http://www.shastaabbey.org/about-vestments.html

Monastic Vestments

The Buddhist kesa, or meditation robe, is a form in training that points to the

Formless, the Unborn, which embraces all things. Both monks and laity, male and

female, of all traditions, wear some form of it. The style and the color may vary, but

the general appearance and meaning remain the same. It is a symbol of being a

disciple of the Buddha. Sometimes referred to as the “banner of the arahants” or

the “garment of liberation,” the kesa represents the Precepts and theBuddha

Nature.

Design of the Kesa

The monk’s full kesa (Sanskrit, kasaya), worn

for meditation and ceremonies, is modeled on

the robe worn by the historical Buddha,

Shakyamuni. It is a simple one-piece garment

modestly covering most of the body and is

draped over

the left shoulder, resembling a Roman toga.

The robe originally was composed of scraps of fabric cut out from easily available,

unwanted sources such as discarded rags and shrouds. The pieces were carefully

washed and dyed, then sewn together in a patchwork fashion. This kind of robe

distinguished the Buddha’s followers from other religious of his day, especially the

naked ascetics. Later the robe was made from fabric presented by lay devotees,

and twenty years into his ministry the Buddha stylized the patchwork pattern in the

monastic rules: Once too when the Blessed One was on His way home from

Rajagaha to the Southern hills, He said to the venerable Ananda [his disciple

attendant or chaplain] ‘Ananda, do you see the land of Magadha laid out in squares,

laid out in strips, laid out with borders, laid out with cross-lines?’ ‘Yes, Lord.’ ‘Try to

arrange robes for bhikkhus [monks] like that, Ananda.’(Vinaya Mahavagga

Khandaka 8)

The pattern of the rice fields woven into the monks’ very clothing reminded them of

their interdependence with the laity — the faithful and devoted donors who

provided the monks on their alms round with daily fare from their fields. One term

for the kesa that reflects this connection is “the robe that is a fertile field of

blessings.” The full or formal kesa worn by monks of the Order of Buddhist

Contemplatives retains several elements of the original Buddhist robe.

First, when extended our kesa is the same simple rectangular

garment composed of small pieces of fabric sewn together patchwork

fashion in a particular pattern reminiscent to that requested by the Buddha: one

can see clearly the strips, squares, borders and cross-lines mentioned above.

Although today we no longer usually gather the pieces from different sources, the

method of construction reflects the original intent. The laity, in keeping with the

spirit of early Indian practice, also provides the fabric or funds to purchase it.

Second, we still wear the formal kesa over the left shoulder, with

the right shoulder uncovered. The original kesa was draped and

wrapped around the left shoulder and arm, as present-day Theravada

bhikkhus (monks) and bhikkunis (nuns) do. In Japanese Soto Zen, the

kesa was tied with rope or cord. Monks of our Order use a kesa clip

and ring, a practical solution adopted from our Chinese Dharma

relatives in Malaysia and used commonly by Rinzai Zen monastics. As

Rev. Master Jiyu taught us, the kesa clip symbolizes the hook with

which the Bodhisattva fishes sentient beings out of the sea of samsara (endless

cycle of birth-and-death), and the ring, like a life buoy, represents the faith and

willingness with which we are rescued and saved — our part in the training

endeavor.

 

Third, most of our kesas maintain a feature common to the early kesa in that each

corner contains a cloth squarerepresenting one of the four heavenly monarchs.

These celestial lords — one in each cardinal direction — were converted from their

role in the Indian pantheon of deities and became guardians of the Dharma. The use

of these squares may be seen, for example, in ancient Thai Buddhist temple

paintings that portray the life of the Buddha. In our tradition the Four Kings also

appear at the corners of a monk’s bowing mat, as well as in the corners of the small

kesa orrakusu, a smaller version of the kesa worn outside the meditation hall and

by lay ministers as well. The Four Kings appear most visibly on the postulant’s small

kesa, where the squares are white fabric sewn against the black background of a

novice’s rakusu. The white squares are removed at ordination, signifying the

“activation” of the Monarchs in protection of the new monastic trainee. A garment

of this composition colored a shade of yellowish-brown came to be worn exclusively

by Shakyamuni’s male monastic disciples. The female monastics wore a similar

garment of darker brown fabric. Thus the kesa became a recognizable feature —

and symbol — of the Buddha’s sangha.

Colors of the Kesa

The color of the first kesas was a dull yellowish-brown, achieved by dyeing the

cloth using roots, bark, flowers, and twigs, particularly that of the jackfruit tree. The

color, as well as the patchwork composition mentioned above, was intended to

decrease the value of the cloth. The kesa represented the renunciation of the

householder life, which for wealthy Indian nobility like Shakyamuni and His

relatives, was quite dramatic. The color and construction deterred theft and use for

other purposes.

The various colors of kesas in our Order serve several functions. Primarily, for

the person wearing it, the color is a visible and tactile close reminder of the path

and level of training — householder or monastic — that each aspires to show and

maintain. The various colors develop and promote harmony in the sangha in the

following ways: First, each color represents not only the path or level of training,

but also the corresponding responsibilities of that path or level. For instance,

only the senior monks, who are primarily responsible for leadership and teaching in

the Order, wear purple vestments. Knowing this enables one to respond quickly to

instructions from, and address serious religious questions about the Dharma to, the

senior monks.

Second, the use of differently-colored vestments to indicate level of training

naturally lends itself to the practice of bowing and showing respect to others,

an essential practice in any community. The colors facilitate being mindful and

expressing gratitude and recognition of Buddha Nature due other members of the

sangha, especially our seniors and teachers. This provision is particularly valuable in

regard to monastics, where secular clues to one’s “place in the scheme of things” —

hair style, clothing, fashions, jewelry, etc. — have been relinquished, ideally along

with habits and tendencies that could indicate one’s former background, class, or

status. “Rank” in the sangha is based on ordination order and spiritual

understanding, regardless of social class, wealth, gender, race, nationality, age,

sexual orientation, education, mental astuteness, health, etc. Although this system

may sound authoritarian and hierarchical to our modern ears, it was revolutionary in

the Buddha’s day because it provided an egalitarian seniority system based on a

determinant other than caste.

