor or drudgery. It thus tries hard to "develop" the
natural resources it has access to. The East, on the other hand, does not mind
engaging itself in menial and manual work of all kinds, it is apparently
satisfied with the "undeveloped" state of civilization. It does not like to be
machine-minded, to turn itself into a slave to the machine. This love of work is
perhaps character- 
 
7 
istic of the East. The story of a farmer as told by Chuang-tze is highly
significant and suggestive in many senses, though the incident is supposed to
have taken place more than two thousand years ago in China. 
Chuang-tze was one of the greatest philosophers in ancient China. He ought
to be studied more than he is at present. The Chinese people are not so
speculative as the Indian, and are apt to neglect their own thinkers. While
Chuang-tze is very well known as the greatest stylist among Chinese literary
men, his thoughts are not appreciated as they deserve. He was a fine collector
Pgina 10
dtsuzuki1.txt
or recorder of stories that were perhaps prevalent in his day. It is, however,
likely that he also invented many tales to illustrate his views of life. Here is
a story, which splendidly illustrates Chuang-tze's philosophy of work, of a
farmer who refused to use the shadoof to raise water from his well. 
 
"A farmer dug a well and was using the water for irrigating his farm. He used an
ordinary bucket to draw water from the well, as most primitive people do. A
passer-by, seeing this, asked the farmer why he did not use a shadoof for the
purpose; it is a labor-saving device and can do more work than the primitive
method. The farmer said, "I know it is labor-saving and it is for this very
reason that I do not use the device. What I am afraid of is that the use of such
a contrivance makes one machine-minded. Machine mindedness leads one to the
habit of indolence and laziness." 
 
Western people often wonder why the Chinese people have not developed many
more sciences and mechanical contrivances. This is strange, they say, when the
Chinese are noted for their discoveries and inventions such as the magnet,
gunpowder, the wheel, paper, and other things. The principal reason is that the
Chinese and other Asiatic peoples love life as it is lived and do not wish to
turn it into a means of accomplishing something else, which would divert the
course of living to quite a different channel. They like work for its own sake,
though, objectively speaking, work means to accomplish something. But while
working they enjoy the work and are not in a hurry to finish it. Mechanical
devices are far more efficient and accomplish more. But the machine is
impersonal and noncreative and has no meaning. 
 
8 
Mechanization means intellection, and as the intellect is primarily
utilitarian there is no spiritual estheticism or ethical spirituality in the
machine. The reason that induced Chuangtze's farmer not to be machine-minded
lies here. The machine hurries one to finish the work and reach the objective
for which it is made. The work or labor in itself has no value except as the
means. That is to say, life here loses its creativity and turns into an
instrument, man is now a goods-producing mechanism. Philosophers talk about the
significance of the person; as we see now in our highly industrialized and
mechanized age the machine is everything and man is almost entirely reduced to
thralldom. This is, I think, what Chuang-tze was afraid of. Of course, we cannot
turn the wheel of industrialism back to the primitive handicraft age. But it is
well for us to be mindful of the significance of the hands and also of the evils
attendant on the mechanization of modern life, which emphasizes the intellect
too much at the expense of life as a whole. 
So much for the East. Now a few words about the West. 
Denis de Rougemont in his Man's Western Quest mentions "the person and the
machine" as characterizing the two prominent features of Western culture. This
is significant, because the person and the machine are contradictory concepts
and the West struggles hard to achieve their reconciliation. I do not know
whether Westerners are doing it consciously or unconsciously. I will just refer
to the way in which these two heterogeneous ideas are working on the Western
mind at present. It is to be remarked that the machine contrasts with
Chuang-tze's philosophy of work or labor, and the Western ideas of individual
freedom and personal responsibility run counter to the Eastern ideas of absolute
Pgina 11
dtsuzuki1.txt
freedom. I will not go into details. I will only try to summarize the
contradictions the West is now facing and suffering under: 
(1) The person and the machine involve a contradiction, and because of
this contradiction the West is going through great psychological tension, which
is manifested in various directions in its modern life. 
(2) The person implies individuality, personal responsibility, while the
machine is the product of intellection, abstraction, generalization,
totalization, group living. 
(3) Objectively or intellectually or speaking in the machine- 
 
9 
minded way, personal responsibility has no sense. Responsibility is
logically related to freedom, and in logic there is no freedom, for everything
is controlled by rigid rules of syllogism. 
(4) Furthermore, man as a biological product is governed by biological
laws. Heredity is fact and no personality can change it. I am born not of my own
free will. Parents give birth to me not of their free will. Planned birth has no
sense as a matter of fact. 
(5) Freedom is another nonsensical idea. I am living socially, in a group,
which limits me in all my movements, mental as well as physical. Even when I am
alone I am not at all free. I have all kinds of impulses which are not always
under my control. Some impulses carry me away in spite of myself. As long as we
are living in this limited world, we can never talk about being free or doing as
we desire. Even this desire is something which is not our own. 
(6) The person may talk about freedom, yet the machine limits him in every
way, for the talk does not go any further than itself. The Western man is from
the beginning constrained, restrained, inhibited. His spontaneity is not at all
his, but that of the machine. The machine has no creativity; it operates only so
far or so much as something that is put into it makes possible. It never acts as
"the person." 
(7) The person is free only when he is not a person. He is free when he
denies himself and is absorbed in the whole. To be more exact, he is free when
he is himself and yet not himself. Unless one thoroughly understands this
apparent contradiction, he is not qualified to talk about freedom or
responsibility or spontaneity. For instance, the spontaneity Westerners,
especially some analysts, speak about is no more and no less than childish or
animal spontaneity, and not the spontaneity of the fully mature person. 
(8) The machine, behaviorism, the conditioned reflex, Communism,
artificial insemination, automation generally, vivisection, the H-bomb-they are,
each and all, most intimately related, and form close-welded solid links of a
logical chain. 
(9) The West strives to square a circle. The East tries to equate a circle
to the square. To Zen the circle is a circle, and the square is a square, and at
the same time the square is a circle and the circle a square. 
 
10 
(10)Freedom is a subjective term and cannot be interpreted objectively.
When we try, we are surely involved inextricably in contradictions. Therefore, I
say that to talk about freedom in this objective world of limitations all around
us is nonsense. 
(11) In the West, "yes" is "yes" and "no" is "no"; "yes" can never be "no"
Pgina 12
dtsuzuki1.txt
or vice versa. The East makes "yes" slide over to "no" and "no" to "yes"; there
is no hard and fast division between "yes" and "no." It is in the nature of life
that it is so. It is only in logic that the division is ineradicable. Logic is
human-made to assist in utilitarianistic activities. 
(12) When the West comes to realize this fact, it invents such concepts
known in physics as complementarity or the principle of uncertainty when it
cannot explain away certain physical phenomena. However well it may succeed in
creating concept after concept, it cannot circumvent facts of existence. 
(13) Religion does not concern us here, but it may not be without interest
to state the following: Christianity, which is the religion of the West, talks
of Logos, Word, the flesh, and incarnation, and of tempestuous temporality. The
religions of the East strive for excarnation, silence, absorption, eternal
peace. To Zen incarnation is excarnation; silence roars like thunder; the Word
is no-Word, the flesh is no-flesh; here-now equals emptiness (silnyatii) and
infinity. 
 
