Good morning. Good morning. So a few days ago I was trying to find some words to say today at this close of this very long and very old year. But nothing I could think of seemed to be sufficient or quite right. Usually the vocabulary of the Dharma, the teachings and the words are very inspiring to me. They still are, but things weren't fitting somehow at the end of this particular year. So because I couldn't find something that would kind of touch my heart, I closed my computer and my books and I went for a hike.

[01:09]

And then on the day before Christmas, I received an email from our head of practice here at Green Gulch, Jiryu. And it said that our dear teacher, Sojin Mel Weizman, longtime abbot of the Berkeley Zen Center, was very close to death. most likely would not live till the end of the year. I had just seen Mel a few months ago before the COVID closed us down. I'd gone over to Berkeley to have lunch with him. We sat in his backyard eating homemade lentil soup. And by the end of our conversation, I was able to say to him how much I appreciated him as a teacher for me all these years. And then I started to cry and then he smiled. And that was the last time I saw him. So when I read Jiryu's email, these tears, they came again, and along with a heart full of memories. So that's what I want to talk about today. I don't know when I first saw Mel or met Mel, but he was already old then, compared to the rest of us.

[02:22]

I was 29 when I came to Zen Center, and he was probably in his mid-40s. When I had arrived there, Suzuki Roshi had already died about seven years before, and yet his presence was everywhere. There were photos of him and his calligraphy. There was a wooden statue of him in the Kaisando, the Founders Hall. And then, of course, the book, Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind, which is right now celebrating its 50th year of publication. But most importantly, for the sake of the Dharma, there were Suzuki Roshi's disciples. And Mel was one of them. I can remember taking a class in the dining room at Page Street. They have these really large old library tables there that we use to eat on and also to have classes. So he was there with about 12 of us sitting around the table. And I thought that he was quite handsome for an old guy.

[03:24]

He was funny. And he was wise. And then years later, after discerning that Zen practice was how I wanted to live my life, I went to Tassahara to do a few years of Zen training. And one of those practice periods, 90 day on go, Mel came down from Berkeley to be our teacher. I liked his easy manner and his easy laugh, his devotion to the Dharma, to his teacher, Suzuki Roshi. And somewhat surprisingly, his interest in all of us. Mel liked to gossip. And one of the most enjoyable times I had with him was when I got to drive him from San Francisco to Tassajara. And all the way down, we talked about the students, you know, who was in relationship with who and who was arguing with who and all of that. And it was all pretty lighthearted. And no matter what he said, it was out of concern. for those who were being discussed.

[04:27]

But as it turned out, what I really appreciated about Mel more than anything else was his discipline, which had grown out of his Zen practice. Discipline wasn't something I had gotten much of from my own parents or my teachers, certainly not from the culture at large. In fact, it was an era called the 60s, when I was growing up, and there were many in my generation who were in open rebellion with the cultural standards of our day, and we still are. And I liked the 60s. I liked doing what I wanted, when I wanted, with whom I wanted. I traveled a lot. I did odd jobs. I had lovers and pets. Zen was going to be like that for me too, you know, kind of a short visit. So I don't really know what happened between then and now. But whatever it was, Mel is the teacher who pushed me over the edge into this bottomless pit of upright seated meditation that we call Zazen.

[05:34]

The push came, as I recall, and I told this story often, during a ceremony called Shosan. I think that's my favorite ceremony of all the ones that we do. It took place during the practice for Udita Sahara and all of the Students, the monks, are seated in long rows facing each other across the hall. We're all wearing our black robes. And then the teacher, Mel in this case, is in the center of the room, seated on what's called the lion's throne, which is brought in, a chair that's brought in especially for this occasion. It's basically a very ornate dining room chair. So each student does three full vows in the back of the room and then approaches the altar with a question. that all of us can hear. And we also get to hear the response from the teacher. So my question on that day was, dreams are sweet. I love to sleep. What have you got to offer? Mel responded without the faintest hint of a smile.

