Idealistic Presentation
          Richard Baker, in perhaps the best selling Zen book in the English language, Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind describes the term roshi in the following manner,
          

A roshi is a person who has actualized that perfect freedom which is the potentiality for all human beings. He exists freely in the fullness of his whole being. The flow of his consciousness is not the fixed repetitive patterns of our usual self-centered consciousness, but rather arises spontaneously and naturally from the actual circumstances of the present. The results of this in terms of the quality of his life are extraordinary-buoyancy, vigor, straightforwardness, simplicity, humility, security, joyousness, uncanny perspicacity and unfathomable compassion. His whole being testifies to what it means to live in the reality of the present. Without anything said or done, just the impact of meeting a personality so developed can be enough to change another's whole way of life. But in the end it is not the extraordinariness of the teacher that perplexes, intrigues, and deepens the student, it is the teacher's utter ordinariness.[3]

          It should be noted that this was written as the introduction to the words and teachings of Mr. Baker's teacher, Suzuki-roshi. This introduction was meant to describe a real person, and by extension, as is clearly stated, all people with the title roshi. It is not an idealized reference to a heavenly being or some distant or mythological religious figure.

          Zen Master Seung Sahn, who is the most famous Korean Zen Master in the West, in Dropping Ashes on the Buddha, one of his better selling books, related the following exchange of letters that indicates his view of the Zen Master. In a letter to the Master, someone asked, "If a Zen Master is capable of doing miracles, why doesn't he do them?... Why doesn't Soen Sunim do as Jesus did- make the blind see, or touch a crazy person and make him sane? Wouldn't even such a showy miracle as walking on water make people believe in Zen so that they would begin to practice..." The Master (that is, Seung Sahn) replied, "Many people want miracles, and if they witness miracles they become attached to them. But miracles are only a technique. They are not the true way. If a Zen Master used miracles often, people would become very attached to this technique of his, and they wouldn't learn the true way..." [4]
          Soen Shaku, the famous Rinzai Master who was D. T. Suzuki's teacher, commenting on Zen satori[5] states, "To say the Buddha had a satori experience sounds as if we are talking about a Zen monk, but I think it is permissible to say that a monk's attaining satori corresponds to the Buddha's awakening effortlessly."[6] Here we see that Zen satori is equated with the historical Buddha's great enlightenment, the very zenith of Buddhist attainment. Since the Master/roshi represents the Zen institution, it does not require too big a leap of imagination to make the correspondence between the present day Zen institution and the historical Buddha by laying the groundwork for the lineage convention.
          The well known Chinese Ch'an teacher, Master Sheng-yen also said of the Zen Master, "it should be remembered that the mind of the master is ever pure... and even if the master tells lies, steals, and chases women..., he is still to be considered a true master as long as he scolds his disciples for their transgressions."[7]
          The reader is informed that no matter what the Zen Master does, it is beyond both the reader's and the student's ken, because the Master's mind is ever pure, a mysterious state beyond the ordinary person's comprehension. The student is informed that the Master's authority must be taken totally on faith in the infallibility and omniscience that is implicit in his title. The student is incapable of making any judgments relating to the Master's activities. Zen's self-definition as a tradition beyond words and letters would lead one to believe that words and thinking are not important. Yet here we see, in terms of institutional authority and hierarchy, it is precisely words and title that are of primary importance.
          Aside from Master Sheng-yen's implicit claim that the Master is beyond conventional morality, the above manner of describing the qualities of a Master/roshi does not make any explicit ethical or moral claims. This does not mean that such claims are absent from Ch'an/ Zen. The basis of Zen practice is often encapsulated in the six paaramitaas, the second paaramitaa (`siila) being variously translated as morality or discipline. Another avenue where morality enters Zen practice is through the ten precepts, sometimes translated as the "Ten Grave Precepts." Robert Aitken-roshi underlines his understanding of the importance of the precepts by stating, "Without the precepts as guidelines, Zen Buddhism tends to become a hobby, made to fit the needs of the ego."[8] Aitken-roshi is not alone in this belief, as it is commonly maintained in Zen and Buddhism in general, that the precepts are the foundation on which the meditation practice is based. Though there is a separation between how Zen practice works and the moral and ethical consequences of that practice, however since the Master/roshi represents the fullness of the practice, when authority and hierarchy in Ch'an/Zen are examined, the two are tied tightly together.