Also, the Vinaya and later monastic regulations emphasize that both junior and

senior members show compassion and respect for each other and relate in a more

“horizontal” and “familial” manner when appropriate. Monks receive their first full

kesa at novice ordination. These new monks wear black, the color of all-

acceptance, and as novices they are sometimes referred to as “priest-trainees.”

According to Rev. Master Jiyu, in ancient times this color was more a shimmering

blue-black, like that of the feathers of a raven or a crow. Within the blackness may

be seen all the colors of the rainbow; within the darkness of karma and suffering

dwells the potentiality of Buddha Nature.

After several years, when a novice assists the abbess for a term as head novice

and oversees all junior monks in the meditation hall, he or she sews a white stripe

over the collar of the kesa. This symbolizes that the novice has begun to see the

“All is One” within the “All is Different,” the white within the black, which is a step

deeper in training and understanding. When a novice is Transmitted, again usually

after several more years, they are given a kesa of theyellowish-brown

color called mokuran in Japanese, the “color of silence.” These monks have gone,

or at least seen, beyond the opposites of black and white (the color of the head

novice’s kesa) and touched the “third position,” the stillness (silence) of the Unborn.

This yellow-brown kesa ideally is the color of the original kesa worn by the

Buddha and early sangha and still worn by contemporary monks of the Theravada

tradition. Depending on availability of fabric, in our Order this shade of kesa tends

to range from dark gold or yellow to tan. The mokuran color represents the process

of the novice monk becoming like — taking on the form of, wearing the kesa of —

Shakyamuni Buddha. One way to look at it is that although already a “monk,” he or

she now becomes a “priest,” fully committed to the practice and the continuance of

the lineage. In this way, Transmission in our Soto Zen tradition is somewhat

analogous to receiving the complete bhikshu or bhikshuni vinaya precepts: one

moves from novitiate or “priest-trainee” (shramanera or shramanerika) to fully

certified “priest” (bhikshu or bhikshuni). In our Order, the newly Transmitted priest

undergoes another two to three years of training before teacher certification: he or

she learns how to teach and lecture, to perform ceremonies, to serve as a

monastery officer, and to run a local temple as a parish priest.

Senior monks in our Order certified by their masters as teachers are permitted to

wear purple kesas. In a monastery these are the monks in whom the abbess

entrusts the care of the temple and with whom she shares the primary teaching and

administrative responsibilities. In China and Japan, the emperor bestowed purple

kesas on eminent monks in order to recognize spiritual achievement or to express

congratulations. (See Rev. Master Jiyu’s explanation of zuisse in chapter nine of Zen

is Eternal Life.iv) Our Order’s current practice is to retain the deep purple color and

bestow it on all senior monks when they have completed their teacher training. This

constitutes “graduation” and certification as a “Teacher of Buddhism,” a rank in

some Japanese lineages referred to as sensei. When a teacher is named a master,

they may be given a long intertwined red tassel to wear with their kesa. Attached

at the kesa clip, it cascades (flows) over the shoulder and down the back. The red

color can represent the “blood of the Precepts.” The abbess or abbot of a large

training monastery, as well as the Head of the Order, may wear a purple tassel to

indicate their position as the “leading teacher” of the community and Order,

respectively.

One may also see from time to time other colors of kesas, particularly on special

occasions such as festival ceremonies at our large monasteries. For instance, the

celebrant (priest leading the ceremony) may wear a kesa of gold or purple brocade

over a ceremonial formal robe, often purple for the abbess and red for other

celebrants. For festival memorials honoring the Buddhist masters who ordained

Rev. Master Jiyu in Malaysia — Rev. Seck Kim Seng and Rev. Seck Sian Toh — Rev.

Master Jiyu usually wore a red-and-gold kesa over a yellow formal robe, traditional

ceremonial colors in Chinese Mahayana Buddhism. These ceremonial kesas usually

have twenty-five “stripes” (patterns of fabric strips) in order to indicate the function

and position of the priest wearing it: only an abbot would wear these kesas.

These elaborate kesas and formal robes often belong to the monastery or

temple and are handed down from one abbot to the next or from a master to her

disciples. They are sometimes beautifully embroidered. Worn only for public

ceremonies attended by the laity, they are teaching aids (skillful means) used to

inspire faith and devotion. This custom is common to our Serene Reflection (Soto

Zen) tradition, as is noted in the biography of Shunryu Suzuki-roshi, Crooked

Cucumber. Suzuki-roshi’s master once took him to task for not wearing his special

decorative robes when conducting a funeral ceremony for a lay patron. The family

of the deceased was very upset. They felt shortchanged on the ceremony and that

their relative had not been afforded the proper respect.

Rev. Master Jiyu taught us the use of such beautiful things, but only in the

service of the Unborn. Rev. Master constantly pointed to the quality of the training

of the person wearing the kesa. Rev. Master Eko, at the time Vice-Abbot of Shasta

Abbey, once related an anecdote illustrating this point when I was his ceremonial

chaplain and assisting him with the beautiful, ornate robes and kesa as he filled in

for Rev. Master Jiyu as celebrant in her absence. He related how Rev. Master Jiyu

had once quipped to him while he was helping her prepare for a similar ceremony,

“Even a monkey looks good in gold brocade!” I understood his, and her, point to be

that anyone, even a monkey, when dressed up in fancy clothes can win the

admiration of others. The robes do not make the monk. One other kesa coming to

be seen with more frequency in our Order, at least in North America, is

the mokuran or dark brown kesa and rakusu worn by senior priests whose

duties require frequent contact with the public outside the large training

monasteries: Head of the Order, abbots, lay ministry advisor, priors, monks on alms