[06:40]

Go wash your face. The effect that that answer had on me, perhaps not visible to others, was quite stunning. I don't think anyone had ever talked to me sharply before in my life. And I can still feel that sharp slap on what had become in me a growing cynicism about the world and about my place in it. So apparently it was time for me to wake up, and I had no idea what that could possibly mean. So now that Mel is nearing the end of his life, I want to again declare my gratitude to him, as many have, for his devotion to this possibility of waking up. There are lots of teachings in our tradition about what it means to wake up, and there are certainly a number of clues that have been recorded about the years and days before the Buddha's own awakening.

[07:41]

In particular, there are stories about the fear. that had driven him into the forest in the first place he was afraid of death and he was afraid of getting old and perhaps most of all he was afraid of rebirth in some you know so-called lesser life form you know like a snake or a rat or a dung beetle all of which depended on how well we do during our last incarnation here on the earth In which case, I am certain that Mel will return as Mel. I can't think of a more just dessert reborn as Buddhas are from their vow to live for the benefit of others. And yet, as the Buddha said to his own disciples during the final hours of his life, you may think the word of the teacher is a thing of the past. Now we have no more teacher. But you should not regard it so.

[08:43]

The Dharma and discipline taught by me and laid down for you are your teacher after I am gone. And so it is. We're being left with what the Zen Center Development Office calls a legacy gift. The words and the actions of our teachers, both great and small, who have passed on to us their devotion to the very best of what humanity has to offer, and that would be the Buddha Dharma. That's the very name that Shakyamuni gave to his own fledgling tradition, the school that teaches awakening through discipline. In thinking about the Buddha's last words and about Mel, I got this image in my mind of a magnet, you know, death. And surrounded by all of these iron filings, you know. Those being our many friends and family members who have died and who are dying. right now, including all of us who are being drawn in.

[09:48]

The first one that I thought of was Ison Dorsey, some of you may know. He's the former abbot of the Hartford Street Zendo, who died of AIDS early on in the epidemic. He was a very funny guy. And in his last days, one of the students sat crying by his bedside and said to Ison, Ison, I'm going to miss you so much. Isan sat up in bed and he said, Michael, where are you going? Central Abbot Steve Stuckey also left us with a smile when he said to another crying student, as Steve was laying there in his sickbed watching a football game, you know, I'm not dead yet. That's become kind of a motto for me, you know, not dead yet. And then there's our dear Abbas Blanche Hartman and her husband Lou, Daigon Luick, Darling Cohen, Suzuki Roshi, Mitsu, Suzuki Sensei, his beloved wife, my own mother and father, and an ever-growing number of friends as a long and sweet and sorrowful chorus.

[11:02]

I can also remember a few years back when I too had an experience that seemed at the time very close to what I imagine might be death. I had for the very first time in my life gotten a very, very bad case of the flu, which gives me a kind of special empathy for those who are suffering from the devastation of this horrific viral infection. I don't remember very much from the week that I was sick except that I didn't want anything. I didn't want food or water. I didn't want the lights on so I couldn't read or watch television. I didn't want company. I don't even know if I wanted to sleep. I only know that none of the time that I spent in bed was restful. I do remember rather calmly and passively thinking that if I didn't want anything, then death would be just fine. It seems so clear that wanting things was the whole point of being alive in the first place. So it's ironic, looking back on that experience, that this is the very teaching that the Buddha gave about the cessation of suffering.

[12:12]

It's not wanting anything. Non-attachment. So before I make up more of a thing out of having been sick and feeling near to dying than I actually went through in having the flu, I must say that I am very grateful to have recovered and to have regained my appetites. You know, all of them. yet i think i have a greater understanding of the buddha's teaching of desirelessness not wanting in my unwillingness to go there you know at least not today at least not right now to go where i don't want anything and still the time is coming for all of us when we will take to our beds or in some other location we will lay down and if we're still conscious witness those last breaths those last moments of color and sound and odor, taste. And therefore, I do find inspiration, breath, in the stories and the memories of how my teachers and my friends and my parents turned away from life, as we all must, to be released from the responsibilities of being human, and in particular of wanting to make things better here on Earth.

