A Zen Perspective on Feminism

In Yoga Journal’s Archives series, we share a curated collection of articles originally published in past issues beginning in 1975. These stories offer a glimpse into how yoga was interpreted, written about, and practiced throughout the years. This article first appeared in the May 1978 issue of Yoga Journal. Find more of our Archives here. 

Visiting Shasta Abbey can be a little like experiencing a time-warp. On a dark night when the grounds are covered with snow, and black-cloaked monks, solitary figures against the white, walk to and fro around the cloister’s unfinished boardwalk, one can easily imagine having stepped several centuries back in time. The silent, one-story monastery, cast in the yellowish glow of small lanterns placed at intervals around the walk, is a tranquil presence in the night. An occasional bell blends with the stillness.

The time-warp illusion is only temporary, however. Closer observation reveals that you are very definitely in the 20th century. Those small lanterns with their magical yellow light are electric and about half the monks you meet are women priests, not nuns, as would have surely been the case centuries ago; indeed, it would have been the case even a few years ago. Moreover, in this otherworldly place where time both stands still and moves forward, even the Zen Master is a woman, and a thoroughly 20th century woman at that.

Struggles Faced by Female Priests

Reverend Jiyu-Kennett, or “Roshi” as she is most often called by the 38 monks, or trainees, who make up this small community, is an imposing personage: large, with shaven head and a frequent smile that unfailingly takes over the lower part of her face, she is acutely attuned to the “woman problem” and is an articulate spokesperson on behalf of her sex. Meeting with a small group of women, which included the women trainees at the monastery and myself, she talked about some of the issues involved in the women’s movement, especially the currently disputed issue of women becoming priests.

“The distinction made between a priest and a nun is a very important one,” explained Roshi Kennett, “and it is very interesting: the Japanese word for male priest is osho, and the Japanese word for female priest is ni osho—why they are translated as priest and nun I don’t know. The point is that the word for male and female priest is exactly the same, but certain narrow‑minded people like to say that men are priests and women are nuns.

“‘Now that’s a very serious matter as far as the females are concerned,’” she continued, “‘because the term nun connotes second‑class spirituality in Western culture; you are not quite as good as a priest. And this is specifically contrary to Soto Zen Buddhism which recognizes the complete “spiritual equality of women and men.”

Soto Zen Buddhism may recognize the inherent equality of women, but this attitude is not necessarily reflected in its practice, as Roshi discovered when she spent eight years in Japan, studying for the priesthood. “I was in a woman‑haters’ temple,” she states flatly. “There were about two people that really wanted me there—the rector and the chief abbott—and a third party who could see it would be handy for his own advantage.”

What those years were like for Roshi, a lone woman studying for the priesthood, surrounded by hostile men in a foreign temple, is chronicled in a fascinating, recently published two‑volume work taken from her diaries and called The Wild White Goose. In this work Roshi reveals the agonies and the ecstasies of her spiritual search and documents the rude, sometimes brutal, discrimination she experienced both as a woman and as a foreigner in Japan. A very human story of Roshi Kennett’s (Roshi’s given name) search for herself, it is also a commentary on what is and what is not proper Buddhist behavior.

“Now, the real problem is this,” she continued, with proper British inflection: “So long as a woman cannot be a priest, she is going to suffer from the idea that maybe there is something spiritually wrong with her, and so long as she thinks there is something spiritually wrong with her, she will feel that she can only be fulfilled through another person—through a man, or her children—by living outside of herself. So what the feminist movement, as I understand it, has got to do if it is to have any real, valuable impact, is to make it very clear that the female is complete as she is and does not need a mediator to go to God.”

“I’m awfully proud of the Episcopalian Church for coming out and saying that there is such a thing as a woman’s soul and that a woman can be a priest. Because it has to start with the churches. I’ll bet you anything you like—and I’m not a gambling woman—that after this you’ll find women going to the Senate, becoming President; you’ll find them everywhere. But first she has to know that her spirit is complete.”

We talked of the anger women often feel in the face of prejudice. Does anger serve any useful purpose? How does one deal with it?