          In the four quotes of the modern day teachers cited above, one is given a rather exalted and idealized picture of what it means to be a Master or roshi. It is interesting to see how two of these teachers have manifested their words and how their students have responded. Though no mention is made of moral or ethical issues in any of the above statements, it does seem as if the students do have moral expectations, as we shall see below.
           About two years after writing the above description of a roshi, Richard Baker was made roshi shortly before his teacher Suzuki-roshi, died at the end of 1971. Ten years later, Baker-roshi was involved in a scandal that revealed his repeated instances of sexual misconduct on his part, as well as his living in high style while paying the many members working at Center's enterprises something close to subsistence wages. This affair was extremely divisive for the San Francisco Zen Center [9], and resulted in Baker-roshi leaving the Center after long, heated negotiations over the amount of his severance pay and the ownership rights to the art collection and library purchased during his tenure as its roshi and abbott.
           Some years later, Seung Sahn too was caught up in sexual scandals, having, over a period of years, simultaneous affairs with a number of his students directing his satellite Centers spread across the country. Seung Sahn's explanation was that the women needed his power to keep the Centers running. This affair was very divisive to his followers causing many people to leave.
           As research for this paper, I did a mail survey of one hundred fifty Zen Centers and individual Zen practitioners across the country. The questionnaire consisted of a cover letter and a second page with a list of eight terms.[10] The purpose of the survey was to see how people from different Zen Centers understood a number of key terms, that define or color what Zen means in America. I received thirty-eight replies. Six were from people whom I knew were either in charge of large Centers or had Dharma transmission from their teachers. The results of the survey were inconclusive, though it yielded valuable anecdotal material such as the chronicles below of the retreat led by Carol and the meeting of a North American Zen Center. The term Dharma transmission elicited the closest agreement among respondents, most everyone stated explicitly or seemed to imply that the Zen lineage went back to the historical figure Sakyamuni. Most respondents expressed little awareness of the varied ways in which the terms Zen Master/roshi, Dharma transmission, and Zen lineage have been used during Zen's long history.
          Words have power. It is through words that we understand the world around us, give the world meaning, and to a certain degree, determine what we actually see. Presenting Zen in an idealized way has consequences. I would like to relate two stories to underline the strength of the authority attributed to those in teaching roles in Zen, at least in America. One respondent to my survey, in addition to answering my questions, related the following story. In North America, in 1998, a retreat was held under the direction of a Zen teacher we will call Carol, with eight full-time and a number of part-time students participating.[11]
          The retreat started normally, however on the second day, Carol added her name to the list of dead on whose behalf the chanting on retreats is dedicated. On the third day private interviews as part of the koan study, were cancelled. In the evening Carol took the group to the movies, an unheard of activity during a seven-day retreat. On the fourth day Carol was absent most of the time; she had pizza and champagne served for the evening meal, which normally would consist of rather plain vegetarian, non-alcoholic fare. On the fifth day she announced that everyone would be moving to Miami and should begin studying Spanish. She also followed this announcement with a semi-coherent discourse about inner circles and outer circles. In the afternoon she showed the video of Steven Spielberg's film "ET." Subsequently she announced the group was going to have a funeral for her to celebrate the death of her ego. She would leave the room and the group was to plan the funeral and then tell her when they were ready. In the group were two women who had studied with Carol for over fifteen years. My correspondent related to me that after Carol left the room, he asked these women if perhaps Carol was having some sort of mental breakdown and suggested maybe the show should stop. Another student raised a question about psychodrama. The two senior students assured them that all was well. My correspondent recalls saying to himself, "What the hell, the show must go on" and remained on the retreat despite his skepticism about Carol's mental condition.
          The group devised a funeral ceremony, Carol came out and the group performed it. Carol then claimed that since she was now dead she didn't know what her name was, but for the time being she should be called "Zen Ma." The fellow relating the story said that at this point he wondered if Jonestown wasn't next, but instead of cyanide laced Kool-Aid, the group then had more champagne. After dinner, Carol lapsed into a long ramble about meeting Swami Muktananda. Soon she stopped, announcing that she was feeling negative energy, and asked, "Does anyone in the room have negative energy?" My correspondent confessed that he did indeed, but did not want to discuss it. Carol commanded, "Just say it," to which the fellow replied that he had an interest in being someone's student but not someone's follower. She responded by undertaking a talk about Tibet and Milarepa, five minutes into which she stopped, and looking at the fellow said," So why don't you get the hell out of here?" Which, at that point, is exactly what he did.