rounds, traveling priests, etc. In such circumstances sometimes the purple color

does not seem appropriate, particularly because in the eyes of other Soto Zen

Buddhists we might seem to be giving the impression that we had received the

Japanese imperial “Zuisse” kesa mentioned above. The dark brown color is also

used in Chinese, Korean, and Vietnamese monastic robes. In the eyes of Chinese

Buddhism, the parent of other East Asian Buddhist traditions, brown in any of its

various shades—ranging from cream and yellow through saffron, gold, ochre,

orange, tan, to dark brown—is mokuran. The use of the mokuran (or brown) kesa

also points to the simple, ordinary “universal color” kesa worn by the early

monastic sangha, as mentioned above. For this reason an abbot wears a mokuran

kesa during the Ten Precepts Retreat’s “Ceremony of Following Where the Precepts,

as the Blood of the Buddhas, Lead” (J. Ketchimyaku). In the ceremony the abbess or

abbot, representing Shakyamuni Buddha as a simple ordinary monk, leads all

trainees around the monastery walking the pattern of the Bloodline graph, thus

showing how to keep the Precepts in the twists and turns of everyday life. When the

procession reaches the Buddha Hall, the abbot literally becomes “the Buddha” on

the altar, from whom all the new lay ordinands receive their bloodline certificates.

There are still yet other kesas and formal robes of varying colors and combinations

which you may have seen occasionally at very special ceremonies, such as the

abbatical funeral ceremonies for Rev. Master Jiyu and Rev. Master Daizui. The kesas

and robes described here are the ones most commonly worn at the temples of our

Order. Before examining other forms of the kesa, let us look briefly at other

monastic attire.

The “Three Robes” and Other Vestments

In a hot, humid climate like India, Buddhist (male) monks usually wore only the kesa

plus two simple garments underneath. These are the “three robes” allowed each

monk by the Vinaya. (Female monks, or nuns, had an additional two robes — a

vest/bodice and a bathing cloth.v) We learned as novices at Shasta Abbey that as

Buddhism moved into other climates and cultures, the practice was to keep the

kesa the top most garment and alter the other garments to accord with new

customs and climates. Thus, in colder climates it was necessary to add more

clothing underneath the kesa to ensure the health of the monks. As it was related to

me, according to monks of various traditions at a monastic conference at Shasta

Abbey in 1997, our formal robe (Japanese: koromo) probably evolved through

stitching together the two simple Indian undergarments to make a single garment

consisting of bodice/jacket and skirt.vi This explanation

is also given in Hokyo-ki,vii Dogen’s journal from the years of his study under Tendo

Nyojo in 13th century China. The long sleeves could have evolved by stitching the

two edges of the jacket/second robe together to form the large “bag” sleeves that

are characteristic of the koromo. The long sleeves also served in Chinese culture to

satisfy a sense of modesty and respect by covering as much of the body as

possible, and perhaps to provide more protection from the colder climate.viii In

India, south Asia, and the Himalayas, the “three robes” remained separate as skirt,

jacket, and sanghati/kesa. In those cultures, sleeves were considered worldly, so the

jacket simply covered the trunk of the

body. Only in China and Japan did the “three robes” become “three kesas.” Great

Master Dogen names these three types — five, seven, and nine stripe — in his

chapter “Kesa kudoku” [The Merit of Wearing the Kesa]ix in his

masterworkShobogenzo. He writes that the five-stripe kesa (gojo-e) is also known as

the under kesa. The five-striped kesa corresponds to the smallest of the three robes

allowed by the Buddha, the antaravasaka, used as underclothing.x It was originally

a skirt in five panels or “stripes”; it seems that the “paddy-field” pattern was lost

about the time monks began attaching the skirt to the jacket.xi Dogen writes that

the five-striped kesa (our rakusu — see below) is to be worn

“for daily use, samu [working meditation], and when alone in our rooms.”

The seven stripe kesa, shichijo-e, is also known as the uttaraso and is worn “when

training with other monks or when participating in a ceremony.” This robe lacks a

lining and is worn as a toga, uttarasanga; the Buddha allowed it for moderate

weather; it could be worn under the nine-stripe kesa. The nine-stripe kesa, Kujo-e,

according to Dogen, is also known as the large or double kesa. Dogen writes that it

is to be worn when teaching, whether in a palace or in a householder’s modest

home. This nine-stripe kesa, consisting of two layers of fabric, is the third robe

allowed by the Buddha, the sanghati; it may be worn as a cloak in cold weather. 

As to the color of these formal robes, junior monks (novices and Transmitted

monks, as well as postulants) wear black; as with the novice’s kesa, black is the

color of all-acceptance, the “key to the gateless gate.” Senior monks (teachers and

masters) wear brown, a color that Rev. Master Jiyu explained as one that people

instinctively trust. As explained above, brown in its various shades has come to be

considered a “universal” color for Buddhist monks. Depending on the temple, the

celebrant for daily ceremonies usually wears a formal robe and kesa. Sometimes

other key participants such as chaplains and precentor do as well. Usually all monks

present for funerals, memorials, festivals, or other special days of the monastic or

liturgical calendar dress in formal robes and kesas. We were taught as novices at

Shasta Abbey that the formal robe’s present style dates from the Chinese T'ang

Dynasty (618-907 C.E.), when monks of our tradition decided to stop altering the

formal robes (that go under the kesa) in order to accord with the fashions of the

day. Thus the formal robe now functions as another symbol for the unchanging

presence of the Unborn in the midst of phenomenal change.

Formal robes are usually worn over a white under-robe, in Japan a kimono type

undergarment. In our Order, this robe is made according to the same pattern as the

everyday robe (see below). As a person prepares to be ordained as a novice monk,

they usually sew the white under-robe themselves to wear for the ordination

ceremony. Great Master Dogen refers to this ordination requirement in “Shukke”

[“Renunciation of the World”], a chapter of the Shobogenzo. xiv During the

ordination ceremony the Master presents the ordinand with their first formal robe

and kesa, which they are assisted to put on over the under-robe (which they are

already wearing) as part of the ceremony. The white under-robe represents the

purity of the new priest-trainee’s heart and intention, the “first mind” or “beginner’s

mind” referred to in the ordination ceremony and by Dogen and other Zen masters.