[13:31]

In the story of the Buddha's own death, there are many beneficial teachings about how an awakened one passes away from this beautiful world. For example, there's the Mahaparinirvana Sutra, which tells the stories of the Buddha's last days. And in it, there are a number of ways that the Buddha was guiding his disciples there at the end. As I mentioned earlier, he repeated... He repeatedly directed them away from himself, from grieving for him as their teacher, and toward the legacy of his teaching. He said, don't look at me, listen to what I say. He also made sure that Chunda, the goldsmith's son, who had fed him his last meal, was not blamed for killing him. In that story, Chunda has offered the Buddha and his Sangha a feast. including some hog's mincemeat. The Buddha tells Chunda to serve the hog's mincemeat to him alone, giving other kinds of food to the monks.

[14:37]

He then tells Chunda to bury whatever is left of the mincemeat in a deep hole, saying that only a Buddha among gods and men could possibly digest it. So it was after ingesting this hog's mincemeat that the Buddha was seized with violent and deadly pains, which he bore without complaint, mindfully and fully aware. The Buddha then called Ananda, his assistant, to him and he said, There may be some who will blame Chunda for my death. Say to them that it is great gain for Chunda to have fed the Blessed One his last meal. And tell Chunda that you heard from the Buddha's own lips. There are two kinds of alms food that have far greater ripening and fruit than any other. There are the foods that, after having eaten, one enters into supreme enlightenment. And there are the foods that, after having eaten, one enters into the final nirvana without any clinging or desire remaining.

[15:42]

He then said to Ananda, Chunda has stored up a deed that will lead to longevity, to happiness, to fame, to good position, and to heaven. Any remorse of his must be countered by telling him, So I don't know how many of you might be carrying some remorse or harboring ill will toward people in your life. I would imagine there might be a few. I have experienced those people as ghosts inhabiting my daydreams. In particular, when I'm sitting in Zazen, they often appear out of the dark. You know, ghosts that are not willing to be forgotten. Some years ago, I had an idea that it might be a good thing for me to write to those ghosts and tell them that I was sorry for any harm I had done to them, you know, to ask for their forgiveness. And so I did. And the day that I mailed those letters, I ran into Norman Fisher out in the walkway right here at Green Lodge.

[16:46]

He was the abbot at the time. And I said to him that I had done that. And he asked me, do you know what today is? And I said, no. And he said, it's Yom Kippur, the day of atonement and repentance. And then he said that in the Jewish tradition on that day, one makes amends to all those you have harmed. All your friends and family members and so on. And then at the end of the day, you make amends to God. So I do know that there is magic in this world because that's the only way to understand how that happened. Or anything else happens for that matter. This action of mine in writing those letters happening on Yom Kippur has got to be magic. But what was even more magical happened just a few days ago on Christmas Day when I was speaking to my sister, Janice. She mentioned that, this letter which I'd sent years ago, and she said, you know, I carried that letter around with me for about five years.

[17:54]

It meant so much to me. She said, then somehow, I don't know, but I've lost it. And that meant so much to me. It was magic, as love truly is. So next in the story of the Buddha's final days, he turns his attention somewhat critically to the deities who are, as it says in the sutra, wailing and weeping, falling down, rolling back and forth and crying out. So soon the Blessed One will attain final nirvana. So soon the sublime one will attain final nirvana. So soon the eye of the world will vanish. And then the Buddha says, But there are other deities who are free from wanting, who are mindful of my teaching and fully aware, who have resigned themselves to my death by saying, All created things are impermanent. How could it be that what is born comes into being, is formed,

[18:54]

and is bound to fall, should not fall. That is not possible. Therefore, Ananda, the Buddha says, you too, do not sorrow, do not lament. Have I not already repeatedly told you that there is separation and parting and division from all that is dear and beloved? And do not preoccupy yourself with venerating the teacher's remains, devoting yourself instead to your own Ananda, you have long and constantly attended me with loving kindness, helpfully, gladly, sincerely, and without reserve. Keep on endeavoring and you will soon be free from all your taints. So here again, the Buddha is directing his disciples, and I think that would be all of us, to turn our hearts and our minds toward our own liberation. You know, that being the only way to truly honor a beloved teacher.