 
II. THE UNCONSCIOUS IN ZEN BUDDHISM 
 
What I mean by "the unconscious" and what psychoanalysts mean by it may be
different, and I have to explain my position. First, how do I approach the
question of the unconscious? If such a term could be used, I would say that my
"unconscious" is "metascientific" or "antescientific." You are all scientists
and I am a Zen-man and my approach is "antescientific" -or even "antiscientific"
sometimes, I am afraid. "Antescientific" may not be an appropriate term, but it
seems to express what I wish it to mean. "Metascientific" may not be bad,
either, for the Zen position develops after science or intellectualization has
occupied for some time the whole field of human study; and Zen demands that
before we give ourselves up unconditionally to the scientific sway over the
whole field of human [...] 
</blockquote>
</blockquote>
 
 
 
<a
name=jackson id="jackson"></a> 
<img
src="https://terebess.hu/zen/mesterek/dtsuzuki4.jpg" width=215 height=300
border=0 id="_x0000_i1051">
D. T. Suzuki, Suzuki Zen, and the
American Reception of Zen Buddhism 
by Carl T. Jackson 
In: American Buddhism as a Way of Life, State University of New York
Press, Albany, 2010, pp- 39-56.
<blockquote>
 
Perhaps no single individual has had greater infl uence on the
introduction 
of an Asian religious tradition in America than Daisetz Teitaro 
Pgina 13
dtsuzuki1.txt
Suzuki, the Japanese Buddhist scholar whose very long life spanned 
the period from the early years of Japans Meiji Restoration through 
the American counterculture of the 1960s. Almost single-handedly, he 
made Zen Buddhism, previously unknown to Americans, a focus of 
interest. For prominent intellectuals, religionists, and creative artists
as 
diverse as Alan Watts, Erich Fromm, Thomas Merton, and John Cage, 
as well as numerous American Zen enthusiasts, the Japanese scholar 
was accepted as the fi nal authority on the Zen experience. Hailed in 
1956 by historian Lynn White as a seminal intellectual fi gure whose 
impact on future generations in the West would be remembered as 
a watershed event, Suzuki has more recently come under sharp criticisms. 
Scholars such as Bernard Faure and Robert Sharf charge that 
in his desire to reach a Western audience, the Japanese writer greatly 
altered Zens teachings, creating a Westernized Suzuki Zen that has 
misrepresented the traditional Zen message.1 In the present essay an 
attempt will be made to evaluate Suzukis career, presentation of Zen 
to Americans, and the arguments of his critics. Special attention will 
be focused upon the formative years he spent in America between 
l897 and 1908, which, I suggest, exercised a decisive infl uence on his 
success as a transmitter of Zen to the West. 
 