          About two weeks after the retreat Carol decided that the two women who were her long-time students and who had assured my correspondent of the teacher's sanity, were witches, ordering them to leave as well. Carol then gave away her belongings and moved to Florida.
           It is interesting to note that despite Carol's bizarre behavior and disjointed speech, not one person on the retreat left on their own initiative or raised a question to the teacher directly. The two senior students maintained that nothing was wrong when a question was raised privately about the teacher's mental state. After two months, Carol returned from Florida and all the people who had been on the retreat, returned to study with her, except for the fellow who related this story to me. Again, I have related this story, as an illustration, albeit an extreme one, of the sort of unquestioning respect and obedience given to the Zen teacher by Western students. It also underlines the fact that the imputed attainment of the teacher repeated in one Zen context or another, will more often than not out weigh or transform what is happening in front of the student's eyes. It should be noted, that Carol was not an officially sanctioned Master or roshi, but was functioning in that role without the actual title.
           The second story I would like to relate took place in 1999. A meeting was held by a North American Zen Center concerning the problematic behavior of a related Center's Zen Master, more specifically a pattern of excessive drinking, perhaps actual alcoholism, and instances of "sexual misconduct." I was told by one attendee that many of the group members were thoroughly baffled by the fact that one who has supposedly attained full enlightenment, the Zen Master, could manifest such unpleasantly unenlightened conduct. My informant wondered where these students had gotten this idea about the Master's "full enlightenment" along with its attendant immunity from human shortcomings. The Master himself had never made any such claims to "full enlightenment" or immunity to human shortcomings...
          To summarize, in the definitions and descriptions of the Master or roshi quoted at the beginning of this paper, there is an extraordinary claim to authority. These descriptions were given by individuals who are themselves Masters/roshis, the very official spokespersons for Zen institutions. But from the examples given above, it appears that there is some disparity between the student's credulous expectations resulting from this idealized view and what takes place in the real world. It is fair to ask, what are the bases for such claims to authority and how valid are these claims? That these idealizations may have caused problems in the Far East is not the concern of this paper. However, it is my contention that an idealized Asian version of Zen has been uncritically accepted in America and that it is a source of problems here.
          Around Zen Centers in America, there has been very little if any discussion pertaining to the meaning of terms and titles that define Zen or to how these terms and titles have actually been used in the East during Zen's long history. Perhaps one of the reasons behind this limited opportunity for discussion is that, lacking any sort of theoretical framework or critical focus, members of the Zen community have recourse only to the context provided by their personal experiences. This personal context to a large extent is the world of Zen, its language, ideas, and ways of thinking. If the student attempts to look critically at Zen institutions, he/she can do so only within the context and language of Zen, which for reasons discussed later in this paper, idealizes itself, its roles, and important defining terms. Even in this situation of critically examining Zen institutions, the student often ends up empowering the very authority figures in question, just as we shall see in this paper, the language of Zen was intended to do.
          The confusion created by assumptions about enlightenment and spiritual authority is not confined to the above-mentioned North American Center, or even to the U.S. I have received correspondence from France, Germany, U.K., Australia, and New Zealand in response to a paper[12] I wrote that has been posted on the Internet, dealing with the disparity between the ways in which the institutions of Zen Buddhism actually operate in the world and our expectation of them based on an idealized view that has been uncritically accepted. A person from France who contacted me and asked to translate my paper into French, specifically stated that his reason for doing so was because a French Buddhist nun had told him that a Zen Master is a fully enlightened person. These responses indicate that dogma of this sort is pervasive throughout Western Zen, and that Zen organizations fail to provide a context in which such assumptions can be critically addressed.
          As an antidote to this situation, I believe it is necessary to view the Zen world, its hierarchy, and authority figures through a theoretical framework separate from Zen. I think one such a framework is provided by the work of the American sociologist Peter L. Berger. Parts of this paper will be informed by Berger's view of the social construction of reality and its inherent dialectical character. While Berger's views may seem like truisms now, thirty years after the publication of The Sacred Canopy[13], I believe they provide a much-needed critical insight into the social and symbolic structures of the Zen tradition. The adoption of Asian, predominantly Japanese conventions by Western aspirants over the past fifty years has been, ironically for a school that supposedly emphasizes personal inquiry, uncritical to say the least.