The monk’s everyday robe for daily use in a temple was perhaps a practical

modification of the formal robe. In Chinese Buddhism, this robe was called ch’ang

kua. During meditation, monks always wear a full kesa over this robe. The exception

is during the first meditation period of the day when one meditates on the folded

kesa in front of one and the commitment to keep to the Precepts that wearing the

kesa represents.

Other Forms of the Kesa

To return now to other forms of the kesa: The full kesa monks wear for meditation

and ceremonial is not practical for other daily activities such as communal labor, so

in the Chinese Ch’an (meditation) tradition, the five-stripe kesa evolved into

“hanging robes” (C. gualo or guazixvi). We call this robe, which hangs around one’s

neck by several long straps, asmall kesa, in Japanese rakusu. As with the formal

kesa, small pieces of fabric are sewn together in a stylized pattern to form a square.

Also like the full kesa, the small kesa contains the Four Monarchs in the corners.

These are most visible on the postulant’s rakusu, as mentioned above. Rather than

being connected by a kesa clip and ring, on a small kesa two pieces of one of the

neck straps are tied together by a knot around the ring. Rev Master Jiyu once said

that these two straps represent heaven and earth and that the ring itself represents

the hara, within which through meditation both

come together. The composite square of the small kesa hangs as a halter or bib so

that it rests against the lower chest and midriff, covering the hara (spiritual center

of the body). The small kesa is the same color as that particular monk’s full kesa.

The rakusu is embroidered on the neck flap with a stylized mountain that for us

represents the particular

monastery (“mountain”) associated with the lineage. In the Far East, monasteries

were usually located on, and known by, the name of a particular mountain. Our

Order’s lineage is connected with Mount Shasta, in northern California (U.S.A.),

where at Shasta Abbey Rev. Master Jiyu was Abbess. The reverse side of the small

kesa (toward the trainee and lined with white fabric) may contain a verse of

teaching, often calligraphed especially for the trainee by their Master.

A yet smaller form of the kesa is the token kesa, or wagesa. (I have also seen

this kesa referred to in Japanese Soto Zen publications as a single-stripe or

“circular” kesa.) The wagesa consists of a single strip of fabric tied together with

knotted cord and again is worn around the neck. In our Order, the black wagesa is

the form of kesa given to lay Buddhists when they formally vow to live by the

Precepts at lay ordination. Some monks on occasion may wear a token kesa too,

often the color of their rank, when not dressed in monastic attire. Such occasions

may be: when traveling or doing outdoor work such as gardening. The wagesa is

“token” not in the sense of “tokenism” (“policy of making a merely perfunctory

effort or symbolic gesture”), but rather in that it represents the whole, just as a

subway token stands for, and is worth the value of, the cash used to purchase it:

the token allows you to ride the subway. A kesa, no matter

what its size, form, or color, has the same meaning. It represents the Precepts and

Buddha Nature and is always treated with especial care and respect.

The Bowing Mat

A final vestment is the bowing mat, which drapes over the left wrist when the full

kesa is worn. The mat is the same color as the kesa and is the equivalent of the

Theravadin bowing cloth and the multi-colored Chinese bowing mat. Having insight

into the way human beings tend to take pleasure and invest pride in new clothes,

the Buddha in the Vinaya instructed monks when sewing a new mat to add a piece

of their old one in order to help them maintain humility. That instruction finds its

stylized continuation as the borders on our mats. Rev. Master Jiyu once

commented that the borders of the mat represent the Buddhas and Ancestors

within whose help and protection the trainee sits. A mat also represents the opening

of a meditation hall, with sitting places along four sides and open space in the

center, as well as the opening of one’s heart to teach all beings. This is one reason

mats are reserved for use by monastics.

Conclusion

In concluding we may ask, why have all these special clothes and so many detailed

symbols for training and practice? Essentially, they are helpful reminders of our

aspiration in practice. Religious training is not easy, and we use whatever we can

that will assist us in remembering our purpose. As Koho Zenji, Rev. Master Jiyu’s

Master in Japan taught her, “Use the Truth, the whole Truth, and anything else that

works!” This is not an injunction to do whatever we wish. It is an admonition to

teachers and masters to not cling to religious forms or dogma but to do whatever is

necessary to help others. It is implicit that all such actions have a Preceptual intent.

In the area of vestments, the various robes and kesas are simply a way of

teaching, skillful means (upaya), and like other aspects of training must not be

clung to. The Buddhist kesa helps all of us — monastic and lay — to remember our

vow andcommitment to live by the Precepts — Buddha Nature—and as renunciate

disciples of the Buddha. This renunciation of the world is not limited to the giving up

of the household life to be a monk. The successful practice of serene reflection

meditation, whether by monastics or laity, depends on the renouncing of the

“world” of sensual desire, anger, and delusion. These are the three fires or poisons

which fuel the endless cycle of birth and death, the suffering world of samsara.

These basic defilements and all their

permutations obscure our True Heart, the Unborn Buddha Nature, and are

relinquished, purified, and transformed through the practice of meditation. Wearing

the clothes of the Buddha — the clothes of enlightenment — helps us remember

this lofty goal in the midst of daily life. It also reminds us to not stop short of our

goal — full enlightenment,

Buddhahood. We are His disciples and aspire to do the same as He. Shakyamuni

Buddha continued to wear His kesa and carry His begging bowl after His

enlightenment until His death forty-five years later, thus continuing to practice and

teach all around Him. We wish to continue our own practice in the spirit of

the Bodhisattva vow of saving all beings, no matter how long it takes. Thus we

embody what Rev. Master Jiyu so often emphasized — “endless training.”