Born in 1870, only three years after the Meiji Restoration 
committed Japan to modernization, Teitaro Suzuki grew up in an 
impoverished samurai family in Kanazawa on the western coast of 
Japan. Suzukis father died when the boy was only six, leaving his 
widow and fi ve children in dire economic circumstances. Despite 
mounting diffi culties, young Suzuki continued his education until he 
was seventeen, when the familys fi nancial problems forced him to 
drop out of school. Fortunately, his studies had given him suffi cient 
acquaintance with English that he was able to fi nd employment as 
an English teacher, a crucial linguistic acquisition in view of his 
subsequent career as an interpreter of Zen to the West. However, 
his mastery of the language must have remained very limited: He 
recalled many years later that the English he had taught as a young 
man was very strangeso strange that later when I fi rst went 
to America nobody understood anything I said.2 Thanks to the 
fi nancial backing of a brother, he was able to continue his education 
at Waseda University and Tokyos Imperial University. In view of his 
later international reputation as a scholar, it seems surprising that he 
never completed his college studies; his only degree was an honorary 
doctorate bestowed upon him at the age of sixty-three by Kyotos 
Otani University. 
Suzukis fi rst exposure to Zen Buddhism began quite early, as 
his family observed Zen practices. Troubled by the early death of his 
father and the familys fi nancial problems, at one point he sought out 
the priest of a small Rinzai Zen temple in his home city of Kanazawa. 
Apparently the experience proved disappointing. Like many Zen 
priests in country temples in those days, Suzuki would later recall, 
he did not know very much.3 Soon after his move to Tokyo to continue 
his studies at the Imperial University, he made the thirty-mile 
Pgina 14
dtsuzuki1.txt
trip to Kamakura, where he became a follower of Kosen Imagita, the 
abbot of the important Rinzai Zen temple Engakuji; and, following 
Kosens death, became a disciple of Kosens replacement, Shaku Soen 
(also known in the West as Soyen Shaku and Shaku Soyen), who 
would become a major infl uence on Suzukis life.4 During the later 
nineteenth century Buddhism was going through a very diffi cult time 
in Japan, assailed by sharp attacks on all sides while being forced to 
accept the Meiji governments expropriation of its income-producing 
properties as the nation moved toward modernization. Caught 
between Shintoists and nationalists on one side and Western-oriented 
reformers on the other, Buddhist leaders responded by attempting 
to redefi ne the Buddhas message as a new Buddhism, emphasizing 
a more universal, more scientifi c approach.5 Soen played a leadAmerican 
ing role in the creation of this new Buddhism, participating in an 
1890 conference of Buddhist leaders in Japan that sought to unify 
the traditions different groups, which culminated in the compilation 
of a document entitled The Essentials of Buddhist TeachingsAll 
Sects. As a disciple of Soen, Suzuki was clearly infl uenced by the 
more cosmopolitan, universal conception of Buddhism embraced by 
his teacher. 
Though his writings would come to be regarded by most Americans 
as the defi nitive statement of Zen Buddhism, it should be noted 
that Suzuki remained a Buddhist layman always, never completing 
the formal training necessary to become a Zen priest. He did pursue 
Zen enlightenment for several years under the guidance of Soen and 
claimed in his 1964 memoir that, just before his departure for America 
in 1897, he had fi nally achieved a breakthrough.6 At this time Soen 
gave his young disciple the name Daisetz, usually translated as Great 
Simplicity. (Suzuki would later inform Western admirers that, in 
fact, his name should be rendered as Great Stupidity.) 
Meanwhile, developments in faraway America were about to 
intrude, which would dramatically transform Suzukis life. The
precipitating 
event was the World Parliament of Religions, held in conjunction 
with the 1893 Chicago Worlds Fair, where representatives 
of the worlds major religions were invited to present their teachings. 
An unprecedented gathering, the Parliament attracted a number of 
Asian religious spokesmen, including the charismatic Swami Vivekananda, 
who spoke for Hinduism at the congress, and the Singhalese 
Anagarika Dharmapala, who championed Buddhism. Suzukis 
spiritual mentor, Soen Shaku, attended as a member of the Japanese 
Buddhist delegation, and his paper The Law of Cause and Effect, 
as Taught by Buddha was read to the assembled audience.7 During 
the Parliaments sessions Soen became acquainted with Paul Carus, 
the German American philosopher and editor of The Open Court, who 
had developed an interest in Buddhism. They became friends. When 
Carus subsequently prepared a compilation of the Buddhas major 
teachings, The Gospel of Buddhism, he sent a copy of the book to Soen 
in Japan, who instructed his disciple to prepare a Japanese translation. 
Carus then set out to translate the Tao Te Ching and asked 
Soen to suggest someone who could assist him with the translations. 
Pgina 15
dtsuzuki1.txt
In response, Soen recommended Suzuki. Soen revealed to the Open 
Court editor that his young protg had been so greatly inspired 
by Caruss works that he strongly desired to go abroad to study 
under Caruss personal guidance.8 As a result, in 1897 at the age 
of twenty-seven, Suzuki made the long journey to La Salle, Illinois, 
then a small mining town outside Chicago, where he would remain 
for the next eleven years. 
If Soen Shaku served as Suzukis spiritual guide, Paul Carus 
became his intellectual mentor, who in some ways infl uenced Suzukis 
future career and writings even more profoundly than his Japanese 
teacher. With a PhD from a German university, Carus had impressive 
credentials to introduce his Japanese assistant to the profundities of 
Western philosophy. In addition to his fairly extensive writings on 
Buddhism and Asian thought, Carus served as editor of The Open 
Court and The Monist, important philosophical journals at the turn of 
the century. As Caruss assistant, Suzuki performed a wide variety 
of tasks, though he devoted most of his time to assisting Carus with 
his Asian translations and carrying out editorial tasks connected 
with the publication of The Open Court and The Monist. As a result 
of these duties, his mastery of English rapidly improveda fl uency 
that would prove crucial in his future career as an interpreter of Zen 
to the West.9 
One of the two mens earliest collaborations was a translation of 
the Tao Te Ching. Suzuki laboriously translated word-for-word from 
Chinese into English, which Carus then put into his own words, after 
comparing his assistants version with available European translations. 
In 1906 they prepared translations of two other Daoist works, 
published as Tai-Shang Kan-Ying Pien and Yin Chin Wen, and then 
undertook a translation of the Analects of Confucius. During these 
years in La Salle Suzuki also translated a number of Caruss other 
writings into Japanese, including a pamphlet on Chinese philosophy 
and several Buddhist short stories.10 Happily, Suzuki found time for 
his own research and writing as well. Over his eleven years as Caruss 
assistant, the young Japanese published his fi rst scholarly reviews 
and articles in English, including brief pieces on Confucius and
Buddhism 
in The Open Court and more extended essays on Asvaghosa, the 
fi rst Buddhist Council, and early Chinese philosophy in The Monist.11 
Finally, during these crucial formative years Suzuki also published 
his fi rst two scholarly books in English, a translation of Asvaghosas 