          In this paper we are primarily concerned with the individual practitioner's view of Zen roles and institutions in America. The view most frequently accepted is that propagated by the Zen institutions themselves. More specifically, we will examine authority and hierarchy, how it is established, how it is maintained, and how it is produced and reproduced. In the case of the earlier mentioned North American Zen Group who met to address problems resulting from the Master's excessive drinking and "sexual misconduct" we can see an illustration of the functional outcome of the process I wish to discuss. Recall that the person who recounted this meeting was surprised that so many students believed that the Master's enlightenment to be so "full" or "complete" that he/she would be incapable of quite human frailties, despite the fact the Master himself had never made such claims. However, it is not necessary for any particular Master to make claims concerning his/her own enlightenment or his/her own level of perfection because Zen institutional traditions, in one form or another repeat this claim for the person sitting in the role of Zen Master. In so far as the particular Zen follower is adequately socialized into the given group, he cannot but see the Master as expressing the Mind of the Buddha. Indeed, the Master often believes the same thing. Through its structure, its ritual practices, and perhaps most significantly through its use of a special set of terms and definitions, the institution reinforces this claim for the Zen Master.
          The term Zen Master is especially glorified, and together with the two related concepts of Dharma transmission and Zen lineage forms a conceptual triad that supports the structure of authority within the Zen institutions. The terms of the triad support and reflect each other and their mutually dependent connection is presented in an idealized fashion to establish the imputed power, sacredness, and otherness of the Master. Along with the above triad, the use of koans, mondo, and ritual behavior act as supporting elements in establishing this authority.Variations of this paradigmatic idealization have been repeated by most exponents of Zen in the West, from D. T. Suzuki on. The four examples that opened this paper are demonstrations of this idealized view. It is also repeated in the many stories falsely presented as history in the form of mondo or as koans along with their accompanying commentaries. I think a remark Noam Chomsky made with reference to political indoctrination is applicable to this case. That is to say, the essence of propaganda is repetition.
          For someone who has not spent much time around American Zen Centers, it is hard to believe how strong is the belief, among the students, in the authority of the teacher. Clearly, one does not begin Zen practice with this belief; it is acquired over time as part of a complex, collective process. Human beings, necessarily through a dialectical (that is, dialogue both internal with oneself and external with others) and collective enterprise create society and then society, as objectified reality is reflected back and contributes to the creation of the human individual.[14] Considering the Zen world as a micro society, the collective world building of Zen takes place through the mechanisms of group and ritual practice. In addition all the information communicated, both verbally and non-verbally between people, acquired through the talks of the teacher and the senior students, and assimilated through the extensive collected writings and commentaries of the Zen tradition, fill out and define the Zen world. Through this complex of mechanisms, a powerful belief system is imparted to the American Zen student.
          Berger states, "that society is the product of man and that man is the product of society, are not contradictory. They reflect the inherently dialectical character of the societal phenomenon." [15] He also points out that, " man not only produces a world, but he also produces himself ... This world, of course, is culture...Culture must be continually produced and reproduced by man...Man also produces language and, on its foundation and by means of it, a towering edifice of symbols that permeate every aspect of his life." Hence we see that, "Society is constituted and maintained by acting human beings" from which follows, "the world-building activity of man is always and inevitably a collective enterprise... the humanly produced world attains the character of objective reality."[16]
          Each individual is confronted by an overwhelming input of experience. In order to avoid a feeling of chaos, it is necessary to organize and make sense of this plethora of data, that is, literally to make the world. This process of world building carries with it a new vocabulary with new mental constructions and meanings. Let us now consider carefully each member of the triad of terms along with koans and ritual behavior.
          Anyone who visits a Zen Center is usually struck by the formal and ritualized atmosphere of the temple or zendo, an atmosphere that creates a sense of the sacred. Before entering we remove our shoes, finding a certain quiet, the smell of incense, the altar with Buddha statues surrounded by offerings of flowers and fruit and a priest, monk, or nun in formal robes whom others show respect with bows or even prostrations. One quickly learns that there exists a hierarchy as clearly defined and rigid as anything in Western religious institutions. If one becomes involved with the life of the group, one learns that there are set ways to behave in the temple, in the meditation hall, in sharing common meals, greeting other members, monks or nuns, and when meeting the teacher, Master, or roshi. One also learns a whole new language comprised of a new set of terms and definitions. The adoption and continued use of this language will form the person's view of the world and his/her place in it - - both in relation to the larger world and to his/ her place within the Zen world. The views espoused within the Zen community will, to one degree or another reshape and color the person's way of thinking about and views of the world. A person who becomes actively involved with a Zen group not only identifies themselves with Zen ideas and meanings, but also sees himself/herself as expressing these ideas through speech, attitude, and activity and as a representative of Zen itself. Interestingly, many people then attribute their new worldview to the fruit of "practice." What appears as spiritual fruit may in actuality be the adjustment to being schooled and indoctrinated into a prefabricated world-view.
