Recently the Inner Call posted an exchange between the 18th c. Japanese Zen master Seisetsu and a merchant who had come to offer a substantial donation to the project to which Seisetsu had devoted himself, the rebuilding of the famous Engakuji temple. The merchant was surprised that the Zen master did not express gratitude for the large sum he was offering, but without ceremony the master told him that, on the contrary, the one who gave should be thankful.

As a good Zen story should do, this raised questions in the minds of readers. Isn’t there a close connection between thankfulness and spirituality? Have we not been taught to be grateful for every drop of milk, every piece of bread and every grain of rice we receive? Why shouldn’t the Zen master also be grateful? What is the meaning of this exchange?

There are two aspects of the tale we might consider. The first concerns the attitude with which something is given. The word ‘charity’ is connected with kindness and the heart, and suggests that, like love itself, charitable giving should be without expectation of anything in return. Nevertheless, some people give while wishing to keep their gift in their hand, offering something to a beggar, for example, but wanting to decide how the money should be spent. There may be a good intention, but it is mixed with other motives, and we can see that this is commerce, not charity – ‘I give to you, and in exchange for what I give, I must receive something,’

Clearly, the merchant is hoping for something in return for his donation, but the Zen monk, whose spiritual training has been the implacable cutting away of all delusions in order to arrive at direct Reality, deftly wields the sword of Truth to, so to speak, chop off the head of the merchant’s ego. Perhaps the merchant didn’t come as a student and hadn’t asked for this blunt instruction, but if one ventures into the company of a Zen master, one must anticipate unexpected consequences.

The other aspect to consider here is the context: this is a gift for a spiritual purpose. The offering is not meant for the monk personally, but is intended to support the sacred dharma, as a service to all of humanity. Seisetsu’s implicit meaning is that the merchant should feel grateful for the blessings and merits he will receive for his generosity. What is more, perhaps the monk would have considered it too egotistical to express personal thankfulness. If we imagine a similar situation in another religion, a bishop receiving funds for the construction of a cathedral might say, “The Lord will thank you,” but since Zen monks don’t talk of the Lord, in this case there was only the Silent Void to speak.