Discourse on the Awakening of Faith in the Mahayana (1900) and his 
pioneering Outlines of Mahayana Buddhism (1907). 
Suzukis extended sojourn in America was critical in shaping 
his future career as a Zen transmitter to the West in several ways. 
First and perhaps most important, it gave him the necessary skillsa 
familiarity with Western philosophic conceptions, command of English, 
and editorial experienceneeded to reach Western readers. His 
publication of some thirty books in English, which sold widely among 
Western readers, emphasize how well he learned from the American 
apprenticeship. Second, the eleven years under Caruss tutelage 
greatly furthered his education as a future scholar. With the rise of 
Pgina 16
dtsuzuki1.txt
research universities in the later nineteenth century, aspiring scholars 
were forced to spend years in graduate school honing their research 
and writing skills. Suzuki, who stopped short of a bachelors degree, 
acquired the basic skills under Caruss direction at the offi ce of the 
Open Court Publishing Company. Trained in one of Germanys ranking 
universities and holding a doctorate in philosophy, Carus was 
superbly equipped to initiate the young Japanese into the complexities 
of Western scholarship and philosophical analysis. 
The evidence of Caruss infl uence on Suzuki may be detected 
in the close similarities between the two mens approach to scholarship. 
Like Carus, Suzuki combined scholarship and advocacy, with 
both men going well beyond disinterested analysis in their promotion 
of personal philosophic and religious positions. Suzukis emphasis 
on Buddhisms compatibility with modern science closely paralleled 
Caruss insistence on the compatibility of science and religion. And it 
is surely no coincidence that when Suzuki subsequently founded the 
Eastern Buddhist as a vehicle for the promotion of Buddhist scholarship, 
its format and contents mirrored that of The Open Court and The 
Monist. Like Caruss journals, the Eastern Buddhist offered its readers 
popular as well as scholarly articles and emphasized both English 
translations and philosophical expositions of Asian religious works.12 
Without the extended apprenticeship under Carus, Suzuki might still 
have made his mark as a Buddhist scholar; but it seems unlikely that 
he would have become one of the twentieth centurys most infl uential 
proponents of Asian thought. 
Suzuki left America to return to Japan in 1908 at the age of
thirtyeight, 
where he would remain for the next forty years with the exception 
of occasional trips abroad. During his return to Japan, he stopped 
off in Europe for several months to copy Buddhist manuscripts at 
the Bibliotheque Nationale and for two months at the Swedenborg 
Society in London, where he undertook a Japanese translation of the 
Swedish mystic Emanuel Swedenborgs Heaven and Hell. Though usually 
passed over, Swedenborgianism obviously exerted considerable 
attraction for Suzuki at this time, another indication perhaps of the 
impact of his years with Carus. He seems to have become aware 
of Swedenborg while assisting Carus through contact with Albert 
Edmunds, a Swedenborgian and Buddhist scholar who frequently 
contributed to The Open Court and The Monist. As is well known, 
the Swedish philosophers thought was an important infl uence on 
a number of nineteenth-century American thinkers, including Ralph 
Waldo Emerson and the elder Henry James, father of psychologist 
William James. At the Swedenborg Societys invitation, Suzuki 
returned to England a second time in 1912 to translate three other 
Swedenborgian works into JapaneseThe Divine Love and the Divine 
Wisdom, The New Jerusalem, and The Divine Providenceand he subsequently 
published an introduction to the Swedish mystics thought, 
Swedenborugu, for Japanese readers. Perhaps because he subsequently 
realized that many of his American and European readers would be 
uneasy about Swedenborgianism, Suzuki almost never mentioned the 
Swedish philosopher again in later years.13 
Pgina 17
dtsuzuki1.txt
Suzukis life and career may be usefully divided into three periods: 
the years from 1870 to 1908, the time of preparation and his 
American apprenticeship; the period from 1909 to 1949, which he 
spent largely in Japan teaching and engaged in scholarship; and the 
fi nal years from 1950 to 1966, when he resumed contact with the 
West and achieved international fame. After his return to Japan in 
1909, Suzuki fi lled a series of teaching positions before accepting a 
1921 appointment as professor of Buddhist philosophy at Otani
University, 
where he would spend much of the remainder of his life. He 
never allowed his teaching duties to divert him from scholarship, and 
indeed, in the decades after his return to his homeland, published 
volume after volume on Buddhism, Zen, and traditional Japanese 
culture. With his wife Beatrice Erskine Lane, he also founded and 
co-edited The Eastern Buddhist in 1921. The landmark volumes that 
would establish his reputation and fame in the West now appeared 
in rapid succession: the fi rst volume of his Essays in Zen Buddhism 
(1927), his Studies in the Lankavatara Sutra (1930), and the second and 
third volumes of the Essays in Zen Buddhism (1933 and 1934), followed 
by The Training of the Zen Buddhist Monk (1934), An Introduction to Zen 
Buddhism (1934), the Manual of Zen Buddhism (1935), and Zen Buddhism 
and Its Infl uence on Japanese Culture (1938). Composed in English, 
these volumes once again demonstrated his acquired fl uency in the 
language. The works became bibles to eager American Zen students 
after World War II.14 
During the interwar years Suzuki for the most part lived the 
quiet life of a scholar. Thanks to his books and rising international 
reputation, he played host to a steady stream of Western visitors
interested 
in Buddhism, including Charles Eliot, James Bissett Pratt, L. 
Adams Beck, Dwight Goddard, Kenneth Saunders, and Ruth Fuller. 
In 1936 he returned to the West for the fi rst time in over two decades 
to participate in a World Congress of Faiths organized by Sir Francis 
Younghusband in London. During this visit, Suzuki met and entered 
into a lifelong friendship with Christmas Humphreys, who became 
one of the Wests most active promoters of Buddhism.15 While abroad 
the Japanese scholar lectured at universities in Great Britain and the 
United States before returning home to Japan in 1937, as the dark 
clouds of World War II were rising. Though his books were attracting 
increasing attention in the West, the numbing events of World War II 
would delay Suzukis wider Western impact until after 1945. 
The coming of World War II and the ascendancy of militarism 
in Japan placed Suzuki in a precarious position. The fact that he 
had spent over a decade in the United States, married an American 
woman, and published extensively in a Western language, undoubtedly 
raised the suspicions of Japans militarists. At a time of extreme 
nationalist feeling when all things Western were frowned upon, it 
is not surprising that his publications in English largely ceased after 
1938, to be replaced by a fl ood of Japanese publications. Led by Brian 
Victoria, some recent scholars have raised disturbing questions 
concerning the degree to which Suzuki, as well as members of the 
Pgina 18
dtsuzuki1.txt
so-called Kyoto School led by Suzukis close friend and philosopher 
Nishida Kitar, supported the Japanese war effort during World War 
II. Critics note that Suzukis spiritual mentor Soen Shaku had hailed 
Japanese victories in the Sino-Japanese and Russo-Japanese wars; that, 
beginning in 1935, Suzukis writings increasingly emphasized
nihonjinron, 
the innate spirituality and distinctiveness of Japanese culture; 