          
Master/roshi
          In the Zen world, the Master is at the head of the hierarchy and is legitimated through the act of Dharma transmission. The Master stands in for or represents the absolute reality represented by the Buddha. This identification of the person of the Master with absolute reality serves as a sacred and universal reference and is the means by which their authority and by extension, the authority of the institution is legitimated. The human Master is clearly flesh and blood, however he/she is also supposedly beyond human given the belief that his/her "mind is ever pure" and his/her activities come from the absolute.
          Historically in Japan, "roshi" has indeed sometimes been understood to indicate rank based on spiritual development, while at other times it has been used as a term of address connoting no more than simple respect. There are occasions in Japanese (especially Soto) usage when it merely denotes an administrative rank. In a manner somewhat analogous to the historical bestowal of "Dharma transmission" for a number of different expedient reasons, the term "roshi" or its various analogs, appears to have meant different things in different circumstances and at different times. There is not, and never has been a central authority in China or Japan or anywhere else that certifies anyone's official passage into roshihood based on any sort of formal criteria, certainly not on the basis of spiritual attainment. Perhaps Soko Morinaga-roshi, the former President of [Rinzai] Hanazono College, said it most aptly, "A roshi is anyone who calls himself by the term and can get other people to do the same."[17]
          An interesting example can be seen in the case of the American Zen teacher Philip Kapleau. Mr. Kapleau uses the title "roshi," and his students, along with most others involved in American Zen, address him as such. Mr. Kapleau has been extremely influential, both through his personal teaching and his writing of books and articles, in spreading Zen in America and abroad. He merits respect if for no other reason than the fact that he has taught for many years, while remaining untainted by financial or sexual scandals. This is an accomplishment that a number of others with officially sanctioned Dharma transmission and titles cannot claim. However Mr. Kapleau himself has explicitly stated that he is not a Dharma heir of his teacher, Yasutani-roshi, and did not receive the title roshi from Yasutani or from anyone else. [18] Essentially, he took the title himself. This is not to say he is any more or less qualified than anyone else, only that he has never received formal recognition from an elder teacher in one of the "officially" recognized lines of Zen. Interestingly, Mr. Kapleau has "transmitted" to some of his disciples, establishing a line basically beginning with himself, and thereby different from all other Zen lines, in that these, at least rhetorically, maintain the myth of an unbroken lineage dating back to Shakyamuni. It is also true that virtually no scholars, either Eastern or Western, take seriously the idea of an unbroken Zen lineage going back to Sakyamuni Buddha.
          Perhaps surprising to Americans, who commonly assume the Japanese model to be the most authentic, or even the only authentic form, is that there exists other, older, and no less authentic models of Zen monasticism, such as that of Korean Zen (Son). Robert Buswell, in his study of Zen monastic life in modern day Korea, describes an organizational structure that is refreshingly different from the Japanese-inspired centers familiar to most Western Zen students. In Korean Zen, the equivalent of roshi/Zen master, the pangjang, occupies an elected position that is held for an initial ten-year term. If the Master does not perform adequately, a petition by fifty monks would be enough to have a recall vote. A monk's affinities are more with his fellow meditation monks than with a specific master."[19] That the monk's allegiances are more to his fellow meditators than towards a particular master is an orientation towards group practice that we in America may want to explore further. This type of structure would remove much of the dependence on the teacher and the resulting idealization and hierarchy that are encountered in Japanese-style centers. The contemporary and prominent Masataka Toga-roshi has stated, "In Japanese Zen, loyalty is most important. Loyalty to one's teacher and to the tradition is more important than the Buddha and the Dharma."[20] This attitude may be well suited to Japanese culture, a culture very different from our own. However, it may be time for American practitioners to begin to explore structures of practice not modeled exclusively on the Japanese form, but on ways that are more compatible with our own culture of democratic and egalitarian ideals. They might places less emphasis on absolute loyalty to a superior or to an institution and more emphasis on equality and minimizing hierarchical structures.