From The Buddhist Kesa: Clothes of Enlightenment © 2010 Eugene Buddhist Priory

The Buddhist Kesa: Clothes of Enlightenment by Reverend Master Oswin

Hollenbeck, Prior, Eugene Buddhist Priory

(Back to Top)

 

The Tradition of Buddha’s RobeA Dharma talk given by Sr. Candana Karuna 

At IBMC 9-24-06

 

During the past year, I’ve noticed a lot of people wondering about Buddhist robes: why are there so many different colors and styles, why are they worn, what do they mean, what’s the big deal?  It can be confusing. Doubly so here at IBMC, where there are not only many Buddhist traditions represented, but there are also differences in robes among those ordained within the American Vietnamese Zen tradition of our founder, Dr. Thich Thien-An. 

Answering questions about Buddhist robes is easy on the surface, but each answer seems to lead to more questions.  For some Buddhists, these answers are important; for others, even the question of robes is extraneous.  Sometimes one explanation contradicts another or even seems to go against the spirit of Buddhism.  I like questions. I don’t have all or even most of the answers, and I still have questions, because in researching this subject I’ve discovered that for almost every statement I’m about to make, you can find a completely different answer.  Sometimes, it’s simply that the different schools of Buddhism have different explanations or ways of doing things; at other times, language issues arise and translations are not reliable.

At any rate, this morning let me present you with what I have learned, my best guess, in trying to demystify the Tradition of Buddha’s Robe.

Siddhartha Gautama, the man who would become Buddha, was born a son of the Shakya clan and grew to manhood in an entitled and sheltered life during the 6th century BCE in India.  Encounters with sickness, old age and death

shattered his complacency and made him question the privileged experiences and assumptions of his life.  He renounced home and family in order to devote himself to answering the questions of suffering and, as was the custom, traded his fine clothing away for that of a mendicant seeker. 

So, what did beggar’s clothing look like?  In most representations of the Buddha, such as the figure on our altar, his clothing looks pretty good: classic simplicity – clean lines and not a hole or stain in sight.   Presumably, that’s because he’s usually shown after his enlightenment, when his robes were cared for by attendants and replenished by donations.  But even if you find a statue of the ascetic Siddhartha – hollowed cheeks, sunken eye sockets and ribs like desiccated bones – although he looks terrible, the loincloth looks neat and tidy.  Take it with a grain of salt, because there are no contemporary portraits extant.  In fact, it was hundreds of years after he passed into parinirvana before anyone thought to make an image of the Buddha.  And art, by its nature, idealizes.  So, don’t look to statues or artwork as a primary source – they simply tell you about the culture in which they were created. 

But here’s what we are told in the sutras about mendicant robes during that time.  They were made from discarded scraps of cloth, or what is called in Sanskrit pāmsūda or pāmsūla.  There are various lists identifying what constitutes pāmsūda. For example, cloth that has been 1) burned by fire, 2) munched by oxen, 3) gnawed by mice, or 4) worn by the dead.  The Japanese equivalent of pāmsūda is funzoe, a polite translation of which is “excrement sweeping cloth” and indicates another potential source.

These scraps were scavenged from the trash, out in the fields, by roadsides or even from the cremation grounds.  Any truly unsalvageable parts were trimmed off and the resulting bits were washed and sewn, piecemeal and without pattern, into a rectangle large enough to wrap around and cover the mendicant. Then the rectangle was dyed, using gleaned roots and tubers, plants, bark, leaves, flowers or fruits, especially heartwood and leaves of the jackfruit tree, which resulted in a variable and generic color known in Sanskrit as kashaya, denoting mixed/variegated, neutral or earth tones.  It’s also defined as "color that is not pure" or "bad color." I have also been told that it refers to colors considered ugly, colors chosen to renounce that culture’s values.  This also ties in with another connotation of the word kashaya, which is impurity or uncleanliness, reflecting back to the source of the cloth used.  We’ll return to color and style later, but this is the clothing Siddhartha Gautama wore as he studied with and surpassed several prominent teachers of that time, and undertook to master the most severe ascetic practices.  Even then, he found them as ultimately empty of answers as was his early

life.  Finally, he turned away from those paths, sat down under the Bodhi tree with his questions and found the solution to suffering.  After his enlightenment, he began to teach and many of those who heard his teachings – mendicants, former teachers, householders, even his own family and royalty – left their pursuits and followed him forming the Sangha of monks and, later, nuns.  Their clothing was not codified, and various sutras refer to a variety in dress, some of it fairly fantastic.  Tradition has it that those who ordained with the Buddha, as well as the Buddha himself, primarily wore the mendicant clothing of that time, essentially the same worn in India today; they all wore some version of a simple, serviceable, Kashaya robe.

This caused a problem for a Buddhist king named Bimbasara, who wanted to pay homage to Buddhist monks but was having trouble picking them out of the crowd.  One day, he complained and asked the Buddha to make a distinctive robe for his monks.  They were walking by a rice field in Magadha at the time, and Buddha asked Ananda, his personal attendant, to design a robe based on the orderly, staggered pattern of rows of the rice padi fields. 

This original Buddhist robe comprised three parts, layered depending on activity and weather, and was therefore known as the “triple robe” (tricivara in Sanskrit):

1. Uttarasanga is the normal clerical robe.  It is a large rectangle, about 6 feet by 9 feet, worn wrapped around the torso and covering one or both shoulders. Although all three parts were made of kashaya fabric, this piece was the robe that came to represent Buddhism as it traveled to other countries, and it came to be called the Kashaya Robe.  With its five-fold or five-column rice field pattern surrounded by a border, it is regarded as symbolic of a Buddhist’s relationship with the Buddha and his teachings

2. Antarasavaka is a lower robe, wrapped around the waist to knee like a sarong and tied at the waist with a flat cotton belt.  According to the monastic rules or Vinaya, a monk could wear it by itself if he was on his own, sick, crossing a river or looking for a new Uttarasanga.  3. Sanghati is an extra robe, often made of two layers, which is used for extra warmth or may be used, spread out as a seat or bedding.  It is sometimes folded and placed on one shoulder.

This “triple robe” traveled from India throughout the world as Buddhism spread and was adapted, as Buddhism has adapted, by each country and culture it encountered. 