and that during the war years and after Suzuki never denounced 
Japans attacks on its neighbors. Meanwhile, in such writings as Zen 
Buddhism and Its Infl uence on Japanese Culture, published in 1938, he 
emphasized the close connection between Zen and the warrior ethic 
of Bushido, which critics have pointed to as the basis for war Zen 
or soldier Zen. Suzuki wrote: The soldierly quality, with its
mysticism 
and aloofness from world affairs, appeals to the will-power. Zen 
in this respect walks hand in hand with the spirit of Bushido.16 
While critics such as Victoria have clearly raised important 
questions about Suzukis position, defenders have stepped forward 
to counter the charges. Drawing upon materials not included in the 
Japanese scholars Complete Works, Kirita Kiyohide argues that Suzuki 
never accepted the concept of an absolute state and early in his career 
questioned the role of the imperial family in magazine articles and 
personal correspondence. According to Kirita, Suzuki clearly disapproved 
of the recklessness and parochialism of the militarists and 
always remained isolated from Japanese politics, with no connection 
to the militarists. Moreover, in the years after the war he had urged 
his Japanese compatriots to reject state Shintoism and worship of the 
state. Revisiting the issue in 2001 with a focus on the ethical
implications 
of the Buddhist response to the war, Christopher Ives argues that 
the critics have not and cannot demonstrate a real linkage between 
writings emphasizing what he calls the Zen-bushido connection and 
the actions of Japanese soldiers and kamikaze pilots in the actual war 
zone. Ives concludes that the fl owering of Japanese militarism before 
and during the war years had complex, multiple roots.17 
What conclusion may be drawn? At the very least it seems clear 
that Suzuki chose to go along with, or at least not to resist, his
nations 
war efforts. This hardly seems surprising for the time: Most
intellectuals 
in Western as well as Asian societieswith some notable exceptions 
supported the war aims of their respective governments. The 
tendency to link his views to those of the Kyoto School philosophers 
seems overextended; though a close friend of Nishidas, he cannot be 
held responsible for his friends or the other members of the Kyoto 
Schools views. And the fact that he emphasized the Zen-Bushido 
connection in some passages of his scholarly writings hardly qualifi es 
him as a fl ag-waving militarist or a major contributor to the Japanese 
war effort. At most, his scholarly writings would have provided very 
limited encouragement to the Japanese military, who would rarely 
have read his works. In retrospect, one might wish that Suzuki had 
Pgina 19
dtsuzuki1.txt
resisted the militarists; instead, he chose to wait out the war,
retreating 
to his study to concentrate upon scholarship and writing. 
It could be argued that Suzukis return to the United States in 
1951 as a lecturer on Buddhist philosophy at Columbia University 
ignited the American Zen boom of the 1950s and 1960s. Amazingly, 
the venerable Japanese author was already eighty-one when he 
began his lectures at Columbia. Stimulated by the Beat movements 
celebration of Zenled by Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and Gary 
Snyderyoung people across the country began to turn to Zen Buddhism 
and to Suzukis books as never before. Overnight, the Japanese 
octogenarian found himself a celebrity who was constantly sought 
out by curiosity-seekers as well as by prominent writers, theologians, 
and psychologists. Born fi ve years after the close of the American 
Civil War, astonishingly, Suzuki became something of a spiritual hero 
to many young people in the 1950s and 1960s. Winthrop Sargeants 
admiring profi le in The New Yorker in 1957 suggests Suzukis iconic 
status. Describing the unique impression made by the Japanese 
scholar, who regularly lectured on Friday afternoons at Columbia, 
Sargeant wrote: 
Despite his great antiquityhe is eighty-sevenhe has the 
slim, restless fi gure of a man a quarter of his age. He is 
clean-shaven, his hair is closely clipped, and he is almost 
invariably dressed in the neat American sports jacket and 
slacks that might be worn by any Columbia undergraduate. 
The only thing about him that suggests philosophical 
grandeur is a pair of ferocious eyebrows, which project 
from his forehead like the eyebrows of the angry demons 
who guard the entrances of Buddhist temples in Japan.18 
Over the following years Suzuki attracted a distinguished audience 
to his Columbia lectures, where he continued to teach until 1957. 
At one time or another his listeners included neo-Freudian psychologists 
Erich Fromm and Karen Horney, modernist composer John 
Cage, and philosopher Huston Smith, among others. Philip Kapleau, 
who subsequently underwent Zen training at a temple in Japan and 
became one of Americas best-known, native-born teachers of Zen, 
also attended. While Suzukis lectures charmed those able to attend 
his classes, most enthusiasts had to rely on his books for acquaintance 
with Zen. Opportunely, the 1950s paperback revolution occurred at 
just the right time, making his books available to a popular audience 
at very low cost. Though he also wrote extensively on Mahayana 
and Shin Buddhism, the works that captured the American publics 
imagination were unquestionably the books on Zen. Serious students 
perused the three-volume Essays in Zen Buddhism, but most readers 
undoubtedly preferred his more popular expositions such as An 
Introduction to Zen Buddhism, a concise summary of barely one hundred 
pages. Other works that attracted a wide audience included his 
Manual of Zen Buddhism and Zen and Japanese Culture. Many readers 
(including the author) gained their fi rst exposure to Suzukis writings 
through such popular anthologies as William Barretts Zen Buddhism 
(1956) and Bernard Phillipss The Essentials of Zen (1962), which
Pgina 20
dtsuzuki1.txt
offered 
selections from the Japanese Zennists vast body of writings.19 
If Suzuki presented the essentials of Zen Buddhism with an 
authority and lucidity unmatched by any other scholar in his time, 
it is clear that he also brought his own special understanding and 
interpretation to the task, which later commentators began to refer 
to as Suzuki Zen. Several elements may be said to distinguish his 
presentation of Zen. First off, the emphasis throughout his writings 
refl ected his Rinzai Zen background and preferences. Reading Suzuki, 
one might never have realized that, historically, Zen in Japan included 
not only the Rinzai school but also Soto and Obaku Zen. Rinzais 
emphasis upon the role of riddles or koans and the sudden achievement 
of spiritual enlightenment or satori contrast sharply with Soto 
Zens emphasis upon prolonged sitting or zazen and the belief that 
illumination develops gradually. Thanks to Suzukis infl uence, Zen 
for most Americans was Rinzai Zen. The Rinzai emphasis on nonsensical 
answers and paradox obviously appealed to many Westerners 
in the post-World War II era who were also drawn to existentialism 
and Freudianism. (If the Rinzai tradition dominated American Zen in 
the 1950s and 1960s, in recent decades Soto Zen has achieved a growing 
American acceptance, led by such Japanese teachers as Shunryu 
Suzuki, founder of the San Francisco Zen Center, and Hakuyu Taizan 
Maezumi, who founded the Zen Center of Los Angeles.) 
Secondly, in his presentation of Zen, Suzuki emphasized inner 
experience rather than rituals, doctrines, or institutional practices. 
Writing in An Introduction to Zen Buddhism, Suzuki insisted that
Personal 
experience, therefore, is everything in Zen. No ideas are intelligible 