          In a sense, Zen has inverted its self-definition of "a separate transmission outside of words and letters." We should keep in mind that according to the Zen view truth cannot be expressed in words but rather only alluded to in spontaneous and natural activities of daily life.[21] However, Zen gives great prestige and authority to a ceremonially invested institutional role, whether Master, roshi, or Shi-fu, rather than basing authority on the actual lived, observable activity of the individual. At least in theory, this latter criterion is the only legitimate means in the East of discerning the mark of the sage. It is based on the concept of t'i-yung, usually translated as essence-function, which is prominent in all East Asian philosophical systems.[22] According to this view, it is the transformation of the personality reflected in a person's ability to act spontaneously (directly) and without hindrance in response to phenomenal situations, that marks the sage or enlightened one. The Master/roshi is said to be realized, that is to make the ideal of enlightened activity "real in his everyday experience."[23]
          Zen has put the cart before the horse. Zen institutions define any teacher having the title Master or roshi as a sage or enlightened being. This imputation of character is independent of the teacher manifesting any qualities that could be seen as marks of realization or enlightenment. Regardless of whether or not the individual can manifest any evidence of such an exalted level of spiritual attainment, this status is conferred upon the teacher with the institutional title. By virtue of the investiture of an institutional position the individual automatically acquires a whole array of impressive qualities. He is extraordinary, or else utterly ordinary. He also gains the ability to act and speak from the perspective of the Absolute, to perform miracles, to always maintain a pure mind, and ultimately becomes the repository, if not the living manifestation of the perfectly realized mind of Shakyamuni Buddha. The students are not empowered to have confidence in their own abilities of empirical observation and intuition to assess the actual moment-to-moment everyday conduct of a teacher.
          Though Zen institutions persist in defining themselves as a tradition, "not depending on words or letters," there is an unstated imperative to do precisely that. It is expected and repeatedly taught that the students should defer to and exalt the term "Master" or "roshi," a title and the ceremonial position it stands for, rather than relying on their own good sense and intuition in matters relating to the teacher's authority. There is a deception operating here. On the one hand Zen rhetoric tells its followers to be in the moment, to see what is in front of their eyes- "look look" Lin-chi exclaims.[24] Yet, on the other hand, Zen rhetoric implies to its followers that they are incapable of seeing what is going on in front of them, when seeing is directed towards the Master/roshi. The nature of enlightened activity must be taken by virtue of a title, on faith. What the Master does, is by definition, enlightened activity.
          Clearly, this is a situation that is disempowering to Zen students who accept or internalize this construction of reality. It places the Master in a position somehow over and above the human, since all the Masters activities are enlightened, coming from the Absolute. Hence, viewing the Master is tantamount to viewing Buddhahood in the flesh. Not surprisingly, the North American Zen group mentioned earlier, being well socialized into Zen's rhetoric, expressed astonishment that a Zen Master was capable of displaying human foibles. The Master transcending being human, becomes an icon, an idealized representation of a greater truth beyond comprehension and judgment. For example, one bright undergraduate philosophy major, after some reading about Zen and upon seeing a Chinese Master walk across a room for the first time, gave expression to this icon-like view by stating, "it was intense man, it was intense."
          
Dharma transmission
           Dharma transmission, according to convention, is the formal recognition on the part of the Master that the student has attained an understanding equal to that of the teacher. A person with Dharma transmission in the Rinzai line who teaches in a large city in New York State provided the following definition of Dharma transmission to my questionnaire, "Formal acknowledgement by a teacher that a student is officially his/her Dharma heir--that the wordless understanding passed from Sakyamuni Buddha to Mahakashyapa and on and on has now come to this one time, one place. Written and recorded in the lineage." The view adhered to by this teacher is a widely held one regarding the transmission of "authentic" Zen teaching. This acknowledgement by a teacher that a student is a Dharma heir is supposedly identical with the fully realized mind of the Buddha. It is the continuity of this chain of enlightened minds in an unbroken lineage, supposedly unique to Zen, going back to the historical but also highly mythologized figure of Sakyamuni Buddha (and beyond according to another respondent) that forms the conceptual basis for the present teacher's considerable authority. According to the traditional Zen viewpoint, Dharma transmission justifies giving the teacher the authority that one would accord to the Buddha himself. Dharma transmission has been employed in this manner since the Tang dynasty (CE 618-907).[25] It is this use of a spiritual lineage as the basis for authenticity ("a special teaching outside the scriptures") [26] rather than dependence on the authority of a particular scripture, or in conjunction with the scriptures, that distinguishes the Ch'an school from other Chinese sects of the period. This view implies that Dharma transmission is given solely on the basis of the spiritual attainment of the student and further that Dharma transmission is received from one's living teacher, rather than in a dream or in some other fashion.[27]