“In the early days I was very angry,” admits Roshi, clenching her fist for emphasis. “Then sense set in and I realized that if I let this consume my entire time that I would never get anywhere. I would just be consumed by the anger. I think that anger may need to be expressed sometimes to liberate ourselves, but I don’t think anything of real value comes from it in the sense of progress in the world.”

Female Priests Overcoming Prejudices

What Roshi did with her own anger, her own situation, was to interpret it in true Buddhist fashion: “I simply presumed that everything that happened, had happened for my good, so looking at it in that light, I didn’t get caught up in it. Then I could go on, and I was able to move from that anger. The person who can really move is the person who has got her own rage down, has got her anger and frustration dealt with and therefore can sit back, as the Zen master is taught to do, and see what is going on.

“To get over it,” she continued, “‘you have to know, first of all, that it is not personal, it is not directed at you as a specific person, it is directed at the female sex which you happen to be a representative of. Then you can start handling it. Too many women take the prejudice personally—and it’s very hard not to when you are in a situation where you are the only woman—it’s almost impossible not to. But you do have to get it quite clearly through your head that it’s not directed at you personally.”

Adequacy, Roshi feels, is the mark of a spiritual consciousness: “Knowing that you are adequate within yourself in whatever you are doing. This doesn’t mean you can’t have love, but it means you give love rather than take it. If you are inadequate you grab at love; if you are adequate you give it; you know that the spirit of God or the Cosmic Buddha is in you.”

The men and women who live at Shasta Abbey range in age from 21 to 55. They obviously feel a great deal of loving respect for their teacher, Roshi Kennett, and they appear to be very serious about what they are doing. Said a recent visitor: “They seem very present when I talk to them and somehow very involved with me.”

Presence and involvement are an inherent part of the training that goes on daily at the monastery, training which includes a schedule that begins at six each morning, six days a week, and continues until nine-thirty or so each night. Blocks of time are devoted to specific activities, such as meditation, work, study and formal meals in the zendo (the meditation hall). Specifically, the monks are training to become priests of the Reformed Soto Zen Church; in essence they are finding the stillness within, what Roshi calls the Lord of the House: “He, She, It is not a being and is not not a being.”

(The Lord of the House) has no specific gender, no specific form…is not emptiness and…is not not emptiness,” she writes in How to Grow a Lotus Blossom. 

Women and Men Working Together at Shasta Abbey

In this setting where consciousness and awareness are a constant goal, there is emerging a model for dealing with sexism and going beyond stereotypic behavior. Women trainees participate equally in the ceremonies and rituals of the practice; men often work in the kitchen and sewing room just as women often work outdoors or on construction projects. Never mind that each may have a specialty, something that he or she does best, the idea is to try something new, to grow in another way. (There is only one visible vestige of sexism remaining at the Abbey: the Scriptures, which are recited daily, rely solely on the masculine pronoun, a practice attributed to inherent difficulties with the language.)

Rather than perpetuate unconscious sexist behavior, the men and women at Shasta Abbey help each other become more aware, more balanced. Kinzan, one of the women priests, spent several years in India before arriving at the Abbey where she was made head of the construction department for the next year and a half. Commenting on the interactions between men and women at Shasta she had this to say: “It has been interesting to see how we have helped each other’s training by being in a community together. I think this is really an important aspect of what we do here. We, the women, become aware of our own feelings of inadequacy, and the men become aware of their problems with complacency. We often help one another by pointing out when it’s happening.”

Regarding Kinzan’s job as head of construction, Roshi said: “I knew she had been in India for an awfully long time and I knew how the women were treated over there. I felt that she needed to have the right to throw a hammer at someone (figuratively speaking) if she felt like it.

“It is necessary to let a person be in the opposite situation from what they are used to so that they know they can practice compassion without getting holier than thou. Because it’s terribly important that they be able to really practice compassion. Kinzan had to be able to fling the hammer; she had to be free.

“Feminists—and all of us—need to know that what we are trying to do is an act of love, not an act of vengeance. It’s a statement of let’s get together and not have this one being subservient to the other, not so that we can rise above you and make you subservient to us, but so we can get back together again. Feminism is really an act of love, that’s all.”