to those who have no backing of experience. In this respect, he 
distanced himself from the institutionalized practices of Zen temples 
in Japan. Ultimately, he viewed the inner Zen experience as universal, 
as the spirit or essence underpinning all religions. Zen professes 
itself to be the spirit of Buddhism, but in fact it is the spirit of all 
religions and philosophies, he wrote.20 When he did bother to notice 
Zens institutional form, he criticized its narrowness and sectarianism. 
By downplaying the rituals of institutional Zen while stressing Zens 
emphasis on experience and its universality, he obviously widened 
Zens appeal for Americans. 
Thirdly, as presented in Suzukis writings, Zen offered an activist 
viewpoint that called for engagement with the world, again an 
emphasis largely missing in the traditional Zen of Japan. He found 
the rationale for such an interpretation in the Zen monastery rule No 
work, no eating, noting that the daily life of a Zen monk required 
a continuous round of cleaning, cooking, and farming. At one point 
he even referred to the Zen ideal as a gospel of work.21 On another 
occasion he went so far as to describe the Zen approach as a radical 
empiricism, an interesting choice of words that linked the ancient 
Japanese tradition to the modern philosophical positions of American 
pragmatists William James and John Dewey. If the ultimate Zen 
goal remained individual realization, Suzuki Zen did not ignore the 
responsibility for social action. Writing in 1951, the Japanese scholar 
Pgina 21
dtsuzuki1.txt
suggested that Zen was as socially-minded as any other religion, 
though its spirit had been manifested differently. He proclaimed 
that the Zen monastery was not meant to be a hiding place from 
the worries of the world.22 
Finally, despite his insistence on Zens irrationality and nonlogical 
nature, Suzuki Zen presented the Zen experience as a coherent 
and all-embracing perspective on realityin effect, as a philosophy. I 
say this while recognizing that throughout his writings he again and 
again asserted that Zen Buddhism was neither a philosophy nor a 
religion and while acknowledging his repeated objections to all efforts 
to present the Zen experience as an intellectual system. However, 
even as he denounced philosophizing as a futile exercise, his books 
present a philosophic interpretation of Zen. (There is an obvious 
analogy to Freud: though the founder of psychoanalysis emphasized 
the role of the irrational throughout his writings, he was surely no 
irrationalist.) As a Zen Buddhist, Suzuki must have appreciated the 
paradox involved. In writing so many books attempting to explain 
Zen, he obviously violated one of Zens most fundamental assumptions; 
and, indeed, he sometimes described his numerous publications 
as my sins. Though steadfastly denying that he was a philosopher, 
his writings on Zen clearly offer a philosophic presentation of Zen.23 
Knowing his background, one should not be surprised by this philosophic 
bent. After all, his American mentor had been trained as a 
philosopher, while his close friend Nishida Kitar ranks as Japans 
greatest twentieth-century philosopher. Signifi cantly, many of Suzukis 
articles appeared in important philosophical journals such as The 
Open Court, The Monist, and Philosophy East and West. 
The fi nal years of Suzukis life from 1950 until his death in 1966 
were years of astonishing activity and widening international fame. In 
addition to his high-profi le lectures at Columbia University, he became 
a regular participant at the Eranos Conferences in Ascona, Switzerland, 
which brought together some of the worlds most eminent scholars, 
theologians, and psychologists. He also took part in the Third 
and Fourth East-West Philosophers Conferences held in Hawaii in 
1959 and 1964 and in a 1957 conference on Zen and psychoanalysis 
organized by Erich Fromm in Cuernavaca, Mexico. In his eighties, he 
continued to publish new works almost yearly, including his Studies 
in Zen (1955), Zen and Japanese Buddhism (1958), Mysticism: Christian 
and Buddhist (1957), and Zen Buddhism and Psychoanalysis (1960), the 
latter two revealing his desire to link Buddhist tradition and Western 
thought. Though perhaps a surprising choice for an elderly Japanese 
man in his eighties, during these later years New York City became 
his home away from home. Curiously for such a noisy and bustling 
center, one of the citys attractions was that it provided a quiet
refuge 
where he could do his work; in Japan he was constantly besieged by 
a stream of visitors. 
A full examination of Suzukis amazingly prolifi c career as a 
writer and scholar would require many more pages than are available 
here. However, three generalizations concerning his Zen writings 
and their role as a source of the modern Wests understanding of Zen 
Pgina 22
dtsuzuki1.txt
stand out. First, though almost automatically identifi ed with Zen, it
is 
striking that he did not really begin to focus on Zen Buddhism until 
the 1927 appearance of the fi rst volume of his Essays in Zen Buddhism, 
when he was already fi fty-seven years old. (He did publish a brief, 
unnoticed piece on Zen in the 19061907 volume of the Journal of the 
Pali Text Society.) In the West at least the tendency has been to ignore 
his extensive non-Zen writings. In fact, nearly all of his early
publications, 
including numerous contributions in The Open Court and The 
Monist and his fi rst scholarly book, Outlines of Mahayana Buddhism, 
focused upon Mahayana Buddhism and Buddhism generallynot on 
Zen Buddhism. It may be that in his desire to reach a wider Western 
audience he found it best in the beginning to emphasize Buddhisms 
broad message rather than its sectarian differences. In later years 
he paid increasing attention to Jodo Shinshu or Shin Buddhism, an 
interest encouraged by his long association with Otani University, a 
Jodo Shinshu institution.24 To put it differently, early and late Suzuki 
focused much attention on both Mahayana and Shin Buddhism; Zen 
Buddhism was never his sole interest. 
Secondly, despite his Western reputation as a great scholar 
whose publications offer the authoritative presentation of Zen Buddhism, 
his writings clearly reveal a spirit of advocacy. Infl uenced by 
his teacher Shaku Soen as well as Meiji-era Buddhist thinking, he 
came to his studies of Buddhism not as a disinterested scholar, but 
as a believing Buddhist committed to the defense and exposition of 
the Buddhas way as a spiritual choice. Though he certainly deserves 
his reputation as a great scholar whose translations and scholarly 
publications continue to provide illumination, we a must always 
remember that the ultimate goal of his scholarship was not knowledge 
for knowledges sake, but the presentation of Buddhism and Zen 
Buddhism as religious choices. This stance may, of course, be viewed 
as positive, depending upon ones perspective. If his personal Buddhist 
commitments may be cited by critics as a distorting infl uence, 
the fact that he was a practicing Buddhist would only have increased 
the authority of his writings for others. 
Thirdly, it is clear that much of Suzukis success in the West 
stemmed from his ability to simplify Zen for a general audience. In 
the best sense of the word, he was a popularizer. In his writings he 
regularly passed over complexities, eliminated technical terms, and 
offered well-chosen stories to make his points. By largely ignoring 
the differences in the historical forms of Buddhism while emphasizing 
its core teaching, he made it much easier for Westerners to 
understand and embrace the Buddhist message. And by blurring 
the differences between Theravada and Mahayana Buddhism and 
