Zen also starts from original sin, argues Japanese Jesuit Kakichi

Zen also recognizes original sin: Jesuit Kakichi's thesis

Tokyo, the 1970s. A Japanese Jesuit named J. Kakichi Kadowaki sits in zazen and reaches a conclusion that unsettles the catechism manuals: Zen is not a path for spontaneous types meditating in the clouds, but a discipline that starts from the same diagnosis as Christianity. The human being is fallen. The difference lies in what is done with that fall.

The quote that opens the discussion comes from his work, picked up in the publisher's promotional material: "We say that Christianity holds the doctrine of original sin, but in reality Zen also recognizes it and takes it as the starting point of its spiritual training." This is not a comparative study of religions, the author himself warns, but an attempt to order what he experienced in his own practice. Even so, the approach invites comparison.

Ignorance, passions and the root of evil

The first stop of the debate is conceptual. In Zen, what is sin? The most frequently cited answer is that of master Taisen Deshimaru: "Sin, in Buddhism, is ignorance, the root of passions and illusions." A definition that connects with Platonism, as noted in the discussion: through ignorance we fall into this material world, and through philosophy we recover wisdom.

But there is a nuance that Kakichi stresses and that should not be overlooked. "What Christianity calls original sin is a reality that man cannot know through his own experience. He only knows it through divine revelation." What we know from experience are its effects: the capital sins, illness, war, death. Neither Zen nor philosophy reach that first cause by their own means; they diagnose it from the symptoms.

Repentance is not enough

The spiritual path proposed by Christianity begins with a call: "Repent, for the Kingdom of God is at hand" (Mt 4:17). The reason for repentance is expressed clearly in that phrase, and the emphasis is on the change of direction toward the Kingdom, not only on sorrow for sins.

This is where an interesting objection arises. Repentance, by itself, does not heal the wounds. To look at the future with confidence, one needs to know oneself forgiven: first by the one who reads hearts, and then, in some way, by those who suffered harm because of us. Confession, understood this way, overcomes the barrier of intimacy and shame. In fact, it is pointed out that part of the success of psychological counseling comes from that secular version of facing pasts that do not close.

Zen backwards, Christianity forwards

The underlying difference, as formulated in the conversation, is the direction of the journey. Zen would want to help us return to the state prior to the commission of original sin. Christianity, on the other hand, does not go backwards but forwards.

The image used is that of Genesis: after Adam and Eve were expelled from Paradise, God placed an angel at its gates with a flaming sword raised. There is no going back. But he also promises that a new Eve will come, Mary, from whom the Lord will be born to remedy the consequences of the commission of original sin: the unstoppable commission of other sins and death. The remedy is God's gift of his only-begotten Son to man.

There remains, however, one uncomfortable question without a definitive answer. If both traditions start from the same diagnosis, why does one look to the origin and the other to the promise? The unsettling fact is that the Zen practitioner himself is aware of the reality of sin: not doing evil is basic to the practice. Sarracena is not a Western addition to Zen; it is part of its starting point. And yet, the direction of the path could not be more different.