          On investigation, the term "Dharma transmission" turns out to be a much more flexible and ambiguous term than we in the West suppose. To be sure, it is in theory given in recognition of the student having attained as deep a realization of mind as the teacher himself (assuming the teacher has a deep realization). This view, for contemporary Western Zen followers is the understanding of the term "mind-to-mind transmission." Mind-to-mind transmission logically implies the enlightenment of the disciple, for if the teacher is enlightened, and what is being transmitted is the teacher's enlightened mind, then the student must be also enlightened. However, Dharma transmission has over the course of Ch'an/Zen's long history been given for other reasons. It can be awarded for any one of a number of reasons, presumed to be legitimate at a particular time or in certain conditions. According to some scholars, Dharma transmission has actually been used as a means for bestowing membership in a teaching lineage. It has been used to establish political contacts vital to the well-being of the monastery, to maintain the continuity of the lineage though the recipient has not opened his/her Dharma eye, to cement a personal connection with a student, to enhance the authority of missionaries spreading the Dharma in foreign countries,[28] or to provide salvation (posthumously, in medieval Japan) by allowing the deceased recipient to join the "blood line" of the Buddha. In the later Sung Dynasty (CE 960-1280), Dharma transmission was routinely given to senior monastic officers, presumably so that their way to an abbacy would not be blocked.[29] Clearly, enlightenment was not always regarded as the essential criteria for Dharma transmission. Manzan Dohaku (CE1636-1714), a Soto reformer, propagated the view that Dharma transmission was dependent on personal initiation between a Master and disciple rather than on the disciple's enlightenment. He maintained this view in the face of strong opposition, citing as authority the towering figure of Japanese Zen, Dogen (CE 1200-1253).[30] This became and continues to this day to be the official Soto Zen view.
          For a contemporary example of the functional role of Dharma transmission within the Zen institution, as well as a lesson in institutional history, let us look at the present-day Soto sect in Japan. This sect strives to match the institutional structures of Dogen's time when every Soto temple had to have an abbot and every abbot had to have Dharma transmission. In 1984 there were 14,718 Soto Zen temples in Japan and 15,528 Soto priests. Since every abbot has to be a priest, it follows that almost every Soto priest (95%) has Dharma transmission. It should be noted that a majority of these priests would spend less than three years in a monastery. Many will have as little as one year or even six months of training. Significantly, while there is much written in Soto texts on the ritual of Dharma transmission, there is almost nothing on the qualifications for it.[31]
          The vast majority of today's Japanese Soto Zen priests are themselves the sons, typically the eldest sons, of temple priests who take over their father's temple more or less as a 'family business.' In the event there are only daughters in the family, an 'arranged marriage' will be made between one of the daughters and a young priest who has no other prospect for acquiring his own temple. The main purpose of all of these arrangements is to ensure that the retired abbot and his wife will have a place to live after their retirement. Dharma transmission is now little more than a formality.[32]
           For an example of transmission between the living and the dead from modern times, Yasutani-roshi, one of the most influential Zen teachers in the West,felt that he had a personal spiritual bond with Dogen, and considered himself Dogen's direct Dharma heir by virtue of his possession of the "true Dharma eye." He could thus establish his own authority without reference to the Soto or Rinzai patriarchal lines.[33]
          The meaning and value of Dharma transmission and Zen lineage is not a strictly modern day concern. At the end of the Ming dynasty (CE 1368-1644) in China these issues were prominent topics among the leading Ch'an Masters, who expressed a broad range of views. Some Masters believed in giving Dharma transmission to a disciple whose eye was not open, but who was capable of running the monastery. This was referred to as "the seal of the winter melon," i.e. not comparable to a stone seal. Fa-tsang (1573-1635), a famous Lin-chi Master believed that Dharma was something to be understood and concerned the affirmation of the mind. This Master believed it is possible to be a successor of a Master long dead, whom one has never met, as long as the understanding between living and dead Master matched. He did not think it necessary to have a lineage certificate to be considered a Ch'an Master. His Dharma brother, Tung-rung (1592-1660), thought just the opposite, that it was necessary to meet your living Master and to have a lineage certificate.