[19:59]

And in doing so, now as then, disciples make of themselves Dharma vessels to carry the Blessed One's teachings to every corner of this long-suffering world with no time to spare. And then finally, very near to his death, the Buddha asked if anyone had a question for him before he had to go. Bhikshus, it may be that some of you have a doubt or a problem concerning the Buddha or the Dharma or the Sangha or the path or the way of progress. Ask now, Bhikshus, so that you may not regret it afterwards, saying, the teacher was face to face with us and we could not bring ourselves to ask in the Blessed One's presence. The monks were silent. A second time the Buddha asked. And then a third time. And then he said, perhaps you do not ask because you are in awe of the teacher.

[21:02]

Let a friend tell it to a friend. Again, they were silent. And then the Buddha predicted, not one of these 500 bhikkhus will fail to attain enlightenment. And addressing them once again, he said, Indeed, Bhikshus, I declare this to you. It is in the nature of all created things to dissolve, attain perfection through diligence and discipline. This was the perfect one's last utterance. So from there, the Buddha, still living, enters into a sequence of meditations until... At last, upon entering the fourth meditation, fourth jhana, he attains final nirvana. With the Blessed One's attainment of final nirvana, there was a great earthquake, fearful and hair-raising, and the drums of heaven resounded.

[22:05]

Shakya, the ruler of the gods, uttered this stanza. All that is created is impermanent. Their very nature is to rise, and fall, and there is none that arises but must cease. True bliss lies in their stillness. And the Venerable Anuruddha uttered this stanza, One even such as he, his mind at rest, having no wants, and bereft of breathing. This seer has completed his time, intent on peace. He bore his feelings with untrammeled heart. His heart's release was like the extinction of a flame. I know it's hard for us, for me, as it was for all of our ancestors, back to the very first living things, to relinquish this life.

[23:08]

It's so rare and so precious to be living. And there's really no way. to imagine how the life we have right now could possibly ever come to an end. However, what can end for us, as it did for the Buddhas and ancestors, is the mistakes that we make in how we understand our life. The Buddha's teaching is about just that, how we understand our life, the precious life, and our part in it, which is exactly what he taught to one of the last monks that he spoke with just before he died. The monk had asked the Buddha to clarify, who is a real teacher and what is a real teaching? And the Buddha said, in whatever teaching and discipline, the eightfold path is not found. There, a disciple is not found. So again, the Buddha isn't judging teachers, but they're teaching. Without insight into the truth of the path, there is no truth to be found.

[24:15]

The path of practice was itself the realization that made the Buddha into the Buddha. And as he later said, the path is enlightenment. Enlightenment is the path. Noble truth number four. So before I end, I thought it would be in keeping with the Buddha's last teaching to review what he considered to be the only standard by which teachers and teachings can be judged. You know, the Four Noble Truths. From the very first sermon that he gave to his very first disciples following his awakening under the Bodhi tree. A sermon called Setting, Rolling the Wheel of the Law. What's really interesting to me is to see how very little has changed for us in these last 2,500 years since the Buddha gave this teaching of the Four Noble Truths. You know, same species. Same troubles. The first noble truth.

[25:19]

There is this truth of suffering. Birth is suffering. Aging is suffering. Sickness is suffering. Death is suffering. Sorrow and lamentation, pain, grief, and despair are suffering. Association with the loathed is suffering. Dissociation from the loved. is suffering. Not to get what one wants is suffering. In short, the five categories affected by clinging, by wanting, namely form, feeling, perception, formation, and consciousness, are suffering. The Buddha then went on to say that these types of suffering have a cause, which he called the second noble truth. It's craving which produces the renewal of being, craving accompanied by relish and lust, relishing this and that.

[26:25]

In other words, craving for sensual desires, craving for being, for existence, for life, craving for non-being, for non-existence, for death. In other words, it's wishing and scheming and planning for things that we must have. Or on the other hand, we must eliminate that is the source of our suffering. And what are those wishes and schemes and plans made out of anyway? They are made from ideas, from notions, from thoughts, and from words. We build our house of cards out of thinking, out of our minds, which indeed oftentimes we seem to be. Learning to see how our unhappiness is related to this particular habit of mind called craving is the basic training for all of those who endeavor to study the Buddha way, to become masters of peace, of tranquility.