I’d like to go on a brief tangent and mention robe relics, those purported to

be of an actual, worn-by-the-Buddha variety.  A tradition of hand-me-down robes was extant during the Buddha’s lifetime; the sutras tell us when Ananda agreed to become the Buddha’s attendant, he stipulated that he would not take any of the Buddha’s robes because he didn’t want to create the appearance of favoritism. Since the Buddha taught for 45 years after his enlightenment, he undoubtedly went through quite a few robes, and there are quite a few stories of such robes or pieces thereof.   One of these relics was entrusted to the Buddhists of Sri Lanka by the Emperor Asoka in the 4th Century BCE but, unfortunately, the Buddha’s Robe relic disappeared or was destroyed during one of the many Chola invasions between the 9th and 13th Centuries CE.  Another story of such a robe comes from Zen Buddhism, which holds that the Buddha gave his robe to Mahakasyapa in testament to his deep understanding, evidenced when the Buddha held up a flower in silence and Mahakasyapa smiled, the only one to see the Buddha’s teaching.  Some believe the 28th Indian Patriarch/1st Chinese Patriarch, Bodhidharma, brought this very robe to China and go so far as to say that it was passed to succeeding patriarchs until the Fifth Chinese Patriarch passed it to Hui-neng, with the instruction that there would be no more passing of the robe.  Not every Zen Buddhist believes this in a literal sense; I personally suspect the Buddha’s Robe, at least in this case, was more symbolic of Mind-seal transmission than involving any actual original garment.    Back to the “triple robe,” which arrived in China with Buddhism well ahead of Bodhidharma, although it wasn’t Chan (which became Zen), and once it left India, the form of the “triple robe” as well as the terminology began to change. The Sanskrit word kashaya was transliterated into Chinese as jiasha in Mandarin, kasa in Cantonese, and came to be applied specifically to the Uttarasanga, or normal clerical robe.  While India’s climate is temperate, and the three rectangular robes provided sufficient warmth and protection from the elements, even a double-layered Sanghati didn’t cut it in China.  So the Chinese layered additional, Taoist-style robes and jackets, or what we would recognize as kimono (although that’s a Japanese term), under the kasa. These garments had sleeves of various types, from relatively close-fitting to what we Americans think of as the archetypical Asian sleeve, the pendulous dogleg that may or may not be closed at the wrist. China did not have a mendicant tradition, wherein monastics would be supported by the populace (nor was it likely official support would be forthcoming from a government steeped in Confucianism and Taoism).  In order to be as self-sufficient as possible, Chinese monastics farmed and performed manual labor in addition to religious practice.  Because the

wrapped “triple robe” is not designed or conducive to this type of heavy work (especially when it’s freezing), the monks developed wrapped leggings, split skirts (like culottes) or pants as alternate forms of the lower robe or Antarasavaka.

The kasa, itself, also went through some changes.  The original Uttarasanga had five columns in the rice field pattern and was large enough to simply wrap around the body and shoulders.  Once Buddhism had left India, four small squares inside the outside corners and two larger reinforcing squares near the top border on either side of the center column were added to the kasa, modifying the original design.  Ties and straps, or fasteners were attached, often in the form of a ring and spoke.  At some point, perhaps in China, Korea or Japan, a smaller version was developed, like the one I’m wearing which we call the rakusu. It has the five columns and is worn around the neck like a bib. The origin of the rakusu is one of the confusing questions for me.  Some say that it developed during the transition to manual labor in China, because a full kasa was cumbersome.  Some say it was originated during a time of persecution, so that Buddhists could wear the kasa, hidden and safe, under their outer clothing. It’s also been suggested that started as simply the “cloth bag that wandering monks wore to carry alms bowl and other small items,” which was later “formalized as a monastic ‘accoutrement’.”  There are even Japanese scholars who believe that it was developed in Japan during the Edo or Tokugawa Era, as the result of sumptuary regulations which limited the size and fabric type of clerical wear (I suspect a bit of nationalism, here).  The other big change to the full-sized kasa was the addition of columns as the monastic advanced in ordination and power, whether spiritual or temporal.  The basic five-fold robe expanded to accommodate a system of rank modeled after the traditional nine-grade hierarchical Chinese law, so that five grew to seven, to nine, to 11, 13, 15, 17, 19, 21, 23 and 25 strips of cloth, often of rich or rare fabrics, providing a physical proof of one’s status.

Buddhism spread from China to Korea, and the Koreans adopted the term Kasa.  They also maintain the rakusu or small kasa tradition, but did add a shortened kimono-type robe to be worn under the kasa. 

Korean Buddhists introduced Buddhism to Japan, although eventually it was Chinese influence that overwhelmed and was wholeheartedly embraced by Japanese Buddhists: Taoist-style robes with wide arms, purple kasa, multiple columns, work clothes and all.  The Japanese transliterated the Korean/Chinese kasa to kesa, or okesa, which is simply a polite Japanese format.   The Japanese adopted the distinctive and practical work clothes, which they called samue, as the everyday working uniform of the monastic.  They also created a new form of kesa, by developing a black wide-sleeved

kimono-style monk’s robe which conforms to the spirit, if not the form, of the Kashaya Robe in that it is made from the pieces of cheapest fabric, which are sewn and dyed by the monk.

Japanese Buddhist monastics created many different robes, sacred as well as ordinary clothing, and it seems like they have 20 words for each one.  As an example, I will simply mention the rakusu.  In addition to the one we’re familiar with at at this temple, there is the Okau, a larger rakusu worn on the left shoulder (I believe that’s the style that looks a little like you’re wearing a barrel by one suspender), the Hangesa or “half kesa” given to lay people and the Wagesa or “small kesa” also worn by lay people who have taken precepts.