between the Chan Buddhism of China and the Zen Buddhism of 
Japan, he also made Buddhism seem much more unifi ed and more 
universal than the facts justified. 
In concluding, we may turn fi nally to the contemporary scholarly 
evaluation of Suzukis published works on Zen Buddhism. Hailed 
by a generation of Western readers as the worlds greatest authority, 
Pgina 23
dtsuzuki1.txt
what are contemporary scholars saying? The answer seems to be that, 
while his works are still frequently cited, his interpretation of Zen
has 
come under severe attack. While the intensity of this criticism has 
greatly increased in recent years, it should be noted that the
questioning 
goes back at least to the 1950s. One of the earliest critics, Chinese 
historian Hu Shih charged in 1953 that by ignoring Zens historical 
roots, Suzuki was greatly distorting its lineage and teachings.
Objecting 
to Suzukis contention in the second volume of his Essays in Zen 
Buddhism that Zen was above space-time relations and even above 
historical facts, Hu Shih insisted on the importance of recognizing 
Zens roots in the Chan Buddhism of China. Obviously stung by Hu 
Shihs attack, Suzuki responded with uncharacteristic harshness that 
Zen needed to be understood from the inside rather than from the 
outside as in Hu Shihs approach.25 In the 1960s other critics, led by 
R. J. Zwi Werblowsky and Ernst Benz, complained that Suzukis writings 
were diluting and psychologizing Zens teachings, encouraging 
a widespread misunderstanding among Westerners.26 
The criticisms have greatly increased since the 1980s as a revisionist 
view has become dominant. The emerging consensus seems to be 
that the Zen Buddhism that D. T. Suzuki presented in his many books 
represents a modern, Western-infl uenced Zen that broke sharply with 
the traditional Zen of Japan. Presenting arguments too complex to 
summarize here, the two leaders in this reevaluation, Bernard Faure 
and Robert Sharf, have produced meticulously documented critiques 
that argue that the Japanese Zennist has, in effect, reconceptualized 
Zen, greatly distorting its traditional teachings. In his Chan Insights
and 
Oversights, Faure suggests that, like his close friend Nishida Kitar, 
Suzuki had both adopted and reversed Western Orientalist assumptions. 
In their description of Zen they had effectively inverted the 
image created by earlier Christian missionaries, replacing the hostile 
Christian view by an idealized image of Japanese culture and Zen. 
Insisting that the importance of Suzukis work has been greatly
exaggerated, 
Faure attacks Suzukis Rinzai sectarianism, his tendency to 
emphasize mysticism as a common foundation for Zen and Christianity, 
and his nativist tendencies. Faure concludes that Suzukis
interpretation 
was very much colored by his isolation from his own people 
and marginality in Japanese culture. Leaving Japan for the United 
States as a young man, his thought revealed his confrontation with 
Western values, including Christianity, psychoanalysis, and
existentialism 
all of which had profoundly distorted his Zen view.27 
In his important essay, The Zen of Japanese Nationalism, published 
in the History of Religions in the same year as Faures Chan 
Buddhism, Robert Sharf added his voice to those critical of Suzukis 
reinterpretation of Zen. Beginning with the infl uence of Meiji-era 
Pgina 24
dtsuzuki1.txt
Buddhism, Sharf documents the degree to which Suzukis view of 
Zen was transformed by his personal experiences. The most important 
infl uences were his early years in the United States, the infl uence 
of the Western conception of direct experience through William 
James, and his attraction to nativist and nihonjinron ideas of Japanese 
innate spirituality. Like Faure, Sharf concludes that the common 
feature of virtually all Japanese writers responsible for the modern 
Western interest in Zen, and certainly Suzuki, was their relatively 
marginal status within the Japanese Zen establishment.28 
Perhaps the criticisms have now gone far enough, with a need 
to strike a better balance. While the fi ndings of scholars such as
Faure 
and Sharf unquestionably demonstrate how much the Japanese scholar 
reinterpreted traditional Zen teachings, they do not diminish Suzukis 
immense importance as a transmitter of Zen and Asian thought to the 
West. Indeed, his very success in recasting Zen Buddhism as a modern, 
universal, yet quintessential expression of Japanese culture made 
it possible for Zen to reach Western intellectuals and seekers who 
would not otherwise have found such an exotic tradition attractive. 
Clearly, as many have noted, Buddhism must become an American 
Buddhism to put down roots, and the same is true for Zen Buddhism. 
Through the centuries the adherents in all religious traditions have 
frequently disagreed concerning the permissible limits in the adaptation 
of the core teaching to new conditions. The tension between past 
and present, between tradition and change have been present always. 
For most Americans, traditional Japanese Zen, or even the Meiji-era 
Zen that sought to adapt itself to modern conditions, would have 
seemed too foreign for acceptance. In the future, Suzukis historical 
reputation will rest less on the correctness of his interpretation of 
Zen than on his critical role as its transmitter to the West. In the 
midst of a needed reevaluation of his role as an interpreter of Zen, 
we should not lose sight of his extraordinary contributions as an infl
uence 
in introducing Americans and the West to Zen Buddhism.
<blockquote>
Notes 
1. Lynn White, Jr., ed., Frontiers of Knowledge in the Study of Man
(New 
York: Harper, 1956), 30405; Bernard Faure, Chan Insights and Oversights:
An 
Epistemological Critique of the Chan Tradition (Princeton: Princeton
University 
Press, 1993), especially chap. 2, The Rise of Zen Orientalism; and
Robert 
Sharf, The Zen of Japanese Nationalism, History of Religions 33
(August 
1993): 143. 
2. Daisetz T. Suzuki, Early Memories, The Middle Way 39 (November 
1964): 10108. Quote on p.103. In a long career as a writer that began 
in his twenties and extended into his nineties, the Japanese scholar
rarely 
Pgina 25
dtsuzuki1.txt
spoke of his own life. For other biographical sources, see the Suzuki
Memorial 
Issue, published after his death in The Eastern Buddhist, N.S., 2 (August
1967), 
which includes memories and testimonials by friends and associates.
Masao 
Abe, ed., A Zen Life: D. T. Suzuki Remembered (New York: Weatherhill,
1986) 
reprints eight pieces from the memorial issue, along with additional
contributions 
including Suzukis An Autobiographical Account on pp. 1326. 
Biographical materials in Japanese are included in the ongoing
multivolume 
Suzuki Daisetz Zenshu (The Complete Works of D. T. Suzuki) (Tokyo:
Iwanami 
Shotem, 1968 ). Also see Margaret H. Dornishs dissertation, Joshus 
Bridge: D. T. Suzukis Message and Mission. The Early Years, 1897
1927 
(PhD diss., Claremont Graduate School, 1969), which remains helpful,
and 
A. Irwin Switzers brief sketch, D. T. Suzuki: A Biography, ed. John
Snelling 
(London: The Buddhist Society, 1985). 
3. Suzuki, Early Memories,101. 
4. See Shokin Furuta, Shaku Soen: The Footsteps of a Modern Japanese 
Zen Master, Philosophical Studies of Japan 8 (1967): 6791. 
5. See James E. Ketelaars excellent Of Heretics and Martyrs in Meiji
Japan: 
Buddhism and Its Persecution (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1990). 
6. Suzuki, Early Memories, 107. He describes his spiritual struggles 
during this period on pp. 10508. 
7. For the role of Asian delegates at the Parliament, see chap. 13,
The 
Parliament of Religions: The Closing of One Era and the Opening of
Another, 
in Carl T. Jackson, The Oriental Religions and American Thought:
Nineteenth- 
Century Explorations (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1981), 24361 and 
Richard H. Seager, The Worlds Parliament of Religions: The East/West
Encounter, 
Chicago, 1893 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1995). Also see
Judith 
Snodgrass, Presenting Japanese Buddhism to the West: Orientalism,
Occidentalism, 
54 Carl T. Jackson 
and the Columbian Exposition (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina
Press, 
2003), which provides a more detailed analysis of the Japanese Buddhist
participation 
at the Parliament. 
Pgina 26
dtsuzuki1.txt
8. Quoted in Larry A. Fader, The Philosophically Signifi cant Western 
Understandings of D. T. Suzukis Interpretation of Zen and Their Infl
uence 
on Occidental Culture Examined Critically in Relation to Suzukis Thought
as 
Contained in his English-Language Writings (PhD diss., Temple
University, 
1976), 37. Faders dissertation remains useful. For Suzukis account of
his 
association with Carus, see his A Glimpse of Paul Carus, in Joseph
Kitagawa, 
ed., Modern Trends in World ReligionsPaul Carus Memorial Symposium
(La 
Salle: Open Court Press, 1959), ixxiv. Harold Henderson questions
Suzukis 
recollection that he had originally come to the United States at Caruss
invitation, 
arguing that in fact he came at his own request with the desire to
study 
philosophy with Carus. See Henderson, Catalyst for Controversy: Paul Carus
of 
Open Court (Carbondale: South Illinois University Press, 1993), 101. 
9. For this formative period in Suzukis life, see Suzuki, Early
Memories, 
10108 and Shojun Bando, D. T. Suzukis Early Life in La Salle, The 
Eastern Buddhist N.S., 2 (August 1967): 13746. 
10. For a more detailed examination of Caruss interest in Asian 
thought and association with Suzuki, see the authors The Meeting of 
East and West: The Case of Paul Carus, Journal of the History of Ideas
29 
(JanuaryMarch l968): 7392. 
11. See D. T. Suzuki, Confucius, The Open Court 13 (November 1899): 
64449; The Breadth of Buddhism, The Open Court 14 (January 1900): 51
53; 
Acvaghosha, the First Advocate of the Mahayana Buddhism, The Monist
10 
(January 1900): 21645; The First Buddhist Council, The Monist 14
(January 
1904): 25382; and A Brief History of Early Chinese Philosophy, The
Monist 
17 (July 1907): 41550, continued in ibid., 18 (April 1908): 24285 and
ibid. 
18 (October 1908): 481509. 
12. Indeed, Suzukis original intention was to publish two magazines 
with exactly the same difference in emphasis as Caruss, one a monthly
to 
be devoted to a popular exposition of Buddhism and the other, a
quarterly, 
in which more scholarly articles would be published. See Editorial,
The 
Eastern Buddhist 11 (JanuaryFebruary, MarchApril 1922): 387. 
Pgina 27
dtsuzuki1.txt
13. For Suzukis involvement with Swedenborg, see Andrew Bernsteins 
introduction to D. T. Suzuki, Swedenborg: Buddha of the North (West
Chester: 
Swedenborg Foundation, 1996), 512. The volume provides a translation
of 
Suzukis Swedenborugu and other Swedenborgian writings from the
Japanese, 
as well as several essays analyzing his indebtedness to
Swedenborgianism. 
14. For a listing of his most important book and pamphlet
publications, 
see the bibliography in Masao Abe, A Zen Life, 23546. 
15. See Christmas Humphreys, Buddhism in England 19201980: A 
Personal Study in Dharma, The Middle Way 55 (February 1981): 15364
and 
Both Sides of the Circle: The Autobiography of Christmas Humphreys
(London: 
George Allen & Unwin, 1978). 
American Reception of Zen Buddhism 55 
16. Cited in Brian A. Victoria, Zen at War (New York: Weatherhill, 
1997), 106, a key work. For an excellent collection of essays that
addresses 
the issue with reference to the Kyoto School, see James W. Heisig and
John 
C. Maraldo, eds., Rude Awakenings: Zen, the Kyoto School, and the Question
of 
Nationalism (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1994). Also see
Sharf, 
The Zen of Japanese Nationalism, and Graham Parkess The Putative
Fascism 
of the Kyoto School and the Political Correctness of the Modern
Academy, 
Philosophy East and West 47 (July 1997): 30536. 
17. See Kirita Kiyohide, D. T. Suzuki on Society and the State, in 
Heisig and Maraldo, Rude Awakenings, 5274 and Christopher Ives,
Protect 
the Dharma, Protect the Country: Buddhist War Responsibility and
Social 
Ethics, The Eastern Buddhist N.S., 33:2 (2001): 1534. 
18. See Winthrop Sargeants charming portrait, Great Simplicity, The 
New Yorker 33 (August 31, 1957): 3436ff. Quote on p. 36. 
19. William Barrett, ed., Zen Buddhism: Selected Writings of D. T.
Suzuki 
(Garden City: Doubleday, 1956) and Bernard Phillips, ed., The Essentials
of 
Zen Buddhism: An Anthology of the Writings of Daisetz T. Suzuki (New
York: 
E.P. Dutton, 1962). 
20. D. T. Suzuki, An Introduction to Zen Buddhism (New York: Grove 
Press, 1964), 33, 44. 
21. D. T. Suzuki, Essays in Zen Buddhism. First Series (London: Luzac, 
Pgina 28
dtsuzuki1.txt
1927), 303. 
22. D. T. Suzuki, The Philosophy of Zen, Philosophy East and West 1 
(July 1951): 14. 
23. On this point, see Hiroshi Sakamoto, D. T. Suzuki as a
Philosopher, 
The Eastern Buddhist N.S., 11 (Oct. 1978): 3342, who argues that
though 
not a philosopher in the formal sense, Suzuki developed a distinctive
system 
of philosophy of his own. 
24. See his Collected Writings on Shin Buddhism (Kyoto: Shinshu
Otaniha, 
1973). Galen Amstutz discusses Suzukis Shin interests in Modern
Cultural 
Nationalism and English Writing on Buddhism: The Case of D. T. Suzuki 
and Shin Buddhism, Japanese Religions 22 (July1997): 6586. 
25. See Hu Shih, Chan (Zen) Buddhism in China: Its History and 
Method, Philosophy East and West 3 (April 1953): 324 and D. T. Suzuki,
Zen: 
A Reply to Hu Shih, ibid., 2546. Quote on p.26. The reverberations
caused 
by Hu Shihs article continued for years after, with Arthur Waley
proposing 
a middle position in History and Religion, Philosophy East and West 5
(April 
1955): 7578. James D. Sellmann revisited the controversy as recently as
1995 
in his A Belated Response to Hu Shih and D. T. Suzuki, Philosophy East
and 
West 45 (January 1995): 97104. 
26. See R. J. Zwi Werblowsky, Some Observations on Recent Studies 
of Zen, in E. E. Urbach et al., eds., Studies in Mysticism and Religion
Presented 
to Gershom G. Scholem (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1967), 31735 and the 
review of Benzs book Zen in Westlicher Sight in The Eastern Buddhist
N.S., 1 
(September 1965): 126. 
56 Carl T. Jackson 
27. See chap. 2, The Rise of Zen Orientalism, in Bernard Faure, Chan 
Insights and Oversights, especially pp. 5274. Quotes on pp. 53 and
63. 
28. Sharf, The Zen of Japanese Nationalism, 143. Quote on p. 40.
The 
article was reprinted in revised form in Donald S. Lopezs excellent
collection, 
Curators of the Buddha: The Study of Buddhism under Colonialism
(Chicago: 
University of Chicago Press, 1995). Also see Sharfs follow-up piece,
Whose 
Zen? Zen Nationalism Revisited, in Heisig and Maraldo, Rude
Awakenings, 
Pgina 29
dtsuzuki1.txt
4051.
</blockquote>
 
</blockquote>

</html>
Pgina 30

Dtsuzuki 1

Hochgeladen von

Dokumentinformationen

Originaltitel

Copyright

Verfügbare Formate

Dieses Dokument teilen

Dokument teilen oder einbetten

Freigabeoptionen

Stufen Sie dieses Dokument als nützlich ein?

Sind diese Inhalte unangemessen?

Copyright:

Verfügbare Formate

Dtsuzuki 1

Hochgeladen von

Copyright:

Verfügbare Formate

dtsuzuki1.

<!-- Mirrored from terebess.hu/zen/mesterek/dtsuzuki1.html by HTTrack Website

<body bgcolor="#666666" text="#ffcc99"

<em>Zen Buddhism and Psychoanalysis</em>, Erich Fromm, D. T. Suzuki, and De

<!-- Mirrored from terebess.hu/zen/mesterek/dtsuzuki1.html by HTTrack Website

Das könnte Ihnen auch gefallen