          Similarly in the Tsao-tung sect there was a range of views. One fairly common view was that enlightenment is in one's mind, there is no reason to seek affirmation from another if you are free from doubts. One master of this sect, Wui-yi Yuan-lai (1575-1630), believed that the essence of the Ch'an sect was that there had to be a matching of minds, not the formal transmission of the sect. He believed all the Ch'an sect's lineages had been broken, their lines terminated, but that all five of the original Ch'an sects could still be thought as present so long as some practitioner has the right understanding matching exactly the earlier understanding of that sect. This Master was also against giving Dharma transmission to maintain the institutional lineage. He described this as, "adding water to dilute the milk." Hence, to this Master, it was preferable to have a person with real insight with no Dharma transmission than to have a person with a certificate not based on insight. With a person with real insight but no Dharma transmission, only the sect stops, the path remains true and no harm is done to the Dharma. With Dharma transmission not based on realizing the mind, the school continues but reality is false, deceiving one's mind, deceiving the Buddha, deceiving the world. In this case, you will have the blind leading the blind, all will jump into the great fire. It was mentioned that both the Lin-chi and Tsao-tung lineages were broken.[34] Notably, of the four great Masters[35] of the late Ming era, none belonged to either the Lin-chi or the Tsao-tung sect and three of the four did not have formal lineage certificates.
          Not surprisingly, given the implications of the convention of Dharma transmission, rather idealized views of the person receiving it, and of the role itself, prevail among contemporary American Zen students. Most students will understand the term Dharma transmission as a sort of USDA seal of approval guaranteeing that the Master/roshi is fully enlightened, and that his or her every gesture therefore manifests the Absolute. This attitude is well illustrated by one of the responses to my questionnaire: "a Zen Master is a person who has been certifiedas existing in fully awakened mind..."
          
Zen Lineage
          The third element of the conceptual triad of terms supporting institutional authority is "Zen lineage." In Master Sheng-yen's introduction to a recent book, Subtle Wisdom, he states that his purpose is to describe the background and development of Ch'an for both new readers and for those with little or erroneous information. He then informs us that," Since the time of the Buddha, masters have given 'transmission' of their wisdom to their disciples when they demonstrated experience and understanding of the Dharma, the teachings of the Buddha. As a result of this form of recognition, lineages have developed..."[36] Clearly implied in this is the idea that the Ch'an lineage goes back to the Buddha. Though he doesn't say that it is an unbroken lineage, it is implied in the writing, as the Ch'an tradition is still thriving and it is passed along from Master to disciple. What is carefully omitted by the author who knows well otherwise, is that there is no such thing as an unbroken Ch'an lineage going back to the Buddha and that the lineage that is upheld is not based on deep spiritual attainment.
          The notion that Ch'an/Zen is an unbroken lineage going back to the Buddha is repeated in one Zen context after another. The above mentioning of the Zen transmission/ lineage myth by Master Sheng-yen is only a recent repetition of the myth that the Zen sect has propagated and repeated since the sects beginning in China during the Tang dynasty. In the responses to my questionnaire, it was repeated by at least three respondents who I know are "transmitted" teachers of American Zen groups.
          The lineage paradigm, along with the idea of various "patriarchs" standing out among a line's ancestors did not occur by chance. It is well known the Chinese culture places great importance on ancestor worship and patriarchal genealogy. Essentially, Ch'an replaced the birth family line central to the social structure of traditional Chinese society with a "spiritual" family line descending from the Buddha, i.e. Ch'an lineage. This is not to say that the lineage structure of Ch'an is intrinsically Chinese or a creation exclusively of the Chinese imagination. The Kashmiri Masters who established the foundation of the meditation tradition in China brought "the nucleus of the transmission theory whereby the true teachings of Buddhism are handed down from Sakyamuni Buddha through a succession of patriarchs," into China.[37] This convention fit in well with the existing Confucian order, helping to facilitate the acceptance of what was in fact an alien religion. Alan Cole has written:

Since the opening of the Dun Huang caves at the beginning of this century, we know that Chan lineage texts in the mid-and late-Tang were quite at odds with one another in their varied claims to own enlightenment--lineages harking back to Bodhidharma looked quite different, depending on who was writing them. On the whole, these lineage texts represent a new form of disputation which works as follows, 'I am right and you are wrong because I stand in a singularly perfect lineage of truth and you don't.' The structure of this polemic ought to be provocative simply at face value. How did this happen to Buddhism? Why did it get locked into a Confucian model of patrilineal inheritance...?"[38]