Japanese rakusu have sewn designs on the straps, or on the collar covering, where they fall across the back of the neck to indicate denominational sects: Soto is a pine, Rinzai is a mountain-shaped triangle, and Obaku is a six-pointed star. In addition, Rinzai and Soto traditions sew a large flat ring on the left strap.  This ring is not functional, but recalls the shoulder fasteners of the full-length kesa.  As a result of a reform movement known as the fukudenkai in the mid-20th century, some Soto Zen groups have eliminated the rakusu ring.  Buddhism entered Vietnam from India and later from China, although the Chinese forms became dominant.  The Vietnamese prefer a close-fitting sleeve on the kimono, again illustrating that robe style often begins with an adaptation of a culture’s normal clothing and becomes institutionalized. A similar situation applies to the Vietnamese pajama-like work clothes: a monastic uniform, but not sacred clothing.  Within the Tibetan or Vajrayana tradition, the culture once again adapted the “triple robe.”  Ordained male and female clerics wear a sleeveless tunic and lower robe or skirt.  The Tibetan Kashaya Robe is variously called shamtab (five strips), chogu, or namba (25 strip, for high ordination).

American robes, such as they are to date, are largely determined by a teacher’s tradition.  Variations occur due to personal preference, convictions, understanding, or simply opportunity.  And sometimes, speaking for myself, it’s all about comfort.

Although the essential Buddhist robe was the Kashaya Robe, there have been variations in quality of material ever since the Buddha’s time. In the Pali tradition, six kinds of cloth are allowed for making the upper and outer robes of the “triple robe”: plant fibers, cotton, silk, animal hair (not human), hemp, and a mixture of some or all of them.  There are other lists of materials, but it’s clear that a variety of fabrics were used throughout. Some were sumptuous.  Some were simple or easy-care.  Certainly, most of Asia

seems to be using man-made fabrics right now. In the ultimate sense, of course, any material could be used, provided there is no attachment.

With reference to attachment, one interesting thing that is prohibited in the Vinaya is “sewing cowries shells or owls' wings” onto robes.   Evidently, some of the Buddha’s monks were adorning their robes and had to be restricted in their artistic or preening tendencies.   When the Chinese embroidered scenes in gold thread in their ceremonial kesa, or the Japanese took a single elaborate weaving and simulated the pieced, rice field pattern by appliqueing brocade dividing strips, perhaps sewn to one edge only so that the loosely attached strips swayed like tatters -- do you suppose that they were truly not attached?   Not that I’m not appreciative of the craft and beauty of these kesa.  I’m just wondering.  This finally brings me to color, back to the concept of kashaya – broken or variegated color – which probably was in a spectrum from yellow to a reddish brown from being washed and dyed with plant materials, sometimes saffron or tumeric.  Because the materials and dyestuffs vary, colors are not consistent.  They also fade and become soiled.  According to Seung Sahn Sunim, the Korean Zen master, during the Buddha’s time, the monks wore yellow robes, because that was the color of the dirt and didn’t show soil when the wind was blowing.

In modern times, monastics of the Theravadan tradition in Sri Lanka, Cambodia, Thailand or Laos usually continue this tradition of saffron or ochre robes.  One source I encountered claimed that forest monks wear ochre while city monks wear saffron, but concluded that this is not always the case. 

Monastics in the Mahayana tradition wear many different colors, according to region, country, sect and ordination level.  When Buddhism came to China, color changed and changed again; different temples in various regions wore different colors: yellow, light golden brown, brown, grey or blue, shades of black: pitch black, grey black.  During the Tang Dynasty, the emperor awarded purple robes and honorary titles to high-level monks.     Japanese monastics usually wear grey or black.  They adopted the purple kesa tradition, which was revoked in the 17th Century under the Tokugawa Shogunate.  The emperor abdicated in protest and monks who resisted, no matter how high, were exiled.

Koreans wear grey, brown or blue robes.  In the Vietnamese Zen tradition the kimono robes are brown or yellow, or somewhere in between, and the kesa are yellow to orange.  At IBMC, after 10 years at high ordination, the cleric may wear a red kesa.

The colorful robes of the Vajrayana tradition of Tibet range from the simple to some of the most elaborate in the world, from bright yellow to orange to maroon to a purplish-red according to School and Dharma level.  Their versions of the Kashaya Robe are usually yellow.  If their sleeveless tunic is trimmed with yellow brocade or they are wearing yellow silk and satin as normal attire, they are probably eminent monks or considered living Buddhas. 

Americans tend to follow the color coding associated with their teacher’s tradition, although we do have a tendency toward individualism and downright contrariness when it comes to formalization.  Our Rev. Kusala once suggested that American Buddhist robes might be blue denim. 

As an example of how schools assign colors according to Dharma level, here’s what I think I know about IBMC’s Americanized Vietnamese Zen.  Monks and priests wear some shade of brown robes with yellow/orange kesas.  Fully ordained priests may additionally wear yellow collars or yellow piping around the collar.  Laypeople, whether taking Refuge or atangasilas (eight-precept ordainees such as myself, Nam, Doug and Gary) wear the rakusu and, while not entitled to wear the larger kesa, we do get to wear these spiffy grey non-sacred robes.  One Soto Zen website mentions that Bodhisattvas wear black or dark brown kesas, so I guess IBMC and a large part of Japan are pretty far advanced.     With respect to bib-like rakusu, colors may reflect those of the kesa.  At IBMC, ours are gold.  In Korea, the half-kasa is brown.  Or they may be a different, contrasting color to the kasa.  In China, Chan-style rakusu are white.   The Japanese wear blue, brown or black, with their rakusu first given during Refuge. No matter what color faces out, the Japanese back them with white cloth, on one side of which  teacher writes the “Verse of the Kesa” while on the other, he writes his name, the student’s dharma name and the date of the Refuge ceremony.  In Soto Zen, blue is for laypeople, black is for priests, and brown is the highest, for people who have received Dharma transmission from a lineage teacher.

However, not all Soto temples, even in Japan, follow the Dharma level color coding.  One might receive a brown rakusu at lay ordination at one temple, but be chided at another temple for wearing a color reserved for someone at a much higher level. This actually happened to someone at two American Zendos.

Confusing?  Yes, and that’s simply mundane style and color.  Here’s a quick rundown of the symbolism of the Buddha’s Robe.