[27:28]

I have found it very useful to be reminded myself again and again that these habits of mind that are formed from ideas into patterns and shapes are what I use like my glasses. To see the world. And it's no accident that the ideas I use to see the world look exactly like the world that I see. The world of my preferences, of my judgments, my limitations, my terrors, and my delights. A world in which not getting what I want is suffering. So I would guess it is pretty much the same for all of you. But then that would be me guessing about all of you. looking at you with my ideas of you, you know, with my glasses on. And then the Buddha taught what he called noble truth number three, the cessation of suffering. That is the remainderless fading and ceasing, the giving up, the relinquishing, the letting go, and the rejecting of that same craving.

[28:39]

So it's not the object of our desire that has to go, like ice cream or chocolate brownies, but rather the thought and the insistence on having them that has to go. So this is the amazing discovery the Buddha made during his week-long sit under the tree. He discovered that there was nothing whatsoever restraining him other than his own ideas of some more perfect and better world than the one he was in. Some more perfect and better freedom than the one that he was having. Or some more perfect and better life than the one that soon enough was going to end. And then he saw how even those ideas themselves could not be held for any longer than they appeared. You know, ice cream and chocolate brownies. That's it. Already gone. In the blink of an eye. And so with all of it. We can't catch it. And what we can't catch, we can't hold on to.

[29:43]

Already free. From the last line of the Heart Sutra, Gone, gone, gone beyond. Completely gone beyond. Bodhisattva. So that his ideas were all that troubled him was a tremendous relief to the newly awakened Buddha. He was what you might call enlightened up. And he said things that had never been heard before. Things like this very teaching of his own from the Heart Sutra. No suffering, first noble truth. No cause, second noble truth. No cessation of suffering, third noble truth. No path, fourth noble truth. No knowledge and no attainment with nothing to attain. This teaching is a declaration of perfect wisdom. And this is how the world was for the Buddha when his imagination, popped open and all of the colors and shapes and flavors and sounds of the universe were set free where inside and outside were no longer separate and there were no taking sides at all you know bodhisattva and yet as you may have already noticed this very teaching itself of the heart sutra is also given in the form of language of words and ideas

[31:08]

However, in the case of the Buddha's teachings, they are given in order to remove the hidden source of their power, the power of words to control our lives. Such teachings are called skillful means, using a thorn to take out a thorn. Noble truth number four, the path leading to the cessation of suffering, the noble eightfold path, which is to say, right view. Right intention. Where are you going? Right speech. Right conduct. Right livelihood. Right effort. Right mindfulness. And right meditation. In other words, the cessation of suffering is caused by the complete transformation of the way we live our lives. From selfishness to selflessness. from greed to generosity, from noisy and restless to silence and peace.

[32:13]

You know, masters of tranquility. And wouldn't that be nice? So in closing today, I want to circle back to our dear friend and teacher across the bay to wish him from all of us who love him an easy passage from this life to whatever might lie beyond. He did good. He did really, really good. And we as his students must make a solemn promise to do the same. With devotion and effort, with humor and with skill. We love you, Mel. I love you, Mel. As a final tribute to all the beloved teachers of the Buddha Dharma, to the poets of impermanence, This is Dogen Zenji's death poem. Fifty-four years lighting up the sky.

[33:14]

A quivering leap smashes a billion worlds. Ha! Entire body looks for nothing. Living, I plunge into the yellow river. Fifty-four years lighting up the sky. A quivering leap smashes a billion worlds. Ha! Entire body looks for nothing. Living, I plunge into the Yellow River. Thank you very much. Thank you for listening to this podcast offered by the San Francisco Zen Center. Our programs are made possible by the donations we receive. Please help us to continue to realize and actualize the practice of giving by offering your financial support. For more information, visit sfcc.org and click Giving. May we fully enjoy the Dharma.

[34:18]

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