Kesa or Kashaya Robes, whether small and large, today are almost entirely “Symbol.” They are the Buddhist’s connection with the Tathagata.  In Buddhist numerology, five is the number of the Buddha, which is echoed by the five-folds and five points of the rectangle: east, west, north, south, and middle.  The Kashaya Robe is the robe of the renunciant, wherein the discards of the world are made pure and precious, yet the rice field pattern also represents and encompasses the world, in all the fecundity of agriculture.  It can also be regarded as a mandala, geometric patterns of squares and lines which represent the universe and serve as a meditation object on many levels.  The little squares on each corner represent the four directions or, perhaps, each of the Buddhist Dharma protectors.  The center column is sometimes said to represent the Buddha, and the two flanking squares his attendants.  "The kesa is the heart of Zen, the marrow of its bones," said Eihei Dogen, (1200-53 CE) who established the Soto branch of the Zen in Japan.  It is the physical doctrinal symbol, the essence of Transmission, and essential to a sense of legitimacy. Dogen studied in China and received the kesa of a Chinese Zen patriarch who had lived a century earlier.

Dogen was somewhat fanatical on the subject of kesa, proselytizing its profound virtues, lamenting the decadent period wherein it provided the only lifeline and yet was so neglected.  I recommend his Kesa Kudoku (The Merit of the Buddha Robe), Chapter 3 of his great work the Shobogenzo, which waxes poetic on the subject, while providing practical information concerning  the making, care and use of the garment. I can provide copies by email if you are interested.

He wrote, “… one verse of the ‘Robe Gatha,’ [also known as the Verse of the Kesa]… will become the seed of eternal light, which will finally lead us to the supreme Bodhi-wisdom.” The Robe Gatha is a Zen chant which is said before one puts on the Kesa or Rakusu.

Here is one translation:

How great the robe of liberation        A formless field of merit. Wrapping ourselves in Buddha’s teaching, We save all beings.

Pretty marvelous, isn’t it?  However, a cautionary story about the robes, appearances and reality comes to us from the founder of Rinzai Zen, Master Lin-chi I-hsuan, who lived in the 9th century CE, who said, 

“… I put on various different robes…The student concentrates on the robe I'm wearing, noting whether it is blue, yellow, red, or white. Don't get so

taken up with the robe! The robe can't move of itself; the person is the one who can put on the robe. There is a clean pure robe, there is a no birth robe, a bodhi robe, a nirvana robe, a patriarch robe, a Buddha robe. Fellow believers, these sounds, names, words, phrases are all nothing but changes of robe … Because of mental processes thoughts are formed, but all of these are just robes. If you take the robe that a person is wearing to be the person's true identity, then though endless kalpas may pass, you will become proficient in robes only and will remain forever circling round in the threefold world, transmigrating in the realm of birth and death."

Perhaps it is not a good thing to become too impressed or too attached, even to the kesa, although Master Dogen might disagree.  Some American Buddhists chafe against robes as representative of the hierarchy of Asian Buddhism; they wonder if robes have any value.  Some wonder if different robes encourage comparisons such as, “who is most enlightened?” or “who is the senior here?” Some believe robes intimidate newcomers or encourage pride as one advances. And some just don’t like the inherent formalism or the implied elitism.  Many Americans, simply wear their robes or just a rakusu over ordinary clothes. Rev. S’unya often replaces his pajamas with Heartland Zen brown overalls.  Perhaps we *are* developing American Buddhist robes.  But then again, perhaps not: the Sangha at Spirit Rock in Northern California has decided not to wear robes or differentiating insignia at all. 

As a final point and to thank you all for listening to me, I would like to address one additional aspect of the Tradition of Buddha’s Robe.  Although I’ve run through the quick guide as to who wears what, when and why, I’d also like to leave you with a proactively positive way of approaching life with the help of the Buddha’s Robe. 

In the Lotus Sutra, the great, some say the greatest, Mahayana Sutra, we encounter a specific concept of “putting on the Buddha’s Robe.”  This appears in Chapter 10, “Teacher of the Law,” which addresses how to communicate with others, specifically when discussing Dharma.  But I believe it is applicable to our everyday lives, whether chatting about the weather or politics or sitting, alone, with ourselves.   In this chapter, Shakyamuni Buddha explains “the three rules of teaching,” one of which is that a teacher must, “put on the Thus Come One's robe,” before trying to teach the Lotus Sutra. 

In the Sutra, Buddha is speaking metaphorically; he explains that his Robe is “a mind that is gentle and forebearing.”   What does this mean? Gentle seems easy enough. Forebearing, or perseverance, seems to me to be the echo of Zen’s Great Effort, this time applied to communication.  If we, as a people, were able to combine kindness with willingness to stay engaged in

dialogue, even when disagreement, criticism or misunderstanding arise, a great many problems might simply be talked away.  Unkindness breeds; if someone does not understand or rejects our position, we are tempted to return the favor.  Rejection leads to anger or disengagement, our cliché of fingers-in-ears “La,la,la, I can’t hear you,” often resulting in frustration and sorrow.  We lose the opportunity to communicate.

I believe that “gentle forebearance” comes from a resolve to develop one’s center –  it nurtures seeds of equanimity.  This requires inner strength, but also an open mind.  Such a tremendous amount of effort is involved in simply acting, rather than reacting, in not becoming too attached to what you believe, to being right – because if you personalize dogma, it becomes a fixed barrier to dialogue, any attempt at discussion swirls around it and crashes.  This is not to say that one should be passively meek and it’s not a quid pro quo kind of situation.  “I’ll be nice if you’ll be nice,” is not the goal here, although it is a nice side effect of being respectful. In fact, I think we should approach communication without expectation of reaching agreement or even understanding.  I may believe that, but I rarely achieve it.  However, I offer this Dharma talk to you all in that spirit!  May you all be warmly wrapped in Buddha’s Robe, open to dialogue but firm in your resolve and effort, and not perturbed by the questions of Buddhist couture.